I thought this would bring any resistance on the proprietor’s part to an end, but instead he straightens up and frowns, his eyes takin’ on a mean glitter.
“You’re from this dimension? You wouldn’t happen to know a local magician and demon by the name of Skeeve, would you?”
As I have said before, I have not reached my current age and position by panicking under crosstype examination or by overratin’ the necessity for voicin’ the whole truth. I can see that this Deveel has some kind of grudge against the Boss, so while habitually avoidin’ any false statement which could lead to perjury charges, I am careful not to acknowledge my actual relationship with the individual in question.
“Skeeve?” I sez, frownin’ dramatically like I learned to do in theater. “I think I may have heard the name while I was workin’ at the Bazaar, but I ain’t heard it recently.”
“Too bad,” the Deveel mutters, almost to himself. “I owe that Klahd a bad turn or two. I spent a couple of years as a statue under a cloud of pigeons because of him. In fact I’d still be there if it weren’t for … but that’s another story, if you know what I mean.”
Of course, from workin’ with the Boss, I knew exactly what he meant … that the story of his escape was gonna be marketed separately sometime as a short story to generate additional revenue whilst promotin’ these books at the same time. Of course, admittin’ this understandin’ would have been a dead giveaway, so I decide to change the subject instead.
“Yeah, sure. Say, speakin’ of names, what’s yours, anyway? I mean your real name, not this Abdul alias.”