FIVE

“Your average ghost is a much more complex and interesting individual than is generally imagined. Just because someone is dragging chains or has one’s head perpetually in flames does not necessarily make them of a lesser class. Some ghosts, especially those with heads attached and mouths to speak through, are actually quite good conversationalists, with other-worldly stories by the score. In addition, ghosts generally subscribe to the happy custom of disappearing completely at dawn, a habit many living associates and relatives might do well to cultivate.”

THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM, Volume VI (Appendix B)

After our harrowing experience with King Urfoo in Krenk, I think both Ebenezum and myself expected our luck to change. Perhaps we would at last find a wizard great enough to cure my master without having to travel to far Vushta.

But the city of a thousand forbidden delights began to seem more of a possibility with every passing day. What with being chased out of one kingdom and not being particularly welcome in the next two, we hadn’t a chance to meet any wizards at all. Then there’d been the mercenaries Urfoo had sent to kill us, and the seven straight days of rain, and the incident with the giant swamp rats. I didn’t even want to think of those.

But still my master walked on, proud and tall, toward far, forbidden Vushta. And I would follow him there, and anywhere. Even with his affliction, Ebenezum was the greatest wizard I had ever seen!

I touched my walking stick to my forehead in a silent salute to the man before me. Our luck was bound to change!

It was then that I lost my footing and slid down the hill, colliding with my master.

Our fall ended in a cluster of bushes at the valley bottom. Not looking at me, the wizard stood with a groan that was like the rumble of an approaching storm. He turned much too slowly to face me. I watched the eyes beneath bushy brows and waited for the inevitable.

“Wuntvor,” the mage said, his voice like an earthquake splitting a mountainside. “If you can’t watch where you put your—“

My master stopped midsentence and stared over my head. I began to stammer an apology, but the wizard waved me to silence.

“What do you hear, ‘prentice?” he asked.

I listened but heard nothing. I told him so.

“Exactly,” he replied. “Nothing at all. Tis the end of summer, deep in the wood, yet I do not see a single bird nor hear an insect. Though I must admit, the absence of the latter does not upset me overmuch.” The mage scratched at a pink welt beneath his long white beard. We had had a great deal of experience, ever since the seven days of rain, with clouds of mosquitoes and biting gnats.

“Methinks, Wunt, something is amiss.”

I listened for a moment more. My master was right. The forest was silent, the only sounds the breathing of the wizard and myself. I had never heard quiet like this, except perhaps on the coldest days of winter. A chill went up my back, surprising in the (ate summer’s heat.

My master dusted off his robes. “We seem to have landed near a clearing.” He nodded down what remained of the hill. “Perhaps we shall find some habitation, even someone who can explain the nature of this place. Until then, we will bask in the absence of mosquitoes.” He scratched his neck absently as he started down the hill. “Always look on the bright side, Wunt.”

I hurriedly gathered up the foodstuffs, books, and magical paraphernalia that had fallen from my pack and followed my master’s wizardly strides. I scrambled after him over the uneven ground, avoiding what underbrush there was. But the brush thinned rapidly as we walked, and we found ourselves facing a large clearing of bare earth, broken only by a ring of seven large boulders in its center.

“Now we’ve even lost the grasses,” Ebenezum rumbled. “Come, Wunt, we’ll find the cause of this.” He took great strides across the bare ground, clouds of dust rising with every step. I followed close behind, doing my best not to cough.

When we reached the first boulder, something jumped.

“Boo!” the something said. I dropped my pack, but Ebenezum simply stood there and watched the apparition.

“Indeed,” he said after a moment.

“Boo! Boo! Boo! Boo!” the creature confronting us shrieked. On closer inspection, I could see that it was definitely human, with long gray hair covering the face and brown rags concealing the body. The person raised frail hands and rushed us on unsteady legs.

Neither of us moved. Our attacker stopped, out of breath. “Not going to work, is it?” she wheezed at last. It was an old woman; her speaking voice was cracked and high.

Ebenezum stroked his mustache. “Is what not going to work?”

“Can’t scare you away, huh?” She parted the long hair that covered her face and peered at the sky. “Probably too late for you to get away, anyhow. Might as well sit down and wait.” She looked around for a likely rock and sat.

“Indeed,” Ebenezum repeated. “Wait for what?”

“You don’t know?” The woman’s eyes widened in wonder. “Sir, you are in the dreaded Valley of Vrunge!”

“Indeed,” Ebenezum said when it became apparent the woman planned to say no more.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it. What, do you come from the ignorant Western Kingdoms?” The woman laughed derisively. “Everyone knows of the Valley of Vrunge, and the dread curse that falls upon it once every one hundred and thirty-seven years. Not that this place is all that friendly at any time”—she spat on the parched earth—“but there is one night, every one hundred thirty-seven years, when all hell breaks loose. One night when no one then in the valley will get out alive!”

I didn’t like the direction the woman’s speech was taking. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. “Ma’am, would you mind telling us just when that night is?”

“Haven’t I made it clear?” The crone laughed again. “This is the cursed night of the Valley of Vrunge. It begins when the sun passes yonder hills.” She pointed behind me.

I followed her arm and looked to the sun, already touching the top of the western hills, then turned to Ebenezum. He stared above me, lost in thought. It appeared our luck was running true to course.

“If we are all due to die,” Ebenezum said at last, “what are you doing here?”

The old woman looked away from us. “I have my reasons, which I’m sure would be of little interest to anyone but me. Let us just say that once this land was green and fair, and it was ruled over by a princess as lovely as the land itself. But a dark time came upon the earth, and the sky rained toads, and the princess became afraid. But her suitor, the handsome—“

“You are quite right,” Ebenezum interrupted. “No one would be interested in that at all. You’ve decided to die because the sky rained toads?”

The woman sighed and watched the sun disappear behind the hilltop. “Not exactly. I’ve worn this body out. I’m due to die. I just thought I’d see old Maggie out in style.”

“Maggie?” Ebenezum scratched his insect bite thoughtfully. “That would be short for Magredel?” He peered into her ancient face.

“Oh, I haven’t used that name in years. Not since I got away from those dull Western Kingdoms. Used to practice witchery thereabouts for a time, that’s probably where you heard of me. Didn’t specialize much, though. More of a general practitioner.”

“Maggie?” Ebenezum repeated. “As in old Aunt Maggie?”

Maggie squinted her eyes in turn. “Say, do I know you from someplace?”

There was an explosion directly behind me. All three of us spun to see a tall, pale apparition atop the tallest of the seven stones.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen!” the apparition cried with a swirl of its robe. “And welcome to curse night!”

“Greetings to you, too, Death,” Maggie replied. “I hope tonight will be up to your usual standards?”

Death laughed, a high, echoey sound that came near to scaring the life out of me. When I mentioned it later to Ebenezum, he said that was no doubt the desired reaction.

The apparition atop the stone disappeared.

“That was our introduction,” Maggie remarked. “Soon the fun begins.”

I was appalled. “F-fun?” I stammered. “How do you know what happens next?”

“Simple.” The crone flashed a toothless smile. “I’ve been through this night once before.”

Now that Death had vanished, the silence was again complete. My master cleared his throat.

“Ebenezum!” the old woman cried. “Of course! I’d recognize that nervous cough anywhere. Poor little Ebby, always coughing or scratching or tugging or doing something. He never could sit still.” She winked in my direction. “You know, in the whole first year he studied under me, he didn’t get one spell straight? You should have seen the things that showed up in our kitchen!” She laughed.

My master cast a worried glance at the rock where Death had stood. “Please, Aunt Maggie. I don’t think this is the proper time to discuss—“

“Oh, keep your cap on!” The woman clapped Ebenezum on the shoulder. “We have a little time. It always takes them a while to get organized. When you only have one performance every one hundred thirty-seven years, you tend to get a bit rusty.”

“But what’s going to happen?” I asked. I noticed my hand hurt from my tight grip on my walking stick.

“Ghosts, ghosts, and more ghosts.” The old woman spat on the ground. “Death is fond of games. He plays a game with every living thing, one in which he’s always the victor. Some games he likes more than others, and those great conflicts he brings here, to play over and over again in the Valley of Vrunge!”

“The spirits just play games?” I asked. That didn’t sound so bad.

“All of life is a game, remember. Death brings along the best of all his games, ranging from a nation at war to two people in love.”

She jumped and screamed.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” said a high voice from nowhere.

“Poltergeists! Boo! Boo! Boo! Away from here!” Maggie waved her hands about wildly. “More and more ghosts will appear throughout the night. And Death will try to snare you in his games. Beware, he always wins!” She screamed and jumped again.

“Boo, boo, boo?” the voice from nowhere asked. “That’s passe, lady. These days, long, sensitive moans are much more the thing in ghostly circles.”

“So it begins. I’m sorry, Ebby, you had to stumble into this!” She ran and screamed as “tickle, tickle tickle!” chased her around the circle of boulders.

Ebenezum sneezed once and blew his nose on a silver-inlaid sleeve. “Just a minor spirit. Hardly bothers me at all.”

I realized then that this was the first time Ebene-zum’s malady had affected him since we entered the cursed valley. Perhaps the severity of our situation was effecting a cure. Ebenezum had not sneezed once in the presence of Death!

My master shook his head when I explained my theory. “Why should I sneeze? Death is the most natural thing in the world.” He pulled at his beard. “And I fear that, should we fail to devise a plan of action, Death will become all too familiar to both of us.”

A great wind sprang up. My master had to shout to be heard. “Stay close! If we’re separated—“

The wizard sneezed as three ghosts on a sled grabbed him and whisked him high in the air. Ghosts, sled, and sneezing Ebenezum disappeared around the stones.

Night had fallen completely, and I was alone.

But then there was a crowd around me, sitting on long rows of seats, one atop another, as if they were built on a hillside. The crowd roared, and I saw they were watching a group of uniformed men on a green lawn, a few of whom were running, but most of whom were standing still.

A man carrying a big silver box walked up the steps toward me. “Hot dogs!” he cried. “Hot dogs!”

He wasn’t real, I told myself. This whole place was beyond my understanding. I stepped aside to let him pass. He stopped next to me anyway.

“Hot dog, mister?”

It was only with a mental effort that I kept from shivering. I looked down at my stout oak staff. My grip was firm. If the apparition tried anything, I’d swing at him. And then again, from what I’d heard of ghosts, I might swing through him as well.

With some trepidation, I asked: “What’s a hot dog?”

