As he closed the door, Quigley let his disguise spell drop … too much effort to maintain, I guess. Viewing his true appearance, I was slightly shocked.
The years had not been kind to our old ally. There were strain marks etched deeply into his face that hadn’t been there when we were here before. The place itself seemed the worse for wear. The walls needed painting badly … or at least washing, and the furnishings showed signs of being repaired instead of replaced.
“This place is a dump!” Skeeve observed with his newfound lack of diplomacy. “Really, Quigley. If you won’t think of yourself, think of the profession. How are people supposed to respect magicians if they see one of them living like this?”
“Ease up, partner,” I said softly. “We can’t all own casinos. Some of us have had to live in broken-down shacks in the forest… or even sleep under trees on the open road.”
That earned me a sharp glance, but Quigley intervened.
“No, Skeeve’s right. All I can say is that I’ve tried. That’s part of what’s gotten me into the mess I’m in. I’ve overextended my credit trying to keep up a good front, and now it’s catching up with me.”
“Gee, Quigley, if that’s your only problem we can take care of it in no time at all. We can arrange a quick consolidation loan to get the wolves off your back . . . with a slight interest charge, of course. Right, Aahz?”
The possibility of a fast resolution of the problem seemed to brighten Skeeve’s mood immensely. I was almost tempted to go along with it, but I had the feeling there was more to the situation than was meeting the eye.