"I'm sorry, Mr. Skeeve. I just managed to recall the individual you're looking for. Refusing to shake hands with apprentices was the tipoff. It was one of his least objection- able quirks. Aahzmandius! After all these years I can still remember him."

After searching so long I was reluctant to believe my luck.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same person?

Aahz?"

"Oh my, yes. That's why the name rang a bell. Aahz 167.

was the nickname Aahzmandius would use when he was exercising his dubious love of practical jokes ... or doing anything else he didn't want reflected on his permanent record, for that matter. There was a time when that name would strike terror into the hearts of any under-cla.s.sman on campus."

"I take it he wasn't a particularly good student?" I said, trying to hide my grin.

"Oh, on the contrary, he was one of the brightest students we've ever had here. That's much of why the faculty and administration were willing to overlook the . . . um, less social aspects of his character. He was at the head of his cla.s.s while he was here, and everyone a.s.sumed a bright future for him. I'm not sure he was aware of it, but long before he was slated to graduate, there was a raging debate going on about him among the faculty. One side felt that every effort should be made to secure him a position with the inst.i.tute as an instructor after he graduated. The other felt that with his arrogant distaste for inferiors, placing him in constant contact with students would . . . well, let's just say they felt his temperament would be better suited to private practice, and the school could benefit best by simply accepting his financial contributions as an alumni . . . pre- ferably mailed from far away."

I was enthralled by this new insight into Aahz's back- ground. However, I could not help but note there was some- thing that didn't seem to fit with the record keeper's oration.

"Excuse me," I said, "but didn't I hear you tell Gretta to look in the dropout file for Aahz's records? If he was doing so well, why didn't he graduate?"

The Pervect heaved a great sigh, a look of genuine pain on his face.

"His family lost their money in a series of bad invest- ments. With his financial support cut off, he dropped out 168 of school . . . left quietly in the middle of a semester even though his tuition had been paid in full for the entire term.

We offered him a scholarship so that he could complete his education . . . there was even a special meeting held specifi- cally to get the necessary approvals so he wouldn't be kept dangling until the scholarship board would normally con- vene. He wouldn't accept it, though. It's a shame, really.

He had such potential."

"That doesn't sound like the Aahz I know," I frowned.

"I've never known him to refuse money. Usually, he wouldn't even wait for it to be offered ... not nailing it down would be considered enough of an invitation for him to help himself. Did he give any reason for not accepting the scholarship?"

"No, but it was easy enough to understand at the time.

His family had been quite well off, you see, and he had lorded his wealth over the less fortunate as much or more than he had hara.s.sed them with his superior abilities. I think he left school because he couldn't bear to face his old cronies, much less his old victims, in his new cash poor condition.

Basically, he was too proud to be a scholarship student after having established himself as a campus aristocrat. Aahzman- dius may not refuse money, but I think you'll find he has an aversion to charity ... or anything that might be construed as such."

It all made sense. The portrait he was painting of Aahz, or as he was known here, Aahzmandius, seemed to confirm the b.u.t.terfly's a.n.a.lysis of my old mentor's financial habits.

If he had suffered from embarra.s.sment and seen his plans for the future ruined because of careless money management, it stood to reason that he would respond by becoming ultra- conservative if not flat out miserly when it came to ac- c.u.mulating and protecting our cache of hard cash.

"Ah! Here we are."

169.

I was pulled out of my musings by the record keeper's exclamation at Gretta's return. I felt my antic.i.p.ation rise as he took the offered folder and began perusing its contents.

For the first time since arriving on Perv, I was going to have a solid lead on how to find Aahz. Then I noticed he was frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Skeeve," the record keeper said, glanc- ing up from the folder. "It seems we don't have a current address for your a.s.sociate. The note here says Traveling.'

I guess that, realizing his financial situation, we haven't been as diligent about keeping track of him as we've been with our other alumni."

I fought against a wave of disappointment, unwilling to believe that after everything I had been through, this was going to turn out to be another dead end.

"Didn't he have a school or business or something? I met one of his apprentices once."

The Pervect shook his head.

