Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

This set Isstvan off into even greater peals of laughter.

“Stop,” he called breathless. “Oh stop. Oh! My ribs hurt. Aahz, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“It’s nothing really,” Aahz acknowledged modestly.

“There’s something wrong here!” Frumple declared. He plunged a hand deep into his robe, never taking his eyes from Quigley. Almost too late I realized what he was doing. He was going for his crystal, the one that let him detect disguises. As the glittering bauble emerged, I swung into action.

A simple levitation, a small flick with my mind, and the crystal popped out of Frumple’s grasp and plopped into the wine jug.

“Framitz!” Frumple swore, starting to fish for his possession.

“Get your hands out of the wine, Frumple!” Aahz chided slapping his wrist. “You’ll get your toy when we finish the jug!”

As if to illustrate his point, he hefted the jug and began refilling the flagons around the table.

“Enough of this insanity!” Quigley exploded.

I winced at the use of the word “insanity,” but Isstvan didn’t seem to mind. He merely leaned forward to watch Quigley.

“I am neither Skeeve nor Throckwoddle,” Quigley continued, “I am Quigley, demon hunter extraordinaire! Let any dispute who dare, and man or demon I’ll show him who I am!”

This proved too much for Isstvan, who actually collapsed in laughter.

“Oh he’s funny, Aahz,” he gasped. “Where did you find this funny man?”

“You sent him to me, remember?” Aahz prompted.

“Why so I did, so I did,” Isstvan mused, and even this fact he seemed to find hysterically funny.