Robert Asprin & Jody Lynn Nye - Myth 12.1 - MYTH Inc Instruc

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M.Y.T.H. INC. INSTRUCTIONS

Robert Asprin

and

Jody Lynn Nye

First down the long white aisle came the flower girls, ten of them,

dressed in green organza tossing handfuls of petals into the air. I got a

faceful of their perfume and sneezed. That expression caused me to

bare my teeth involuntarily, causing an equally involuntary back step

by the six people standing nearest to me in the great hall of Possiltum

Palace. I never expect Klahds to really appreciate Pervect teeth like

mine.

I tugged at the tight collar of the formal tunic I'd let Massha talk me

into wearing. If she hadn't become such a valued associate of mine and

Skeeve's, I would tactfully have arranged to be elsewhere on this, her

special day of days. But if you are smart, you will never say 'no' to a

woman about to get married, unless you're planning on finishing the

sentence with "of course I don't mind you dressing me up like an organ

grinder's monkey." Which, naturally, leads your former apprentice and

present partner to ask what an organ grinder is. When I explained, he

said it sounds like a devious torture device—which, now that I come to

think of it, isn't all that far from being accurate, if you consider your

inner ear an organ.

The horde of little girls was succeeded by a host of little boys

dressed up like pages. Every one of them looked like I felt. I know

Massha has a somewhat garish color sense, but I'd have done a little

better for these kids than coral and pink striped satin breeches and caps,

and bright aqua tunics. All around me I could see optic nerves shorting

out, and the bridal attendants hadn't started down the aisle yet.

Before I'd finished the thought, here they came in a bevy. A lot of

the bridesmaids were of Massha's globular body type, though none of

them matched her in sheer magnificence (this is her wedding day. It

behooves me to be more than my usual tactful self). Her confidence and

warmth brought out the best in fellow large ladies of the Possiltum

court, who sought her out as a friend and role model, helping them to

like themselves as they were. She had plenty of friends there. Even

Queen Hemlock, whom I would have voted "Girl Least Likely to Have

Friends of Her Own Species," had gotten onto cordial, even warm

terms with her.

In an unusual display of insecurity Massha had ran color choices for

the ladies' gowns past Bunny, who has a good eye for fashion, instead

of a wallow of wild hues, which is what I would have expected, the

bridesmaids were all dressed in pale pink silk. In spite of the vast

difference in complexions and sizes, the pink served to flatter rather

than draw attention. Bunny herself looked glorious and demure in her

gown. The pink even looked good against the green of Tananda's hair.

She resembled some species of orchid, shapely and exotic. I'd never

before seen bridesmaids' dresses that didn't look like bedspreads or

horror costumes. Mentally, I awarded points to Bunny for skill and

Massha for knowing when to ask for help. It just showed what kind of

trust the team inspired.

Subtlety ended with the arrival of an entire marching band. Two

women in pink and aqua skirts shorter than anything Tanda had ever

worn on a job catapulted into the room and began to turn flips down the

white carpet. Behind them, a drum major in bright orange and blue

came to a halt at the door and blew a sharp blast on a whistle. He

hoisted his baton high and marched forward, leading the Possiltum

army's music corps in full dress uniform, playing Honywagen's

Wedding March. This was a discordant dirge that had become

traditional for weddings across the dimensions, to the everlasting regret

of real music lovers. Since the band was a little heavy on bagpipes and

horns, the effect was as hard on the ears as their outfits were on the

eyes. Since we Pervects have more sensitive ears than Klahds, I was

ready to kill someone by the time they finished mauling Honywagen

and struck up "A Pretty Girl is Like A Melody."

A full colorguard strode in time to the tune. The eight soldiers took

positions at intervals along the white carpet, holding the Possiltum flag

high. Ten more soldiers, Klahds in the peak of physical perfection, such

as it is, marched in past the flag-bearers, sabers drawn and held erect in

front of their noses. At a cue, they formed an arch with their swords.

The band halted in the middle of its song, and struck up the Possiltum

marching song. Enter Big Julie, in his best armor, clanking with

weapons.

There'd been a lot of discussion about who would be the General's

best man, but the former strongman turned out to be the perfect choice.

After all, the traditional role of best man was to hold the door and keep

unwanted visitors from intruding on the ceremony. Except for me,

Guido, Chumley and a few of Don Bruce's enforcers who were present

as invited guests, Big Julie was the only person who was big enough

and mean enough to prevent any potential interruptions. As soon as he

reached the front of the room Hugh Badaxe appeared at the door.

If there was ever a groom who wasn't nervous at his wedding I never

met him. The big man had beads of sweat on his forehead under the

crest of his helmet. He ought to be nervous; he was getting a terrific

wife who had a lot of dangerous friends who'd still be looking out for

her well-being even after she married him. The people around me

backed further away. I realized I was smiling again. Still, he bore

himself with military pride. Pretty good under the circumstances.

Badaxe wasn't a young man, but neither was Massha a spring

chicken. I hated wallowing in sentimentality, but it was kind of nice

that they'd found each other at a comfortable time of life. I admired him

for his honesty. He ran a good army. She was a terrific woman, and a

decent magician, even if her power did come from gizmos. It was a

good match.

As if he suddenly remembered where he was and what he was

supposed to be doing, Badaxe lurched forward, then regained his

composure. He walked forward with his head high, smiling at faces he

recognized in the audience. I caught his eye, and he nodded to me. I

nodded back, warrior to warrior, businessman to businessman. Once at

the front of the room, he removed his helmet and handed it off to Big

Julie.

A team of acrobats came hurtling into the room, followed by

jugglers and fire-eaters. Dancers, accompanied by musicians playing

zithers, harps and flutes, undulated down the white strip, flirting with

guests and flicking colored scarves around like filmy rainbows. In their

midst, eight pink and purple-dyed ponies drew a flatbed cart down the

aisle. On it sat a tall, slender, bearded man in black leather pants and a

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M.Y.T.H.INC.INSTRUCTIONSbyRobertAsprinandJodyLynnNyeFirstdownthelongwhiteaislecametheflowergirls,tenofthem,dressedingreenorganzatossinghandfulsofpetalsintotheair.Igotafacefuloftheirperfumeandsneezed.Thatexpressioncausedmetobaremyteethinvoluntarily,causinganequallyinvoluntarybackstepbythesixpeoplesta...

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Robert Asprin & Jody Lynn Nye - Myth 12.1 - MYTH Inc Instruc

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