"Skeeve the Magnificent," Zol Icty said, holding out a long, narrow hand to me. "My, my, I've heard so much about you. And I must say that you live up to my expectations."
I wasn't wearing the terrifying illusion that I normally did when seeing clients, so all he saw was the blond youth whose face I shaved every day. "What do you mean?"
"I've heard you're a man of compassion and thoroughness," the Kobold said, beaming up at me. "I can just see the generous nature glowing from every pore. I am honored to be in your presence." I was torn between wanting to throw up and feeling infinitely flattered. Aahz never noticed my compassion or thoroughness. Most of the time he was upset that I didn't grab everything on the table when my opponents were at a loss. "So what can I do for you?"
THREE
"Let's take this show on the road!" —m. rooney
I tried to live up to the reputation Zol insisted I had while I outlined our mission over lunch.
We were in a private booth in a very small, dimly lit diner I knew, at some distance from the bookstore, but it was still difficult to have a private conversation. Hundreds of people, one after another, came up to our table with a book held out and a simpering expression on his or her face. Because I was supposed to be compassionate, I tried to hold my temper at each interruption, though it got more and more difficult when I could only squeeze out three or four words before the next one came.
With my position in the Bazaar I could usually depend on a maitre d' to fend off intruders while I dined, but even he, a Deveel in his middle years, was