Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

“What does that make me, Aahz?”

There was no answer.

“Aahz?”

I rolled over to look at him. He was staring out into the darkness and listening intently.

“What is it?”

“I think we’ve got company, kid.”

As if in response to his words, I felt a tremor in the wards as something came through.

I bounded to my feet as two figures appeared at the edge of the firelight. The light was dimming, but was sufficient to reveal the fact that both figures were wearing the hooded cloaks of assassins, and the gold side was out!

Chapter Eight:

“In times of crisis, it is of utmost importance not to lose one’s head.”

-M. ANTOINETTE

THE four of us stood in frozen tableau for several minutes studying each other. My mind was racing, but could not focus on the definite course of action. I decided to follow Aahz’s lead and simply stood regarding the two figures cooly, trying to ignore the two crossbows leveled steadily on us.

Finally, one of our visitors broke the silence.

“Well, Throckwoddle? Aren’t you going to invite your friends to sit down?”

Surprisingly, this was addressed to me!

“Ummm….” I said.

“Yes, Throckwoddle,” Aahz drawled, turning to me. “And aren’t you going to introduce me to your colleagues?”

“Um….” I repeated.

“Perhaps he doesn’t remember us,” the second figure injected sarcastically.

“Nonsense,” responded the first with equal sarcasm. “His two oldest friends? Brockhurst and Higgens? How could he possibly not remember our names? Just because he forgot to share the loot doesn’t mean he’d forget our names. Be fair, Higgens.”