"Do you have to be a magician to invoke it?"
"Doubt it," Massha stated.
"Good." I turned to the mall-rat. If furry creatures could sweat, he would have been soaking. "What are the words?"
"Oh, monsieur, I cannot say!"
"Sure you can," I insisted. "Say it, or you're going to have to eat oatmeal for the rest of your life."
The mall-rat's eyes widened with horror. "Oh, monsieur, you would not!"
I showed him all my teeth. "Try me."
The mall-rat muttered something low.
"Louder," I insisted.
"One Card to rule The Mall, One Card to Charge It, One Card to cruise The Mall, and in the darkness Lodge It."
I stared at him. "That's stupid."
The mall-rat shrugged. "The magician is not necessairily the poet."
"You can say that again." I picked up the first card, a square of orange, and nodded to Massha. 'Tell me what happens."
"Aahz, no!"
I invoked it.
TWELVE
It had been a few years since Garkin's moronic practical joke had robbed me of my powers. I could usually put the situation out of my mind; after all, it was temporary. In a few hundred years my powers would return normally. Or I could do some detective work and hunt down which of a hundred vendors in the Bazaar had sold Garkin the joke powder he used in the summoning spell. When I did think about it, it bugged me. So I didn't. Not that introspection wasn't a facet of my deep-thinking personality, but when you have an itch you can't scratch, it only makes it worse to dwell on it. If magik had been my only resource, I might have folded up and died, but I was a Pervect, I was intelligent, and I'd been around. Trying out an unknown magik item might sound ridiculously dangerous, but if a transformation card had been tried out extensively on a lab ... I mean, mall-rat, chances were that it would be safe for a higher order of species to use. Like me.
"Well?" I asked.
Everyone looked taller, and the quality of the light was more blue. My voice sounded very high and a little hoarse. I patted my chest, and my hand flew off it in surprise as I touched a couple of obstructions I wasn't expecting. I looked down. I was female, very skinny, with smooth blue skin. A tight band hoisted the small bosoms up for maximum eye catching. The arms were kind of nice, too, with slim wrists and long fingers, eight on a hand. Not a species I recognized. Then a memory whispered in my mind. Tantalusian. My host's name was Vishini, an animal trainer with a fondness for shoes. Except for her home dimension there weren't many places like The Mall that sold high-fashion styles in extra wide, to accommodate eight toes per foot.
"Effective," I nodded approvingly. "Totally painless."
Thinking of Garkin, I realized that a card like this would be a really good practical joke. What if you planted one of these where a buddy couldn't resist picking it up? I chuckled.
The others were still staring. I glared back.
"Knock it off, guys. It's still me in here."
"Um, well," Parvattani gulped, his cheeks a brilliant teal in embarrassment.
"Not Skeeve," Chumley rumbled.
"Yeah." I sighed. "Well, we can't leave this hanging around." I picked up the orange square and tried to snap it between my fingers. Her fingers. In any case, they weren't strong enough. "Hey, Chumley, do you mind?"
"Not at all."
"Hey, monsieur," the mall-rat protested, struggling with his guards. "Don't do it!"
"Shut up," I barked. "Break it," I ordered.
The Troll took the card from me and bent it in half. It broke with a clap of thunder.
The next thing I knew I was flat on my back, staring up into the anxious faces of Parvattani's guards.
"Back off," I snarled.
My body was my own again, my handsome scales restored to their bright green, my clawlike fingernails intact, the fingers reduced to the right number. The guards jumped back. I staggered to my feet and tested my head to make sure it was still fastened on.
"That kicks like a mule. Gimme the next one."
"Isn't that a bad idea, Aahz?" Massha asked, worry written all over her big face. Her voice seemed to echo in my head.
"Not if I disinvoke before we break them," I insisted. I gestured toward the rat, who was crooning a worried song to himself. "He didn't go into a fit when I fell over, did he?"
"Nossir!" exclaimed the two guards flanking the prisoner.
I turned back to Massha and Chumley. "See?"
The mall-rat stared at me in astonishment. "You must be of the ultimate toughness, monsieur. That snapback killed Farout."
"Who's Farout?"
The rat, sensing he had said too much, clamped his jaws shut.
"Never mind." I waved a dismissive hand and reached for the next one.
"Me try?" Chumley suggested.
"No way," I stated firmly. "If I become something large and hostile, you'll have to be the one to sit on me. Let's get this out of the way and identify the Skeeve card. We can be back at the Bazaar in an hour. We'll just wing through them until we get the right one."
Par cleared his throat. "Aahz, we must keep a list of the—er, people-a you become. They are all-a victims inna this, too."
I raised an eyebrow. Massha nodded.
"Just because we're getting what we want doesn't mean we can't spend a little more time and help The Mall," she pointed out. 'Think how their friends and family feel about the violation of their identities."
"Aww." But Massha was right. "I'll do it," I agreed.
We repaired to Moa's office. We brought the administrator up to date, though he'd been following the chase by crystal ball. He was fascinated by the whole process, by the cards, and my experience with the first one.
"No wonder we've never been able to detect the thieves in all this time," he exclaimed, thumbing through the stack again and again. "Remarkable, remarkable." He glanced at Eskina. "Young lady, maybe I owe you an apology."
Eskina tossed her head. "And maybe I accept."
"We've got to go through the rest of these," I explained. "Thought it'd be nice to do it in more comfortable surroundings, where it's more private."
"Of course, Aahz, of course," Moa insisted hospitably, spreading out his hands. "It's nice to find such consideration in the world."
"Er, speaking of consideration" I began, then interrupted myself. "Never mind! I just need some space, all right?"
"Whatever you say," Moa assured me. "Would you like to use my office?"
I glanced around at the furnishings, especially the handsome upholstery and the range of breakables on the walls and tabletops.
"Better not," I stated. "If I can't control the cards, I might end up redecorating in here."
We ended up in an empty storeroom down the hall from the offices. Two of Parvattani's guards stood sentry outside the door. Four of them hung out at each wall. Massha, Chumley, and, to my extreme annoyance, Woofle stood at a safe distance, but close enough to jump on me if I needed it. All of them were watching me nervously.
I invoked the next card.
I have experimented with magik a lot. Not during my younger days, when I was way too serious, but later on, sometimes out of necessity, other times out of boredom, but I had never come across anything like the Ratislavan system. Like most magicians I was accustomed to taking my power out of the lines of force present in nearly every dimension to a greater or lesser extent. Nature renewed that flow. It was impersonal, neither good nor evil, and a magician could make use of it according to his, her, or its own talents, gifts, and inclination. This was different. I could feel power coming through me from the card in my hand, a weak trickle, and with it came a personality.
If you have never been possessed, don't. Let me give you my spur-of-the-moment reaction to using the card: it was weird. I knew who I was, Aahzmandius, Pervect, and all the millions of little details that make me me, but at the same time I knew I was also Dreo, a wood-carver from Creet. I thought of myself—my borrowed self—as a nice enough guy, but I didn't like to be around a lot of other people. I could almost sense through the walls the thousands of other shoppers. It made me jumpy. This was directly opposed to me, Aahz, who likes being in the midst of the bustle of a busy place. The two personalities rubbed one another raw. It was worse than telepathy; there was no place to hide from the other guy. I found myself feeling sorry for hydras.