Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

“Very well,” Brockhurst yielded grudgingly. “Throckwoddle, I would strongly suggest you not attempt to avoid us further. While I don’t believe we could be any more upset with you than we already are, that might actually succeed in provoking us further.”

With that, the two figures faded back into darkness.

“What are we going to do, Aahz?” I whispered frantically.

He seemed not to hear me.

“Imps!” he chortled, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “What a stroke of luck!”

“Aahz! They’re going to kill me!”

“Hm? Relax, kid. Like I said. Imps are gullible. If they were really thinking, they would have shot us down without talking. I haven’t met an Imp yet I couldn’t talk circles around.”

He cocked his head, listening.

“They’re coming back now. Just follow my lead. Oh yes … I almost forgot. Drop the disguise on my features when I give you the cue.”

“But you said they couldn’t catch….”

I broke off as the two Imps reappeared. They were leading a war unicorn between them. The hoods of the cloaks were back now, revealing their features. I was moderately surprised to see they looked human, seedy perhaps, but human nonetheless. Then I saw Quigley.

He was sitting woodenly astride the unicorn, lurching back and forth with the beast’s stride. His eyes were staring fixedly straight ahead and his right arm was raised as if in salutation. The light of the fire reflected off his face as if it were glass, and I realized with horror he was no longer alive, but a statue of some unidentified substance.

Any confidence I might have gained from Aahz’s assurances left me in a rush. Gullible or not, the Imps played for keeps, and any mistake we made would in all likelihood be our last.