stink to high heavenўboth figuratively and liter-
ally."
"Ingratitude!" Aahz made his appeal to the ceil-
ing. "I lose my powers to a stupid practical joker,
and instead of concentrating on getting them back, I
take on some twit of an apprentice who doesn't have
any aspirations higher than being a thief, train him,
groom him, and get him a job paying more than he
could spend in two lifetimes, and what happens? He
complains! I suppose you think you could have done
better on your own?"
2 Robert Asprin
It occurred to me that Aahz's guidance had also
gotten me hung, embroiled in a magik duel with a
master magician, and recently, placed in the unen-
viable position of trying to stop the world's largest
army with a handful of down-at-the -heels demons. It
also occurred to me that this was not the most tactful
time to point out these minor nerve-jangling in-
cidents.
"I'm sorry, Aahz," I grovelled. "Possiltum is a
pretty nice kingdom to work for."
"It stinks!" he declared, turning to the window
again.
I stifled a sigh. A magician's lot is not a happy one.
I stole that saying from a tune Aahz sings off and on
. . . key. More and more, I was realizing the truth of
the jingle. As the court magician to my king I had
already endured a great deal more than I had ever
bargained for.
Actually the king of Possiltum isn't my king. I'm
his royal magician, an employee at best.
Aahz isn't my demon, either. I'm his apprentice,
trying desperately to learn enough magik to warrant
my aforementioned lofty title.
Gleep is definitely my dragon, though. Just ask
Aahz. Better still, ask anyone in the court of Possi-
ltum. Anytime my pet wreaks havoc with his playful
romping, I get the blame and J.R. Grimble, the
king's chancellor, deducts the damages from my
wages.
