“Actually,” rumbled Greyboar, “I think the Sundjhabi practice is cremation. Be that as it may, it seems there’s been some little changing of the guard in the Sundjhab. Whole new dynasty, in fact. And of course they’d just as soon everybody forgot all about the old monarch. Whose official name in the Sundjhab is now ‘the Devil’s Spawn.’ ” The strangler frowned. “Don’t much care for that kind of disrespect for my guru. May just go down there some day and speed a few souls along the wheel of time.”
“Later for that!” exclaimed Ignace. “There’s been too much of this philosophy business as it is. Right now we’re off to New Sfinctr!”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” asked Magrit, “why in the world are you so eager to get back to New Sfinctr? The city’s a cesspool!”
“Pesthole of the planet,” agreed Ignace cheerfully. “Armpit of the world. It’s great for business!”
“When are you leaving, did you say?” asked Zulkeh.
“Within the hour,” said Greyboar.
“A moment, then, if you please,” said the mage. “I have a favor to ask. But first—” Here he turned back to his apprentice. A frown began to appear, then faded. Zulkeh sighed.
“Shelyid, if you will kindly leave aside for the moment the fine points of our new contract, I am attempting to commit a kindness. How much of the preceding discussion did you actually understand?”
“All that stuff about the AVEXBU and the Godferrets and stuff?” asked Shelyid. Zulkeh nodded.
“Well,” admitted the gnome, “not actually a whole lot. I was paying real close attention, too, ’cause I could tell it has something to do with Joe, and I’ve always liked the Joe stuff you teach me. But I really didn’t understand what it was all about, except that everybody seems real nervous.”
Zulkeh snorted. “Nervous indeed! The key point you must understand now, Shelyid, is that there is no subject in all the world which is more perilous to meddle with than what you call ‘Joe stuff.’ And it is now clear that in some manner—I remain completely mystified as to how it all happened, by the way—I have become thoroughly enmeshed in ‘Joe stuff.’ ‘Twas not by my choice, I can assure you! I am not pusillanimous, mind you—no practicing sorcerer can be—but I am not foolhardy.”
He frowned, stroked his beard. “But there is no point in bemoaning the reality which faces one. Entwined in ‘Joe stuff’ I have become, and I must seize the tiger by the tail. Thus will my road forward be even more fraught with danger than I had foreseen. I say this, Shelyid, by way of a preface. For once again, my loyal but stup—not brilliant apprentice, I offer your release from my guardianship.”
“You mean you don’t want me to come?” asked the dwarf, his voice little with hurt.
“I did not say that, gno—short one,” snapped the mage. “For myself alone, I would prefer that you did come.” Zulkeh was silent for a moment, then: “In truth, it would be a great comfort to me. But I would not needlessly expose you to the perils ahead.”
“Oh, that’s okay!” cried Shelyid. “I told you before, mas—professor—I’m not afraid. And besides, I really like Joe stuff. I’m real good at it, too! I’ve always been good at the Joe stuff you teach me! I never forget any of it.” The dwarf blushed, then said hesitantly: “You know, I think it’s my best subject.”
An expression of surprise crossed the wizard’s face. He looked to Magrit and Wolfgang.
“You know, Shelyid’s right. He always did soak up what little Joetrics I exposed him to.” The wizard stroked his beard. “Odd, really, very odd. ‘Tis normally the most difficult subject for apprentices. Apprentices! Wizards themselves fumble at Joetrics, in their great majority. Of course, I didn’t expose the boy to but the simplest aspects, you’ll understand! But still—” He fell silent, musing.
“Of course the boy’s good at it!” boomed Wolfgang. “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again—the little tyke’s got a knack for madness! And nothing’s crazier than—what’d the lad call it?—’Joe stuff’, yes, ‘Joe stuff’!”
The lunatic waved his arms around wildly, like, well, like a lunatic.