Martin stopped his chainsaw. "What did you say?" Amazingly enough, he had heard Teddy Tumtum's words even through the earphones. Or perhaps it was not so amazing after alclass="underline" Peez had lifted the A.R.S. on the little bear when she entered Agparak's open-air studio. As heir presumptive to the E. Godz, Inc. empire, Peez could tote Teddy Tumtum along as a bespelled Object of Great Power, but as a plain old ordinary-looking teddybear? No. Not if she wanted to maintain her credibility with her potential supporters as a serious contender for the corporate throne. Teddy Tumtum's ability to talk was the gift of magic, and as such, stronger than any sound-blocking device available to mere mortals.
"I said that anyone who'd put that thing on a totem pole is probably wanted by the FBI for a slew of lesser crimes against nature and humanity," Teddy Tumtum replied sweetly.
Martin set down the chainsaw and took off his earphones. "Look, I'm doing this job for a big computer company exec who does have children. If I showed you the down payment check, you'd choke on your own stuffing. How about taking a look around, seeing some of my other pieces before you get all bent about this one?"
He gestured at the small army of finished and half-finished totem poles standing guard at various points under the big tarp. The timeless features of Bear and Whale, Wolf and Raven shared poles with the leering features of sports stars, politicians, pop idols, and other celebrities. One pole featured none of the old spirit animals. After Agparak had carved in all the members of one particularly testosterone-challenged boy band, there simply wasn't enough room.
"This is what you do?" Peez gasped. "But—but I thought your carvings were intended to raise the power!"
"I'd rather raise the rent. Hey, there's all kinds of beliefs in this world, all kinds of totems. Who are you to judge?"
"You mean we came all this way across the country to talk to a sellout?"
Agparak gave her a hard look. "No, you came to talk to me, the representative of one of E. Godz, Inc.'s most profitable subsidiaries. I happen to know that my contributions account for a major chunk of your yearly income, with unspecified significant growth potential predicted within the next fiscal year. Translation: I'm teaching my little brother how to use a chainsaw without cutting his foot off."
"Thank you," Peez said coldly. "The translation was not necessary. Neither were the financial buzzwords. I studied the reports: I know what you're worth to the company on paper."
"Same way I know what I'm really worth to you, right now." Martin Agparak had large, perfect teeth. When he smiled it was like facing a friendly grand piano. "Too bad about your ma, but that's the way it goes, sometimes. She was one sharp cookie. I guess you have to forgive a little pushiness if it gets the job done. So—" He tilted his safety goggles back up, then removed them entirely and twirled them around one finger by the elastic. "You want something from me, I want something from you, I'm on deadline with that totem pole and you probably have another plane to catch: Let's talk."
"Well, someone around here doesn't seem to need a chainsaw to cut to the chase," Teddy Tumtum commented. "Do we talk out here or do we go someplace where we don't have to breathe wood?"
"Hush, Teddy Tumtum," Peez said, picking the little bear up by the scruff of his neck and sticking him in the crook of her arm. "I can handle this myself." She turned to Agparak. "What he said." She indicated the bear. "We both want to talk, but I'm not going to do it out here."
"So where do you want to talk, angel?" Martin said with a lift of his upper lip.
"Gee, I don't know," Peez replied, deadpan. "Think we could find somewhere around here that serves coffee?"
* * *
Peez lay back among the pillows in Martin's bed and stared at the ceiling. "I blame the espresso," she announced.
"Espresso?" Teddy Tumtum leaned over the top of the headboard, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "From where I was standing it looked more like cafe au lai—"
"Shut up!"
"Why? You've got nothing to be ashamed of. You're a grown woman. You ran a medical history viewspell on him before you jumped into anything. You sounded as if you were having a good time. And perhaps most important, you never once made any puns about Agparak's personal totem pole. Good girl! Points to you for self-restraint, and help yourself to the biscotti. You earned it."
"But I've never done anything like that in my life!" Peez whined. "I'm a virgin, for Vesta's sake!"
"Um, not to point out the obvious, but not any more, you're not."
"I don't even like him! He's snide and opportunistic and mercenary and—!"
"You called?" Martin Agparak came back into the bedroom carrying a tray. It was laden with a pair of cappuccino cups large enough to drown kittens. He set the tray down on the night table, sat on the edge of the bed, and offered Peez a frothy cup. "Was it good for you, too?" he asked with a roguish look worthy of Teddy Tumtum.
Peez groaned and buried her head under the goosedown comforter.
Martin looked to Teddy Tumtum for aid and comfort. "What's her problem? I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, not pressuring her into it, not rushing things. You were there, you saw! It was creepy having you hanging off the back of the bed the whole time, watching us, but still, you did see what was going on. If she wasn't behaving like a consenting adult, she was doing a damn fine imitation. I thought she was enjoying it!"
"Trust me, she was," the bear said.
"So what's wrong now?"
"Well, I'm no mind reader, but I've been with her a long time, so I kind of understand the way she thinks." Teddy Tumtum motioned for Martin to lean closer, then shielded his mouth with one fluffy paw and whispered in the artist's ear, "I think she's afraid you'll think she only slept with you to get your support."
"I am not," Peez's muffled voice came from under the covers.
"Good, because it'll take a lot more than that to earn my backing," Martin said. He drank half his cappuccino in one gulp, then peeled the comforter off Peez. "I've got to admit, girl, you got my number: I am mercenary. That's what it takes to survive, these days. So I like to eat on a regular basis, so sue me. Man does not live by coffee alone, not even in Seattle. The future of E. Godz, Inc. is a part of my future; my economic future. The new head of the company can make or break that future for me. I'm not about to give my vote to one candidate over another just because she's good in bed."
"It's not just your future we're talking about here, you selfish— What did you say?" Peez stopped in mid-scold, letting the comforter drop unheeded.
"He said you were good in bed," Teddy Tumtum repeated in a stage whisper that might be heard throughout Martin's one-bedroom apartment. Peez grabbed him by one leg and threw him across the bedroom. He splatted against a poster for the previous year's Seattle International Film Festival.
"Hey! Why'd you do that?" Martin protested. He retrieved Teddy Tumtum and held him against his chest. "What'd he do to you?"
"Told her the truth about herself once too often," Teddy Tumtum replied in a melodramatically weak voice. He gave a few tubercular coughs, for added effect, then added: "That's a hanging offense with Ms. Peez Godz."
Peez glowered at the pair of them. "You're both unspeakable brutes!" she announced. Then she burst into tears.
The bespelled bear and the Inuit sculptor exchanged a look whose meaning transcended all borders of race, place, time, and even species. It contained the cornerstone truth of the Universal Male Language, which was, roughly translated into mere words: I don't know what's the matter with her. Do you know what's the matter with her? I don't know, but I'm sure as hell not going to ask her. Asking always makes it worse, and she'll only complain that if we really cared about her, we wouldn't have to ask, we'd know. Okay, so in that case let's just wait it out. I mean, shoot, she can't cry forever, can she?