"So they're not so good at personal responsibility either," Vergetta shrugged. "That's why they hired us."

"They need keepers, not financial managers," Loorna countered. "Shepherds, that's what, and maybe a bunch of border collies. Yes, that's it. Put them all in pens until we're finished straightening them out."

"If they would just have let us do our job," Oshleen drawled, bored with the never-ending arguments, "we could have been out of here six months ago. They're mak- ing it impossible. Paldine should never have agreed to a milestone-based contract, especially one that prevents us from taking any other consulting contracts in the meantime. It should have been strictly time-based."

Paldine, pristine and elegant in a two-piece skirt suit and flowered scarf pinned at the shoulder, jumped up from the couch and grabbed Oshleen by the neck of her silk gown. "If you say that one more time I'll rip your head off! Where were you when I was negotiating it? Sashaying around looking for more clothes? Strutting around on a runway?"

"I was humiliating myself for this group! We needed that device! We could have used the Bub Tube for mass hypnosis, and maybe broken the habit they've gotten into. That Deveel created a nation of shopaholics!" Oshleen said with a dangerous scowl.

"And you couldn't get it. You failed in the one assignment that should have been a walkover."

"Ladies, ladies," Nedira interrupted, pushing in between them. Her plump body made an effective buffer as the two taller Pervects glared at one another over her shoulders. Charilor came up quietly behind Paldine and detached her hand from Oshleen's throat with a sharp tug. Paldine glared and massaged her wrist. "Why are we fighting? What's done is done. What we need to do now is find a solution."

Oshleen rubbed her throat. "Every single time we get these fools out of debt, one of their precious committees spends the new profits, without letting us deduct expenses, or taking into account what any of the other committees are doing with the proceeds. They're spending it faster than we can earn it. We can't even request payment because of your contract. We have to get them on their feet and keep them there for a period of sixty days. That's what we agreed to! We can't even get paid. Our work would be undone completely if we request our fee—that would clear out the rest of what's left in the treasury. And if we leave without fixing the leak, we'll be blamed for it. Our reputation will be ruined throughout the dimensions."

"She's right," agreed Tenobia. "We've got to hang in here until we get them up and running, and make it stick."

Paldine groaned and clutched her head. "Oh, I just want to leave here and never come back!"

"What if we set up one big score that would net all the money the budget would need for the sixty days, including our fee," Caitlin suggested, a wicked look in her eyes, "but that the Wuhses would be responsible for? Then we could leave. The kingdom would be in excellent shape, financially if not socially."

"And what would happen when the creditors descended?" Nedira chided the little Pervect. "It would take them less than a week to use up two months' worth of money. Where can we increase revenue legitimately?"

"Well, there's no more money to be made out of Pareleyan exports," Paldine stated, firmly. "I'm already straining the markets for handweaving. Their books of poetry went over like a dead horse. We were doing pretty well in the factories that assemble housewares. If only Vergetta and Charilor," she glared at the stocky young female, who went to lean against the wall with her arms folded, "hadn't blown their caper on Deva we'd have had a virtually infinite customer base."

"And that was our idea?" Vergetta snarled. "Forget it. If I ever get my hands on that Trollop, I'll paint her wagon, just before I fix it for good."

"We did," Charilor smirked. "We smacked her and her two henchmen around fairly thoroughly. We paid in advance, if you look at it one way."

"Well, I don't!"

"Please!" Nedira shouted over the others' voices.

"I believe," Monishone spoke up for the first time from her work station close to the window, "I may have the solution."

The others turned to her. Of the group she was easily the best magician, though Vergetta believed she hated all technology, unnatural for a Pervect. "So what you got, baby?"

The slender, delicately built female came forward. Her blue silk robes clashed horribly with her green scales, but it was the traditional color for ceremonial magik. She pulled back her wide sleeve so the others could see the small device balanced on her palm. "This."

"Glasses?" Niki asked. "So you're leaving the Luddite contingent at last?" Where Monishone was the technophobe, Niki was the technophile. If something broke down Vergetta didn't bother to try and fix it herself; she always called Niki.

"Don't be stupid," Monishone stared at her haughtily. "They're storytelling goggles."

"Come again?" Niki demanded. "What's the difference between those and virtual-reality headsets?"

"Because they're magikal, wirehead," the smaller Pervect spat. "They work, unlike the crap you play with."

"All right, all right, no more fighting," Vergetta soothed them. "We just fixed the wall again last week." She swooped down and snatched the spectacles out of Monishone's hand. "How do they work?"

"Just put them on."

The elder female hooked the ear-pieces over her large ears and settled the frame on the bridge of her nose. "So what am I supposed to see?"

"Do you see the little books in the corner? Pick one and flick a tiny bit of power at it."

"And…?" Vergetta pressed. Monishone waited, a little smile on her lips. "Aaaaagggghhh!"

Niki leaped forward, and plucked the spectacles off Vergetta's face. "What's wrong?"

The elder Pervect grabbed them back. "Give me those! It's wonderful!" She put them back on.

"What's wonderful?" Tenobia asked, taking them away and propping them on her own nose. "Wha—wow!"

"Let me see," Oshleen insisted, hooking the eyeglasses with one long claw. She stiff-armed the shorter female with one arm while she put them on. "Fantastic! I could almost pluck those jewels off the walls!"

"Inconsiderate bitches," Charilor snarled, twisting Oshleen's arm up behind her back. With her free hand she felt around the other's face until she got the spectacles.

"Ow! You hit me in the nose!"

"Let me see!" Nedira demanded, pushing the others out of the way until she reached Charilor.

"Enough!" Vergetta bellowed. The stone room shook until the hanging lamps danced. Eight of the Ten stopped squabbling and turned to look at her. Monishone stood with her arms crossed, wearing a smug expression. "Give me those! Now!" She put out an imperious hand to Charilor. Very reluctantly, Charilor peeled the goggles off and put them on Vergetta's palm. "You all sit down, and you wait until I am finished with these, and then everyone may have a turn! Just because I'm the oldest doesn't mean I can't kick your behinds from here to tomorrow!"

Shamefacedly the rest of the Ten settled down into their favorite seats to watch her. The only sound was that of Caitlin's fingers clicking on the keys of her computer. Vergetta nodded and resumed the goggles.

Inside the glasses it was dark except for the tiny glowing bookshelf in the upper left edge of her field of view. It didn't take a master magician to manipulate the individual books. The merest touch of power caused each one in turn to open and display its title page to her. A pink one was entitled The Rose in the Tower, a blue one Dragonfest, and a black tome It Came From Klahd… "Horror, too?"

"Anything you like," Monishone confirmed.

Dragonfest looked good. Vergetta went back to it and opened it again. With the merest touch of magik she turned the first page.