“And would have concluded, would your lawyer long with pedigree, that the items in dispute properly belonged with their present owners, what just coincidentally happen to be his meal ticket, and that this Joe fellow was no better than a criminal behind bars what’s lost his rights,” concluded the sixth.
“Bah!” oathed Zulkeh. “Shelyid’s opinion—which is, I will admit, deft in its dialectic though crude in its presentation—is beside the point. Joe doesn’t exist, if he ever did, so wherein lies his right to property?”
No doubt this latest addition to the brew would have produced yet a further unending round of disputation, save for the intervention of the witch Magrit, who, crude termagant though she was, did possess—it cannot be denied—a talent for focusing the debate.
“Cut the crap!” she exclaimed. “Nobody but you, old fart, gives a screw about the Ozarine’s so-called right to the Rap Sheet. The Senate of Ozar grabbed it by force and has used it ever since to suck the world’s blood. And right now the leech is attached to Grotum itself. So we’re going to take it for ourselves! You want my help in your problem, you pitch in—if you don’t, there’s the door! Get lost!” She stopped, breathing hoarsely, glaring at the mage.
Zulkeh hemmed and hawed for a few minutes more, but eventually he agreed as to how certain epistemological unclarities regarding the ownership of the Rap Sheet did, in all conscience, allow him to proceed as a participant in the exercise.
“But you have not yet explained, madame,” he concluded, “why you want this Rap Sheet in the first place.”
“That’s simple!” replied Magrit. “I want it because it’ll improve my foety. Wolfgang wants it stolen because he thinks the whole idea’s crazy and so naturally he can’t resist. Les Six over there need to get it out of the hands of the Cruds, who are getting a wee bit too close to figuring out their hobby—”
“Which is?” queried the mage.
“The abasement of Ozarine imperialism!” cried the first.
“The overthrow of the decrepit Groutch regimes and all their gangrenous cohorts!” added the second.
“The humbling of the haughty Ecclesiarchs!” hallooed the third.
“Justice for the poor and downtrodden!” came the fourth.
“The reunification of all the divided Groutch lands under the rule of a free people!” exclaimed the fifth.
“A nation once again!” boomed the sixth. This was apparently something in the way of a sansculottes toast, for the half dozen incendiaries rose to their feet as one man and slurped their tea noisily.
“Churlism!” cried Zulkeh. “Outright murkery! I will have no part in—”
“Oh, shut up, you old fart!” snarled Magrit. “They aren’t churls—not proper ones, anyway, though Joe knows they’re on good enough terms with murks all over Grotum. Just a band of happy lads pursuing an innocent enough hobby.”
She cut short Zulkeh again. “And you didn’t let me finish, windbag! I was just going to add that you want to get your hands on the Rap Sheet because it’ll, like as not, tell you who your enemies are.”
Zulkeh frowned. “I fail to follow your logic, madame. How can this Rap Sheet aid me in my quest? Oh, I admit, ’tis a puissant relic, a Rap Sheet, but still and all one of precise and limited powers. On this all tales and legends agree, that whosoever possesses a Rap Sheet will instantly know all evidence pertaining to felonious and subversive activities which is in the possession of any police agency anywhere within the range of the relic’s powers, which range is reputed to be great but not universal. But how does this aid me? Surely, were my enemies known to the authorities, they would already have been apprehended and their identity and crimes made known to me by these selfsame authorities!”
“Is he really that stupid?” demanded the second.
“Like I said,” growled Magrit, “he lives upside down. Zulkeh, how have you survived so long in this cold and cruel world? Enemies so powerful as yours are presumably great criminals, who have not yet been apprehended because the authorities are involved in some elaborate scheme to ferret out their grand design.”
“Yes, yes,” mused Zulkeh, “this is sensible.”