The Colors of Magic Anthology

Versipellis

(Circa 4000AR)

Steel rang on steel in the crisp twilight. After a brief struggle, two men flew apart, one making futile slashes at the other. The desperate man was soaked to the skin with sweat. A long, shallow cut, more painful than dangerous, crossed his chest from left shoulder to right ribcage. Blood stained his homespun shirt.

His opponent was unharmed. Elegantly dressed and with not a hair out of place, young Joren stood out of reach, casually resting his blade on his shoulder.

"Had enough, Edgur?" he asked.

The wounded man pressed a hand to his bleeding chest. The sight of his own blood inflamed his anger past the point of sanity. With a howl of rage, Edgur charged Joren, sword outthrust. Joren turned aside on one heel, sending his foe plunging headlong into the tall grass outside the clearing. Edgur stumbled, losing his sword when the tip dug into the earth and tore from his grasp. He outran his own feet and fell facedown in the weeds.

No one laughed. Edgur's seconds hurried to their friend's side. Joren's cronies brought him a cup of wine.

"Are you satisfied?" Joren called out as Edgur was hoisted to his feet.

The latter's response was to begin searching the high grass for his lost sword. When his friends stood idly by watching him, Edgur snarled, "Don't just stand there- help me find it!"

His guild friend Artulle folded his arms and said, "No, Edgur. You've had enough. There's no point in going on."

"I'll decide when I've had enough!"

"He's right, you know." Joren tossed his slim rapier to his manservant. "There's no reason to fight on."

"I am the injured party!"

Joren strode over and seized Edgur by his bloody shirt-front. "And I'm the better man," he said coldly. "I should think that would be painfully obvious by now, even to a blockhead like you. Stay away from me Edgur, and stay away from Riliana. If you don't, next time you won't just need a new shirt-you'll need a shroud!"

Joren, his friends, and his servants returned to their waiting carriages. As they whirled away amid the crack of whips and rumble of hooves, Edgur slowly sank to his knees. Defeated. Disgraced. His life was over.

Artulle and Meckie waited for him join them. The hired wagon was costing them a half-korl an hour, money they couldn't spare.

At last Meckie said, "We're leaving, Edgur. Are you coming?"

Slumped on his knees in the grass, Edgur said nothing. Meckie frowned and started to admonish his friend, but Artulle took him by the arm and steered him to the waiting wagon.

"Let him be," Artulle said. "He can walk back to town. Argivia isn't far."

The hired draymaster snapped his reins, and the wagon lurched away. Edgur slid sideways off his haunches and wept bitter tears, not only for losing the duel so ignominiously but for losing Riliana, the love of his life.

The last red rays of the sun died a silent death behind the western hills. A light breeze kicked up, scattering the pale clouds and revealing the night's first wash of stars.

Sword thrust through his belt (he'd lost the scabbard somewhere in the meadow where the duel was fought), Edgur trudged dolefully along the dusty road to Argivia. He had no idea how long he'd lingered alone in the field, weeping quietly over the injustices of his life. At length he mastered his melancholia and found his lost sword. He'd paid good money to Embric the ironmonger for the sword, and he wasn't about to leave it behind.

It was a windy night, and the grass on either side of the road sighed continuously as the wind moved through it. There was no light except the stars, but the sandy road was white enough for him to follow easily. Edgur's sweaty clothes soon chilled him, so he slung on his journeyman's jacket and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The cut on his chest stung like a shirtful of bees.

Ahead the road forked, one lane curving off to the right, which was south, another lane curving to the left through a copse of trees, to the east. Edgur slowed. Which way would take him back to Argivia? He didn't remember passing a fork like this on his way out, but then he was preoccupied on the outbound journey with visions of his hated rival impaled on his blade.

He paused at the junction and tried to figure out which way led back to town. Edgur was born in Epityr and had come to Argivia as a lad to apprentice to the Guild of Coppersmiths. His family had long ago been among the first citizens of Epityr, before Urza and Mishra fought the ruinous Brothers' War. In the upheaval that followed the catastrophic conflict, Edgur's ancestors found themselves reduced to trade. Coppersmithing was Edgur's chance to better himself. Now twenty, he was a third-degree journeyman, but he seldom traveled much outside the city and never at night. He stood staring at the fork, chilled by the night wind. His chest ached. Which way?