“Like I thought”—the spirit nodded sagely—“you’re an outsider. So this is your first ball game? Well, you picked a good one, buddy.”

I looked out over the field below us. “Ball game,” I repeated, struggling to comprehend.

“Yeah,” the apparition replied. “The ball game. People had counted the Red Sox out, but they came around. Now Torrez will blow the Yankees away! Seventy-eight is going to be our year. It has to be.”

I looked closely at the spirit, hoping that some gesture or facial mannerism would help me to understand his ravings. All I saw was the haunted look, deep in his eyes.

“Has to be? “I asked.

“Well, yeah.” The ghost paused. “I mean, the Sox have to win. Otherwise ...” He shuddered. “Do you have any idea what it would be like to have to sell hot dogs throughout eternity?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but walked up the stairs beyond me. I turned to the “ball game” on the field below. I felt a sudden, near overwhelming urge to be drawn into that game and find out just what could move the hot dog spirit to such a frenzy. I’d watch the shifting patterns of men on the bright green lawn, and sooner or later some great secret would be revealed, a joyous revelation that would make my whole existence take on new meaning!

Something in the back of my head told me to turn away. I remembered Aunt Maggie’s warning about Death and games.

The ball game disappeared. In its place stood Death.

“There you are,” the creature said in his sonorous voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you. These curse evenings can be so long and boring, sometimes I like to indulge in games to help pass the time. Tell me, do you know how to play Red Light, Green Light?”

Death stood much closer than he had before. I stared at the thin layer of pale skin pulled tight over his skull, and at the shadows where there should have been eyes. Yet his smile was ingratiating. You wanted to believe in what he told you, rather like a good seller of used pack animals on market day.

“Well?” Death prompted.

“N-no!” I stammered. “I-I don’t know the rules!”

“Oh, is that all.” Death reached out to touch my arm. “I’ll explain everything. I’m very good with rules.”

“No! I have to find my master!” I pulled away from the creature’s hand and ran blindly.

Suddenly a pit yawned before me. A pit filled with sharpened spikes and a great, roaring monster, all’ mouth and teeth and claws. I tried to stop, to step backward, but I was over the edge, falling, falling.

Someone barked a command behind me; my master’s voice. I found myself on solid ground, standing by Ebenezum. All the ghosts were gone.

Ebenezum sneezed repeatedly, rocking with the force emitted by his nose.

“Temporary exorcism spell,” he gasped at last. “Best I can manage.”

I did a short jig on the parched earth while my master caught his breath. Ebenezum had freed himself from the sledding spirits! Hope once again rose within my breast.

I asked him how he’d accomplished his escape.

The wizard shrugged. “I sneezed my way free. The ghosts were ready for sorcery, a battle of wits, anything but extreme nasal activity. They simply evaporated before the onslaught of my nose.”

“That’s wonderful!” I cried. “We’ll be free of this cursed valley in no time!”

Ebenezum shook his head. “Death does not make the same mistake twice. The next set of apparitions will be ready for my malady.”

Aunt Maggie appeared around one of the seven great boulders. She staggered over to Ebenezum’s feet and collapsed.

She groaned, then turned to look at my master. “It’s gone! The poltergeist is gone!”

The wizard nodded solemnly. “Exorcism spell.”

Maggie sighed in relief. “It kept taunting me, begging me to tickle it back. You can’t give in to those things. It would have been all over.” She looked at Ebenezum. “Exorcism? That means you followed your calling and graduated into wizardry! I did hesitate to ask you. In the early days, you were very determined, but your aptitude was sometimes less than—“

Ebenezum cleared his throat. ‘”Tis only a temporary spell. Death’s power is greater than common magic, and the ghosts will push through presently. We must come up with a more permanent solution.”

Maggie laughed. “I pulled through this cursed night once, with the aid of magic. Maybe we can do so again. And gain my kingdom back in the bar- gain!” She slapped my master’s shoulder. “So one of my students made good? Let’s see you do your stuff. Nothing fancy; a bird out of thin air, water into wine, something to catch an old woman’s fancy.”

Ebenezum fixed hei with a wizardly stare. “We are in peril for our lives. I need to concentrate.” He stalked off and disappeared into the circle of stone.

Maggie shook her head and smiled. “A great wizardly manner. He must be raking in the business.” She sighed. “Wish I could work magic the way I used to. After a while, the body gives out. Can toss off a spell now and again, when I’m feeling spry. But the big ones are beyond my reach.”

I hesitated to tell her that due to my master’s affliction, just about all the spells that could save us from our present predicament were beyond his reach as well. Best not to upset her. I was upset enough for both of us.

“But let me tell you my story, and you’ll understand why I’m here,” she began. “You’ve already learned of the fair kingdom, and the beautiful princess. And then, of course, there were the raining toads. And did I tell you about the princess’s handsome suitor, Unwin, killed on their wedding day? No? Well, that’s a good place to—“

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” the disembodied voice chortled. The exorcism spell was over.

A cool breeze blew in my ear. “Hey, big boy,” a woman whispered. “What’s a fellow like you doing without a date on a night like this?”

I turned to gaze on the most beautiful apparition I had ever seen. I was speechless. She was slender and pale, with long silver hair. And she wore no clothing at all, ghostly or otherwise. At certain angles, you could see right through her, but at other angles she was more than my eyes could bear.

“Oh, the silent type,” she said, and took my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine. Her touch was ice. It sent thrills up my arm and across my shoulders. She leaned close, and her breath was the breeze of autumn. Her lips parted, close to mine. I wanted to kiss those lips more than I wanted life itself.

“I know a little game we can play,” the full, cool lips said. “It’s called Spin the Bottle.”

Yes, yes, whatever it was, yes! AH those girls I’d known in the Western Kingdoms, even Alea, my afternoon beauty, they were nothing to me now.

But my beloved was pulled away from me and sent spinning through the air, her ectoplasm flying in every direction.

“I can still toss off a spell or two.” Maggie smiled. “Got to watch out for succubi. Not good for your health.”

“Crone!” Death was before us. “What would you know of love? Your body has been old and withered for a hundred years. An empty shell which can no longer be filled. Or can it?”

Death waved his hand and a young man materialized at his side.

“Unwin?” The old woman’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Is that you, Unwin?”

“Magredel!” the young man cried. “What’s happened to you?”

“It’s not me, Unwin. It’s you. You’ve been away. I haven’t seen you in so long!”

The old woman was crying.

“Consider, woman,” Death said. “Come with me and you will be together always.”

But Maggie turned on him, anger replacing sorrow. “No! You’ve stolen my kingdom for centuries! I’ll be with Unwin soon enough! I must free what was tricked from me!”

“Such harsh words.” Death examined his skeletal hand. “I have need of this place. My ghosts must have their exercise.” He looked at me, and I shivered where I stood. “Come, Wuntvor. Let’s leave these lovers alone while they talk things over. I’ll give you the guided tour.”

Without thinking, I found myself following him. Death smiled. “Simon says put your hands in the air.”

It took all my willpower to keep my hands at my sides.

“We’ll find one yet.” Death’s hands were full of small rectangles, which he fanned out before him. “How about a little Go Fish?”

I found myself staring at the rectangles. I looked the other way.

“My kingdom,” Death said.

There were apparitions everywhere. Armies fighting, women laughing, people in costumes familiar and unfamiliar, crawling across the ground, climbing the trees, flying through the air in strange machines.

“Amazing,” I said despite myself.

Death nodded. “The paperwork alone is staggering. Yet we pull it off, every one hundred thirty-seven years. It’s a shame our audience has to be so small. The Vrunge Curse is my masterpiece. Here are all the greatest moments of humanity, past, present, future, played out over and over again, from men at war to men at play, games of chance to games of love. A pity. Perhaps I should advertise.”

Death coughed gently. “Tell me, Wuntvor. Who is the greatest magician in all the Western Kingdom?”

Was he trying to trick me? I’d stay firm to my beliefs. “Why, Ebenezum, of course.”

“Right!” Death cried as a gong sounded somewhere nearby. “Wuntvor, you’ve just won an additional five years on your life!”

We were surrounded by bright light. The ghosts all sat in a large amphitheater now, whistling and cheering. The succubus I had almost kissed stood a little bit to one side, next to a large board that read “5.” She was wearing some sort of spangled costume that managed to look more revealing than her nudity had before.

“Okay!” Death smiled broadly. “Now, Wunt, for ten additional years! Tell us, who is the ruler of Melifox?”

The crowd whistled and stamped their feet. Urgent music came from somewhere. The succubus smiled her magnificent smile.

“Uh—King Urfoo the Brave!” I blurted.

“Right, for ten more years!”

The crowd went wild. The spangled beauty flipped a couple of cards over the board to one that read “15.”

“All right! All right!” Death raised his hands for silence. “Now it’s time for the question we’ve all been waiting for. Double or nothing!”

The crowd cheered.

“Now, Wuntvor, are you ready to double your life span?”

“Yes! Yes!” The crowd chanted. I nodded my head. Why not? This was easy.

“All right! The big question, Wuntvor, to double your life span or erase it altogether! Who was the famous chamberlain of the Eastern Kingdoms, three centuries ago, who used to mutter to himself, “ ‘One of these days, one of these days’?”

“What?” I asked. How could I know something like that?

“Quick, Wuntvor! The Quiz Lady has set the clock. You have fifteen seconds to answer, or pay the penalty, on Forfeit Your Life!”

What? What could I do? I didn’t know anything about the Eastern Kingdoms. The dramatic music was back, louder than ever. The crowd was roaring. I couldn’t think. Why hadn’t I listened to Maggie and kept away from these games?

“Ten!” the crowd chanted. “Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five!”

“Gangway! Gangway! Boo! Boo! Boo!” The entire crowd turned to look at Aunt Maggie, riding atop Ebenezum’s shoulders as the wizard rushed into our midst. And Maggie was holding Ebenezum’s nose!

“Batwom Ignatius, Wuntvor!” my master cried. “Batworn Ignatius!”

“Batwom Ignatius?” I replied.

“Is right!” Death exclaimed. “You’ve doubled your life! Barring illness or accident, of course.”

The crowd started to go wild, but Maggie chanted a few syllables and Ebenezum waved his hands. The crowd noise receded.

Ebenezum sneezed once, loudly, as Aunt Maggie climbed down from his back. I asked him how he knew about Ignatius.

“Had to learn it for my wizard finals,” he replied. “It’s amazing the useless knowledge they make you pack into your skull.”

