“So what is it exactly that adventurers do?” Spyder said.
Her green companion took a long swallow from her flagon. “If you scrape away the bardic lyrics and all the escapist literature romantics, what it all boils down to is that basically adventurers are either thieves or killers … or both.”
Spyder leaned back and blinked. “How's that again?”
“Look at it close.” Pookie shrugged. “If you're going after a treasure or artifact, it means you're taking it away from someone who thinks it's theirs … even if they stole it themselves originally. That's stealing. Even if you're unearthing or rediscovering a long-lost item, by law it belongs to whoever's property it is that you're on at the time. If you don't hand it over and maybe settle for a reward, if you try to smuggle it out without admitting you've found anything, that's still stealing.”
“On the other hand, there's the ‘slay the monster/bandit who is terrorizing the neighborhood,’ or the traditional ‘rescue the princess/damsel from the evil whoever.’ Both of those, bluntly, involve killing.”
“Um … Pookie?” Spyder said slowly. “If those are really the choices, I think I'd rather do thieving assignments if we can manage it I mean, I try to be tough and put on a good front, but I really don't think of myself as a killer.”
“If you say so.” Pookie shrugged. “Ill keep it in mind. Personally, I lean toward the killing side, myself. There's usually less risk involved.”
“Now, I'm not saying you're wrong,” Spyder said, “but Skeeve and his M.Y.T.H. Inc. crew don't seem to fit with what you're saying.”
“Don't forget that crew is pretty much top-of-the-heap right now,” Pookie said. “As near as I can tell, it's taken them over ten years to work their way up into the position they're in, where people come to them with work. I'll bet you, though, if you look closely at some of their early work, it involved things that wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny. For example, I know for a fact that Tananda was primarily an assassin before she hooked up with Skeeve. And as for Aahz … I probably shouldn't speak ill of my own cousin, but he's always been one of the family's black sheep. If anything, I was surprised to find out he was involved in something that was even vaguely legitimate.”
“I guess you're right,” Spyder said, sighing. “Even Skeeve had to start somewhere. Of course, he had a Pervect for a trainer.”
“Don't forget, Little Sister,” Pookie said, winking, “so do you. I'm not one to brag, but if I can't teach you as well or better than Aahz taught Skeeve, I'll hang it up. If nothing else, I think I've got better material to work with from the get go.”
“Thanks, Pookie.” Spyder smiled. “That means a lot to me.”
“Don't mention it,” Pookie said, holding up her flagon for her companion to clink with. “If nothing else, it beats the military gig you just got clear of.”
“No question there.” Spyder nodded. She took a long pull of her own drink, then set it on the table with a decisive thump. “So, how do we go about looking for work?”
Pookie cocked her head in surprise. “Why, exactly what we're doing now. What did you think we were doing?”
“The same thing we've been doing for the last month.” Spyder shrugged. “Sitting around a tavern and drinking. Frankly I've been wondering when we were going to get started adventuring.”
Pookie held her hand over her eyes for a few long moments before responding. “Look, dear,” she said finally, “remember what I was saying about us being pretty much criminals? Well, the old adage that ‘Crime does not pay’ is actually a shortened form of ‘Crime does not pay well.’ Well, in our line of work, that means that either you do a lot of little jobs … which ups the odds of something going wrong … or a few big jobs and live on the proceeds between.”
“So what does that have to do with us sitting around a tavern?” Spyder frowned.
“I'm coming to that. Now there's primarily two ways of finding work. Either we roam around and try to pick up a rumor or situation that takes our fancy, or we sit in one place and let the information come to us. Taverns in general are goldmines of information, and ones like this that caters to dimension travelers of all types are prime places to hear about a specific caper.”
She glanced toward the door. “Speaking of which, here comes a likely prospect now. Let me take the lead here, Little Sister.”
Spyder turned to follow Pookie's gaze. Just inside the door, steadying himself on the back of a chair, was a warrior. His chainmail, helmet, and sword marked him as such, even though the body that was wearing it was rotund and hairy, topped with a head that sported a pig snout and tusks. Also noticeable was the fact that his left arm was in a sling, and he moved with a noticeable limp.
“Care to join us, friend?” Pookie said, raising her voice. “You look like you could use a drink and some sympathetic company.”
The newcomer studied them for a moment, then shrugged and lurched his way over to their table.
“Thanks for the invite,” he said, dropping heavily into a seat. “It's more than I expected. Whoever said ‘No one likes a loser’ sure knew what they were talking about.”
“First things first,” Pookie said and waved the barmaid over.
After another round had been ordered and delivered, including a large flagon of ale for the guest, the three settled into conversation. “Thanks again,” the warrior said, taking a long draught from his flagon.
“Truth to tell, I was trying to decide between having a drink or getting a room. The war chest is about tapped out after paying the healers. By the way, the name's Trog.”
“Pookie and Spyder here,” Pookie said, indicating who was who with a wave of her hand. “Looks like you're coming off a rough job.”
“Darn near got my head handed to me,” Trog said, taking another drink. “Sounded easy going in, but they all do until you're up against it”
“What was the job, anyway?” Pookie asked. “You look to me like someone who could handle most anything and anybody.”
“It was one of those Kill or scare off the beast that's terrorizing the countryside' deals,” Trog explained. “This time around, it was a Hefalump. Never tangled with one before, but, like you say, I can handle most things without much problem.”
“Don't tell me, let me guess,” Pookie said. “No money up front. Just a reward if you're successful. Right?”
“Got it in one,” the warrior confirmed. “That's where the it always looks easy going in' part caught up with me.”
“Where was this anyway? Around here or another dimension?”
Trog leaned back in his seat and studied them with narrowed eyes.
“Not to sound ungrateful,” he said carefully, “but you're asking a lot of questions. More than one might expect from casual curiosity. What's your interest in all this?”
“It's no big secret.” Pookie shrugged. “We're in the same line of work as you and looking for a job. Since it sounds like your last find is still open and from the looks of things you won't be up to trying it again for a while, we might just look into it ourselves if the pay's right”
Trog set his flagon down with a loud think. “And what makes you think two females could pull it off when I couldn't?” he demanded.
“For one thing, as you pointed out, there are two of us.” Pookie smiled. “And don't downcheck us because we're female. We've been around for a while and are still here. A lot who went up against us aren't.”
Trog started to say something, then stopped and cocked his head. “Wait a minute,” he said. “A Klahd and a Pervect working together? Are you two Aahz and Skeeve?”
Spyder choked on her drink.
“Right lineage, wrong gender,” Pookie said. “Like I said, we're Spyder and Pookie. We know Aahz and Skeeve, though.”