The dark-feathered secretary came hurrying out of a small door in between two works of art on the walls. She had a purse over her shoulder.
"Office hours are at an end, dear visitors," she said. "I was about to go home!"
Aahz glared at her. "We want to see the boss. Now."
"Tact, Aahz, tact," Chumley advised. He inclined his head, not daring to bow for fear of precipitating either Badaxe or Massha into the drink. "My dear young lady, I realize it is late, but may we see Diksen? As you see, we have rather a distinguished visitor who would like to speak with him." He held out a hand toward See-Ker.
The girl went wide eyed and bowed deeply to the king.
"Greetings, Matt, O feather of efficiency," he said.
"Greetings, O See-Ker, great king of Necropolis," she said. "What are you doing with all these outlanders?"
"In search of an answer which only your employer can provide. Will you summon him?"
"For you, great master, anything!" Her eyes shone adoringly. She placed her palms together and intoned at the ceiling, "O great Diksen, he of the endless wisdom, writer of spellbinding texts, worker of wonders, son beloved of Maul-De and Omphalos, brother to Zimov and Clar-Ek! Be with us here and now, I do most urgently entreat!"
"She has to do this every time she wants to see her boss?" Massha asked. "Pretty cumbersome, if you ask me."
"She is painstaking," See-Ker said. "Diksen is fortunate to have her. Good secretaries are very hard to find."
Matt brought her hands together, and the clap sounded like thunder. The hound-faced Ghord appeared before her, still clasping a book.
"What is it?" he demanded, glancing up and staring at the massive crowd in his anteroom. "Late ... not expecting visitors ... oh. Majesty. Would have made arrangements ... feast."
See-Ker smiled at him. "My esteemed friend, Diksen, this is just a visit of courtesy. I bring friends."
On cue, Aahz dragged Samwise forward. The Imp's knees were knocking.
"Not him," Diksen mumbled furiously, gesturing threateningly with his book. "He is a . . . thief. Dorsals!"
I saw shapes swimming around the shell of the building. Light from the room's many lamps flashed off weapons.
"No one else, thanks," Markie said. "There's enough of a crowd in here already." She waved a hand, and
the inside wall of the bubble froze solid. Thwarted, the Dorsals pounded on the ice with the butts of their spears. "Go on, your majesty!" Markie suggested, in her most adorable voice. "We won't be interrupted again."
See-Ker nodded. "Perhaps Samwise is a thief, but he is a thief willing to make amends. Will you hear him? He grovels most satisfyingly."
Diksen blew out a deep breath, making his jowls flap. "For you, majesty ... of course." He glared at his former employee. "Talk."
Samwise twitched. "Uh, right, well, Diksen, I know you weren't too happy with my work, but I always respected what you did! You knew I dreamed of being an architect like you. I studied the masters, but what you were doing—you thought big! Really big! I would have been satisfied to do a fraction of what you did. I would have been proud to make use of your leavings . . . and, uh, that's what I did."
"That pyramid ... for Mumsy!" Diksen exclaimed, waving his hands. He prodded Samwise with the book. "Insult . . . dire . . . death!"
"I can tell you're pretty mad," I said, "but all Samwise wants to do is apologize. Don't you, Samwise?"
"Uh, yeah!" the Imp said. "I apologize. It was wrong of me. I'll apologize to your mother, too, if you want. It's the least that I can do."
"Summon Maul-De," See-Ker told Matt.
The secretary had a separate invocation for Diksen's mother. When the smoke cleared and Maul-De stepped forward, I was one of the few who didn't recoil. Her face was shrunken, even by Necrop standards, and her back was bent, but Diksen put his arm around her as if she was a piece of priceless porcelain. Aswana went to her other side. The old lady greeted her with pleasure.
"What is this?" she asked in her querulous voice.
"Miserable . . . thieving clerk . . . apologize," Diksen said.
She turned toward Samwise, and her wasted frame seemed to expand. She straightened up until she seemed almost as tall as See-Ker.
"Well?"
Samwise flinched and tried to flee. Badaxe picked him up by his collar and held him, legs windmilling, over the open pool.
"Haven't you got something to say to the lady?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah, of course. Maul-De, I'm sorry. I... uh ... didn't think about those plans being a tribute your son wanted to build for you. I, uh, well, what can I say? I abjectly apologize. I never wanted to offend you in any way in my entire life! I have great respect for you. You're an amazing person, and, uh, I admire you and your son."
"And . . . ?" Maul-De pressed.
"And, what?" Samwise asked, puzzled.
"And you are going to take down that abomination out there?" she asked, pointing a bony finger in the direction of Phase One.
"Take it down?" Samwise asked. "I can't do that! I've got thousands invested in it! Thousands of people on the job, thousands more who have bought into it! I can't just destroy it."
Maul-De turned away with a wave of her hand. "Kill him."
Diksen pushed back his sleeves, a grim smile on his face as if he had been waiting for an opportunity like that for years. Markie and Massha revved up their respective talents and stood ready to counterattack. The Imp fell to his knees and threw his arms over his head.
"Wait, wait, wait!" I said, getting in between them. "Killing Samwise won't solve the problem. Can't we come to some other agreement?"
"... What?" Diksen asked.
"Make it worth his while," Aahz said, nudging Samwise with his toe. The Imp was surrounded by a ring of faces, all on our side, with the exception of Diksen, of course. "We all have a stake in this. Fix it!"
Samwise cleared his throat. "Uh, listen, Maul-De, I'll make a donation to any charity of your choice of, say, ten percent of my profits." "Twenty," Aahz said. "Aahz!"
Samwise sighed. "Twenty."
"Not good enough," Diksen growled.
"Thirty, and I'll throw in ten percent of my commission if you take the curse off, too," Aahz said, with a warning finger held up to stop Samwise from bursting out with a protest.
"The curse is no more than you deserved," Maul-De said, narrowing her large black eyes at him. "You got caught in a trap set by my son to catch miserable thieves like you."
"But the rest of us get it, too," Aahz pointed out. "Bad luck's been following anybody who got involved with this, and that's not fair. You nearly killed Skeeve when your goons threw him out of your sphere. For that I ought to kill you, but I'm giving you a chance to make it right."
"He fell through the sands into our realm," Aswana added. "It was a wonder that he made it alive!"
For the first time Diksen looked abashed. He mumbled into his jowls. "Shouldn't have killed anyone . . . minor matter . . . pull out of the sand . . . buildup of bad luck. Sorry ... both of you. You bought into ... that... thing!" His hand shook as he pointed toward Samwise's construction project.
"Are you trying to say that the accumulation of misfortune is the reason that Aahz couldn't rescue me?" I asked. "But I never signed a contract."
"Don't use many curses," Diksen admitted. "... Threat was a deterrent enough ... I thought."
"Turns out you were wrong," Aahz said. "It's stronger than you thought it was. How about lifting it? You can leave it on Samwise, for all I care." "Aahz!"
Diksen waved a hand. "Not interested... should have been unique . . . twenty more to come . . . ruined my plans!"
"And you will not lift this curse under any circumstances?" asked See-Ker.
"Will not!"
"Is that your final word?"
Diksen crossed his arms on his chest and nodded. See-Ker sighed. "It will hold."