The dragon gulped his fire, his eyes wide, then shrank, looking more and more like a man in each passing second. Clothes appeared. The man looked more and more startled as his intelligence flocked back, which gave proof to my theory that this was an accident. He hadn’t meant to steal the gold at all. This was why most dragon gold is in the hand of the Wizards -- most civilians won’t touch the stuff.
I looked down at my hands. As I gazed, they grew smoother and smoother. My beard was shrinking back into my face, which is an odd feeling. My wrinkles were fading, I could feel my joints strengthening, my limbs straightening. I felt a ton better. I would have been celebrating if my career hadn’t been cut short at the same time.
I then turned towards Trep. We stared at each other in amazement. It seems that I wasn’t the only one concealing my true form. I was facing a young brown-haired woman -- oh, around 18 or so -- who looked me up and down as I was looked at her.
“Trep?” I said.
“Master? Mahar?” she replied. “You, too?” She started laughing hysterically. “And I was afraid you were going to find me out!” She started choking.
My initial annoyance at being fooled faded at her red face. I simply looked at her, blushing, wondering whether I should pound her on her back, while she slowly got herself under control. She started crying. “Damn!” she yelled at me. “You ruined everything.”
A month ago, I would’ve been furiously mad at her for fooling me. One short month ago! But in the face of my own loss of position, I just chewed my lip and looked at her.
She noticed. “Oh, Master, I’m sorry. You can’t stay here, either, can you?”
“No,” I said, and I marveled at my young voice. “This was my first posting. I wasn’t supposed to break cover for anything or anybody. At the least, I’ll be posted somewhere else, but it was impressed on me that if I revealed myself, everything would be stripped.” I shrugged, actually not as disappointed as I thought I should feel.
“No powers,” Trep said, turning pale. “Oh, Mahar!:
“No!” A powerful voice from the side burst through our self-indulgent reveries. We both whirled to see milord looking at me. “I think not.” He smiled ruefully. “I saw the whole thing. I’m not sure why you thought you needed a disguise, but I’d rather have a young wizard who will learn than an old gaffer that can’t see past his own nose.”
“Milord, the disguise wasn’t my idea.”
“The Consortium?”
“Yes.”
“The old fools.” He pointed at the other man. “Accountant, I want a word with you later.”
The accountant had finished taking inventory of himself and paled in front of milord’s fierce face. “Sir, I... um... I couldn’t... um...” He fell silent.
“Milord. It’s not his fault,” I ventured. “You have some dragon’s gold in here, and dragon’s gold, I’m sorry to say, is too powerful for civilians to handle. He didn’t mean to do anything.”
“Well, I still need to talk to you, Accountant. This room is a mess. You are dismissed.” The little man sidled out of the door and down the hall, practically running. Milord raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t even know there was dragon’s gold in here. Can you take care of it?”
I looked at the floor. “If you’ll allow me.”
He inclined his head. “I certainly shall. As I was saying...” A sudden thought struck him. “Were those others as young as you?”
I chewed my lip. “Um -- the last two were. If I may be so bold, you have a certain reputation around the school. I suspect that the school is sending all of its first assignment wizards to you.”
He cracked a grin. “And here I thought I was being lenient with you! Good.” He looked at me shrewdly. “Wizard, you have inadvertently shared your secret with me, I shall share this with you.” He sighed. “I have my own disguise. I was not born to be a Baron. These are tough times, and a Baron who shows weakness -- particularly one who has little interest or aptitude – is useless to the people.”
“You have? I mean, you don’t? It seems you’ve been doing rather well.... um...”
He looked at me closely. “You are young. You wouldn’t have heard. I am no warrior. I was, in fact, raised in a monastery and had planned to become a Brother, myself. Until my older brother, the baron-to-be, decided to get himself killed. Over time, I’ve had to steel myself to be rather harsh with my servants and others under my protection. Fortunately, I have not had to prove myself at war.” He looked sternly at Trep, who was moving behind me. I looked at her closely. Interestingly enough, the shiner she gained from the Baron’s son was turning rather black on her face. “As Tressa here will tell you. Daughter, you were supposed to be visiting the King’s court. You know what I said about Wizard’s School. So you've been writing those letters from here?” He walked up to her. “And where did you get this black eye, my dear?”
I whirled and looked at her. “You’re the Baron’s...”
She compressed her lips and looked up defiantly. “I wasn’t going to put myself on display in the King’s court for just any man. And I wanted to go to Wizard’s School. You know I have talent.”
I turned back to the Baron. “She does have an uncommon...”
“The Wizard’s school is just for men. Have you ever seen a female Wizard?
“Then I’ll be the first!”
“Milord,” I tried to interrupt. “There have been... are female...” I was whispering in a tornado. I sighed and calmly cast a small spell that every busy, studying student knew -- the spell to render everything in the vicinity silent. They yelled at each other some more for a while, then glared at me.
“What I was saying,” I said calmly. “Is that there are female wizards right now. After all, look at me. How could you tell if they were male or female in a disguise like that?”
The pair looked at me. The Baron said, “There are?” silently, and I hastily released the spell.
Tressa looked at me. “You mean I spent all that money to get that disguise for nothing?”
