They were still moaning. I didn't care. Skeeve's privacy wasn't going to be interrupted for a trio of coddled fashion plates.

"What are we going to do?" the tallest one wailed. "We won't be prepared! After my parents put me through MIP at a cost of 5,000 gold pieces a semester, I can't find a lousy tutor when it's a life-and-death matter? My parents would have paid anything to get the Great Skeeve!"

I pointedly hadn't been paying close attention to their conversation, but my keen hearing had picked up the words "thousand gold pieces." They had me from there on.

"You like Djinni food?" Guido asked me.

I held up a finger to put his question on hold.

"HOW much did MIP cost?" I asked the tall Pervect.

"Five thousand" the Pervect repeated, turning toward me. Her eyes were bright gold with unshed tears. "A semester. Plus books and equipment. Plus housing and activity tickets and my allowance—more than fifteen thousand a year!"

I couldn't see it, but I knew the little green-for-greed light had just gone off over my head.

"Sit down, ladies," I purred. "You know, maybe the Great Skeeve could make a little time to help you. If the price was right."

"Y'know, Aahz, the Boss said he don't want—"

"Give the ladies a chance, Guido," I interrupted smoothly, cutting off his protest. I didn't want to blow what suddenly had turned into a potential earner. My inner cash register was playing "We're In The Money" with a brass band and a full chorus. These were trust-fund babies or better. They perched on the bench, looking hopeful.

"Well, you know," I began, "the Great Skeeve don't work cheap. He is the best, and he expects fees according to his skills. And status."