"His kind?" Tananda asked. "Are there any other Pikinise here?"
"Oh, of course! There's Malkin, from Brumtown, and the entire Skruse family..."
"Not that kind," I said, snapping my fingers. "He's at the Magicians' Club."
"Why there?" Tanda asked.
"Where else? It's the one place where nobody will ask awkward questions. He's hauling a huge book with a solid gold cover. This city is full of pickpockets and muggers. There's security out the wazoo inside the casinos, but anything that happens outside is no one's business. Nobody wants to know if you got rolled or mugged or grifted. It's bad for publicity. Whatever happens to you in Vaygus will be disavowed by the secretary, the mayor, the police and the press. The club the perfect place where a big-time magik item like the Book will be safe."
"That sounds like sense, good Aahz," Ersatz said.
Even Asti couldn't find anything sarcastic to say. I smirked.
"Of course it does. Let's go."
I felt smug as I headed down the strip with the others in my wake. It felt good to be in charge again.
"Are you sure you don't want a guided tour while you're here?" Buirnie piped up, desperate to regain leadership of the group. "I know absolutely everyone! I can get us in backstage to all the shows! The city council owes me a bunch of favors for writing theme songs for their advertisements."
"Maybe another time," I said, pulling a step or two ahead of Calypsa to get away from his voice. "In case you have forgotten, we're on a time limit."
"You are useless here, Buirnie," Ersatz said. "As you are everywhere."
"Me?" the Flute squealed, making everyone within fifteen feet clap their hands to their ears. "What about a sword? How many showgirls and gamblers do you think we will need to slay in pursuit of the wizard who has Payge?"
"Don't waste your time," Asti said. She looked like a tin camping canteen in a canvas case, nothing worth stealing, a lowly disguise that made her cranky. "Let the mortal try and earn his keep. He's done little enough so far."
I shook her container. "Listen, sister, I'd trade you in for a leaky bucket if the kid here didn't want to keep you. In fact, I might just sling you out in the desert for a while. Let a bunch of thirsty camels play kick the can with you."
"You wouldn't!"
"He might," Tananda said sweetly, with a wink at me. "You know what Pervects are like."
"Perverts!" Asti exclaimed in alarm.
Calypsa looked from the Sword to the Cup. "I think Aahz and Tananda are doing a fine job," she said. "I would never have found all of you without them. Especially not so swiftly. You must have served with some very impressive heroes if everyone was able to do things more efficiently than they!"
I preened. "All in a day's work, kid," I said. Maybe I was teaching her something after all, in spite of my refusal to undertake her formal education. At least she appreciated me.
I strode on with a spring in my step.
"Hmmph!" the Goblet snorted. "Laying balm on wounded nerves is usually my task."
The Magicians' Club didn't advertise its presence. By their nature, the shows in Vaygus used a lot of magikal practitio-ners, everything from illusionists to major transformers, using
every gizmo from trick cabinets up to complex special effects that would make motion picture producers wet themselves in envy. It was a great place to kick back in between shows and complain about the casino bosses and the customers, without a chance that anything one said would ever be heard by another living creature. The place was shielded with some of the most sophisticated spells out there, plus a few guardian critters like dragons and weresnakes that had a taste for trespassers.
I had joined the club on my first visit, years ago when I was fresh out of school. I had a membership card and a signet ring, neither of them with me, and I'd sworn the oath of secrecy which said, among other things, that we were never to reveal the secrets of our brother and sister magicians. That promise often concealed the fact that half the magikal workings in Vaygus weren't magik at all, but complex technical effects that a Klahd could do with one finger up his nose and the other on a button. The best thing about the club was the professional seminars. Presentation was everything, so they taught a lot about showmanship. I'd done a series of lectures myself here, years back. I knew the other guys would be glad to see me. They ought to help me deal with our runaway wizard.
The building was down a surprisingly dark alley in between two of the biggest theaters. Klik was the only light for a hundred yards in any direction. I sidled up to the well-concealed doorway and gave the membership knock.
Rap rap rap, dadadadada, rap rap rap. Boom boom boom. Rap rap rap rap rap. Tap tap!
A round porthole appeared in the center of the door. "Who seeks admittance?" asked a hoarse voice.
"A fellow seeker," I replied.
"By what right do you seek admittance here?" the voice continued.
"By common interests and brotherhood," I said. "Look, can we skip the rest of the litany? I don't have twenty minutes to waste tonight."
The voice got haughty. "We have standards to maintain! To continue' what brought you to this place?"
It was question three of fifty-one. I sighed. "The search for wisdom."
".. .And what is the name of the seeker who seeks admittance, under the bylaws and statutes of this august institution?" the voice finally asked, almost an hour later. The others had waited behind me, out of earshot, since the whole password thing was supposed to be a secret. I could hear Asti and Buirnie giggling. I had felt that humiliated in my life, but not recently. I gritted out the last answer.
"Aahz. Aahzmandius. Now, open the damned door already!"
"Aahzmandius...let me check the records. Yes, membership dues paid up to date. Come in, seeker, and be welcome!"
The eye slot slammed shut. I stood back. Most of the wall opened up to reveal double doors of solid gold inlaid with impressive jade sigils. Most of them were jokes that only other magicians would get, like the one on my left as I strode in that said, "Eat at Joe's," in a remote, ancient dialect of Imp. Another was a complex recipe for seaweed stew.
As I entered, two scantily-clad females in pink and blue sequins flanking the doorway threw up their gloved hands and posed.
"Ta-daaaaa!" they chorused.
Tananda pussyfooted her way inside, as one who always felt at ease no matter where she was, but Calypsa was open-beaked, gawking at everything like the most backwoods country rube.
I had to admit that the place had its impressive elements. Illusions of trapeze artists swung around the chandeliered ceiling in between the triple images of fire-breathing dragons. I realized I was wrong—the one in the middle really was a dragon, part of the club's security system, since even advanced magicians generally needed a specialized control device to keep
from getting eaten by a dragon that they had not personally impressed. This one, a brick-colored monstrosity with five heads, clung to a protruberance like an upside-down Christmas tree. It lowered one head to sniff at us as we came in. I signed to the others to hold still for the pat-down as the monster nose ran us up one side and down the other. Fortunately, I had encountered this one before. Dragons never forgot a scent, of people to whom they were indifferent, and people they hated. They rarely, if ever, liked a nondragon. Gleep, Skeeve's smelly pest—I mean, pet—was a notable exception. Tananda winked at it as it drew away, which startled it into letting out a puff of sulfur-scented smoke.
I felt right at home. Magicians from a hundred dimensions hung out there alone or in small groups, absorbing alcohol and other intoxicants. Just to my right, one stout Kobold was demonstrating to a goggle-eyed Vulpine how to breathe out a stream of fire. Beyond them, a big group of Imp magicians in gaudy outfits only Imps would think were stylish were engaged in a loud discussion about cabinets. Same old, same old.