I nodded my head.
“Would you have taken me as apprentice had you known?”
I shook my head, then hastily said, “I wouldn’t have had a choice. You would’ve been apprenticed to one of our elderly practitioners. Young women don’t get apprenticed to young men.” I looked at her closely. She was beautiful. “For a good reason. You’re…” I blushed.
Tressa looked stormy, then she smiled. “Mahar... Master... You don’t need to compliment me. I liked you when you were an old man. But that’s a stupid rule.”
I smiled at her. “Um... yes...” I cleared my throat. I could talk to Trep, but talking to Tressa, was, um, a different matter.
The Baron looked at Tressa, then at me. “I sent the guard away. He should be coming back soon. As near-sighted as he is, even he can tell the difference between what you are and what you were.” He looked me up and down and I saw decision in his face. “Will the Wizard’s Consortium know that your disguise was blown if I don’t tell them right away?”
“Um. no. Does that mean...?”
“Can you make yourself back the way...” He looked at Tressa and sighed. “And her, back the way you were? Temporarily?”
I felt some hope. “It’ll take some time. I can’t transform us... not here, but I can put an illusion on both of us right now. Does this mean I can stay?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” The Baron looked into himself. “No, I didn’t. But hurry and do it. I think I hear steps in the hall.” He hesitated. “I believe I shall have a little talk with the King about this, though. Perhaps we can do a little persuasion magic of our own.”
I smiled, then quickly put the illusion spell over Tressa and myself. I saw that it worked when I saw the Baron do a double-take. “Well done!”
The old guard came in, with a number of his colleagues. “The dragon is gone, milord?”
“The wizard defeated the dragon,” the Baron said expansively. ?
??And the Accountant is restored!”
The guards shouted their approval. Where were they before? Cowering in their bedchambers? Ah, well, no matter.
“In honor, both the Wizard and his apprentice shall have quarters in the main keep. Cim, get the steward and see to it.”
Cim grinned. “Yes, milord.”
The Baron looked thoughtful, then alarmed. “Make sure the apprentice gets his own quarters, too!”
Tressa... no, Trep... snickered slightly. I smiled back at her.
~|~
The smoke cleared. I looked around my new room, making sure there was no damage, and experimentally stroked my white beard. Tressa was at my side, looking like a ten-year-old boy. The change-spell had worked. My hands were those of an old man. But had the modification I put in worked?
I jumped up, clicked my heels, ran to the bed and jumped on it. Tressa looked at me with amused reflection. “Master, what are you doing?”
“Making sure that my modification worked. How do I sound?”
“Like you did before. Like an old man.”
I flopped onto the bed. “Good.” I rose up on my elbow. “But I don’t feel like an old man. That’s the important thing.”
Tressa looked amused. “And my little modification worked, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know the difference between a little boy and a little girl, even if no-one else can.”
“And so do I.” I realized what I said, then I blushed.
She stared at me intently, then she smiled. “Really?”
A knock came at the door. Tressa opened it. A guard stood there. “Milord asks, if it’s quite convenient, if the two of you will join him for dinner.”
I sat up, quickly. “We’d be honored.”
The guard left, and I grinned. Tressa looked at me. “Don’t get cocky. He’s probably going to ask your intentions.”
“My intentions? What do you… oh!” I stuck my tongue out at her. “You’re my apprentice!” I said,
She smiled at me, and said, “Just so, Mahar. Right.”
Later, much later, when she looked up from our marital bed and said, “I told you so,” I just smiled…
END
CONCENTRATING ON THE JOB
I walked up to my new client’s front door, God help me, looking like another Merlin clone, this time in a business suit. Once again, I cursed the three witches from the Scottish play and the whole Arthurian legend.
Flattening down the brassiere I knew I would need later, I rang the doorbell, and he opened the door. He, as in drop-dead handsome, wistful green eyes, straight brown hair, nice hose. He hadn’t sounded like much on the phone. Face it, he sounded downright nerdy.
I was staring at him. He wasn’t exceptionally handsome, but he was my type of cute.
Down, girl, I thought to myself.
Probably has a live-in girlfriend.
Damn it.
I stroked my long white beard.
“Mr. Gregory Hill? Miss Cardiff said you called and wished to see me?”
“Ah, yes. You must be the wizard.”
“I would. I go by the name of Merlin Jones.” I chuckled. “Not the Merlin, of course.” And the rest of the name was my little joke. I like Disney movies, so sue me.
“Come in!”
I entered the house. It was neat, but seemed to be a bit of a bachelor’s pad. Some feminine touches, but not many. The house was clean, but not obsessively so. He offered me a seat on a fairly new but comfortable couch.
"Would you like something to drink?"
How nice. A bachelor with manners! I declined, I’ve never quite figured out how men ate or drank with mustaches or beards, and I really didn’t want to practice.
You’re probably asking now why we didn’t meet in my office. You see, if I’m my own receptionist, I have a hard time being in two places at one time and the whole appointment ends up being a screwball comedy. I know. I tried it once.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“This is going to sound stupid, and I’m not sure why I’m consulting you.”
“A lot of things sound stupid. Doesn’t mean that they are.”
