Myth-Gotten Gains by Robert Asprin

Author:Robert Asprin [Asprin, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-04-28T19:09:40+00:00

Chapter 13

THE BLEAK, OPEN landscape let us spot the carter more than half an hour before we reached him. The black-furred Pikinise studied us curiously but with no fear. He stopped his cart as I called out a greeting, and leaned his elbow onto his homespun-clad knee.

"Heading for Pikerel?" I asked, trying not to show the im-patience that I felt.

"About," he replied. "Come from there?"

That was a safe bet, since the road we were standing on led directly back to the small hamlet.

"Yeah," I said shortly. "I wonder if you can help us. We're looking for someone."

"And you found him," the carter said, leaning back and looking pleased.

"Not you."

"Well, then, you ain't found him yet," the carter opined. I reached up and took him by the bib of his overalls.

"I've been walking for two days, and I'm not in the mood for yokel humor."

The Pikinise brushed my hands away and sat back.

'There's no need to get ugly," he said. "I thought it'd make you happy to get done what you're aimin' to do. Who you lookin' for?"

"He's right, friend Aahz," Ersatz said. "Perhaps if you'd been more specific..."

"Shut up," I said. "I don't do everything perfect like you four." I turned back to the local. "I'm trying to find a guy who lives out in this direction. He lives out in the middle of no-where. He studies all the time.

He's got books."

In no hurry, the carter scratched at the fur on his shoulder with a meditative hand.

"Seems to me," he said, "you might want one of the folks who lives out on the wild heath. The happy floormaker is

somewhere out there. Very artistic fellah. He searches the mud puddles and hollows of the marshes and fields for found ma-terials and clay and just other little mineral treasures to make the blocks and artistic mosaics that he takes such joy in. He takes folks in who just want a quiet place to stay. That's his territory." The carter waved a hand out vaguely behind him.

"I see," I observed, "so that's the Merry Tiler Moor."

I looked at the man for applause. I shouldn't have both-ered. I had never seen such a blank look in my life.

"Wai, you might phrase it that way, stranger. Follow the wild beast trails. Ain't no road to his place.

Good luck."

"What did he say?" Calypsa demanded, following closely on my heels as I looked for another person to ask for direc-tions. "And what did you say before that? Why did he look so puzzled?"

"All right," I said, rounding on her. "This is turning into a regular liability. I can disguise you as a local. I can guide you through a hundred dimensions and locate the treasures of the ages, but I don't have time to give you language lessons! If you don't understand something, stow it. I'll tell you if it's important. I've got enough problems to concentrate on."

The Walt quailed. "I am sorry, Aahz, but I only wish to know what is going on so I can help.

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