Class Dis-Mythed

Using pictures conjured up by Bunny on her PDA, Bytina, I managed to point out images of Klahds who were not too limited, not too unpopular, and a bit more sentient than their first choices. Jinetta, Pologne and Freezia squabbled over who would wear what appearance, jumping from one image to another. They couldn't seem to make up their minds. I held my impatience for a few minutes.

"Look, you be that milkmaid," Freezia said. "She's taller than I am."

"Hey," I tried to interrupt.

"No, I'd rather be that burgher," Pologne said. "You be the milkmaid."

"Oh, she's so boring! Look at those wooden clogs!"

"Make up your minds, and let's go," I put in. They ignored me.

"That male in the tights showed some fashion," Jinetta said thoughtfully.

I pushed my way in between them and loomed over them. I pointed at each of my 'apprentices' in turn.

"Fine. Jinetta, you get to be the male in tights. Pologne, you're the burgher. Freezia, you get to be the lady in the blue

veil. Chop, chop! Last one into her disguise is a rotten egg!" I clapped my hands.

Donning my own disguise, that of a cadaverous-faced master magician that served me better than my own fresh-faced boyish appearance, I swept toward the exit. I listened behind me as they fell into line. I expected some grumbling, but there was none. They accepted my authority without question. I didn't know whether to feel confident about that trust, or worried. Bunny held onto Gleep's collar as she waved me a cynical farewell from the doorway.

As we strode out onto the narrow, overhung path that served as a road through the thick of the forest, I dropped to the rear of the file and observed my new charges. I expected that there might be some kinks to work out as a cluster of inexperienced Pervects negotiated a new dimension, but I didn't quite anticipate the difficulties they would have in pretending to be something they weren't.

"Jinetta, stop swinging your hips like that," I ordered.

"Like what?" the tallest Pervect inquired, turning in a graceful circle to face me.

I waved a hand. "And don't swoop like that. The guy whose face you are wearing is going to find himself the object of a lot of jokes if we run into anyone who knows him."

Pologne tittered at her classmate's dressing down. I turned on her. "And as for you, never giggle like that again, not until we are inside Massha's house. You're supposed to be an old man. Grumble. Mutter to yourself."

She gawked at me. "What? As if I'm senile, or something?"

I groaned. "Yes, as if you're senile or something. You're an elderly man, with a lot of business interests and a son-in-law who's trying to cut him out of deals. Your wife has a bad temper, and your in-laws live with you. Mutter. Complain under your breath. A lot."

Pologne was appalled. "That bites. Let me be a girl, like Freezia."

"No," I said, folding my arms imperiously. "You're going to learn something out of this: how to make the best use of a

disguise spell. I bet you never used your talents for anything more complicated than a Halloween costume. Right?"

"Well—yes." The medium-sized Pervect had the grace to hang her head.

The third Pervect, Freezia, minced along, feeling superior because she didn't have to do any acting to get along in her disguise. I was under no illusion (pun unintended) that I wouldn't have to find fault with her some time over the next six weeks, but it was all right with me if she got by this time. I had to admit she had captured the essence of the pretty girl in the blue gown fairly well. Anyone watching us make our way down the road might be a little surprised that the rich and spoiled Lady Melgarie Trumpmeier walking—make that striding—instead of riding her white pony or being conveyed in one of her father's expensive carriages, but the anomaly would give the locals something to talk about.

A party of five horsemen trotted into view. The path was too narrow for our parties to pass abreast. It would be less trouble to let them by, but with "Lady Melgarie" and me, a famous but mysterious magician, we couldn't give ground. The girls glanced back at me. I gestured to them to keep walking.

"One side!" the lead horseman demanded. A burly, black-bearded man on a gigantic destrier, he towered twice as tall as me, but I held myself upright.

"Who speaks so to Skeeve the Magnificent?" I replied, in sepulchural tones. Two of the horseman behind the leader cringed slightly at my name.

"Who dares to confront Lord Peshtigo of Sulameghorn?" the leader countered, drawing the sword that hung on his right hip. He might have heard of me, but he obviously had a reputation to protect.

I crossed my arms. "You impede our progress, my lord," I replied solemnly.

"You block our horses!"

"Surely mere animals do not take precedence over persons of quality," I admonished him as if he was a small child. "Turn aside, my lord. Give us room."

"We do not turn aside for anyone," Lord Peshtigo growled. "Move, or we run you down."