“Such a pitiful spell,” Death remarked. “Why did you do it? They’ll all be back in a moment.”

“I wanted to talk to you alone,” the wizard replied.

“Your affliction will come back, too, when they return. Is that what you’re afraid of? Come with me, Ebenezum, and you need never sneeze again.”

“Perhaps I will.” Ebenezum tugged at his sleeves. “I have heard, Death, that you are fond of games. Will you play one with me?”

Death sneered. “You toy with me, wizard. No one toys with Death! Quick, what will it be? Parcheesi? Contract bridge? Fifty-two pickup?”

The wizard pulled on his beard for a moment, then intoned:

“Arm wrestling.”

Death shrugged. “If you insist.” He snapped his fingers, and a table and chairs materialized between them.

“Now the terms.” Ebenezum looked Death in the eye socket. “If I win, the three of us go free, and Maggie regains her kingdom. If I lose, I am yours.”

Death smiled. “For someone of your eminence, anything. I always enjoy welcoming someone whom the bards sing about. After you.” He indicated a chair.

Ebenezum sat. I thought that the ghostly crowd noises were somewhat closer. Ebenezum would have to hurry, or his nose might betray him.

Death smoothed his snow-white robe and sat opposite my master. His smile, if anything, was broader than before.

“Shall we begin, dear wizard?”

Ebenezum put his elbow to the table. Death did the same. Their hands clasped.

The ghostly crowd was definitely closer. I could see pale flickerings across the clearing.

“Now!” Death said, and Ebenezum tensed his whole body. There was no movement beyond the constant quiver where the two hands met.

And then the ghosts were back upon us, all talking and screaming and laughing at once. “I’m hit!” “You’re out!” “Got you!” “Hot dogs!” “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

“Dishonest Death!” Maggie screamed. “This was to be an even contest, without your ghostly consorts!”

Death laughed. Maggie said something else that I didn’t quite catch.

And Ebenezum sneezed.

And what a sneeze! Ghosts went flying. Death pulled back in alarm and was caught in the gale, along with his table and chair.

It was silent all around. I saw the first light of dawn in the east.

“Will they be back?” I asked, my voice little more than a whisper.

“Alas, Wuntvor,” the wizard said, “I fear they haven’t the ghost of a chance.” Then he blew his nose.

Ebenezum and Maggie walked over to one of the great stones so recently toppled by the wizard’s sneezing attack, while I surveyed in wonder the devastation a single great sneeze could bring to this already bleak land. Ebenezum helped Maggie to sit on the fallen boulder, then seated himself.

“How?” was my only question.

“Ebby never could keep a secret from me.” Maggie cackled. “But his aversion to sorcery presented something of a problem if we were to survive the night.”

My master pulled at his beard. “I freed you from Unwin, remember.”

“All I had to do was choose to talk to you rather than him. Unwin always was impossibly jealous. Flew off in an ectoplasmic snit. Which made you sneeze about five times.”

Ebenezum tried to say something, but Maggie kept right on talking. “That’s when I had the idea. If he always sneezed around the supernatural, what if he really sneezed! We couldn’t take away his problem, so the two of us worked up a little spell that would increase Ebby’s nasal power a hundredfold!”

“Indeed,” Ebenezum said, rubbing his nose, which was red from blowing.

“And now we’re safe. And the kingdom is free. Or is it?” Maggie spat on the ground. “Death is such a trickster. I was so afraid of him when Unwin died, I gave in and let him give me five lifetimes for what he termed ‘occasional use of my kingdom.’ What he didn’t tell me was that nothing could live in the kingdom between the times he used it.” She looked around her. “Has he kept his word? If only there was a sign.”

She slapped Ebenezums shoulder. “But you still haven’t heard my story.”

Ebenezum looked out over the hills. “Alas, teacher, we have a long way to travel. Shoulder your pack, Wunt. We’d best move before the sun gets too high.”

“You’ll sit here and listen!” Maggie commanded. “Ebby never did have any manners. From the beginning. Once there was a beautiful kingdom, and a fair princess. But all was not well, for one day came the dreaded rain of—“

“Ow!” I yelled. Something had bitten my arm.

Ebenezum jumped up. “Biting gnats! They’re all over us!”

Maggie threw her hands up to the heavens. “My kingdom is saved!”

“Drop us a note when ‘tis a little better developed!” the wizard called over his shoulder.

And we were once again traveling, somewhat more rapidly than before, with frequent slapping of arms and legs, in the general direction of Vushta.

SIX

“A wizard cannot do everything; a fact most magicians are reticent to admit, let alone discuss with prospective clients. Still, the fact remains that there are certain objects, and people, that are, for one reason or another, completely immune to any direct magical spell. It is for this group of beings that the magician learns the subtleties of using indirect spells. It also does no harm, in dealing with these matters, to carry a large club near your person at all times.”

THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM, Volume VIII

My master sneezed at last. I had been expecting it for quite some time. Ever since we had begun our descent into this new valley, three days’ distance from our harrowing experience in the Valley of Vrunge, I had once again noticed a general deterioration of the surrounding landscape: a tree uprooted here or there, an occasional house or barn pounded to splinters, whole sections of farmers’ fields gouged from the earth. It looked altogether unhealthy.

I think that by this time, neither my master nor myself were particularly surprised by this turn of events. Sorcery seemed to follow us wherever we might go on the trail to Vushta. Still, as Ebenezum had remarked as we sat by our last evening’s cookfire, we had not fared badly so far in the midst of all this magic. Indeed, in some cases we had made a fair profit from our sorcerous dealings. In fact, should certain magical events continue to occur on the course of our travels, we might arrive in Vushta as truly wealthy men.

“There is more than one way to look at luck,” Ebenezum had concluded as he settled himself down to sleep. “Never look a gift spell in the runes, Wunt.”

But that had been easy for the wizard to say the night before, while we were still far away from this present magic. Now, all Ebenezum could do was sneeze.

There was a tremendous crash in the distance. The wizard’s sneezes echoed the chaos.

Someone was calling to us. It was a young woman, close to my age. Her long dark hair streamed behind her as she ran in our direction.

“Hide!” she called. “Quickly, hide before Uxtal finds—“She stopped short a few paces from us, a look of consternation on her beautiful face. “You’re a wizard!”

Ebenezum stroked his beard and knitted his bushy brows. “How very observant. How may we serve you, my dear?” His sneezing fit seemed to have disappeared behind his veneer of professionalism.

“You can get those robes off as quickly as possible!” Her deep green eyes looked from side to side, taking in all of the valley. “Maybe we can find some old rags to disguise you as a peasant. Does the inlay of silver stars go all the way through to the other side of the fabric? Maybe, if you wore them inside out, we could pretend you were a monk!”

“Young lady!” My master’s eyes glowed with sorcerous indignation. “You want me to hide my wizardry?”

“No, no,” the woman said impatiently. “’Twould be best to hide if you were just common folk. Being a wizard, ‘twould be best if you fled the valley altogether.”

It was then that I saw the giant.

The giant roared. He was huge, towering over the tallest trees, his feet spread on either side of a broad, rushing river. His hair was matted, his beard long and unkempt, and he showed uneven, yellowed teeth when he growled. Teeth so large they would have no trouble snapping a person in half.

“Fo fo fum fee,” he rumbled. “I don’t like these other three.” He then tossed a rather large boulder he happened to be holding in our direction.

Ebenezum tried to free his hands from the folds of his robes for a quick conjure, but the presence of the giant threw him into a prolonged sneezing bout before he could even straighten his elbows. I moved toward the young lady, hoping to carry her away from the path of the rapidly descending rock. But she pushed me away.

And said a spell herself.

The boulder flew back toward the giant.

“Fee fo fum fi!” he shrieked. “Time for me to say good-bye!” The giant crashed down into the valley and was soon lost from sight.

I stared at the woman. I realized my mouth was open. I shut it. So beautiful and so talented! I wondered what it would be like to marry into the profession.

“I saw that!” A small man scurried from behind a ruined stone wall. Ebenezum blew his nose mightily.

The small man hopped across the stony field. He wore some sort of bright-colored uniform, alternately yellow and green, an outfit complemented by the livid red of his complexion.

“You know magic is strictly forbidden!” he shrieked. “Practicing magic means your death!”

The woman looked to where the rock had flown. “It would have meant my death if I had not used magic.”

“Technicalities!” the small man screamed. ‘”Twill not save you from the hangman’s noose!” His eyes darted to my master. “You. You’re wearing wizard’s robes!”

“Indeed. Everyone in your valley is very observant.” My master sniffed.

“Well . . .” The man paused, tongue poked in cheek. “You’ve yet to conjure. With luck, you’ll only get twenty years hard labor.”

“But they’ve just entered the valley!” the woman exclaimed. “How could they—“ “ “Ignorance of the law is no excuse!” The man caught a silver whistle dangling around his neck and blew a mighty blow. “I’ve called my minions to take you away.”

The minions appeared from behind the same stone wall that produced the government official. They were of much the same size as the first man, though of decidedly different origin; mud brown in color, with barbed tails, long taloned arms, and small heads dominated by wide, grinning mouths. They hummed, ominously and in unison.

“Take them to the dungeon in the hill!” The small man managed to shriek and laugh simultaneously.

The dozen minions spread out before us. Their humming grew louder and fiercer as they approached. Ebenezum was lost to us, sneezing somewhere deep within his voluminous robes.

The woman stepped valiantly forward, her hands extended to call magical aid. But would such meager aid as she could summon instantly be enough to defeat a squad of demon-things? Something had to be done.

I stepped to her side and raised my stout oak staff.

“Aha!” the man in uniform cried. “The old man has surrendered, yet you two still resist. Do not cross me!” He, too, waved his hands in front of him in standard conjuring position. “I will show you my power! I warn you, I have been practicing!”

The hands moved through a complicated pattern as the man chanted beneath his breath. He laughed. “See how you contend with this!”

He pointed both his hands at us. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a pair of white birds emerged from his sleeves.

“Ididn’t want birds!” The man’s uniform flapped as he jumped up and down. “Minions! Take them away!”

The muddy demons approached. Their humming was all around us. Both the young woman and I took an involuntary step backward and bumped into each other. I turned to stammer an apology, and the demons were upon us.

“Yanna!” she cried. “Nothalatno! Away!”

I struck out with my stout oak staff. My master, attempting to recover and come to our aid, rolled against my foot. From the corner of my eye, I saw a demon grab the woman’s hair.

