Something MYTH Inc Page 5

  "Can't complain," I sez carefully. "How about yourself? The last time I saw you, you were whippin' recruits into shape."

  "It's the new reorganization thing," he sez with a sigh. "Now that we aren't on wartime footing, there's no need to recruit and train new soldiers. In fact, what with the cutbacks, we're hard-pressed to figure out what to do with the ones we have. I've got enough years in that I got to pick and choose when it came to re-assignment, so I went with what looked like easy duty with the new tax collecting unit."

  He pauses to take a sip of his drink and makes a face.

  "Easy duty. Yeah, right. It's like an open season on tax collectors, and we can't even get to shoot back because they're Possiltum citizens."

  "Could you, perhaps, elucidate that a little?" I sez.

  "I could," sez Smiley, "but I'll admit I'm curious as to why you're so interested."

  I thinks for a few, then give a shrug.

  "I don't think it's supposed to be a secret or nothin'," I sez. "There have been some rumors back at the castle that there may be a rebellion-type uprisin' in the makin'. We have therefore been sent out to check it out and report back as to how serious it is. Since it seems you have essentially been in the front lines when encounterin' signs of unrest, any input you can give us would not only be greatly appreciated, it would help us immensely in our investigatin'."

  "That makes sense." Smiley nods.

  "It does?" sez Spyder, but Pookie gives her a nudge and she shuts up.

  "For the most part," Smiley sez, missin' the byplay, "it's just been some shouting and maybe a little produce tossing. Nothing particularly out of the normal, considering the popularity of tax collectors. The ones that get to me are the bozos who are actually holding up the collection squads."

  "Let's start there," I sez. "I notice that you have referred to them in the plural, which would indicate to me more than one. In your opinion, is this an indication of an organized uprisin'?"

  "I don't think so," Smiley sez, narrowin' his eyes in thought. "As near as I can tell, it's two separate groups operating independently of each other."

  "Could you elaborate a little?" Pookie sez. "Someone of your military expertise couldn't help but notice details that would prove invaluable in our efforts."

  Now Smiley is as vulnerable as any guy to bein' flattered by a doll, and he puffs up like a toad.

  "Well, as I say, it would seem to be two independent groups," he sez. "That's based on the fact that they are operating in different locations and have two distinctly different methods of operation.

  "There's one group that operates in and around the Royal Game Preserve. What they do is stay out of sight back in the underbrush. They launch a flight of arrows over the heads of the collection squad to prove that they're well within bow shot, then call out for the squad to leave the money and keep moving. It's interesting that they haven't actually hit anyone yet, but the threat alone is enough for the boys to surrender up the money and back away."

  "They don't put up any kind of a fight? They just leave the money?" Spyder sez. Smiley makes a face.

  "You've got to understand," he sez. "Our standing orders are not to fire on the civilian populace. Remember that this is an internal assignment, not front-line work where any opposition is clearly enemy action. These are the civilians we're supposed to be protecting, and the brass doesn't want any incidents that could stir up the locals against the Army."

  He takes another sip of his drink, then shakes his head. "I'll be honest with you, though. Even if we weren't under orders not to fight, I'm not sure we could catch these guys. The woods are pretty thick and stretch a long way. What's more, it's their home turf, which gives them a big advantage. If they outnumbered us, they could keep picking us off from hiding and we wouldn't stand a chance. If we had them outnumbered, they could just melt away into the brush and we'd never catch them."

  "With terrain goes the victory," Pookie murmurs.

  "That's right," Smiley sez. "Say. It sounds like you know a bit about military tactics yourself."

  "You said there were two groups," I sez, quick-like to distract him from askin' too much about Pookie's background. "What about the other group?"

  "The other one's a real clown," Smiley sez, gettin' back to the subject. "It's only one guy, and he's dressed all in black, complete with a mask and a cape. What he does is pop up in the road ahead of the squad, waving a sword around and demanding that they surrender up the money and move on or suffer his wrath." "Suffer his wrath?" I sez.

