put in it. Believe me, it’ll pay in the long run in dealing with a hotel.”
I pondered the point for a moment, then decided it was senseless to hire a guide, then not listen to his advice.
“All right,” I said at last. “How far is it to this store you were talking about?”
“Oh, not far at all. Hang on!”
This last warning was a bit late, as he had already thrown the cab into a tight U-turn which scrambled the traffic around us and sent me tumbling across the seat. Before I could recover my balance we were well on our way back in the direction we had come from.
As accustomed as I was to madcap excursions, it occurred to me that this one was quickly becoming more complex than anything I had previously experienced. I hoped the education would prove to be more enjoyable and beneficial than it had been so far.
I’VE MADE NUMEROUS references to the Bazaar at Deva, where I make my home. For the benefit of those who do not travel the dimensions or read these books, it’s the largest market center in the known dimensions. Anything you can imagine, as well as many an item you can’t, is for sale there. Competition is stiff, and the Deveel merchants will turn themselves or their customers inside out before they’ll let a sale get away.
I mention this so that everyone following this adventure will realize what a shock shopping on Perv was to me. The differences were so many, it was almost hard to accept that the same activity was underway in both instances.
For openers, there was the basic layout. The Bazaar is an endless series of stalls and shops that stretch over the horizon in all directions. There are various concentrations of specialty shops, to be sure, but no real pattern and, more important, no way of finding anything without looking. In direct contrast, Pervish shopping is dominated by what Edvik referred to as “department stores.” One store could take up an entire city block with as many as six stories crammed full of merchandise. The goods are organized into sections or “departments” and carefully controlled so as not to be in competition with each other. Signs are prominently displayed to tell shoppers where everything is, though it is still relatively easy to get lost in the maze of aisles and counters. Of course, it also helps if you can read Pervish.
Perhaps the biggest difference, however, is in the general attitude toward customers. This was apparent when I made my first stop in the luggage department.
There was a good selection of bags and cases there, and the displays were laid out well enough so that I could distinguish between the magikal and non-magikal bags without being able to read the signs. It wasn’t even that hard to make my selection. There was a small canvas suitcase roughly the size of a thick attaché case which caught my eye both from the simplicity of the design and the fact that it was magikally endowed. That is, it had a permanent spell on it which made it about three times as large on the inside as it showed on the exterior. It occurred to me it might be a handy item to have, and if I was going to buy something to check into a hotel with, it might as well be something I could actually get some use out of later. The difficulties started when I was ready to make my purchase.
Up to this point, I had been pleasantly surprised that the sales help had left me alone. On Deva, I would have been approached by the proprietor or one of his assistants as soon as I set foot in the display area, and it was kind of nice for a change to browse leisurely without being pressured or having whatever overstock was on sale that day touted to the heavens. Once I had made my selection, however, I found that getting the attention of one of the salesmen was astoundingly difficult.
Standing by the display which featured the bag I wanted, I looked toward the cash register where two salesmen were engrossed in conversation. On Deva, this would have been all that was necessary to have the