"No. That we would have known about. He may have been willing to instruct a few close friends or relatives . . .

that's not uncommon for someone who's studied here. But I think I can say for sure that he hasn't been doing any formal teaching here or on any other dimension. We would have heard, if for no other reason than his students would have contacted us to confirm his credentials."

Now that he mentioned it, I did recall that Rupert, the apprentice I had met, had specifically been introduced as Aahz's nephew. Overcome with a feeling of hopelessness, I almost missed what the record keeper said next.

"Speaking of relatives. We do have an address for his next of kin ... in this case, his mother. Perhaps if you spoke to her, you might find out his current whereabouts.''

Chapter Eighteen:.

" 'M' is for the many things she taught me..."

-OEDIPUS THE SEARCH FOR the address the record keeper had given me led us onto some of the dimension's side streets which made up the residential areas. Though at first Perv seems to be composed entirely of businesses, there is also a thriving neighborhood community just a few steps off the main busi- ness and transportation drags.

I'll admit to not being thrilled by the neighborhood Aahz's mother lived in once we found it. Not that it looked particu- larly rough or dirty ... at least no dirtier than the rest of the dimension. It's just that it was . . . well, shabby. The buildings and streets were so run-down that I found it de- pressing to think anyone, much less the mother of a friend of mine, would live there.

"I'll wait for you here on the street," Pookie announced as I emerged from the taxi.

I looked at her, surprised.

"Aren't you coming in?"

"I figure it's more important to guard your escape route,"

171.

172.

she said. "I don't think there's any danger inside, unless the place falls down when you knock on the door ... and I couldn't help there anyway. Why? Are you expecting more trouble than you can handle from one old lady?"

Since I didn't have a snappy retort for that, I proceeded up the porch steps to the door. There was a list of names with a row of b.u.t.tons beside them. I found the name of Aahz's mother with no difficulty, and pressed the b.u.t.ton next to it.

A few moments later, a voice suddenly rasped from the wall next to my elbow.

"Who is it?"

It only took a few seconds for me to figure out that it "was some kind of speaker system.

"It's .. . I'ma friend of your son, Aahz... Aahzmandius, that is. I was wondering if I might talk to you for a few moments?"

There was a long pause before the reply came back.

"I suppose if you're already here I might as well talk to you. Come right up."

There was a sudden raucous buzzing at the door. I waited patiently, and in a few moments it stopped. I continued waiting.

"Are you still down there?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why didn't you open the door and come in when I buzzed you through?"

"Oh, is that what that was? I'm sorry, I didn't know.

Could you . . . buzz me through again?"

"What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a remote lock before?"

I suppose it was meant as a rhetorical question, but my 173.

annoyance at being embarra.s.sed prompted me to answer.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't. I'm just visiting this dimension. We don't have anything like it back on Klah.''

There was a long silence, long enough for me to wonder if it had been a mistake to admit I was from off-dimension.

The buzzer went off, somehow catching me unaware again even though I had been expecting it.

This time, I managed to get the door open before the buzzing stopped, and stepped through into the vestibule.

The lighting was dim, and got downright dark after I let the door shut. I started to open it again to get my bearings, but pulled my hand back at the last minute. It might set off an alarm somewhere, and if there was one thing I didn't need right now it was more trouble.

Slowly my eyes adjusted to the shadowy dimness, and I could make out a narrow hall with an even narrower flight of stairs which vanished into the gloom above. "Come right up" she had said, so I took her literally and started up the stairs . . . hoping all the while I was right.

After ascending several flights, this hope was becoming fervent. There was no sign of habitation on any of the halls I pa.s.sed, and the way the stairs creaked and groaned under me, I wasn't at all sure I wasn't heading into a condemned area of the building.

Just when I was about to yield to my fears and retreat to the ground floor, the stairs ended. The apartment I was looking for was right across the hall from where I stood, so I had little choice but to proceed. Raising my hand, I knocked gently, afraid that anything more violent might trigger a catastrophic chain reaction.

"Come in! It's open!"

Summoning my courage, I let myself in.

