Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

“I learned his secret by accident and hold it as a personal confidence,” I said haughtily. “During our travels these last few days, I’ve learned some rather interesting items about you and hold them in the same esteem. I trust you will respect my silence on the matter of Frumple as I expect others to respect my silence about those matters pertaining to you.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve made your point,” Aahz conceded.

“Say . . . um . . . Throckwoddle,” Higgens interrupted. “I would suggest we all shed our disguises like our friend Perver .. . um, Pervect here has. No sense in using up our energies keeping up false faces among friends.”

His tone was casual, but he sounded suspicious. I noticed he had not taken his hand off his crossbow.

“Why?” argued Brockhurst. “I prefer to keep my disguise on at all times when in another dimension. Lessens the chance of forgetting to put it on at a crucial moment.”

“I think Higgens is right,” Aahz stated before I could support Brockhurst. “I for one like to see the true faces of the people I’m talking to.”

“Well,” grumbled Brockhurst, “if everyone is going to insist.”

He closed his eyes in concentration, and his features began to shimmer and melt.

I didn’t watch the whole process. My mind was racing desperately back to Garkin’s hut, when Aahz held up the charred face of the assassin. I hastily envisioned my own face next to it and began working, making certain obvious modifications to its appearance to repair the fire damage.

When I was done, I snuck a peek out of one eye. The other two had changed already. My attention was immediately drawn to their complexion. Theirs was a pinkish red, while mine wasn’t. I hastily re-closed my eye and made the adjustment.