She kept returning to one arm ring studded with square, deep blue stones. According to the tag, the bangle was a powerful artifact, useful for increasing the potential of another item placed in contact with it. Lawsy grinned to herself and removed the tag. That could be a lot of fun if the Jahk bought it. Rattila would approve of her initiative.
"This is a very pretty piece," she stressed. "Do you have a lot of blue clothing?"
"Not really," Massha admitted. "I tend to go for warm colors. They go with my personality." She let out a big, hearty laugh. Lawsy concentrated on memorizing every single nuance. "But I like this." "Do you prefer jewelry for its looks, or its ability?"
"Oh, ability," Massha confided. "No one ought to know better than me how unimportant looks are to what's inside. Don't get me wrong; I love pretty things, but a plain old hunk of silver won't fetch my coffee for me."
"You are so right," the disguised mall-rat agreed, with a friendly smile. "So, would you like this wrapped, or will you wear it?
"I'll wear it," Massha decided. "How much?"
"Only thirty-five!" Lawsy exclaimed. "Very reasonable for such a beautiful piece, don't you think?"
Massha nodded. "Not bad. Yes, I think I will take it."
She pulled open her purse and began to count out coins.
"What's going on here?"
Lawsy looked up in alarm. Hovering above them, his face deep blue with fury, was the store owner. She hadn't been paying attention. The other customer was on her way out of the shop. She gave the fizzing Djinn a helpless grin.
He wasn't mollified.
"What are you doing back there?" he demanded.
Lawsy rose at once and moved out from behind the counter.
"I was just helping this fine lady try things on," she chirped. "I could see you were too busy. We were having a nice chat! It's my job, to make the customer feel at home."
Massha, alarmed, gawked at the mall-rat.
"She doesn't work for you?"
"No, charming lady," the Djinn replied, in a milder tone. "She's a survey taker here in the mall. See the badge? Thank you for your help," he added, though he didn't sound grateful, "but next time, don't do that."
"Of course," Lawsy exclaimed. She reached over and patted Massha on the hand. "I'll just be going, now that we have what we want."
"Thanks." Massha smiled at her. She waited as the jeweler snapped his fingers and summoned up a receipt.
"Shall I wrap it, charming lady?" the Djinn asked, then did a double take. "I know you! My cousin Rimbaldi in The Volcano tells me what a joy you are to dress!"
The Jahk's cheeks pinked up. "No bag, thanks. I'll wear it." She tucked it onto her arm with the rest of her swag. Lawsy backed hastily out of the store and ran as fast as she could for the Rat Hole.
"Beautiful, beautiful," Rattila slavered, fondling the bracelet again and again. "And she spoke to you. I heard it all. How nice that she was willing to open herself up so readily to your inquiries. Good job."
Lawsy quivered with happiness. She didn't get much praise from the Big Cheese.
Rattila tasted the bracelet, his teeth rasping against the soft metal. "Married, likes blue jewelry, sensitive about her body, knows about magik devices—I can make use of her expertise." He thrust his claw into the heap of garbage and came up with the Master Card. He touched the bracelet to it, and both of them glowed brightly. The gleam was echoed in Rattila's red eyes.
"Yes, yes!" he gloated. "I feel her power joining mine!" He closed his eyes and envisioned the credit balance in the Master Card. It was not quite full yet, but it soon would be. As the mall-rats chanted, he produced thin cards, flimsier and less potent than the usual collectors. "These are temporaries," he explained carefully to his followers. "Do not stop trying to get her to fill out an application so we can devour her completely. Now, spend, spend, spend! Do not cross the visitors' paths. I want all of it to come as a surprise to Master Aahz when Mistress Massha falls into my power."
ELEVEN
"Don't you love it?" Massha asked, showing off her wrist to me and Chumley.
"Nice," I offered shortly. I wasn't much for fancy baubles. I always think natural beauty shines through better. But, then, Massha wasn't a Pervect and didn't have that advantage.
"Very pretty," Eskina approved.
"What's it do, what?" Chumley asked.
"I..." Massha paused. "Do you know, I forgot to ask! It made my hand look so nice that was all I could think about."
A black cloak swirled around our feet and slipped into our midst. I resented the intrusion, and cocked an elbow into the ribs of the tall figure.
"Ow!" Eskina shrieked. "He hit me!"
"Sorry, kid, it was me," I apologized.
I realized my mistake then: the newcomer was a Spectre, the semi-insubstantial denizens of Spect, a mysteriously beautiful dimension I'd dropped in on once. Frustrating place in a way, because although the women could touch me, I couldn't return the favor, and they had been tall, sensual, and exotic.
So was this big lug, or so he thought. He picked up Massha's hand and began to nibble his way up from the tips of her fingers.
"Hey, watch the jewelry," she warned him. "I just polished—ooh—mmm."
A big, silly, trancelike grin broke out on her face. Then, she snapped out of it.
"Hey, buddy, we haven't even been introduced."
"I am the architect of your wildest dreams, baby," the Spectre whispered. "I like a woman with... substance." He eyed her up and down, the jet-black eyes in his hollow eye sockets evidently liking what they saw.
"So, what do you say, baby?" he asked, snuggling so close to Massha's back that his black robes brushed her rose-colored jeans. "We can get a room, and put a big do not disturb sign on the door."
Massha spun abruptly, making him stumble. "Goodness me!" she giggled. "You wouldn't say things like that if my husband were here."
The Spectre grinned sepulchrally, his hooded eyes blazing with white light. "Oh? And what would your husband do if he were here?"
Massha winked coyly. "He'd stand right there and watch me mop up the floor with you. Now if you can't take a lady's hints, I'll say it straight out: bug off."
"I like feisty women!" The Spectre, laughing hollowly, tried to put his arms around her one more time.
Chumley started to move in from one side, Parvattani from the other. I put a hand on each of their chests to hold them back.
"Hang on. Let her enjoy herself a little, first."
The lesson in manners was brief but memorable. The big guy counted on being insubstantial to stave off physical jolts, but Massha pulled one of her gizmos out and dangled it in his face. I'd seen the glowing green charm before. Massha had told me it was specific for dealing with phan- toms: glass covered in gold. The Spectre was not impressed. He stood with his big chin out. Massha hauled back and dealt him one hell of a roundhouse punch delivered all the way from the middle of her back. You could tell by the glazed expression on his face just before he folded up and sank that he thought her fist should have gone right through his jaw.
Massha stood over the body, shaking her hand up and down to restore the circulation.
"I really gotta remember what my mother always said about not hitting bone with bone."
"Very pretty, Massha." Chumley applauded her. "My little sister couldn't have cooled off a man faster."