"Gone," I said grimly. Bunny shook her head. I dashed out the rear door of our tent, stepping into the dimension into which our office extended, and examined the walls. No sign of the Humbee, or a single crack through which it could have escaped. I felt the side of the clapboard house, which was this dimension's face of my building. The walls were only an inch thick, too narrow to conceal the bulky bug. Where had it gone?
One more thing Catchmeier had failed to mention about the new tent was the infestation of Humbees. No one knew where the pesty insects had sprung from, but they were overrunning the Bazaar. Deveel merchants had jumped on the bandwagon already, so to speak, with Humbee repellents, traps, and insecticides. As far as I could tell from questioning friends of mine, none of them worked. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people were trying to find out what dimension they had come from and who was responsible for importing them to Deva. That person, unsurprisingly, was lying low, fearing the inevitable lynch mob. The beetles were a nuisance. A blow from a passing Humbee could leave one with a bruise the size of a grapefruit. It had also been discovered that the bees could penetrate solid walls and create a warren the envy of any termite infestation. Because it was common practice to build out into transdimensional locations, the Humbees had no problem spreading to other dimensions. The Merchants
Association was fielding complaints from a number of people who suddenly found themselves ducking Humbees.
"Their magik is beyond me," I concluded, returning through the back door.
"Well, there's your first professional question," Bunny joked, as I threw myself back into my chair. "How do they do that?"
THREE
"There are no simple questions."
In between dive-bombings, Bunny and I concentrated on hiring a couple of Deveel youths to distribute my cards to places where customers who had unanswerable questions were likely to turn up. Most of them were targeted to inns and taverns, but a few stacks went to places like the Merchants Association office, the Deveel Tourism Board, and Madam Zizzi's See the Future in Living Color emporium.
Once the first cards went out, the street outside the modest little tent was packed with would-be clients. I peered out through the flap at the crowd. Just behind me, Bunny sat at a modest-looking desk that was actually bolted to the floor with magikal rivets that would withstand even a Troll's charge. I looked again at the gathered mass. My stomach did flip-flops.
"Well?" Bunny asked.
"Better than I hoped," I said.
"Remember, most of them won't have a problem that's right for you."
"I know that." I took a deep breath. I returned to the inner office and sat at my desk, a secondhand, heavily gilded number that we had picked up for a small handful of silver coins from a traveling circus from Mexumalita. It had the benefit of looking very impressive while being inexpensive enough to be easily replaced if an overwrought client happened to damage it beyond repair. It, too, was bolted down. I had been in this dimension for a good long time.
With a flick of magik, I caused the outer tent flap to lift and darkened my office so I could see what was going on without being observed. A group of Deveels crowded in, each trying to be the first in line. Bunny stopped them with an upheld palm and a devastating smile.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, pertly.
The cluster of red-skinned beings came to a halt and shuffled uncomfortably.
"Uh, no," one of them finally admitted.
"The Great Skeeve sees people by appointment only," she went on. She opened a datebook that she had filled up with names and times. "I have three openings now, then another one in an hour and a half. Would any of you care to make an appointment?"
The Deveels started yelling at once. That didn't alarm me. Deveels usually do business at the top of their lungs. Bunny kept smiling as she jotted their names down. A skinny specimen named Rokra, who had managed to get his name in first, grinned triumphantly at the others as Bunny gestured him toward my door. Three of the others followed him. One of them yanked Rokra back and scrambled to take his place.
"Just a moment!" Bunny said. "Will the rest of you please sit down?"
A free-for-all started, as the four each tried to push past one another.
Time for my secret weapon.
"Gleep!"
My pet dragon shot from the fireproof pad where he had been lying in the corner of Bunny's reception room to interpose himself between the Deveels and my doorway. I smiled to myself. He might still be a baby of his kind, no more than fourteen feet long from nose to tail tip, but a dragon was a dragon. The Deveels paled to dirty pink and backpedaled. As neatly as a sheepdog, Gleep cut Rokra out of the quartet and herded him in my direction. The rest started to follow, but he whipped his head around on his long neck.
"Hissss!"
A baby dragon's flame is modest in size, but his breath could knock a charging rhinopotomos unconscious. The Deveels halted in their hoofprints.
"Uh, we'll just come back later," the Deveels agreed. They pushed their way out through the throng gathered around Bunny's desk.
Rokra still looked nervous as he walked through the illusionary darkness and emerged into my office.
"Greetings," I said, making my voice echo hollowly off the walls. The Deveel gulped, but he sat down in the thickly padded leather chair I gestured him into. "Now, what can I do for you?"
It took seconds for Rokra to get over his shock at finding a youthful, blond Klahd behind the massive desk. I waited, poised, eager to give my first new client the benefit of my experience and wisdom. What would he ask me? I could hardly wait. I hoped it was something deep. I had been doing a lot of thinking recently on why there was an "up" and a "down."
The Deveel glanced around as if to make sure the room wasn't bugged. It wasn't; I had swept it again for Shutter-bugs and Earwigs just a few moments before.
"You don't have to worry," I said austerely. "Our conference is private. Tell me what kind of problem I can help you solve."
Rokra leaned forward with an oily smile on his face.
"Well, Skeeve, I can tell you're the kind of guy who likes to get right down to business. I need you to help me take out my business partners. We started this ... er, import business together, and now I think they're planning to freeze me out. So, I want to dispose of them first."
"Murder?" I sputtered. "I don't kill people!"
"Okay, okay, don't think of it as killing them," Rokra said, hastily. "Maybe as a surprise departure from this life? Or how about this—dump them off in a dimension without magik. That'd make us both happy. They don't die, but they won't be around anymore to bollix up my business. How about it?"
"Sorry," I said, coldly, standing up. "I can recommend a couple of Guild assassins I know. Standard rates. You don't need me."
"But they're sneaky!" Rokra insisted. "Look, I heard you're the best. I need the best."
"Sorry," I repeated, a little more firmly. I beckoned, and Gleep strode into the room, preceded by an almost visible exhalation of sulfur-scented breath. "That's not what I do."
"No one knows what it is you do do," Rokra said.
"Maybe so," I agreed, "but what you want is not it. Thanks for dropping in."
Rokra tried holding on to the arms of the chair, but Gleep was good at winkling grubworms out of stumps on Klah. He wriggled his nose under the Deveel's tail and heaved upward.