ACTUALLY, I WASN’T as worried as you might think I’d be from the situation. Like I’d told Massha, I had an ace up my sleeve ... and it was a beaut!
A while back, I was part ... heck, I was the instigator of a plan to force the Mob out of the Bazaar at Deva. I felt it was only fair, since I was the one who had given them access to the Bazaar in the first place, and besides, the Devan Merchants’ Association had paid me well to get the Mob off their backs. Of course that was before the Mob hired me to run their interests at the Bazaar, and the Bazaar agreed to give me a house and pay me a percentage of the profits to keep the Mob at bay. Sound confusing? It was ... a little. Fortunately, Aahz had shown me how the two assignments weren’t mutually exclusive and that it was ethically possible to collect money from both sides ... well, possible, anyway. Is it any wonder that I prize his counsel so highly? However, I digress.
During the initial skirmishes of that campaign, I had acquired a little souvenir that I had almost forgotten about until I was getting ready for this quest. It wasn’t much to look at, just a small vial with its stopper held in place by a wax seal, but I figured it just might mean the difference between success and failure.
I probably could have mentioned it to Massha, but frankly I was looking forward to taking the credit for having pulled off this chore by myself. Smirking confidently, I glanced around to be sure I was unobserved, then broke the seal and removed the stopper.
Now to really appreciate the full impact of this next bit, you have to realize what I was expecting. Living at the Bazaar, I had gotten used to some really showy stuff ... lightning bolts, balls of fire ... you know, special effects like that. It’s a tight market, and glitz sells. Anyway, I was braced for nearly anything, but I was expecting a billowing cloud of smoke and maybe a thunder-clap or a gong for emphasis.
What I got was a soft pop, the same as you get pulling a cork out of a bottle of flat soda, and a small puff of vapor that didn’t have enough body to it to make a decent smoke ring. End of show. Period. Das ist alles.
To say I was a little disappointed would be like saying Deveels dabbled in trade. Understatement to the max. I was seriously considering whether to throw the bottle away in disgust or actually try to get a refund out of the Deveel who sold it to me, when I noticed there was something floating in the air in front of me.
Actually, I should say it was someone floating in the air, since it was clearly a figure ... or to be accurate, half a figure. He was bare to the waist, and possibly beyond. I couldn’t tell because the image faded to invisibility below his navel. He was wearing a fez low on his forehead so it hid his eyes, and had his arms folded across his chest. His arms and torso were pretty muscular, and he might have been impressive ... if he weren’t so small! I had been expecting something between my height and that of a three-story building. What I got would have been maybe six to eight inches high if all of him was visible. As it was, head and torso only measured about three inches. Needless to say, I was underwhelmed. Still, he was all I had and if nothing else, over my various trials and adventures, I had learned to make do with what was available.
“Kalvin?” I said, unsure of the proper form of address.
“Like, man, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” the figure replied without emerging from under his hat.
Now, I wasn’t sure what our exact relationship was supposed to be, but I was pretty sure this wasn’t it, so I tried again.
“Ummm ... do I have to point out that I am your Master and therefore Ruler of your Destiny?”
“Uh, yeah?”
The figure extended one long finger and used it to push the fez back to a point where he could look at me directly. His eyes were a glowing blood red.
“Do you know what I am?”
The question surprised me, but I rallied gamely.
“Ah, I believe you’re a Djin. Specifically a Djin named Kalvin. The Deveel I bought you from said you were the latest thing in Djins.”
The little man shook his head.
“Wrong.”
“But ... ”
“What I am is drunk as a skunk!”
This last was accompanied by a conspiratorial wink.
“Drunk?!” I echoed.
Kalvin shrugged.
“What do you expect? I crawled into the bottle years ago. I guess you could say I’m a Djin Rummy.”
Whether my mouth was open from astonishment or to say something, I’m not sure but I finally caught the twinkle in his eye.
“Djin rummy. Cute. This is a gag, right?”