“Look out!” I cried, and swung the staff at the demon without thinking. But the arc of the blow was too great. My feet stumbled against the still sneezing wizard as the staff bounced from the demon’s head with a resounding thwack], then ricocheted from the woman’s shoulder. She yelped in surprise and fell against me. I completely lost my balance in turn and collapsed atop the stricken mage. Before I could untangle myself, we were all three rolling down the hill.

Ebenezum shouted something as we rolled. When we hit the ground at valley bottom, it felt like a pillow. My master had managed a spell again. At least, I thought it was my master.

“Quick thinking!” the woman said. “My spells were virtually useless. Only brute action of the type you employed could save the day.”

‘”Twas nothing,” I said, humbly studying the rocky ground on which we had landed. “Any magician’s apprentice would have done the same.”

The young woman mentioned we had not been properly introduced. Her name was Norei.

“Ebenezum,” my master said before I could speak. He brushed and straightened his robes. “Mage of the West. My apprentice is Wuntvor.”

I bowed slightly and almost fell over. I was, perhaps, still a bit dizzy from our fall. I looked up, and Norei was smiling.

“Tis fortunate you have come,” she said. “We have need of two more heads that are good with spells. My mother, Solima, will be glad for the help. As you see, terrible things are happening in this valley. Things that threaten to destroy not only this community”—she paused, and her voice dropped to a whisper—“but also the very reality in which we live.”

What could be so awful as to destroy reality? I looked at my master, but he stared far beyond the hills to either side of us.

“Solima,” he whispered.

Norei led us into the woods that seemed to cover much of the valley floor. I followed close at her heels, while Ebenezum trailed some distance behind. She led us down a winding path, well marked in places, overgrown with weeds and brambles in others, until, deep in the forest, we came to a small clearing. A tiny cottage was nestled in one corner of the open space.

“My home,” Norei said as she led us through the open door.

“Solima!” my master cried.

A woman of middle years looked up from the pot she was tending and stared at my master. She wiped her hands on her gray robe. “Ebenezum? Is that you?”

“Indeed.” My master doffed his wizard’s cap. “All the way from the Western Kingdoms. I had heard you might be practicing in the area, but I had little hope of meeting you.”

Solima offered my master a sad smile. “It’s good to see you, Eb. That white beard fits you; it makes you look less of a scoundrel. Alas, the rest of what you say isn’t quite true. Situations have arisen in this valley that may prevent me from ever practicing magic again.”

“We met Tork on the way here, Mother.”

“So you’ve met the prince!” Solima pulled a pipe out of her sleeve and knocked it against the long table that filled the center of the room. “Was he hospitable to the newcomers?”

“He tried to arrest us!” Norei replied.

“For Tork, that’s hospitality.” She snapped her fingers, and smoke rose from the pipe bowl. She puffed at the stem. “Did you tell them anything of our plight, daughter?”

“I was too worried Tork might find us again.”

“Quite so. Let me tell you about our liege lord.”

“Solima.” Ebenezum took a step forward. “Let me tell you about your eyes.”

“Ebenezum! It’s been years!” She glared at the wizard with the same green eyes she had given her daughter. “Besides, you’re changing the subject. Prince Tork is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

My master sighed and shrugged. “Indeed. He was the wizard we met?”

“Well, he fancies himself a wizard. He’s never gotten one spell straight that I know of. But he’s jealous of all those who can conjure rightly, and so has banned all other wizardry but his throughout the valley.”

“He’s got everything backward!” Norei added. “His evil spells come out good, and his good spells come out evil!”

“Luckily for us,” Solima continued. “Tork’s nature is such that he seldom contemplates a good spell. Still, he has managed to conjure all sorts of creatures from the Netherhells, including a giant with a rather foul temper.”

Ebenezum scratched at his beard. “It does sound serious. Yet if he is so inept, couldn’t you cast a spell to neutralize him or banish him somewhere?”

Solima sighed. “If we had realized in time, it would have been easy. But Tork is such a buffoon that we ignored him, until suddenly he came marching to our door with an army of demons to take my two sisters captive.”

“Blackmailed by an inept wizard . . .” My master’s brow furrowed in thought. “There’s no way to overcome his allies from the Netherhells?”

“None that I can think of. You know the way my family has always made magic, Ebenezum. Tis a collective process, with every woman joining in. That’s when our witchery is most powerful. With my two sisters gone, that power is greatly diminished. There’s still Norei and Grandmother, of course—“

“Grandmother?” A certain dread had crept into the wizard’s voice. “She’s still alive?”

Solima nodded. “She lives in the attic.”

“Would she remember me?”

“Grandmother forgets nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Ebenezum said, “my apprentice and I should rest a while. Perhaps in a barn or some outlying field.”

“Don’t worry. She seldom comes downstairs.” Solima banged her pipe against the table again. “Besides, we haven’t told you the worst part of Tork’s incantations.”

Ebenezum glanced at the ladder leading above. “Perhaps if we discussed it while we walked outside? I could stand to stretch my legs.”

“Nonsense. Listen to me now. Every time a spell does not work, Tork gets a little more frustrated. And with every frustration, he decides he must tackle a somewhat more complicated spell to prove himself. This disturbing tendency has escalated to such a point that, probably this very night, Tork will attempt Fisbay’s Grand Forxsnagel.”

What little blood remained in Ebenezum’s face vanished entirely. “The Forxsnagel? But should that fail...”

“Exactly. I should imagine that this valley would become the eighth Netherhell. And who knows? Perhaps the whole world would follow.”

There was silence for a long moment, then Norei spoke. “Perhaps, Mother, the wizard’s suggestion is best. We should let the two of them rest. Then, when the Forxsnagel begins, both wizard and apprentice can join us, five strong, to battle it.”

Solima puffed on her pipe for a moment, then nodded. Norei led us from the tiny cottage to an even tinier shed in back. Ebenezum followed quietly.

He spoke the instant Norei had left. “She does have the most beautiful green eyes, Wunt. We had our moment together, back when I was near your age. But her grandmother!” He coughed.

I had never seen my master quite like this before. For want of something to say, I asked him about the Forxsnagel.

“Mm?” The question seemed to bring the wizard back to his senses for a moment. “Oh, ‘tis the Overspell, the one great conjure that will make the whole world yours for the taking. It’s purely theoretical magic, of course, never been attempted before. Ah, but those green eyes, Wunt! I came this way on our journey toward Vushta to see if Solima still lived here. She is a great witch, fully my equal. But when I saw her eyes again, I forgot my malady, the reason, I thought, I had come. Ah, if only the old woman weren’t alive!”

I was beginning to seriously worry for my master. His usual professionalism seemed to have vanished with one glance from Solima. He had neglected to tell either of the witches that his ailment prevented him from even being in the presence of wizardry, while I was probably the world’s only magician’s apprentice who had never been taught any magic. Yet in a matter of hours, we were expected to rally against the greatest spell ever conjured.

An earth tremor shook the shack. There was a giant’s foot outside the window.

“Fee fi fo fum! Uxtal for revenge has come!”

The magician held his nose. “’Tis up to us now! Open my pack and get out the red book! Page forty-six!”

I ruffled as rapidly as possible through the jumble of books and arcane equipment. Finally I spied a thin red tome beneath a bundle of dried herbs. I pulled the book from the pack and examined it. Sorcery Made Simple was stamped on the cover in large gold letters. Beneath that, in smaller script, were the words “E-Z-Spell Library #6.” I rapidly turned to page forty-six as my master finally sneezed.

“THE BANISHMENT OF GIANTS,” bold block letters proclaimed across the top. This was followed by a brief description of types of giant—from what little I read, Uxtal seemed to be a Northern Blue•-- and three short spells for their removal.

That’s when Uxtal tore the roof from the shack. Ebenezum’s hands flew about his sneeze-racked body, and I found myself encircled by thick gray smoke.

“Fee fi fum fo! Where did those two mortals go?”

I heard Uxtal somewhere above us. Someone grabbed my sleeve and pulled. I stumbled after him.

Then the wizard sneezed again, sending the cloud in all directions.

“Fi fo fum fee! I’ll teach you to hide from me!”

The giant reached for us. I still held the red book in my hand but had lost my place. I leafed through frantically, wishing I could remember the page number.

Then I heard the singing. It came from the front doorstep of the cottage, where Norei, Solima, and a wizened old woman I had never seen before stood. It was a strange song, sometimes sounding like a choir of angels had come to earth, other times resembling nothing more than certain yodeling ditties I had been fond of at the age of three. But the song was a spell, and a glowing ball of orange light grew above the three women, then rapidly sped in the direction of the giant. Uxtal turned and ran so fast he didn’t have time for parting words.

My master blew his nose.

“You’re safe, then!” Norei called. “Would we could get rid of Tork as easily as we subdued Uxtal.”

“That the one?” the old woman said as she pointed to Ebenezum. “I remember him! Looks like he’s got a cold. He’s spreading disease. Mark my word, it wouldn’t surprise me if he were carrying the plague!”

“Now, Grandmother,” Solima chided.

“He’s probably never worked a day of his life! And look at that beard! Norei, get me some eye of newt and toe of frog! We’ll teach him to come skulking around here!”

“Grandmother’s a traditionalist.” Norei leaned close to me and whispered in my ear. My heart raced. “She’s never liked wizards much, either. She always thinks they bad-mouth witches.”

“Just a second here, and I’ll fry up a couple of lightning bolts!” the old woman proclaimed. She rubbed her hands rapidly. “Then I’ll zap you back where you came from!”

“Grandmother!” Solima scolded. “You know we can’t use magic unless it’s absolutely necessary. Tork will find us!”

“This is necessary!” the old woman shouted, her hands still rubbing together. I heard something crackle between them.

“Grandmother! Ebenezum is my friend! I will not have you zapping him!”

“Friend? After what he did to me? I’ll show him what I think of his chicken-feather spell!”

“Grandmother! Up to your room!”

The old woman glowered for a moment, then scooted up the ladder. Ebenezum blew his nose.

“You showed great restraint with Grandmother this time, Eb. I do agree that that spell with the chickens was a bit much, especially after all those dead fish. But she was right about your cold, wasn’t she?”

Ebenezum looked at me, then at Solima and Norei. His face was drawn and tired. “Alas, ‘tis worse than that.” And he told them the story of his malady.

