MYTH-Interpretations: The Worlds of Robert Asprin
advantage. In fact, I usually end up in trouble."
    "That might be because you were usually in trouble before you talked to them," Pookie said, sweetly. "Look at it this way, little sister. From what we've heard this job is going to involve us working the countryside. That's never been my favorite setting, since it's invariably full of things that go squish when you step on them and bite you when you're trying to sleep. If at all possible, I'd like to know what or who else will be out there with us. All we need is a bunch of trigger happy bounty hunters that let fly at anything that moves. The sheriff here should be able to supply us with that information if we ask him nice. So smile pretty and let me take the lead again."
    The office they entered was small and cluttered, with empty wineskins and half-eaten plates of food scattered here and there. It was dominated, though, by the sheriff.
    He was stocky with a noticeable bulge around his waist line, and outfitted in a wrinkled ranger uniform that looked like he slept in it. That suspicion was easily confirmed, by the fact that he was currently sitting behind his desk with his head down on his arms, snoring nasally.
    Spyder looked at Pookie with her eyebrows raised. Her partner responded with a shrug and a roll of her eyes before clearing her throat.
    "Um...Excuse me. Sheriff? Are you the sheriff?"
    The man lurched upright, blinking dazedly. He did a slight double-take when he realized the nature of his company and wiped a grubby hand over his face and beard, forcing a smile.
    "Sorry," he mumbled. "Long night and a slow day. So...What can I do to help you...ladies?"
    "We've heard that you've been having some problems with a Hefalump," Pookie said. "Thought we might give a shot at going after it...if the price is right."
    "You have to take that up with the Duc," the sheriff yawned. "He's the one putting up the reward. I can tell you the money's good, though. Enough to draw a small troop of sell-swords trying to collect it."
    "The Duc?"
    "He's the one who runs the territory around here. Actually, his name is Duke Rybred, but most folks call him the Duc on account of the way he's built. He pretty much stays on his estate just north of the town and leaves the tax collecting and keeping of order to me and my deputies."
    "If you don't mind my asking," Pookie said carefully, "why isn't he having you and your deputies take care of this Hefalump instead of advertising for outside help?"
    "What me? Go traipsing around the woods chasing some huge critter that's only bothering the farmers?" the sheriff seemed actually surprised at the thought. "That wasn't what we were hired for. I'm more than happy to leave it to the young bloods who are out to make a name for themselves."
    "Anyone out there ahead of us right now?"
    "Naw," the sheriff said, scratching his beard. "Last one came back and left a couple days ago. There were a fair number parading through here for a while, but it's kind of petered out lately. Guess the word has gotten out that the Hefalump is tougher than anyone thought and doesn't take kindly to anyone trying to shoo it away."
    Pookie looked at Spyder who shrugged in return.
    "Well, I guess we'll go talk to the Duc...Duke now," the Pervect said. "Any tips you can give us on handling the Hefalump?"
    The sheriff thought for a moment.
    "Take extra bandages," he said finally. "And be sure your insurance is paid up."

    If the sheriff was unimpressive, the Duke of Rybred was positively underwhelming.
    Whereas the sheriff had been stocky with a bit of a pot belly, the Duc was short and pudgy. He also walked with a rolling waddle that made him look...well, like a duck. Though he dressed well, he had a habit of rubbing his hands together and licking his lips like a miser with an unexpected tax refund. It left one with a feeling one should count one's fingers after shaking hands...if one cared to shake hands at all.
    "Well, well, well," he said, licking his lips and rubbing his hands

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