“Right as rain!” the Djin acknowledged, beaming at me with a disarming smile. “Had you going for a minute, didn’t I?”
I started to nod, but he was still going strong.
“Thought we might as well get started on the right foot. I figure anyone who owns me has got to have a sense of humor. Might as well find out first thing, ya know? Say, what’s yer name, anyway?”
He was talking so fast I almost missed the opening. In fact, I would have if he hadn’t paused and looked expectantly at me.
“What? Oh! I’m Skeeve. I ... ”
“Skeeve, huh? Funny name for a Pervert.”
My response was reflexive.
“That’s Per-vect. And I’m not. I mean, I’m not one.”
The Djin cocked his head and squinted at me.
“Really? You sure look like one. Besides, I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t a Perver ... excuse me, Pervect ... who would argue the difference.”
It was sort of a compliment. Anyway, I took it as one. It’s always nice to know when your spells are working.
“It’s a disguise,” I said. “I figured it was the only way to operate on Perv without getting hassled by the natives.”
“Perv!”
Kalvin seemed genuinely upset.
“By the gods, Affendi, what are we doing here?”
“Affendi?”
“Sure. You’re the Affendi. I’m the Offender. It’s tradition among Djins. But that’s beside the point. You haven’t answered my question. How did an intelligent lad such as yourself end up in this godforsaken dimension?”
“Do you know Perv? Have you been here before?” I said, my hopes rising for the first time since I opened the bottle.
“No, but I’ve heard of it. Most Djins I know avoid it like the plague.”
So much for getting my hopes up. Still, at least I had Kalvin talking seriously for a change.
“Well, to answer your question, I’m here looking for a friend of mine. He ... well, you might say he ran away from home, and I want to find him and bring him back. The trouble is, he’s ... a bit upset at the moment.”
“A bit upset?” The Djin grimaced. “Sahib, he sounds positively suicidal. Nobody in their right mind comes to Perv voluntarily ... present company excepted, of course. Do you have any idea why he headed this way?”
I shrugged carelessly.
“It’s not that hard to understand. He’s a Pervect, so it’s only natural that when things go wrong, he’d head for ... ”
“A Pervect?”
Kalvin was looking at me as if I’d just grown another head.
“You have one of these goons for a friend? And you admit it? And when he leaves you try to get him back?”
Now, I couldn’t speak for any of the other citizens of Perv, but I knew Aahz was no goon. That’s fact, not idle speculation. I knew the difference because I had two goons, Guido and Nunzio, working for me. I was about to point this out when it occurred to me that I wasn’t required to give Kalvin any kind of explanation. I was the owner, and he was my servant.
“I rather think that’s between my friend and me,” I said stiffly. “As I understand it, your concern is to assist me in any way you can.”
“Right-o,” the Djin nodded, not seeming to take offense at my curtness. “Business it is. So what chore brings you to summon one of my ilk?”
“Simple enough. I’d like you to take me to my friend.”
“Good for you. I’d like a pony and a red wagon, myself.”
It was said so smoothly it took a moment for me to register what he had said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Kalvin shrugged.
“I said, ‘I’d like a pony and ... ’”
“I know. I mean, I heard what you said,” I interrupted. “I just don’t understand. Are you saying you won’t help me?”
“Not won’t ... can’t. First of all, you’ve never even gotten around to telling me who your friend is.”
“Oh, that’s easy. His name is Aahz, and he’s ... ”
“ ... And second of all, it’s not within my powers. Sorry.”
That stopped me. I had never paused to consider the extent of a Djin’s power.
“It’s not? But when I summoned you, I thought you were supposed to help me.”
“ ... Any way I can,” Kalvin finished. “Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t cover a whole lot. How much did you pay for me, anyway?”
“A silver ... but that was a while ago.”
“A silver? Not bad. You must be pretty good at bargaining to get a Deveel to part with a registered Djin for that price.”
