"WHAT AM I, CHOPPED LIVER?" I bellowed.

The three regarded me blankly.

"I'm sure you're a magician of some skill," the medium-sized one said in placating tones that made my blood pressure blast through the roof.

'Get out of here!" I roared.

"But my Great Aunt Vergetta said that the Great Skeeve is the one we want," the tall one pleaded. "She said he was the best she ever met, the most effective magician in all the dimensions. Her club agreed with her. Lots of people said they've heard the same."

The others nodded earnestly.

I made myself calm down. I knew all about Skeeve's run-in with Vergetta and her Pervect Ten, a cabal of Pervish females with interlocking talents. I wasn't surprised Skeeve's reputation had gone so far. I had gone through a lot of blood, sweat, tears and expense to help spread that reputation around the dimensions. I also knew the true extent of his talents behind that reputation. Most of what Skeeve knew he had learned from me or the late magician Garkin, or picked up on the fly during one of our missions. He'd gotten by on native smarts, dumb luck, his own magikal ability and a little help from his friends. I wondered privately whether as a Klahd he could live long enough to really master the Arts Magikal. I wasn't going to subject him to humiliation from these three. Advanced degrees from MIP meant these three had gone

through six years of the toughest professors and the best training in any dimension. Once they found out they were that far ahead of him, they'd tear him apart.

"Forget it." I hoisted my mug and drained it.

"Please!" the shortest one begged.

I slammed the empty stein on the table and planted my palms firmly on either side of it. "Can't you take 'no' for an answer? Get out of here before I rip your heads off!"