“You want to what about who?”
The man sighed and hung his head for a moment.
“Let me put it to you this way,” he said at last. “I’m with the Mob, and I want to see your Magician, Skeeve. It’s about our army, Big Julie’s boys, that sort of disappeared after tangling with him. Now do you understand me?”
Chapter Eight:
“Choose your friends carefully. Your enemies will choose you!”
– Y. ARAFAT
WITHIN a few days of Queen Hemlock’s arrival, the palace of Possiltum had the happy, relaxed air of a battlefield the night before the battle. The Queen’s party and the mob representatives were housed in the palace as “royal guests,” giving me a two-front war whether I wanted it or not.
Queen Hemlock was not an immediate problem; she was more like a time bomb. With specific orders to “stay out of her way,” I didn’t have to deal with her much, and even General Badaxe admitted that if she were going to try to kill me, it wouldn’t be until after the wedding when she was officially Queen of Possiltum. Still, as the wedding day loomed closer, I was increasingly aware that she would have to be dealt with.
The Mob representatives, however, were an immediate problem. I had stalled them temporarily by telling them that the Court Magician was not currently in the palace, but had been sent for, and as a token of good faith had given them the hospitality of the palace. They didn’t drink much, and never pestered me with questions about “Skeeve’s” return. There was no doubt in my mind, however, that at some time their patience would be exhausted and they would start looking for the Court Magician themselves. I also had a felling that “some time” would be real soon.