“It seemed like the surest way to get you out of your contract,” Skeeve shrugged. “The locals seem rather attached to the game.”
“Attached to . . . I’m dead!” the magician cried with a groan. “I won’t just get fired, I’ll be lynched!”
The Kid was unmoved.
“Not to worry,” he said. “You can always use a disguise spell to get away, or if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll give you an escort to . . .”
There was a knock on the door.
“Ah. Unless I miss my guess, that should be the Council now. Get the door, Quigley.”
The magician hesitated and glanced around the room as if looking for a way to escape. Finally he sighed and trudged toward the door.
“Speaking of disguises, Skeeve . . .”I said.
“Oh, right. Sorry, Aahz.”
With an absent-minded wave of his hand we were disguised again, this time in the appearances we used when we first arrived.
“Oh! Lord Magician. May we come in? There are certain matters we must … oh! I didn’t realize you had guests.”
It was indeed the Council. Right on schedule. I snuck a wink at Skeeve, who nodded in encouragement.
“These are … friends of mine,” Quigley said lamely, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”
Several sets of uneasy eyes swept us.
“We… urn… hoped to speak with you in private.”
“We’ll wait outside, Quigley,” Skeeve said, getting to his feet. “Just holler if you need us.”
“Well, that’s that,” I sighed after the door closed behind us. “I wonder what Quigley’s going to do for his next job?”
Skeeve leaned casually against the wall.