“You poor dear!” Solima said when he was through. “You’ve managed valiantly, though. I always knew you were a man of character, Eb.” She walked over to my master and put her hands on his shoulders. “Give me an hour or so to check my books. I’m sure there are certain herbs that can be used to ease a condition such as yours, and if I’m not mistaken, certain healing sprites can be called to visit an area which would remove your condition completely! Face it, you old codger: you haven’t been cured because you have not visited a good witch!”

She kissed him on the forehead. “Now I want all three of you out of here. I have to do my research!”

The wizard took me aside as soon as we had quit the cottage. “Vulnerability, Wunt. Always good as a last resort. Brings out the mother instinct. You still have the red book?”

I showed my master where I had tucked it in my shirt.

“Good.” He twirled his mustache. “Who knows? Soon I may even be able to use it.”

Norei stepped from the door we had just left. “Wuntvor? May I speak to you for a minute?”

I looked to my master. He pulled his beard reflectively.

“Indeed,” he said after a moment. “There are matters I must attend to as well.” He walked to the remains of the shack, more bounce in his wizardly stride than I had ever seen before.

Then I turned to Norei. My world was Norei—her oval face, framed by long dark hair. And those large green eyes. Eyes to get lost in.

“Wuntvor? What’s the matter?” she said with some concern. “Do I have a bug on my nose? You just got the strangest look.”

I cleared my throat and stared at the forest floor, assuring her it was only fatigue from my journey.

“Tired you may be, but you have to put that behind you!” She grabbed my arm above the elbow. I looked up. Her face was close to mine. “Your master is ill, my mother close to collapse, Grandmother unwilling to help because of something your master did long ago involving fish and chickens! It’s up to the two of us to be strong. We have to be the center around which the magic grows to defeat Tork’sForxsnagel!”

I nodded. Yes, everything she said was true. I would do anything for her. So what if I’d only tried three spells in my life and none of them ever quite worked out? With Norei as my guide, our magic would be strong.

She kissed me lightly. I could hear my brain hum. When she screamed, I realized it wasn’t my brain, but the demons. They surrounded us, and their humming was fierce.

“So!” Tork called from the rear of the demon brigade. “Playing with magic this afternoon, were you? I can deal with you now!”

Ebenezum came running from the cottage, followed by Solima. Grandmother hopped quickly behind.

“The only dealing you’ll do, fiend,” Ebenezum exclaimed, “is with me!”

“Careful, Eb!” Solima cautioned. “I’m not sure of the potency of the herbs. Perhaps we should work our collective magic before they wear off.”

“He’ll never listen,” Grandmother shouted from the rear. “Let the scoundrel go! Give me some fox-root and duckwort, and I’ll show them all!”

In the midst of this, Tork tried to conjure. Frogs fell from his sleeves.

“No! No!” he screamed. “Very well! You’ve sealed your doom! The Overspell! Forxsnagel!”

The earth shook.

“Fee fi fo fum! I will stamp on everyone!”

Uxtal was above us. Norei ran to her family. The three of them began a chant. Glancing back, Ebenezum joined in as Prince Tork screamed incantations and jumped through a series of extremely acrobatic positions.

“Fi fo fum fee! No one’s even watching me!” The giant growled and lifted his great foot into the air.

I looked back and forth at the two groups of combatants: leaping Tork surrounded by demons, the three witches and Ebenezum weaving a vocal tapestry. Uxtal, I reasoned, would stomp the singers first, but the four were so involved in their song they would never see the descending foot.

‘Twas then I remembered the book. I pulled it all too rapidly from my shirt. It spun from my hands and landed on the ground. When I picked it up, I noticed it had opened to the proper page!

I knew then that I was fated to best the giant. I glanced rapidly over the three spells printed across the bottom of the page. I chose what appeared to be the simplest: “Shrinking the Giant Down to Size.” A six-foot-tall giant would be no problem at all!

But I had forgotten the demons! They were all upon me, ripping and tearing at my clothes, their awful hum close against my ears. I shouted out the spell, the book ripped from my hands as the final syllables escaped my lips.

The demons fell away from me. I looked up to the giant. He was getting smaller!

But my exhilaration was short-lived. For some reason, everything else was getting smaller, too.

I realized my mistake. In my haste, I must have jumbled the syllables of the spell. Instead of Uxtal shrinking, I was growing!

I looked about me as I grew to Uxtal’s size and more. It gave me a whole new view of the countryside; the ruined half of the valley where we had descended, and the area around me, which, besides a few spots like the demolished shack, seemed still to be the rolling forest and picturesque farmland this whole valley must have been before the coming of Uxtal.

I noticed then that my stout oak staff had grown with me. Far below, I could hear Prince Tork’s screams, counterpointed by four voices weaving in and out, punctuated by shrill whistles and wild whoops. None of them seemed in the least aware of the giant’s foot hovering over them.

“Fee fum fofi! I will crush you by and by!”

I hit his foot with my staff. Uxtal looked up in alarm.

“Hey!” he said in a low voice. “You trying to spoil my act?”

“Away, fiend!” I bellowed. I was surprised at how loud my voice was.

“Away, fiend? What kind of line is that? It doesn’t even rhyme! I was only trying to scare the folks. It’s part of the contract!”

“A contract with demons!” I cried. I walked toward Uxtal. Things crunched and crashed beneath my feet. I looked down to see my gigantic boots had left a trail of decimation through the forest.

“Say,” Uxtal said, his eyes narrowed to slits, “are you nonunion?”

He was trying to confound me with Netherhell double-talk! I decided, rather than risk destroying more of the valley bottom, I would stand my ground and thrash the villain soundly with my staff. I swung the stick with a cry.

And Uxtal jumped out of its path. He was awfully limber for a giant. The staff swept empty air, and I lost my balance. I found myself falling, straight toward Ebenezum and the witches.

Frantically, I tried to twist away. I crashed, scant yards away from the whooping and whistling assembly, demolishing the witches’, cottage instead.

I rolled away from the witches’ clearing, flattening another couple of acres of forest, and struggled to my feet. Now I was mad! I growled at Uxtal.

“You had better get out of here!”

Uxtal was looking down at the others. A great ball of light had formed above the witches, while Tork had created a large area of total dark above himself. Light and dark moved together. .

“I think you’re right.” Uxtal waved and in four strides had disappeared over the rim of the valley.

Dark and light met.

It turned very cold, and all the color seemed to drain from the world. There was no sound; only gray shapes in silence. I could see the four still singing, and Tork dancing among his demons.

But something was wrong with Ebenezum! He was down on his knees. Even though there was no sound, I knew he was sneezing.

The world was going a deeper gray. Ebenezum tried to rise but fell, quivering in his robes. I tried to move, to help my master, but was somehow glued to the spot.

The world went dark.

In an instant, there was light. The three witches lay on the ground, unconscious. Ebenezum had somehow managed to stand, and now faced Tork and his demon minions, who all hummed triumphantly.

“The Forxsnagel is mine!” Tork cried. “I can have anything I want! Already I have defeated the power of these three witches. You ceased your spells just before the blow and were spared. But that, dear wizard, is a temporary condition! By the power of the Forxsnagel, I claim your wizard’s skills!”

Dark lightning flashed from Tork’s fingers. Ebenezum threw out his hands to conjure himself, but the lightning threw him back.

Tork laughed, raising his balled fist to the heavens. “Power! All of magic is mine!”

Then he began to sneeze.

Norei and I kissed. A young witch and a magician’s apprentice, in a world made new again.

The witches had managed to return the valley to normal in a surprisingly short time. Solima’s sisters were rescued from their prison, the demons exorcised from the land, and rebuilding had begun. My master and I should have left a week before to continue our journey to Vushta, city of a thousand forbidden delights and a cure for my master. But here we stayed. Which was fine with me.

I kissed Norei. Her lips were very sweet.

It was a shame about Ebenezum’s cure, though. When Tork had achieved Forxsnagel, he had tried to drain off my master’s abilities and received Ebenezum’s malady in the bargain. Now Solima was afraid to summon such sprites as might cure my master, in case they cured Prince Tork as well. There were still the herbs, of course, though Solima warned against using them too frequently. They had taken their toll on Ebenezum already; he had slept for most of a day after his battle with Tork. And Solima told us that after two or three ingestions, the body built up immunities to the medicine, and the malady would return, as bad as or worse than ever. We would have to go to Vushta after all.

Norei’s cool hand brushed the hair from my eyes. “What are you thinking of, Wunt?”

“Fate,” I replied. “How we met, and suffered, and triumphed. How we both have our whole lives ahead of us, and how my future has changed, knowing you.”

Norei’s green eyes looked heavenward. “You do talk funny sometimes, Wuntvor. We’ve just met. Don’t go planning our lives yet. Who knows what will happen to us?” She kissed my cheek.

“Who knows?” I agreed. “For now, my master seems content to stay here.” I looked back at the rebuilt cottage, half-hidden by what trees still remained standing in this part of the wood.

There was a rumbling crash.

“Ha, ha, ha! I knew the duckwort would work!” It was Grandmother’s voice. “I’ll teach you to lay about the house sweet-talking my daughter!”

Ebenezum came running full speed from the cottage. Solima held her grandmother back from following. Fire sprouted from the old woman’s fingertips.

“The spells may take a little while, but the old ways are the best!” the old woman called. “Stand your ground and let me boil your blood!”

My master tossed me my pack. “Quick, Wunt! It’s off to Vushta!” He sneezed and looked back at Solima. “I’ll be back when I’ve found the cure!”

“I look forward to it!” Solima replied, still grasping the struggling oldster.

“We’ll all be waiting for you!” Grandmother waved her flaming hands.

I stood, pack in one hand, staff in the other. “I guess I’m off to Vushta, then.”

“Oh,” Norei replied. “Well, good-bye.”

Is that all she had to say? After all the time we spent together? “Norei,” I whispered, “come to Vushta.”

She looked at me and smiled.

“They call it the city of a thousand forbidden delights.”

“Well, maybe I will, someday.” She stood and kissed me lightly.

“Now I’ll zap you, scoundrel!” Grandmother had broken free from Solima and was coming toward us rapidly. Her fire fingers singed the shrubbery as she ran. “I’ll teach you to sully the name of good, honest witches! Fish and chickens, indeed!”

I was off down the road, after my master.

“No matter how ideal the circumstances of one’s present location,” he remarked as I caught up with him, “there is always something to be said for a change of scene.”

SEVEN

“There are those who claim that magic is like the tide; that it swells and fades over the surface of the earth, collecting in concentrated pools here and there, almost disappearing from other spots, leaving them parched for wonder. There are also those who believe that if you stick your fingers up your nose and blow, it will increase your intelligence.”

THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM, Volume VII

After that, of course, our luck got worse. It wasn’t just the assassins, although Urfoo’s paid minions kept appearing with greater and greater frequency. It was probably all those minstrels that made us so easy to, find. When one’s fame is being sung in every village in the kingdom, it is difficult for one to travel incognito. Before our present arrangement, we seemed to be always on the run.

Then the earthquakes began.

At first, they were only small tremors, a moment’s shifting of the earth beneath our feet. But they grew greater day by day. I worried that Prince Tork had recovered from his inherited malady and would soon visit the Forxsnagel upon us again. When I told my master of my fears, he dismissed them, at least as far as so inept as wizard as Tork was concerned. Yet as to the earthquakes being caused by the Forxsnagel . . . well, there might be some truth to that. He would speak no more on the subject until we were free of our present company. Until then, he only scratched the hair beneath his cap.

Our conversation was cut short by a commotion in the distance.

There must have been twenty of them, each one attempting to scream louder than his or her companions, all running full tilt down the dirt path that passed for a road in this rural clime. On my master’s instructions, we stepped to one side of the lane and watched them pass.

“Indeed,” Ebenezum intoned as the cloud of dust caused by the commotion settled down again upon the road. He allowed a hand to stroke his beard and made clicking sounds deep in his throat, a sure sign of wizardly thought.

“I do believe they would have run us over!” Old Oame Sniggett quivered, her pale hands fluttering amongst her black robes. “They can’t be from around here! Not civilized at all!”

“Now, now, Auntie.” The beautiful Ferona took her elder’s hands in her own steady grip. In the two days that the women had been our traveling companions, I had been repeatedly impressed by the young woman’s ability to remain calm in the face of any crisis.

“I’m sure there is some logical explanation for their behavior,” she continued. “Perhaps they are some sort of religious order, making a hasty pilgrimage to their holy shrine. Whatever their purpose, it is not for us to worry about. Not when we are so close to the safety of our home.”

The wizard turned to regard the two women. “We are almost there?”

Ferona smiled, an expression so brilliant on her freckled face, surrounded by her red hair, that if you watched her long enough, you might forget the sun. “Aye, good sir. We are nearly in shouting distance. Tis only a couple more hills down the road. Come on, Nanny. Let’s all of us walk so we can get home and rest properly.”

It was then my master sneezed. I hoped, for a foolish instant, that it was only a reaction to the dust on the road. But I knew, somewhat closer to my soul, that my master’s sneeze boded far more ill than that.

The wizard sneezed again. A lone man ran toward us this time, his shadow flung far across the road by the late afternoon sun.

“The sun is setting!” the newcomer cried, his voice cracking from the weight of emotion. “The sun is setting!”

“We thank you for that information,” my master replied when it became apparent the man had finished his speech. “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“But—“ The man came closer still. I could now see the horror in his eyes. “Tis the first night of the full moon!”

The wizard scratched at the snow-white hair beneath his cap. “This is also true.” He glanced at the ladies. “If you have no more information to impart, I think we should be on our way.”

“Bork, you are talking nonsense!” Dame Sniggett stepped forward. “Pardon the intrusion, oh learned sir, but I know this man. He’s one of my farm hands. I almost didn’t recognize him, acting so.” She sniffed. “He’s usually so civilized.”

“Oh, my lady!” Bork fell to his knees. “I’m so afraid of the beast, I didn’t see you. So much has happened at the farm since the change came over Greta.”

The elder pulled herself erect, her once watery eyes afire with outrage. “Something has happened to Greta?”

“No, nothing,” Bork whimpered. “That is, nothing beyond ...” He glanced at my master and myself, and his voice trailed off to nothing.

Ferona looked to Ebenezum, an apologetic smile lighting her face. If only she would smile that way at me! “Greta is my mistress’s prize pullet.”

My master pulled at his beard. “There is an illness among the chickens, then?”

“Chickens?” Dame Sniggett’s voice reached a volume and timbre that I previously would have thought impossible in a woman so frail. “Greta is no—“ Her mouth refused to form the word. “Greta is an East Kingdom dandy!”

“Mistress!” Ferona urged. “Your nerves!”

Dame Sniggett glanced, startled, at her young charge. The air seeped from her body in a rush, and she returned to being bent and frail. “Forgive me, good sir,” she whispered to my master. “When I hear my Greta is in trouble, all sense leaves me.”

“No need for alarm, dear woman,” Ebenezum said with the same warm smile and soothing voice that had won a thousand paying clients. “We all have those things that are very dear to us.”

The woman glanced at him and quickly looked away. She giggled, a most unexpected sound. “We are fortunate,” she said softly, “to be traveling with a man who knows the proper manner in which to view things.”

“It’s a wizard’s duty to place things in perspective. My lady, if you and your ward will accompany me, we will escort you to the safety of your home.” With that, Ebenezum led the way down the road once again. I took up the rear as usual, the paraphernalia-filled pack on my back somewhat hindering my movements. Bork struggled to his feet as I passed.

“But the beast—“ he cried.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.

The pounding started sometime after they deposited my master and myself in the massive front hall of the estate. Occasionally, the pounding would be accompanied by screaming.

Dame Sniggett would flutter through the hall from time to time, fragments of explanation trailing her rapid movements. “The rooms aren’t quite proper yet. ... I like everything just so. ... It was so much more civilized.” Ferona would glide after her every now and then, and spare a smile for my master. I tried to get her to smile at me but once again couldn’t quite catch her eye.

No one mentioned the pounding and the screams.

Both seemed to come from just the other side of the great oak door that formed the entrance way to the massive estate that housed Dame Sniggett and Ferona. In a quiet moment, I asked the wizard what he thought all the commotion might be. My master thought for a bit, then replied in a low tone: “The rich do have their quirks. Most likely ‘tis a deranged uncle they keep locked in the tower. Pretend not to notice, at least until they’ve given us dinner.”

At last a young woman appeared to tell us we could now enter the main hall and all would be explained. She introduced herself as Borka, sister to the mistress’s other servant. My master turned from his study of the elaborate carvings that lined the walls, especially those inlaid with gold, and pulled at his robes to properly straighten the lines. I gathered up my pack and stout oak walking staff, and followed the wizard into the Great Hall.

Our eyes immediately fixed upon the dozen golden chicken coops that lined one wall of the huge room.

“Welcome to my little nest,” Dame Sniggett cooed.

She stood at the end of a long table made of dark wood, Ferona at her side. They had changed from their simple but elegant traveling clothes to somewhat more resplendent finery, the mistress of the house dressed all in black lace, her lovely charge dressed in a gown that showed all the colors of spring. This time I thought Ferona smiled at both of us. I wished again I could get her to smile just for me.

My life had changed in the two days since we had chanced to meet the two women in a roadside inn. Praise the assassins that Urfoo sent against us, for they made it necessary for us to find traveling companions! And thus far, it had worked. The last two days had passed assassin free. But far more than that had happened to me. Before, I had been merely Wuntvor, a magician’s apprentice content with following my master on his quest for a cure. But on that day when Dame Sniggett had requested the wizard’s aid, my life had grown to include Ferona. There had been a few other women, surely, but their memories were like wisps of smoke, burned away by Ferona’s fiery beauty. Well . . . there were some times, late at night, when I thought of Norei, and the way she kissed. But she had her own life to lead. That was something she had made very clear. After that, I shouldn’t have thought about her as much as I did. But then there was Ferona!

Ferona! How had I existed before I had known that name? I hadn’t yet been able to get her to talk to me, but that was a small matter, now that we had met. Now, my life had purpose.

A chicken clucked. It was probably in response to the immense quantity of pounding and screaming still going on outside, so loud now we could hear it clearly in this inner room.

“Now, now, Greta,” Dame Sniggett soothed. “I want you to meet a very important man.” Her watery eyes blinked at my master. “Tall, handsome, and a wizard besides!”

“Indeed,” Ebenezum rumbled. He glanced briefly at me before returning to examine the hen. I could tell immediately that he was not pleased at being introduced to a chicken. Even with all her money, Dame Sniggett might go too far.

“Borka. Take Greta from her cage.”

The wizard grimaced. He expected the worst. He might even have to hold it.

“Yes, ma’am.” The serving woman curtsied and grabbed the chicken by the throat.

“Gently, gently,” the dame chided. “She is very special to me.” I could see the idea of being chased by assassins appealed more to Ebenezum with every passing moment.

“You see, Greta is a very special chicken.” Dame

Sniggett’s voice fell to a whisper. “She has the ability to produce gold.”

The smile reappeared on Ebenezum’s lips, unfolding like a flower as it catches the warm rays of the sun.

“It’s always been possible in theory,” the wizard remarked, “though I’ve never seen a spell that made it happen. She actually produces golden eggs?”

There was an embarrassed silence. Finally, Borka cleared her throat. “Well, you see, the gold really comes out of another part of the chicken entirely.”

“How improper!” Fire blazed in the mistress’s eyes again, but the look softened as she gazed at her hen. “Yet poor Greta can’t help it. All the creatures of the world must perform such functions, even humans. Cursed with such a fate, we should be thankful when it comes out gold!”

Borka looked up from where she held the chicken. Her face grew suddenly pale. “’Tis getting dark. I must go close the shutters!”

She thrust the chicken back into its cage and ran from the room. The pounding outside seemed to redouble with the approaching darkness, although by now the screams had gotten quite hoarse.

“Now that you know about our Greta,” Dame Sniggett said, “I can tell you the real reason I’ve asked you to come to the estate. When I saw you were a wizard, new hope rose within my bosom. Tell me, dear, dear Ebenezum, might there be a spell by which you could change the orifice through which Greta’s gold appears?”

“An interesting point.” Ebenezum sniffed. Being in the same room as an enchanted chicken did not seem to be enough to make my master sneeze, although it did make his nose run. I imagined that if

Greta decided to make gold any time in the wizard’s presence, his malady would return full force. “Many magicians have proposed spells for the laying of golden eggs,” he continued, “but no matter what the process proposed, the results always proved to be economically unfeasible. That is, more magic went in one end than gold came out the other.” Ebenezum blew his nose.

“But it might be done?”

“Certainly possible, with the head start your hen has. It’s just a matter of fathoming the proper spell of transference.”

