"Good thought," I said. "Okay. Enough talk. Let's scatter and start giving the Mob a headache."
The other two teams had melted into the crowd of shoppers before I had even turned to Massha.
"Well, anything catch your eye for us to have a go at?"
"You know. you're starting to sound a bit like that troll."
That sounded a bit more abrupt than was Massha's normal style. I studied her curiously.
"Something bothering you?"
"Just a little nervous, I guess," she admitted. "Has it occurred to you all this plan has a major flaw? That to implement it potentially means getting the entire Bazaar after us, as well as the Mob?"
"Yes, it has."
"Doesn't it scare you?"
"Yes, it does."
"Well, how do you handle it?"
"By thinking about it as little possible," I said flatly. "Look, apprentice, aside from doing shtick in court for the amusement of the masses, this profession of ours is pretty dangerous. If we start dwelling on everything that can go wrong in the future, we'll either never move or blunder headlong into the present because our minds aren't on what we're doing right now. I try to be aware of the potential danger of a situation, but I don't worry about trouble until it happens. It's a little shaky, but it's worked so far."
"If you say so," she sighed. "Oh, well, gear me up and let's get started."
With a pass of my mind, I altered her features. Instead of being a massive woman, she was now a massive man... sort of. I had been experimenting with color lately, so I made her purple with reddish sideburns that ran all the way down her arms to her knuckles. Add some claw-like horns at the points of the ears and rough-textured, leathery skin on the face and hands, and you had a being I wouldn't want to mess with.
"Interesting," Massha grimaced, surveying what she could see of herself. "Did you make this up yourself, or is there a nasty dimension I haven't visited yet?"
"My own creation," I admitted. "The reputation you're going to build I wouldn't wish on any dimension I know of. Call it a Hoozit from the dimension Hoo."
"Who?"
"You've got it."
She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Hot stuff, do me a favor and only teach me magik, okay? Keep your sense of humor for yourself. I've already got enough enemies."
"We still need a target," I said, slightly hurt.
"How about that one? It looks breakable."
I looked where she was pointing and nodded.
"Good enough. Give me a twenty count head start. If they're not protected, I'll be back out. If you don't see me in twenty, they're fair game. Do your worst."
"You know," she smiled rubbing her hands together, "this could be fun."
"Just remember that I'm in there before you decide exactly what today's 'worst' is."
The display she had chosen was a small, three-sided tent with a striped top. It was lined with shelves that were crowded with an array of stoppered bottles of all sizes and colors. As I entered, I noticed there was something in each of the bottles-smoky things that shifted as if they were alive.
"May I help you, sahr?" The Deveel proprietor asked, baring what he doubtless thought was a winning smile.
"Just browsing," I yawned. "Actually, I'm seeking refuge from gossip. All anyone can talk about is this pack of ruffians that's selling insurance."
The Deveel's face darkened and he spat out the door.
"Insurance! Extortion I call it. They ruined two of my treasures before I could stop them long enough to subscribe to their services. It was a dark day when they first appeared at the Bazaar."
"Yes, yes. Believe me, I've heard it before."
Having established that this shop was indeed under the protection of the Mob, I turned my attention to the displays.
With studied nonchalance, I plucked up a small bottle, no more than a hand's-width high, and peered at the contents. Murky movement and a vague sparkle met my gaze.
"Be careful," the proprietor cautioned. "Once a Djin is released, it can only be controlled if you address it by name."
"A Djin?"
The Deveel swept me with a speculative gaze. Since I wasn't doing the heavy work, I wasn't in disguise and looked like ... well, me.
"I believe in Klah, they're referred to as Genies."
"Oh. You have quite a collection here."
The Deveel preened at the praise.
"Do not be fooled by the extent of my poor shop's selection, young sahr. They are extremely rare. I personally combed the far reaches of every dimension... at great personal expense, I might add ... to find these few specimens worthy of...."
I had been wondering when Massha was going to make her entrance. Well, she made it. Hoo-boy, did she make it. Right through the side of the tent.
With an almost musical chorus, the stand along the wall went over, dumping the bottles onto the floor. The released Djin rose in a cloud and poured out the open tent side, shrieking with inhuman joy as they went.
The Deveel was understandably upset.
"You idiot!" he shrieked. "What are you doing?"
"Pretty weak shelves," Massha muttered in a gravelly-bass voice.
"Weak shelves?"
"Sure. I mean, all I did was this ..."
She shoved one of the remaining two shelves, which toppled obligingly into the last display.
This time the Djin didn't even bother using the door. They streaked skyward, taking the top of the tent with them as they screamed their way to freedom.
"My stock! My tent! Who's going to pay for this?"
"That's Hoozit," Massha retorted, "and I'm certainly not going to pay. I don't have any money."
"No money?" the proprietor gasped.
"No. I just came in here to get out of the rain."
"Rain? Rain? But it isn't raining!"
"It isn't?" my apprentice blinked. "Then, goodbye."
With that she ambled off, making a hole in yet another tent side as she went.
The Deveel sank down in the shattered remains of his display and cradled his face in his hands.
"I'm ruined!" he moaned. "Ruined!"
"Excuse me for asking," I said. "But why didn't you call out their names and get them under control?"
"Call out their names? I can't remember the name of every Djin I collect. I have to look them up each time I sell one."
"Well, at least that problem's behind you."
That started him off again.
"Ruined!" he repeated needlessly. "What am I going to do?"
"I really don't know why you're so upset," I observed. "Weren't you just saying that you were insured?"
"Insured?"
The Deveel's head came up slowly.
"Certainly. You're paying to be sure things like this don't happen, aren't you? Well, it happened. It seems to me whoever's protecting your shop owes you an explanation, not to mention quite a bit of money."
"That's right!" the proprietor was smiling now. "More the latter than the former, but you're right!"
I had him going on now. All that was left to be done was the coup de grace.
"Tell you what. Just so your day won't be a total washout, I'll take this one. Now you won't have to stay open with just one Djin in stock."
I flipped him the smallest coin in my pouch. True to his heritage, he was sneering even as he plucked it out of the air.
"You can't be serious," he said. "This? For a Djin? That doesn't even cover the cost of the bottle!"
"Oh come, come, my good man," I argued. "We're both men of the world ... or dimensions. We both know that's clear profit."
"It is?" he frowned.
"Of course," I said, gesturing at the broken glass on the floor. "No one can tell how many bottles were just broken. I know you'll just include this one on the list of lost-stock and collect in full from your insurance in addition to what I just gave you. In fact, you could probably add five or six to the total if you were really feeling greedy."
"That's true," the Deveel murmured thoughtfully. "Hey, thanks! This might not turn out so bad after all."