  "That's what he says." Smiley nods. "Word for word. I couldn't make us something like that."

  "Wait a minute," Spyder sez. "You're saying that an entire squad backs down from one guy with a sword?"

  "It's a bit more than that," Smiley sez, sternly. "The guy in black does all the talking, but he's got a backup with him as well. Any time we've seen this joker, there's another guy standing in the background. He's a big guy, almost as big as you, Swatter. More important, he's got a crossbow, a custom job, trained on the squad and makes it real apparent that anyone who doesn't go along with the gag isn't going to make it back to the barracks."

  "But there's only one shot in a crossbow, compared to how many in a squad?" Spyder sez.

  "Uh-huh," Smiley sez. "The problem is, no one is particularly eager to be on the receiving end of that one shot. Also, remember that we're under orders not to fight with the civilians."

  "That's convenient," Spyder mutters.

  "Tell me more about that custom crossbow," I sez before Smiley can go after Spyder.

  "That's easy," Smiley sez. "Without looking at them close up or actually handling them, I'd say it's almost identical to that mini crossbow you were waving at the boys when I came in."

  Now to say that I found that tidbit of information particularly intriguin' would be more than a little understa-tin'. You see, both Nunzio and myself get our crossbows exclusively from a guy named lolo, who is the finest crossbow maker I've met. While I've heard he does some work for Renaissance Fair people and some of the Medieval recreation types, the bulk of his production is bought up by people like us, which is to say those associated with or connected to the Mob.

  "Could you give us some specific information as to where each of these two groups is workin'?" I sez, chan-gin' the subject.

  "I can do better than that," Smiley sez, finishin' his drink and gettin' to his feet. "I've got some maps in my tent. Come along and I'll show you, and maybe buy you a drink."

  · · ·

  As our intrepid band of investigators leave the Tiki Lounge, let us linger for a moment to witness what occurs immediately upon their departure ...

  For several long moments after the investigators leave with the sergeant, the group of civilians who were sitting unnoticed at the corner table remain motionless and silent.

  Finally, one of them speaks.

  "It's all clear now, Bee. They've gone now."

  The air shimmers around three of the assemblage, then subsides, leaving their appearance changed, but still unremarkable.

  "That was close," says one rather muscular fellow.

  "You can say that again, Hy," says the man next to him, their appearance marking them as brothers if not twins. "Nice work with the spell, Bee. But I do wish you had told us that the Swatter was on the other side of this little caper."

  "I didn't know myself," Bee protests, drawing himself up to his full insignificant height. "I was told we only had to dodge the Army, and last thing I heard, he and Nunzio had resigned."

  "Whatever," Shu says, giving his brother an elbow in the ribs. "Now that we know, maybe we should rethink this whole thing."

  "Wait a minute," Storm says, leaning into the conversation. "What's going on here? Why are you guys so spooked all of a sudden? Who was that goon, anyway?"

  "That was the Swatter," Hyram Flie says. "Or Guido, to use his real name. He and his cousin Nunzio were in Basic Training with us back when we first enlisted. In fact, he was our squad leader."

&nbs
p; "To say he's a heavy hitter would be an understatement," supplied his brother Shubert. "He took both of us to one side and gave us a lesson in manners the first day we were in."

  "He's also deadly with that crossbow," Bee says. "He helped me qualify, which was a good thing or else I'd probably still be in Basic."

  "So he was better than the other raw recruits," says Egor. "So what? You all got better with training, didn't you?"

  "You don't understand," says Hy, shaking his head. "He and Nunzio were better when they first signed on than any of us will ever be."

  "That sergeant he was talking to?" Shu says. "Well, he was our Drill Instructor. He got into it one time with Guido, and the Swatter took out both him and his corporal without even raising a sweat."

  "Wait a minute," says Egor. "I thought the Army had rules against that kind of thing. Didn't he get into trouble?"

  "They called it a training accident," says Hy with a grimace. "As a matter of fact, he got a promotion out of it."

  "Did you see who he had with him?" Bee says. "Wasn't that Spyder?"