I inclined my head at the compliment, but felt obliged to explain.
“He was in a state of shock at the time. The rest of his stock had been wiped out.”
“Well, don’t feel too proud,” the Djin continued. “You were still overcharged. I wouldn’t pay a silver for my services.”
This was sounding less and less assuring. My easy solution to the problem seemed to be disappearing faster than a snowball on Deva.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “I always thought Djins were supposed to be heavy hitters in the magik department.”
Kalvin shook his head sadly.
“That’s mostly sales hype,” he admitted regretfully. “Oh, some of the big boys can move mountains ... literally. But those are top-of-the-line Djins and usually cost more than it would take to do the same things non-magikally. Small fry like me come cheaper, but we can’t do whole bunches, either.”
“I’m sorry, Kalvin. None of this makes any sense. If Djins actually have less power than, say, your average magician for hire, why would anybody buy them at all?”
The Djin gestured grandly.
“The mystique ... the status ... do you know anything at all about Djinger?”
“Ginger? As in ginger beer?”
“No, Djin-ger ... with a ‘D’ ... As in the dimension where Djins and Djeanees come from.”
“I guess not.”
“Well, once upon a time, as the story goes, Djinger had a sudden disastrous drop in its money supply.”
This sounded a little familiar.
“An economic collapse? Like on Deva?”
The Djin shook his head.
“Embezzlement,” he said. “The entire Controller’s office for the dimension disappeared, and when we finally found someone who could do an audit, it turned out most of the treasury was gone too.
“There was a great hue and cry, and several attempts to track the culprits, but the immediate problem was what to do for money. Manufacturing more wouldn’t work, since it would simply devalue what we did have. What we really needed was a quick influx of funds from outside the dimension.
“That’s when some marketing genius hit on the ‘Djin In A Bottle’ concept. Nearly everyone in the dimension who had the least skill or potential for magik was recruited for service. There was resistance, of course, but the promoters insisted it called for temporary contracts only, so the plan went into effect. In fact, the limited contract thing became a mainstay of the sales pitch ... the mystique I was mentioning. That’s why most Djins have conditions attached ... three wishes only or whatever, though some are more ethical than others about how the wishes are fulfilled.”
A thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Um, Kalvin? How many wishes do I get from you? Like I said, the Deveel was a bit shell-shocked and never said anything about limitations.”
“ ... On wishes or powers, eh?” the Djin winked. “Not surprising. Shell-shocked or not, Deveels still know how to sell. In their own way they’re truly amazing.”
“How many?”
“What? Oh. I’m afraid my contract only calls for one wish, Skeeve. But don’t worry, I’ll play it clean. No tricks, no word traps. If you’re only going to get one for your money, it’s only fair that it’s legit.”
“I see,” I said. “So what can you do?”
“Not much, actually. What I’m best at is bad jokes.”
“Bad jokes?”
“You know, like ‘How do you make a djin fizz?’”
“I don’t think ... ”
“Drop him in acid. How do you ... ”
“I get the picture. That’s it? You tell bad jokes?”
“Well, I give pretty good advice.”
“That’s good. I think I’m going to need some.”
“I’ll say. Well, the first piece of advice I’ve got for you is to forget about this and head for home before it’s too late.”
For a moment the thought was almost tempting, but I shook it off.
“Not a chance,” I said firmly. “Let’s go back to my original request. Can you advise me on how to find Aahz?”
“I might have a few ideas on the subject,” the Djin admitted.
“Good.”
“Have you tried a phone book?”
By now suspicion had grown into full-blown certainty. My hidden ace had turned out to be a deuce ... no, a joker. If I was counting on Kalvin for the difference between success and failure, I was in a lot of trouble.
Until now I had taken finding Aahz for granted, and had only been worrying about what to say once we were face-to-face. Now, looking at the streets and skyscrapers of Perv, I was painfully aware that just finding Aahz was going to be harder than I thought ... a lot harder!