Hit or Myth by Robert Asprin

“How’s that?”

“You’ve got a wee bit of trouble coming your way, at least, according to the gentleman I met on the road. Here he comes now. Bye.”

“But…”

Queen Hemlock had already disappeared, vanishing into the depths of the palace like a puff of smoke. Instead, I found myself focusing on the man who had stepped from the carriage and was currently trudging up the stairs toward my throne. I observed that he had the same weasel features and manners of J. R. Grimble.

Mostly, though, I noticed that the two broadshouldered predators previously assumed to be part of the Queen’s escort, had suddenly materalized at his side, towering over him like a pair of bookends . . . mean looking bookends.

I sat down, in part because the approaching figure did not seem to be royalty, but mostly because I had a feeling I wanted to be sitting down for this next interview.

The man reached my throne at last, drew himself up, and gave a curt nod rather than a bow. This, at least, looked polite, since his flankers didn’t acknowledge my presence at all.

“Forgive me for intruding on such a festive occasion, your Majesty,” the man said, “but there are certain matters we need to discuss.”

“Such as…?”

“My name is Shai-ster, and I represent a … consortium of businessmen. I wish to confer with one of your retainers concerning certain employees of ours who failed to report in after pursuing our interests in this region.”

As I mentioned earlier, I was getting pretty good at speaking “bureaucrat.” This man’s oration, however, lost me completely.