  "If it was, she's changed her look," says Hy.

  "Unless they were using a disguise spell for some reason," says Shu.

  "Spyder?" says Storm.

  "Another one from our old squad," says Hy. "Pound for pound, one of the nastiest scrappers I've run into. Mean as a snake and twice as fast."

  "Yeah. That was a heck of a punch she used to flatten her admirer when they first came in," Egor says shaking his head.

  "I think you're watching the wrong hand there," Red Blade says, speaking up for the first time. "How about the babe that took out four of them without blinking?"

  "Another one of your old playmates?" says Storm.

  "Never saw her before," says Hy.

  "Good," says Storm. "I was starting to think we were in the middle of a reunion here."

  "Even without seeing her in action," says Shu, "if she's hanging with Guido, she's probably a top-notch professional. I sure shouldn't want to go up against her."

  "Which brings us back to our original point," says Hy. "Now that we've know that the Swatter and friends are in the game, do we stick around or head for the hills?"

  "But you can't leave!" Red Blade says. "You agreed to help us!"

  "We agreed to sit in on this conclave, mostly because it sounded like a good way for a couple of soldiers on leave to meet some girls," Hy says. "I don't remember agreeing to lock horns with a couple heavyweight widow-makers. That's not a party. That's suicide."

  "Boys, boys," Storm says, holding up her hands. "Nothing's changed just because there are a couple extra hitters wandering around. Remember the whole idea of this plan is that we don't directly go up against anybody. They're looking for whoever is hassling the tax collectors, and that isn't us. Now let's have a couple drinks and talk about this calmly."

  "Drinks are good," Bee says. "Okay. Who's having what?"

  "Same as the last time," Shu says, glancing at his brother.

  "Blood! Blood and raw meat!" says the elf from his corner.

  "I told you before, they don't serve that stuff here," Hy growls. "Where did you find this guy, anyway, Storm?"

  "Ordered him from the Complete Elfquest Catalog," Storm says. "Cut him some slack. He doesn't come cheap."

  "I still want to know where you're going to find a dwarf," says PeeWee. "Right now, I'm the shortest one in the whole crew."

  There was a tactful moment of silence from the rest of the fellowship.

  "And, of course, another Volcano," Bee says wearily. Truth to tell, that was the reason they were using the Tiki Lounge as their base of operation. Despite extensive research and inquiries, the only volcano they had been able to find in the entire kingdom of Possiltum, even with its expanded borders, was the specialty drink that was served here during Happy Hour.

  They waited for their drinks to arrive; then, with great ceremony and solemnity unwrapped their prized ring, complete with severed finger, and dropped it into the flaming drink.

  Nothing happened. Again.

  Just like nothing had happened the last dozen times they tried it.

  Also, like the last dozen times, no one was interested in actually drinking the Volcano after the ring and finger were reclaimed.

  SEVEN

  After bein' briefed by Sergeant Smiley and maybe havin' a couple more drinks for old times' sake, we holed up for a war council to decide what our next move should be. Two hours later, we was still councilin'. If you deduces from this that things was not goin' smoothly, you would be absolutely correct.

  "And I'm sayin' that our mission is finished and we should report back to the Royal Palace," I sez, gettin' a bit testy.

  We had been havin' this argument since about five sentences into the meetin', with neither side givin' ground. This is, in itself, sayin' somethin', as I was holdin' down one side of the argument by myself, while Spyder and Pookie were united against me.

  "We're supposed to be scouting out potential centers of rebellion," Pookie sez. "Until we've looked into it first hand, all we have is rumor. We could have done that back sitting on our butts back at the palace."

  "We've had an in-depth briefin' from the Army types who have been experiencin' it all first-hand," I sez. "In their opinion, there is no organized rebellion. Just a couple small groups rippin' off the tax collectors. Now we have to report that back to the Boss and see what he thinks we should do next. Whatever else he is, Skeeve is still my Boss both in M.Y.T.H. Inc. and in the Mob. One thing I've learned over the years is the secret to a long and prosperous career, not to mention an extended lifespan, is to not get carried away with independent action by tryin' to second-guess what the Boss wants you to do."