“Then I must insist you remain here as my guests!” Dame Sniggett’s watery eyes shone like pools beneath the moon. “Ferona will show you to your room, civilized in every respect! It belonged to the master of the house, Ferona’s late uncle. Oh, and your apprentice can sleep in the barn.”

A sudden commotion seemed to have replaced the pounding and screaming that went on in the hallway. Bork staggered into the room.

“Why didn’t you answer the door? The beast would have gotten me!”

Dame Sniggett stared at him in silent indignation.

“How were we to know you would return?” Ferona replied. “We thought the knocking was yet another pilgrim, looking for a handout for his holy cause.” She glanced at Ebenezum and myself. “All the pilgrims around here know that Auntie has money.”

A sudden chill wind blew into the room. Bork, Ferona, and Dame Snigget looked at one another, an expression of terror on their faces.

“The door!” Bork whispered.

Something leapt into the room with a horrible, shrieking growl. Dame Sniggett cried out, Ferona and Bork leapt away.

Ebenezum was sneezing now. The creature was sorcerous! Although one look at the thing’s near human height, its face full of fangs and coarse gray hair, should have been enough to tell me that. The things would kill us all, unless someone acted quickly. I leapt forward, swinging my stout oak staff.

The creature grabbed the swinging wood and wrenched it from my grasp as if the force behind my blow had been nothing. Talons bit into the skin of my right hand. With a cry I pulled myself free, but the creature was on top of me. It forced me to the floor, its breath hot on my neck. I caught a glimpse of razor teeth. Behind us, the chickens shrieked in dismay.

The beast paused and looked up, sniffing the air. As fast as it had floored me, it leapt away to grab the nearest chicken. Hen in mouth, it ran from the room.

As I stared dumbly at my bleeding hand, I heard Ebenezum blow his nose. Dame Sniggett tossed a napkin in my direction so that I might mop up the blood, her face a mask of distaste. Ferona sighed and shook her head.

“It happens aH the time.”

EIGHT

“Even for a wizard there will often come times when someone close to you, perhaps even your spouse, criticizes your habits by comparing them to those of animals. This is distinctly unfair to the animals, who have far better habits than we in many areas. When, for example, have you seen a frog collecting taxes or a squirrel running for electoral office? Present arguments like these to those people who criticize you. If they still do not see the wisdom of your ways, you may then feel free to bite them.”

THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM, Volume IX

“There are certain problems with this estate,” Dame Sniggett admitted after we had eaten and she had sufficiently calmed.

“Indeed. Like werewolves.” Ebenezum stroked his beard. So that was what it was! I had heard of such strange creatures—humans that turn to animals under the full moon. My hand ached in remembrance.

“No,” Ferona interjected. “What Auntie is trying to say is that magic collects here, producing all manner of strange and wonderful things. Only in such a place could Greta produce gold. Unfortunately, there are negative sides to the magic as well.”

“Yes, yes, but that’s why we’ve brought a wizard here!” The aunt smiled at my master. “Good Eben-ezum, surely you can try to dispel the negative magicks that lurk about this farm.”

“I can but try,” the wizard replied. Apparently, no one had noticed my master’s total helplessness’ during the werewolf’s attack, and the mage, sensing a fee, was not eager to bring the matter up. “Now, we have had a long and trying day. Perhaps you would be good enough to show us to our rooms?”

“Certainly. Ferona, take Ebenezum up to the master’s suite. After that, Bork can point out the way for Wuntvor to walk to the barn.” Dame Sniggett studied her black lace sleeve for an instant. “Oh, incidentally, good wizard, just so there are no more surprises, I should tell you to totally ignore the ghost. He’s quite harmless, really.”

“Ghost?” I saw my master’s eyes cloud with wizardly rage. Dame Sniggett had gone too far at last. His right hand shot out to pave the way for a major denunciation. His fingers banged into the golden chicken cage.

The wizard hesitated, the touch of precious metal bringing him back to his senses.

“Beg pardon, madam, but I cannot sleep with a ghost present. My magical senses are too finely tuned; I would get no rest at all. Give my apprentice the master’s quarters. I shall sleep in the barn.”

Dame Sniggett frowned. “That’s hardly proper! Still, who am I to criticize the methods of a practicing wizard? I’m sure, in time, we’ll all be able to make the necessary adjustments.” She waved her hand. “Bork, show the young man the way upstairs.”

Somewhat dejectedly, I followed the servant. I had hoped that Ferona would escort me. I stumbled into the huge bedroom Bork led me to and fell upon the massive bed. My recent fight had exhausted me. Bork departed, closing the door after him. The room was left in darkness.

“Hey,” a voice whispered in my ear. “Hey, buddy.”

My mind floundered on the edge of sleep. “Wha?”

Encouraged, the voice got louder. “Hey, buddy, ever hear the one about the farmer’s daughter and the traveling tinsmith?”

“What?” I was wide awake now. “What are you talking about?”

“All right, all right, so you’ve heard that one,” the voice said, suddenly defensive. “How about this: How many monks does it take to empty a cistern?”

“I was trying to sleep!” I cried. It then occurred to me that I had no idea who or what I was talking to. Ice rolled down my spine. A valley full of ghosts came to mind, a valley where I had almost become a ghost myself.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“Oh, I’m a ghost. Peelo’s the name. Formerly jester to the court of King Zingwarfel, some four hundred years back now. I had the misfortune to make a joke about the king’s name, and was put instantly to death. Now I’m forced to wander these halls endlessly, trying to make people laugh. But hey, you don’t want to hear about this. It’s showtime!”

I had no idea what this creature was talking about. It didn’t seem dangerous, but with ghosts you could never tell. “Why can’t I see you?” I asked.

“What, you want me to manifest myself? I usually save that for the big boffo conclusion. But hey. Tell me this. Why did the hippogriff cross the road?”

“I don’t care!” I pounded the bed with my fists. The right one throbbed painfully. “Ghosts, werewolves, magic chickens. What’s going on here?”

“Hey, buddy, calm down. It’s all just part of the package. You know, standard Netherhell grab bag: one gold-producing spell, a werestone, a giant Grak—although heaven knows where it’s gone—one slightly used ghost. I’m sort of the M.C. of this troupe, forced to walk these halls until I can make someone really laugh. If only somebody would give me some new jokes! Do you know how difficult it is to milk laughs out of four-hundred-year-old material?”

“I’m sure it’s hard,” I said. I was too tired to care. I lay back on the bed.

“But hey, no more boring stories! On with the show! Did you hear the one about the unicorn and the tavern keeper? Well, this unicorn goes into this tavern, see, and orders a mug of ale from the tavern keeper. The tavern keeper brings the ale, and says, ‘That’ll be a hundred gold crowns.’ Then he adds, ‘You know, we don’t get many...’ “

It was all too much for me. I fell asleep.

I found my way to the barn and told Ebenezum my ghost story early the next morning.

“Indeed,” he said when I was finished. “There’s more here than meets either the eye or nose. I have a feeling that Dame Sniggett is attempting to extract a great deal of work from us for a very low fee.” He cleared his throat. “I imagine she would think that sort of thing proper.”

“Either that,” I added, “or she’s afraid a spell that took away the bad might take her beloved chicken, too.”

“A good point.” Ebenezum fingered his long white mustache. “Perhaps there’s hope for you, yet, Wuntvor. Whatever happens, we’ll have to charge for the spells as piecework. Expensive that way, but they can afford it.”

“But—“ A sudden awkwardness kept me from finishing the sentence. Who was going to cast the spells? My master’s malady left him in no condition to conjure. He had tried innumerable methods of blocking up his nose or somehow diverting the sor-cerous smells during the course of our travels. The only common element in all these methods was that none of them worked. None of them, that is, except one. Solima’s cure!

My eyes wandered to the vial of herbs Ebenezum had kept by his side this past week. The wizard shook his head. “No, Wunt. This job is nowhere near important enough for me to use my only remedy. It will have to wait for a more serious occasion.”

Ebenezum pulled at his beard and stared off into the hayloft. “There are a number of supernatural factors at work here. Yet each one, taken separately, is manageable with a fairly simple spell. A werestone must be destroyed, a ghost banished, perhaps another thing or two exorcised. After that, we’ll repair Dame Sniggett’s chicken. And you, Wuntvor, will be the one to perform the magic.”

I stared at my master for a long moment. “Close your mouth, lad. A good wizard always has his mouth firmly closed.”

I complied.

“In the past,” my master continued, “you have learned to use some simple spells to extricate us from difficult circumstances. Perhaps they haven’t always worked exactly as planned, but we are still alive and on the road to Vushta, which is all that really matters. In the next few hours, you will learn a group of spells so simple as to be child’s play. After that, all that will be required is the proper timing.”

I was overwhelmed. Never had my master placed such faith in me!

“I hope I will be worthy.”

Ebenezum raised one eyebrow. “So do I. There’s a large fee involved.”

When Ferona came to the door of the barn, I hardly looked at her. My head was filled with General Banishment Spell #3, Ork’s Rule of Universal Exorcism, and The Great Foudou’s Chant for the Realignment of Bodily Parts.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Is Ebenezum about?”

She had spoken to me! All the spells flew from my head. At last, what I had dreamed of for so long had come to pass. I searched my thoughts to come up with a reply worthy of her beauty.

But there was no reply that magnificent. I told her, therefore, that Ebenezum had gone out for a walk about the estate.

“A pity,” she replied. “Tell me, Wuntvor, what do you think of marriage?”

What was she saying? I had known, deep in my heart, that once Ferona and I spoke, everything would change. But this quickly?

“It can be a good thing,” I prompted.

Ferona nodded absently. “Do you think Eben-ezum would consider marrying a woman as young as I?”

I found myself at a loss for words.

“Please close your mouth, Wuntvor,” Ferona said. “There are flies in the barn. It could be unhealthy.” One of her magnificently formed feet scuffed at a small pile of hay. “You’re surprised I want to marry a wizard. It’s just that there’s such a concentration of magic around here that we’d all feel more secure with a magician about.”

I couldn’t help myself then. My emotions had risen above reason. “What about me?” I blurted. “I’m a magician, too. Much closer to your age.”

“And much less experienced than your master.” Ferona frowned. “Let me tell you, Wuntvor, there is another reason that I need an older wizard. There is a curse upon me. Any man under the age of thirty that I kiss dies in three hours!”

I took a step backward.

“I used to have a dozen suitors knocking on my door day and night. It was only after the third one expired that I realized the true horror of my affliction.”

“What happened to the other nine?” I asked weakly.

