Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

“What will this do? Will it help you put your powers back?”

“No. But it might make me feel a little better.” He tossed the wine down in one swallow, and studied the goblet disdainfully. “Is this the biggest container you’ve got?”

I cast about the room desperately, but Aahz was way ahead of me.

He rose, strode into the pentagram, and picked up the brazier. I knew from past experience it was deceptively heavy, but he carried it to the keg as if it were weightless. Not bothering to empty out Garkin’s concoction, he filled it to the brim and took a deep draught.

“Aah! That’s better.” He sighed.

I felt a little queasy.

“Well, kid,” he said, sweeping me with an appraising stare, “it looks like we’re stuck with each other. The setup isn’t ideal, but it’s what we’ve got. Time to bite the bullet and play the cards we’re dealt. You do know what cards are, don’t you?”

“Of course,” I said, slightly wounded.

“Good.”

“What’s a bullet?”

Aahz closed his eyes as if struggling against some inner turmoil.

“Kid,” he said at last, “there’s a good chance this partnership is going to drive one of us crazy. I would guess it will be me unless you can knock off the dumdum questions every other sentence.”

“But I can’t understand half of what you’re saying.”

“Hmm. Tell ya what. Try to save up the questions and ask me all at one time once a day. Okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Right. Now here’s the situation as I see it. If Isstvan is hiring Imps for assassins….”

“What’s an Imp?”

“Kid, will you give me a break?”

“I’m sorry, Aahz. Keep going.”