  "But we aren't taking independent action," Pookie sez. "We're just going to scout out the situation, which is what he told us to do in the first place."

  "Hang on, Pookie," Spyder sez, steppin' between us. "Talk to me, Swatter. What's really bothering you?"

  "Like I've been sayin'. The Boss ..."

  "I know what you've been saying," Spyder interrupts. "I also know you. Back in Basic, you pretty much ran the Bug Squad right under the nose of the Drill Instructor. When we got assigned to garrison duty and then the supply depot, you were still running things, and doing an excellent job of it. I know you can operate independently without playing 'mother-may-I' waiting for specific orders. So how come all of a sudden you're dragging your feet? There's got to be more to it than the chain of command. Heck, this whole expedition was your idea. So tell us what's eating you and quit trying to hide behind procedures."

  The trouble was, she was dead-on right. I don't mind stretchin' the facts or obscurin' the truth a bit in front of a jury or even, occasionally, my colleagues, but I hate gettin' caught at it.

  I rubbed my jaw while I thought things through, then decided to come clean.

  "Okay, I'll admit it," I sez. "I'm pretty good when it comes to the rough and tumble stuff, but I'm a specialist.

  Nearly all of the work I've done has been in cities and towns workin' against other individuals or gangs that are tryin' to avoid public attention. That's the kind of work I do. That's the kind of work I've trained for. The idea of wanderin' around the woods tryin' to run down opposition of an undisclosed number and strength that know the territory like we don't and aren't adverse to shootin' from hidin' leaves me cold. In that situation, we'll be as much out of our depth as the country bumpkins are when they come into the big city."

  "What you're trying to say is that you're scared," Spyder sez.

  I start to draw myself up to my considerable height, then just give a little shrug instead.

  "Okay. If that's what you want to think, I'm scared," I sez. "That doesn't change the circumstantials of the situation."

  "Pull in your claws, Spyder dear," Pookie sez, comin' to my defense. "Guido isn't scared; he's being a professional. Unlike some of the wannabe toughs you may have encountered in the past, Guido is the genuine article. He is tough, so he doe
sn't have to work at trying to prove it ... even when provoked."

  Now I knew that, but it was nice to hear Pookie say the things I was naturally too modest to point out myself. "You see, there's a difference between being scared and acknowledging a potentially dangerous situation," Pookie continues. "Guido has raised a valid point here. We're potentially walking into a fight where the enemy has all the cards. It's worth thinking through before we commit ourselves."

  "If the Boss says to do it, I'll do it," I sez with a shrug. "It won't be the first time I've walked into bad odds with my eyes open. But I still say if there's a good chance of us gettin' whacked, we should pass along what we've found out so far first, so's the next crew doesn't have to start from scratch."

  Spyder kinda sags a bit like somebody let the air out of her. All of a sudden, instead of lookin' like a junior tough, she looks like a little kid that's been told she can't go to the party.

  "So we report back to the palace," she says in a flat tone. "The wizard gets his information and there's no more need for my services as a Royal Investigator. Sorry if I was pushing it there for a while, Guido. It's just that I've been having so much fun, I guess I wanted to try to prolong it a little."

  It becomes clear to me now what has been motivatin' this big drive to continue the investigation. Spyder has been havin' the time of her life hangin' out with Pookie and me. Instead of bein' a misfit and fightin' every day just to be accepted, we've been treatin' her like a favorite kid sister. Particularly Pookie, who has been givin' her tips on everything from how to dress sexy to how to take out a couple of loudmouths without even mussin' her hair. When this assignment is over, Pookie and I go back to workin' with the rest of our usual crew, which as I have said before are all top-notch both as fighters and as friends. Spyder, on the other hand, would have to rejoin her unit in the Army, an existence which, as I can testify from first-hand experience, is drab at best. This is a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy, much less someone I have a fondness for as I do Spyder.