“Oh, they all became pilgrims. I’m afraid there aren’t many job opportunities for young men in the Eastern Kingdoms these days. Fortunately, there always seem to be some openings in being holy.” She sighed wistfully. “If only one of them were kissing me now!”

I thought for one wild moment about taking their place, but then I remembered the curse. I’d have to learn a spell to lift that as well.

“A curse, too?” Ebenezum had come to stand in the door as we spoke. “Young woman, I think you need to explain the entire situation.”

And Ferona told the story of how her uncle thought himself a clever businessman and made a deal with the Netherhells for what seemed to be a limitless supply of gold. But, as is almost always the case in such dealings, he had missed the small print (it is usually so small that people mistake it for a dust mote in the lower left corner of the contract) and, besides a gold-producing chicken, received a ghost, a curse upon his niece, a stone that regularly turned one member of the household into a werewolf, and a large, dark bird that immediately carried Uncle away.

“As you can imagine, we were a little upset over this turn of events,” Ferona continued. “However, Auntie insisted that there was a proper way out of this dilemma. All we had to do was bring in an expert in the field, and until then, leave things pretty much the way they were at Uncle’s hasty departure, in case he should suddenly return.”

“Indeed,” Ebenezum replied. “That way you might be able to keep the magic elements from unsettling even further. And do you have a copy of this contract?”

“Alas, no. It was carried away with Uncle when the creature got him.”

“A typical Netherhell ploy!” Ebenezum strode back and forth between the haystacks. “Well, we can’t face the ghost until nightfall, nor will we see the werewolf. The werestone is another matter entirely.

We must find where the demons put it!”

“Oh!” Ferona said brightly. “The demons put it on a mantelpiece in the Great Hall.”

The wizard stared at the young woman. “And you’ve done nothing with it?”

“Well, Auntie’s afraid to move anything in case Uncle won’t recognize the place when he returns. Besides which, if you don’t bother the werewolf when it bursts into the room, all it does is steal a chicken and runaway again.”

“Don’t you fear for Greta?”

“A little, but so far the werewolf grabs one of the chickens at either end. As long as we keep the prize hen toward the middle, she seems to be fine.”

Ebenezum frowned at the fading light outside the barn. My instruction in magic had taken most of the day.

“If we don’t hurry,” the mage said, “we will be face to face with the werewolf all over again. We’ll destroy the werestone now. My assistant, incidentally, will do the actual work while I supervise. Wunt-vor needs the practice.”

“All right.” Ferona looked doubtful. “But we should hurry. The last person the werewolf caught playing with the werestone got his throat torn out.”

I swallowed hard and followed my master toward the house. I repeated the three spells, a word for every step I took. There could be no mistakes this time. I had to remember every one, or I would be minus a throat.

“You’re sure nothing will happen to Greta?” Dame Sniggett cooed in the direction of her prize hen. The chicken, for its part, ignored the people in the room entirely, pecking away at a pile of dried corn.

“Reasonably sure,” the wizard replied. “It depends on the degree of interconnection between the different spells from the Netherhells. Rest assured we will take every precaution.”

Ebenezum held his nose. “Wuntvor, open the box.”

I did as I was told. A small green stone lay in the middle of the box’s plush purple interior. It looked harmless enough. One could hardly imagine it was capable of doing the things Ebenezum had described earlier in the day.

“The werestone,” my master explained, “is a particularly fiendish invention of the Netherhells. It causes people who touch it to be driven out into the wilds in the full moon, and the first lower animal they contact, they become like that animal every time the full moon returns. One imagines this particular stone had an additional curse on it, so that the first person to come in contact with it would be forced to seek out a wolf. Otherwise, the person would just have likely turned into a wererabbit.”

Ebenezum sneezed behind me. “The spell!” he called. “The spell, Wuntvor!”

I began to recite the neutralizing spell. Somebody screamed when I was halfway through.

“Hey, folks!” an all-too-familiar voice cried out behind me. “It’s showtime! Tell me, how many Vushtans does it take to do something forbidden?” I could see a pale jester’s scepter out of the corner of my eye. Peelo seemed to have manifested himself for the occasion.

I tried to push the ghost’s bad jokes out of my mind. I had to finish the spell! Ebenezum was sneezing with a vengeance now. His nasal whoops threatened to drown out an interminable story on the ghost’s part concerning two hairy dogs and a large quantity of mulled wine.

“They’re interconnected!” my master managed between sneezes. “Try the”—sneeze—“strongest”—sneeze—“Banish! Banish!”

So I was to go all out! The banishment spell it would be, then. I carefully phrased the first line, making sure I hit all the guttural stops.

That’s when I heard the growl behind me.

I leapt to one side as the werewolf lunged and heard cloth tear as the claws grazed my leggings. The creature would kill me now. I needed a weapon.

My stout oak staff was still across the room, near the spot where I had jumped away. The wolf circled the room, running perilously close to the golden chicken coops and the huddled forms of Dame Snig-gett and Ferona. Would the beast devour Greta as well? If only there was something to stab, to hit, to throw. Ebenezum could be of no help now. The appearance of the wolf had made his condition even worse. He lay on the floor, a pitiful mass of sneezing flesh.

I had to get my staff! I took a step across the room, but the wolf was in front of me, its fangs bared in a half-human smile. It was stalking me now.

I would have to use my hands. There was nothing else to defend myself with. Then my eye caught the werestone.

In a single motion, I grabbed the thing and flung it at the wolf. It bounced off the creature’s head, throwing it off-balance. Stone and wolf both fell against the huddled women.

I hadn’t meant to do that. I started across the room in an attempt to rescue someone, when I saw the stone take its effect on the other two. Both Ferona and Dame Sniggett had grown dark, coarse hair all over their bodies. Where once there was one werewolf, now there were three.

Still, I would continue to fight! Though the odds were great against me, I would give my last ounce of blood to protect my master. Let the werewolves do their worst!

It occurred to me then that I had also touched the werestone. Should a werewolf touch me now, I would also turn into a hairy beast. There’d be no hope for Ebenezum then. The wolves, myself included, would tear him apart.

The creatures were on Ebenezum! The wizard flailed at them with his fists, but he could barely control his movements. A small vial fell from among his robes. The herbal remedy!

I dove beneath a clawed hand and tossed the vial back to my master. My momentum carried me on headfirst into the golden chicken cages.

I felt the change come over me then. My nose and mouth grew together and became hard. I felt my arms sprout feathers. I knew then the horrible truth. I was turning into a werechicken!

A wolf sprang at me, and I pecked it savagely with my beak. Startled, the wolf backed away. It had ob-rroasiy ncrer ofeart mfrf a. srx-rooc cfiicften rferore. Surprise was on my side for a moment. But once the wolves regrouped, their teeth and claws would tear me apart in an instant.

My chicken eyes saw movement. Ebenezum placed the vial to his lips and swallowed.

There was a crash of breaking glass, and a great, dark bird entered the room. “Ladies and gentle- men!” Peelo the ghost cried. “The return of the Grak!”

I saw then that the Grak was carrying a small, balding gentleman. “Home at last!” the balding man cried.

The wolves rushed me. Ebenezum was on his feet, conjuring mightily. As they ran, the wolves transformed to Borka, Ferona, and Dame Sniggett.

The bird circled overhead. It was too much for my master, even with the medicine. He collapsed again, sneezing.

“Feerie!” cried the man dangling from the dark bird’s claws. “Borkie! Sniggie! How good to see you again! I thought I’d never escape the Netherhells. They have awful, torturous things there. Traffic jams! Aspirin commercials!”

But even the uncle’s babbling could not deter Peelo. His four hundred-year-old material just kept on coming.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he cried, pointing at me. “A practical demonstration! Why did the chicken cross the moat?”

Ferona took one look at me and laughed. I clucked in indignation. Didn’t she realize who helped save her?

We’re free to leave this dulf estateffTaclc to trie excitement of the Netherhells. I tell you, the old jokes are always the best!”

With that, the ghost disappeared. As did all other things supernatural.

The long silence was broken by Greta’s frantic clucking. I turned to look at the chicken and noticed that the feathers had left my arms. Seeing what Greta had deposited in the bottom of her golden cage, I realized the magic had deserted her as well.

“It comes to this,” Dame Sniggett wailed.

“Didn’t anybody miss me?” inquired the bald-headed man.

“I assume, good sir, that you are the uncle,” Ebenezum said after a particularly hearty nose blow.

“And who might you be, sir?” the bald-headed man replied. “Sniggie, you haven’t been going around hiring any extra servants?” He examined Ebenezum’s silver-embroidered robes. “Unless you aren’t—Sir, just what are you doing alone in this house with my wife!”

“Indeed,” Ebenezum rumbled. He stooped to gather up my pack amidst the now scattered chicken cages, then thrust it in my arms. He turned, his wizardly strides taking him quickly from the room.

I risked a final glance at the lovely Ferona, but she was lost to me, crying over a mound of gray brown where once there had been a pile of gold.

“You’ll pay for this!” Dame Sniggett shrieked at my master’s retreating back. “This is not proper at all!”

“Enough of that lot,” the mage muttered when we were free of the house. “May all their gold change in turn.” He nodded at a man in the robes of a monk who walked toward us. “Rather we should use our magic to aid the pilgrims the girl was always going on about.”

“I agree entirely.” The monk smiled and pulled back his cowl. Even with the shaven head, I could tell it was Bork.

“Decided it was time for a change,” he said to our inquiring glances. “A quieter life, free from the petty pursuits of the material world. Besides”—he tugged at his sleeve—“these fine, thick robes come with the job.”

Brother Bork chose to walk with us a ways, and Ebenezum summarized the events that had transpired after his departure.

“You are holier than I,” Bork said at last. “You banished every last bit of the curse, and used up the only remedy known to prevent your malady, then left the estate without any sort of payment whatever?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ebenezum replied. He poked the pack I carried with two fingers. Something clucked.

“A chicken?” Bork asked.

“Dinner.” Ebenezum nodded. “Would you care to join us?”

I blanched. Somehow, the thought of a chicken dinner did not appeal to me at all. Quite understandable, I should think, considering what I had been through, even though the werespell over me had vanished with the rest of the gifts from the Netherhells. No, no chicken for me. I would content myself with the bag of dried corn I had brought with me from the estate. Amazingly enough, before this afternoon I had never realized how incredibly tasty dried corn could be.

But we were out in the open, on our way to Vushta again. Quite naturally, it was only a matter of moments before we were attacked by yet another band of assassins.