Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [52]
"He never asked before," answered Carrague plainly.
"Woof!" interjected King, scratching at the dust in his fur. He clearly wanted to be done with whatever magic Carrague promised to cast.
"Patience, King," chided Carrague. "If the lad's to learn anything, there's a matter of history to relate."
"Huh!" disagreed King.
"You're right. We are in a hurry, since Dauna's in danger," conceded Carrague.
"You can understand him?" I asked, astonished.
"No better nor worse than you could, if you listened carefully," said the wizard. The abbreviated story is that King, while still a man, offended a witch. She killed his companions but turned him into a dog, as you can see. Luckily for him, he escaped and came to Raven's Bluff, where he's become the most famous hero of the city, man or dog.
"And now, King," the ambassador said gravely. "Is this what you want? Shall I turn you back into a man so you can rescue young Jame's sister?"
King's nod never seemed so utterly human as now.
Carrague nodded back at him. "Very well," said the wizard.
Then Carrague raised the willow wand and spoke some more of those words that won't stick in memory. I braced myself for a flash of light, some thunder, maybe even a howling wind that would toss about the contents of the room (which, I reasoned, would explain their current state). King just sat there under Carrague's chanting and wand-waving, patiently awaiting the transformation.
But nothing happened.
"Nothing happened," I pointed out helpfully.
"No?" Carrague frowned at the wand. "Hmm. Maybe it was supposed to be the green powder of shapechanging," he mused.
King growled, then opened his mouth wide.
"Yaah," King yawned. Then he sat up suddenly, his front paws held out before him daintily, as if they were wounded. They began to swell, and his whole body stretched with a rubbery, creaking sound.
"Oh, my," said Carrague. He stood back from King and his chair. I followed his lead.
King's snout retracted, and all the hair on his face sank back into his flesh. His ears slid down either side of his head like sails vanishing over the horizon. His awful yawning whine grew deeper and louder.
"Rraaii!" he howled, then roared as his voice changed.
Fingers flexed where claws had been, and his broadening back bent forward in pain or ecstasy. I grimaced and shut my eyes, only to open them immediately. The sight was horrible, yet fascinating.
A naked man sat where King had been. His unruly hair gleamed silver as the dog's coat had been, and he had the same, large, intelligent eyes. While he remained muscular and fit, his skin was thin as old parchment. Though not as ancient as Carrague, King was still an old man. He squinted at us.
"That is why I never asked you to do this before," croaked King. "It hurt even worse the first time."
Carrague only nodded.
*****
Carrague easily found clothes for King; he conjured them. If I had any lingering doubts about his wizardry, they vanished when he flourished his fingers, speaking both the arcane words of Art and some mundane descriptions of fabric, color, and size. A variegated aura appeared, then darkened and shrank to form real fibers in the air. Faster than spider legs, Carrague's fingers wove them into breeches and tunic, boots and cap.
King fetched up a sword from Carrague's cane rack, hefted it, then grunted his approval. "It feels good to hold a sword again," he pronounced. His voice rumbled, rich and pleasant.
"Now don't run off to fight first," warned Carrague. "You have the power of speech again, and that's no mean tool. You'll need more than a blade to prevail against kidnappers."
"Believe me," said King. "I've lived long enough without a sword to know how to use my wits. You've got to do a lot of thinking when you're a dog in a city of men."
Carrague nodded, then peered at his cloak rack and plucked off a small green cap and handed it to me. "That looks about your size, boy. Try it on."