Read Online MYTH-Interpretations: The Worlds of Robert Asprin by Robert Asprin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Asprin
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Short Stories, Fantasy Fiction; American, Fantasy - General, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy - Historical, Fantasy - Short Stories
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swirling handwriting above was Don Bruce's. The message below, though also in lavender ink, was written by a stranger.
"How do we find out who did it?"
"With a little subterfuge," I said. "And a little dragon."
The boom that shook the castle was barely audible above the noise of the crowd and the musicians. I staggered out, supporting Massha. Her dress was torn and patched with black burns, and her hair was askew. Guido threaded his way ahead of us, making sure that Skeeve was nowhere in sight. We all agreed he shouldn't be bothered. I was pretty certain we could handle this by ourselves. He spotted Don Bruce and his two associates, boozing it up at one of the tables near the harpist. Don Bruce set down his goblet and kissed his fingers at the musician.
"Beautiful! That boy plays beautifully." Then he turned, and spotted us. "Aahz! Massha! What has happened to you?"
"The house," Massha said, playing her part. She let go of me and threw her meaty arms around the Fairy Godfather. "My husband! Oh, I can't say."
"What happened?" the don demanded.
Massha sobbed into a handkerchief. "We only just got married!"
"Are you saying that my present killed your husband?" Don Bruce demanded, drawing himself up four feet into the air.
"If the Prada pump fits," I growled, "wear it. The news will be all over the Bazaar in an hour: Don Bruce ices associates at a wedding!"
But I wasn't watching Don Bruce. I had my eye on his two associates. Surleone's heavy brows drew down over his stubby nose, but he looked concerned. Don deDondon couldn't keep the glee off his weaselly face.
"I'm good with casualties," he said, starting to rise from the bench. "I'd better go and see if I can help." Suddenly, a blue, scaly face was nose to nose with his. Gleep hissed. "Help?"
The dragon bared his teeth and flicked his tail from side to side. It was all the proof I needed that Don deDondon had his hands on the parchment I'd had Gleep sniff, but I thrust it in front of his skinny nose.
"This your handwriting?" I asked.
"Gimme dat," said Don Surleone. He looked over the page. "Yeah, dat's his."
DeDondon threw up his hands. "No! I have nothing to do with any explosion! Call off your dragon!"
I did, but Guido and Nunzio were there flanking him, hand crossbows drawn but held low against the don's sides so they wouldn't disturb the other wedding guests. "You can clean up again, Massha. We have a confession."
"Confession?" Don Bruce demanded, fluttering madly, as Massha's bruises faded and her dress and coiffure regained their gaudy glory. "What's the deal?"
"I don't know the whole story," I said, sitting down and grabbing the pitcher of ale from the center of the table. I took a swig. Subterfuge was thirsty work. "But I can guess. New people in any organization tend to be ambitious. They want to get ahead right away. Either they find a niche to fill, or they move on. When you introduced these dons to Massha and Badaxe their names didn't ring any bells with me. At first. Then you said they were new.
"The present you gave Massha was princely, but it also provided a heck of an opportunity to take you down, and at least a few of us with you. The box containing the house had a sheet of instructions attached to it. How easy would it be to add a booby-trap that Massha would innocently set off when she went to open your present? We trust you; she'd follow the instructions as they were written. Your reputation for doing business in an honorable fashion would be ruined. But your enemy didn't take into account you have a host of intelligent beings working for you from a number of species."
"Gleep!" the dragon interjected. He'd withdrawn to a safe distance, with his head against Nunzio's knee.
"Something with so easy a trigger mechanism wouldn't need extra incantations to operate. The additional verbiage aroused our suspicions, enabling us to figure the puzzle out in time to stave off disaster."
"Then why the costume drama?" Don Bruce asked, snatching the
"How do we find out who did it?"
"With a little subterfuge," I said. "And a little dragon."
The boom that shook the castle was barely audible above the noise of the crowd and the musicians. I staggered out, supporting Massha. Her dress was torn and patched with black burns, and her hair was askew. Guido threaded his way ahead of us, making sure that Skeeve was nowhere in sight. We all agreed he shouldn't be bothered. I was pretty certain we could handle this by ourselves. He spotted Don Bruce and his two associates, boozing it up at one of the tables near the harpist. Don Bruce set down his goblet and kissed his fingers at the musician.
"Beautiful! That boy plays beautifully." Then he turned, and spotted us. "Aahz! Massha! What has happened to you?"
"The house," Massha said, playing her part. She let go of me and threw her meaty arms around the Fairy Godfather. "My husband! Oh, I can't say."
"What happened?" the don demanded.
Massha sobbed into a handkerchief. "We only just got married!"
"Are you saying that my present killed your husband?" Don Bruce demanded, drawing himself up four feet into the air.
"If the Prada pump fits," I growled, "wear it. The news will be all over the Bazaar in an hour: Don Bruce ices associates at a wedding!"
But I wasn't watching Don Bruce. I had my eye on his two associates. Surleone's heavy brows drew down over his stubby nose, but he looked concerned. Don deDondon couldn't keep the glee off his weaselly face.
"I'm good with casualties," he said, starting to rise from the bench. "I'd better go and see if I can help." Suddenly, a blue, scaly face was nose to nose with his. Gleep hissed. "Help?"
The dragon bared his teeth and flicked his tail from side to side. It was all the proof I needed that Don deDondon had his hands on the parchment I'd had Gleep sniff, but I thrust it in front of his skinny nose.
"This your handwriting?" I asked.
"Gimme dat," said Don Surleone. He looked over the page. "Yeah, dat's his."
DeDondon threw up his hands. "No! I have nothing to do with any explosion! Call off your dragon!"
I did, but Guido and Nunzio were there flanking him, hand crossbows drawn but held low against the don's sides so they wouldn't disturb the other wedding guests. "You can clean up again, Massha. We have a confession."
"Confession?" Don Bruce demanded, fluttering madly, as Massha's bruises faded and her dress and coiffure regained their gaudy glory. "What's the deal?"
"I don't know the whole story," I said, sitting down and grabbing the pitcher of ale from the center of the table. I took a swig. Subterfuge was thirsty work. "But I can guess. New people in any organization tend to be ambitious. They want to get ahead right away. Either they find a niche to fill, or they move on. When you introduced these dons to Massha and Badaxe their names didn't ring any bells with me. At first. Then you said they were new.
"The present you gave Massha was princely, but it also provided a heck of an opportunity to take you down, and at least a few of us with you. The box containing the house had a sheet of instructions attached to it. How easy would it be to add a booby-trap that Massha would innocently set off when she went to open your present? We trust you; she'd follow the instructions as they were written. Your reputation for doing business in an honorable fashion would be ruined. But your enemy didn't take into account you have a host of intelligent beings working for you from a number of species."
"Gleep!" the dragon interjected. He'd withdrawn to a safe distance, with his head against Nunzio's knee.
"Something with so easy a trigger mechanism wouldn't need extra incantations to operate. The additional verbiage aroused our suspicions, enabling us to figure the puzzle out in time to stave off disaster."
"Then why the costume drama?" Don Bruce asked, snatching the
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