“Oh, shut up, you old fart! Since when is a Rap Sheet the rightful property of the Senate of Ozar? They stole all theirs from other empires, or took ’em by main force—you know that as well as I do! Cut plenty of throats in the process, too.”
Zulkeh stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, as to that, I admit there is much to what you say. Still, the Rap Sheets have been in the possession of the Ozarine for some time now, and ’tis a well-known jurisprudential principle—well-buttressed by numerous ontological axioms—that possession is ninety-nine point astronomically large number of nines following the decimal parts of the law.”
Now did a new party, hitherto silent, enter the discussion. Since his introduction, the lunatic Wolfgang had sat in a corner, in a special chair designed for his gargantuan frame. He had closely observed all of the participants, reserving, strange to say, the most careful scrutiny for the least significant member of the group—I speak, of course, of the dwarf Shelyid. This latter had squatted on the floor throughout the proceedings, sitting a pace back from the main circle, as was his proper place.
Now Wolfgang spoke, in a tenor voice which contrasted oddly with his size, addressing himself—astonishing to relate—to the apprentice.
“What do you think, lad?” he asked.
Shelyid frowned, stammered, glanced to his master.
“Well, it’s not really my place to say. That’s for the master to decide.”
“Yes, yes, no doubt,” spoke the giant cheerfully, “but I didn’t ask you what you decided—I asked you what you thought.”
Shelyid glanced again at his master. The wizard made a permissive gesture.
“Well,” Shelyid said, his brow knotted with thought, “the master always explained that the Rap Sheets were made back in the beginning of time, back when the legends say Joe was froze up by the Old Geister.” His face cleared. “I remember now! There was a little poem the master had me memorize—goes like this:
Joe made six Pink Slips for the bosses,
to keep the bad in line.
Then Joe made six Rap Sheets for the cops,
to keep track of worse ones.
Then Joe made six Switches for the priests,
to make the worser wail.
And finally Joe made one—”
Shelyid stopped abruptly, looking guiltily at the mage.
“I’m not supposed to say the last thing Joe made. But it’s real awful! He made it for the Old Geister, and—well, I’m not supposed to say.” The dwarf fell into a fearful silence.
“Excellent!” boomed Wolfgang. The lunatic gazed benignly at the wizard. “I’m pleased to see that you haven’t neglected the boy’s education, Zulkeh. Most commendable, teaching him the old gypsy song. Not many sorcerers today even know it themselves.” The wizard nodded graciously.
“But what do you think, boy?” continued Wolfgang. “Now that you’ve recited the song—and, yes, we can skip the last part—not suitable in polite company, that’s for sure!—what do you think? Who rightfully owns the Rap Sheets?”
“Oh!” cried Shelyid. “That’s easy. They belong to Joe, just like all his other inventions. He’s the one gave them to those other people, you know, the ones he invented in the first place—the cops and the bosses and the priests and the Old Geister.” The dwarf paused, pondered a moment. “Well, I’m not actually sure the Old Geister’s a people, but anyway, Joe just made them so that things would work right. But the cops and the priests and the bosses and the Old Geister—they played him a dirty trick! They froze him right up, like they shouldn’t have done! So the way I see it, the Rap Sheets and all really still belong to Joe. Anybody else who has them just has them, well, sort of on loan, I guess you could say.” The dwarf pondered a moment more. “Well, sort of more like a mugging kind of loan.”
“Marvelous little chap!” exclaimed the first.
“No lawyer long with pedigree could have put it better,” agreed the second.
“Ridiculous!” cried the third.
“No lawyer long with pedigree would have put it that way at all,” snorted the fourth.
“Your lawyer long with pedigree would have explicated the situation with much the greater circumlocution and the use of fourteen orders of magnitude more the words,” stated the fifth.