"Never. I can't even begin to tell you what a bad idea that would be. You'd be asking for assassination attempts, or worse, lawsuits, if you tried to sell this process over the counter. You like it so much, you try it."
"All right," Woofle snarled, accepting the challenge.
He took a card from Massha. Once he had chanted the spell, his scrawny body was replaced by a tall, black-shelled insectoid fashionista from Troodle.
"Now, look at the possibilities inherent in this..." Woofle began, gesturing at his/her figure. Then his mandibles clicked uncomfortably, and his multiple-lensed eyes started to roll. He clutched his head. "Stop that! Shut up! No, I am not a boring dresser! Be quiet! Aagh!"
Hastily he undid the spell and threw the card on the ground. His round Flibberite face contorted with fear and disgust.
"Get rid of them! All of them!"
"We're trying to, Woofle. Calm yourself," Moa advised.
"Name, sir?" Parvattani asked, politely. "We need it to compare with store receipts to verify fraudulent purchases."
"Do you think I want to remember?" Woofle shrieked.
I groaned. Wimp. "I'll do it." I picked the card up off the floor, and was in and out of the Troodleian in nothing flat. "Ch'tk'll."
"Thank you, sir."
"See what I mean?" I tried not to gloat, but I didn't like Woofle. "You only were in for a moment. If you stayed a different being too long, you might lose your own identity,"
"Then how come a rat like that can keep using them over and over?" Woofle demanded.
"We have, how you say, not much mind to call ou-air own," the mall-rat acknowledged modestly.
"If you've got a healthy ego, this system could destroy it," I told Eskina.
The investigator waved a hand. "There will be bugs worked out."
"This isn't a bug, it's an infestation," I insisted. But I went on doping out the identities embedded in each magikal card.
The third from the last card in the pack was Skeeve. I didn't need the shocked looks on the faces of my friends to know I'd hit it. I could hear his inner voice talking to itself, probably at the last minute that his card had been stolen or copied.
Wow, that girl is really something. She's a vampire! Aahz wouldn't like that. He was really upset when he found out Blut was behind our tent. Sometimes he worries too much. They don't seem so bad.. . I think Casandra really likes me. I hope she's impressed. I feel like a phony, but everyone's treating me like a big shot... I shoved the card away from me. I'd heard and felt more besides that inner monologue, a whole lot of things I really didn't want to know about my ex-partner's inner workings. I felt as if I was barging into his mind, like mental breaking and entering.
"Destroy it," I croaked. "Now!"
"Right you are, Aahz," Chumley asserted. He snapped the blue plastic rectangle in two, then four, then eight pieces.
"What about these?" Massha asked, holding up the last cards.
"Gimme a minute," I snarled. I recovered my usual composure and processed the final two, an Imp and a Gnome.
"Thank you, thank you, Aahz!" Moa beamed. "You have done us a great service. We realize you didn't have to assist us further, but we are grateful."
"Don't mention it," I grunted. "What are you gonna do with Fuzzy, here?"
I aimed a thumb at the mall-rat chained with lightnings.
"We will lock him up. Based on all the identifications you just made we can probably connect him with a lot of shoplifting incidents."
"That's it, then." I dusted my hands together with satisfaction. I turned to Massha and Chumley. "We can go home."
"But there are more members of this gang out there!" Woofle protested. "You're not going to help us solve the rest of the problem?"
I shook my head. "Nope. I set out our terms at the beginning. But we've weakened them a lot. We've just knocked out Rattila's access to a bundle of his victims. And you can get a lot of information out of this vermin. If you can't, I bet Eskina has some ideas."
The Ratislavan investigator showed her sharp little teeth.
"Certainly I do." She grinned. "Do you want me to start now?" She advanced upon the mall-rat, who cowered back to the extent his bonds allowed.
"Please, monsieur, get her off me! She's rabid!"
"You be cooperative with this guy," I indicated Moa, "and he'll see that she doesn't shred you. Too much."
"I comply, monsieur, I comply!"
"Okay," I concluded, pulling the D-hopper out of my pocket. "We're out of here. Moa, it's been nice meeting ya. If you're ever in the Bazaar, look me up."
"Wonderful!" Moa shook our hands. "You all certainly deserve your reputations. I am very impressed. But don't go now! At least stay tonight. We'll have a celebration. A party in your honor. We'll have a feast, dancing, kegs of ale—"
"Don't mind if I do," I accepted, with a grin. Massha and Chumley agreed.
The Ratislavan marched back and forth, kicking boxes of new shoes out of his way with angry feet. His hairless tail lashed. The mall-rats, most especially the eight remaining "specials," cringed together in a fearful knot.
"One of our number has been arrested," Rattila shouted, for about the hundredth time.
"We tried to get away," Oive wailed. "That Pervert is too tricky!"
"You were stupid!" Rattila bellowed.
He pointed a finger at her, and lightning sprang from its tip. Oive looked at the burned patch on the ground at her feet and fainted dead away. Strewth and the other mall-rats edged backward.
"Hmm, that's new," Rattila mused, staring at his finger. "This! This is what real power is all about! They must not stop us now! I will drain all of their talent!"
"How?" Strewth asked. "They figured out about the cards, Big Cheese. They keep breaking 'em; we don't have any way to buy more stuff for you." "Steal their essence! Use up the magicians we have until they're empty shells. They don't realize what they have done," the Ratislavan tyrant raged, "but this means war!"
"Dude," whispered Wassup to Strewth, "I think we, like, created a monster."
THIRTEEN
I pried open one eye, and some sick joker stuck a twelve-foot, flaming spear in it. I fell back, groaning. The spike in my eye eventually died down to a faint glow. I realized it was a mote of sunlight peeking through a gap in the curtains of my hotel room. I also knew that I had absolutely no memory of how I had gotten back there last night. I hoped it had been last night, but I had no way of knowing that, either. That had been one hell of a party. In celebrating our success, Moa had gone all out. The details started coming back to me: the best food, plenty of good liquor, entertainment, and a game of dragon poker that kept going until the wee hours.
I heard wounded dragons roaring in pain in the next room. I thought I'd better get out there and defend Massha and Chumley.
Thanks to the headache it took one or two tries before I extricated myself from the silk bedcover. I was still fully dressed, which suggested self-locomotion last night, but I would have taken either side of that bet.
Once I reached the sitting room in our luxury suite, I identified the roaring dragons: Chumley and Massha. They , were holding a snoring competition to see who could break the most windows by dint of pure decibels. I judged the contest a tie and went to wake them up.
Eskina, asleep in the walk-in closet, was curled into a little ball. If the noise didn't wake her, I didn't see why I should. After all, she didn't have to check out and go home. Moa might have her moved to a smaller room when we were gone, but she was entitled to decent treatment, having given us the tip that eventually led us to capture Skeeve's impersonator. With luck, the kid would never hear about the situation or its aftermath. He sure wasn't ever going to hear it from me.