“Bingo!” my visitor declared, holding up his hand. “I think you just explained everything. Aahz lost his powers and took on a new apprentice! No wonder he hasn’t been home in a while. And all this talk about the Great Skeeve is just a standard Aahz-managed hype job for a new talent. Right?”
“We have taken on a few rough assignments,” I said defensively.
“In which Aahz choreographed, then set you up to take the credit. Right?”
“What’s ‘choreographed’?” I asked. Obviously the family similarity was more than scale deep.
“Well, I hope you’re up to operating on your own, Skeeve, ’cause I’m taking your mentor back to Perv with me.”
“But you don’t have to rescue him from me!” I protested. “He’s free to come and go as he wants;”
“I’m not saving him from you, I’m saving him from Aahz. Our colleague has an overblown sense of responsibility that isn’t always in his own best interest. Do you know how lucrative a practice he’s letting fall apart on Perv while he clowns around with you?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, he’s losing money every day he’s gone… and that means the family is losing money.”
Right there I gave up the argument. Early on in my association with Aahz I learned the futility of trying to talk a Pervect out of money. The fact that Aahz was willing to sacrifice a steady income to work with me was an incredible tribute to our friendship … or his sense of duty. Of course, there’s more than one way to win an argument.
“Well, as I said before, I can’t keep him here,” I said innocently. “If you can convince him he’s not needed anymore….”