The place was both tiny and jammed with clutter. I had the impression one could reach out one's arms and touch 174 the opposing walls simultaneously. In fact, I had to fight against the impulse to do exactly that, as the walls and their contents appeared to be on the brink of caving in. I think it was then I discovered that I was mildly claustrophobic.

"So you're a friend of that no-account Aahzmandius. I knew he'd come to no good, but I never dreamed he'd sink so low as to hang around with a Klahd."

This last was uttered by what had to be Aahz's mother. . .

it had to be because she was the only person in the room besides myself! My eye had pa.s.sed over her at first, she was so much a part of the apartment, but once she drew my attention, she seemed to dominate the entire environ . . .

if not the whole dimension.

Remember when I said that Pookie was one of two types of females I had noted on Perv? Well, Aahz's mother was the other type. While Pookie was sleek and muscular in an almost serpentine way, the figure before me resembled noth- ing so much as a huge toad ... a green, scaly, reptilian toad. (I have since had it pointed out to me that toads are amphibians and not reptiles, but at the time that's what she made me think of.) She was dressed in a baggy housecoat which made her seem even more bloated than she really was. The low, stuffed chair she was sitting in was almost obscured from view by her bulk, which seemed to swell over the sides of the chair and flow onto the mottled carpet. There was a tangle of white string on her lap which she jabbed at viciously with a small, barbed stick she was holding. At first, it gave the illusion she was torturing string, but then I noticed there were similar ma.s.ses draped over nearly every available flat surface in the apartment, and concluded that she was in- volved in some kind of craft project, the nature of which was beyond my knowledge or appreciation.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. ..."

175.

"Call me d.u.c.h.ess," she snapped. "Everyone does.

Don't know why, though . . . haven't had royalty on this dimension for generations. Beheaded them all and divvied up their property . . . those were the days!"

She smacked her lips at the memory, though of royalty or beheadings I wasn't sure, and pointed vaguely at the far wall. I looked, half expecting to see a head mounted on a plaque, then realized she was pointing at a faded picture hanging there. I also realized I couldn't make it out through the dust and grime on its surface.

"It's the maid's day off," the d.u.c.h.ess said sharply, noting my expression. " Can' t get decent work out of domes- tics since they outlawed flogging!"

I have seldom heard such an obvious lie ... about the maid, I mean, not the flogging. The cobwebs, dust, and litter which were prevalent everywhere could not have ac- c.u.mulated in a day ... or in a year for that matter. The shelves and cases throughout the room were jammed with the tackiest collection of bric-a-brac and dustcatchers it had ever been my misfortune to behold, and every dustcatcher had caught its capacity and more. I had no idea why the d.u.c.h.ess felt it necessary to imply she had servants when she obviously had little regard for me, but there was no point in letting her know I didn't believe her.

"Yes. Well . . . d.u.c.h.ess, I've been trying to locate your son, Aahz . . . mandius, and was hoping you might have some information as to his whereabouts."

"Aahzmandius? That wastrel?" Her narrow yellow eyes seemed to glow angrily. "If I had any idea where he was, do you think I'd be sitting here?"

"Wastrel?"

I was starting to wonder if we were talking about the same Aahz.

"What would you call it?" she snapped. "He hasn't sent 176 me a cent since he left school. That means he's spending so much on himself there's nothing left to share with the family that nurtured him and raised him and made him what he is today. How does he expect me to maintain the lifestyle expected of our family, much less keep up my investing, if he doesn't send me any money?"

"Investing?" I said, the light starting to dawn.

"Of course. I've been doing all the investing for our family since my husband pa.s.sed on. I was just starting to get the hang of it when Aahzmandius quit school and disap- peared without a cent ... I mean a trace. I'm sure that if I just had a few million more to work with I'd get it right this time."

"I see."

"Say, you wouldn't by any chance have access to some venture capital, would you? I could invest it for you and we could split the profits . . . except it's best to put your money to work by reinvesting it as soon as you get it."

t was suddenly very aware of the weight of the checkbook in my pocket. The conversation was taking a decidedly uncomfortable turn.