Of course, the rodents were doomed to disappointment, for Ignace promptly announced himself satisfied and went to sit sullenly in his chair, pouting and sulking. A great uproar ensued, with much chittering and squeaking of indignant mice. The salamander was forced to flee onto a nearby table. Magrit, for her part, finally managed to quell the agitated mob of rodents with many pounds of cheese offered by way of a refund.
“Haven’t had so much fun in a long time,” commented the witch, after the last mouse had disappeared. In a rare good humor, she smiled down at Shelyid and said: “You can call me the old bag any time you want, lad.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, ma—Magrit,” protested Shelyid.
“Just as I said!” proclaimed the witch. “A fine and sprightly little chap. Well-mannered, too.”
Then, with noticeably less pleasure, she gazed upon Zulkeh.
“All right, you old fart. Now that the fun’s over, let’s get to business. You do have business with me, I assume? It’s not likely you’re here for the pleasure of my company. Unless,” she added, with a disgusting leer, “you got horny again.”
The wizard chose to ignore this last remark. Instead, he drew himself up, in a most dignified manner, and spoke as follows:
“Yes, madame, I have come here on a matter of business. I find—not with any feeling of pleasure in the fact, mind you!—that I have need of your assistance. For it has come to my attention—most unexpectedly!—that I have enemies. And so—”
But he was interrupted by the salamander, who, from its perch atop Magrit’s shoulder, exclaimed shrilly:
“Oh shit, not another one!”
CHAPTER XIX.
A Wizard’s Discourse. Rather, A Horrid Salamander’s Précis of Same. A Demand For Payment. An Offer of Payment. An Offer of Payment Rudely Refused. A Wizard’s Indignation. A Lunatic Appears!
“What’s your problem, Wittgenstein?”
Such was the question addressed by the witch to the salamander, in response to that latter’s vulgar outburst. The creature had a name!
“I told you this foety business was a bad move, Magrit,” groused the salamander. It looked over to Greyboar and Ignace. “I told her and told her! Would she listen to me? No! She never does!” Its tiny red eyes glared.
“Now look at the situation!” it continued. “That’s all we ever get anymore. One sorry-ass so-called wizard after another.” Its already-shrill little voice assumed a particularly irritating nasal tone. “‘I can’t do my spells because some unknown’—what a joke!—’enemies are attacking me in some unknown’—ha!—’manner for some unknown’—ha!—’reason.'” It stopped, glaring at Magrit.
She shrugged. “It’s a living.”
“It’s a bore.”
“May I continue?” demanded Zulkeh. “I must say, madame, these constant interruptions are an affront to the pursuit of science—the more so, coming as they do from this unnatural beast!”
“Unnatural beast, is it?” shrilled the salamander. “Let’s put it to the test! Let’s see if this ‘unnatural beast’ isn’t capable of plumbing the so-called depths of your so-called science.”
The unnatural beast hopped from Magrit’s shoulder onto a nearby table. Then, assumed a most unnatural pose, the which, strange to say, uncannily mimicked the posture and mien of the wizard Zulkeh. It proceeded to speak in a raspy style of voice, the which, strange to say, uncannily imitated the wizard Zulkeh’s elocution.
“Madame,” it began, “a problem has astonished me in my mind. Yet, still more astonishing than the astonishment itself is the very fact of my astonishment! For, as you well know, I rank among the mightiest of the world’s wizards, and hence, by this selfsame nature of my dialectical cunning and metaphysical majuscularity, am incapable of being astonished in my mind. It follows then, as night from day, through the simple application of syllogistic logic, that this paradox can only result from the intervention of—enemies.”
Here the horrid little salamander began to pace back and forth, its head bowed in the manner of one deep in thought, gesticulating with short but sharply expressive motions of its forelimbs—that is to say, imitated in a most uncanny fashion the mannerisms of the wizard Zulkeh when this latter engaged in profound exposition.
“Alas, due to that selfsame scientific loftiness, I am not an expert on that arcane, uncouth, and obscure branch of the thaumaturgic discipline which goes by the name of foety. Hence—I will speak frankly—have I come to your side, madame.”