“I need to get married, and I can’t seem to find a suitable wife.”
DOWN, girl. You’re not suitably dressed to make an offer to the nice gentleman! I raised my bushy eyebrows. “You need to get married? I’m not in the matchmaker service.” Which I wasn’t, darn it. I was a wizard for hire who did bookkeeping on the side, owned an orange tabby cat with a rotten temper, and went to church on Sunday.
“It sounds odd, I know.”
What were we talking about? Oh, yeah, wives. “Have you tried those internet matchmaking services? Singles groups? Well meaning relatives?”
He smiled at that last one. “Yes, yes, and no well-meaning relatives except my Grandma, and she keeps trying to fix me up with her nursing home roommate.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“But why do you need to get married?”
“It’s the old family curse.”
I closed my eyes. “Oh, God. One of those.” Well, that explains how he knew where to find me. Most people can’t find me without having the need – or the compulsion.
“Run into them before, huh?” he smiled.
“Yeah. Just a few.”
“Do you think…”
“I have to hear the problem first.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He sat back in his rocker. “Well, it started back in 1776 or so. Seems that my ancestor was fighting in the Revolutionary War. He accidentally – according to him – shot a young boy who emerged from a house during a fight in the long gone town of Stony Heights. His mother, naturally, ran out after the boy and was shot by one of old James’ companions. With her dying breath, Madame Patience cursed him to an early death and his oldest son to a life of loneliness and bachelorhood, to infinity, ad nauseam.”
“You sound as if you don’t take it seriously.”
He sighed. “Oh, I do take it seriously. Every oldest son since that time have been single until death. Fortunately, there has always been more than one male child.”
“But…”
“James told his wife of the odd prophecy, and they had both laughed at Patience. Then James died of dysentery. Jonas, the oldest child, was engaged to be married at least three times, but all of his fiancés died of odd accidents – one died when her hair caught fire from a candle, one from a calm, elderly horse that suddenly raised up and brained her, and the last died when a stair board that had just been put down broke in half and stabbed her in the heart. Jonas gave up after that one and devoted himself to his brother’s children.”
I was fascinated. It was just a simple curse, but it had long-reaching consequences. If that Patience wasn’t a wizard, she had a ton of latent magic. Or was the belief itself the cause of the curse?
“The rest had similar stories. All of the families had at least two boys, because the curse only went through the paternal line. I’m the oldest. My younger brother, Alex, has two boys.”
“Sounds like you’ve done a bunch of research.”
He smiled. “Didn’t have to. James started a journal, and Jonas kept it up, the rest have kept all of the notes with it.” He shrugged. “Including me.”
I sat back in my comfy couch and looked at him absently. A family curse, with lethal consequences to any lady who got in the way. Lovely. But most curses have a back door somewhere. Maybe Patience had said something more…“Did Patience say anything else?”
“Not that James recorded, although he did say she moved her lips, but he couldn’t understand her.” He shrugged. “I think he figured it was curse words.”
Still, a back door to a curse still holds, even if nobody knew what it was. I looked at him, was almost lost in his beautiful green eyes, then shook myself. “Sorry, sudden chill.” I looked away. “I’m going to have to do som
e research. I haven’t encountered a curse like this in some time.” I looked back at him. “Most curses are one time, temporary things. This one had a lot of power behind it, and it’s very, very rare to last this long.”
He smiled ruefully. “I can afford to wait.”
I stood up. “I’ll be in touch.” I headed for the door. He hurried up and opened the door for me. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
He watched me down the walk and around the block… the very reason I park my car to go the other direction. I started the car, temporarily blacked the windows, and transformed back. Rubbing my hand over my bare skin – getting rid of the beard temporarily itched – and adjusting my bra, I thought of his problem all the way back to the office.
~|~
I sat back in my cheap office chair. After consulting with the Wizarding Practices and Standards books and the Curses Removal Service manual – not to be mixed up with the Blessings Inclusion Service manual, although spine color was the same – I decided that I had a bad headache, which was not the result I wanted. Practices and Standards was little help, implying that most curses wore off after three generations and everybody had forgotten about it. Well, this one hadn’t, possibly because everybody had heard about it. Curses and Removals seemed to say the same thing, but in a footnote, thought that the curse like this could be broken if the curse managed to survive until the condition to be prevented was circumvented.
Which, in this case, seemed to be if the fiancé managed to survive until marriage.
I winced.
The thought that was coming to mind was wish-fulfillment, but it would also help.
I would offer myself as the fiancé.
Thing is, Gregory would actually have to like me. And forced engagements or so forth never actually worked. It also seemed a bit self-serving. And, if we actually managed to marry, I couldn’t imagine that it would work. The marriage, I mean.
Would a loveless engagement be enough to break the curse? Or would Gregory’s belief be enough?
Still, I didn’t have much else.
Time for ‘Merlin” to reappear.
~|~
“Do you think it will work?”
I sat once again in his living room. “Absolutely.”
“I don’t even know your secretary.”
“And she doesn’t know you,” I lied. “You’re even. And she’s willing to help me in this matter.” I smiled.” She doesn’t get to go out on assignments.”