The south road wound around a low hill. By starlight he couldn't tell if horses or carriages had come this way recently-the sand was too soft, and any tracks made by Joren's or Artulle's conveyances would have been quickly obscured by the wind. The eastern track was marked by a row of trees on either side of the road. It was plain the trees had been planted by human hands as a windbreak, so he decided the left-hand path must be the road to Argivia. Hitching up his belt, which was sagging under the weight of the sword, Edgur started down the eastern track.

A distant dog howled. He turned back to look over the starlit fields and saw nothing but the vague shadows of clouds passing over the waving grassland. Once under the trees, the night closed in around him. Stars and breeze alike were blocked out by the closely growing cedars. He heard a flap of wings overhead and ducked. There were creatures of the night abroad in the country, creatures unfriendly to lonely travelers. Edgur drew his sword and quickened his step.

Without the wind to mask it, he detected all sorts of rustlings and stirrings in the brush on either side of the road. Edgur skirted first one side, then the other, determined not to let anything spring on him from the shadows. At one point he thought he spotted a pair of glowing green eyes in the ferns and thrust at them with his weapon. A bird flew up, shocking him. It flew away, screeching. Edgur muttered a curse and hurried on.

He was tired. The sword was heavy, his wound throbbed, and he hadn't eaten since noon. His mind went back to the elaborate repast Joren's servants had brought to the duel and spread out on fancy woolen carpets. Joren had offered him cold fowl and white wine then. Edgur haughtily refused his rival's hospitality. Now he'd give his left hand for a bit of roast chicken.

Wait-were those footfalls behind him? Edgur whirled, sword ready. He couldn't see beyond ten paces, but there was nothing to see. Backtracking a bit, he found large, five-toed footprints in the dirt. They were like cat tracks, only much larger and more robust than any cat print he'd ever seen. He knelt beside the tracks and found he couldn't cover the strange prints with his spread hand.

The night was very quiet. Too quiet, in fact-all the crickets had ceased singing, and the stray rustlings in the underbrush were still. Edgur stood up and ran. He didn't know what he was running from, but he was certain he didn't want to find out.

After his initial burst of fear-induced speed, running degenerated into a painful chore. Puffing with fatigue, Edgur slowed, then stopped. It was still eerily calm around him. Facing behind him, he waited and watched, straining every sense to discover who or what was trailing him.

There was a rapid shuffle of feet, followed by a crash off to his right. Edgur had had enough. He shoved his sword in his belt and broke into a hard jog away from his unseen stalker. He hadn't gone fifty paces before he saw a glimmer off the road among the trees. A light! Light meant people.

He made for the north side of the road, expecting to have to cut his way through brambles and brush. To his surprise, Edgur found a neat hole in the hedgerow and evidence of a well-worn footpath, leading directly toward the dim, yellow light. With frequent glances over his shoulder, Edgur made for the small glinting beacon. From its soft color he took it to be an oil lamp. It didn't waver like a flame but gave off a steady amber glow that flickered only because Edgur was darting among tree trunks and hedges.

The narrow path took him straight to a clearing about twenty-five paces wide. Offset from the center of the clearing was a patriarch among oaks, easily twice the size of any other tree in the area. Stout limbs branched off the trunk at low levels. Perched on one limb was a child of undetermined sex, perhaps twelve years old. A lamp rested on the ground below the child's dangling feet.

This was so unexpected a scene Edgur stopped dead in his tracks. The child sat with his (her?) back against the mighty trunk, eyes closed and hands folded. Edgur slowly approached, the unseen menace behind him forgotten. Twelve steps away he stopped again, this time because the child suddenly opened his eyes. Edgur decided he was male.

"Who are you?" demanded the boy.

"A traveler. I've lost my way," Edgur replied.

"You carry a sword."

"For my own protection."

"You were running. I heard you."

Edgur mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Something was after me. I never saw it, but I found its tracks." He stuffed the kerchief back in his pocket. "What's a sprig like you doing out on his own in the middle of the night?"

"I live nearby." With a single swing of his hands, the boy leaped down from the limb, landing lightly in front of Edgur. He was just five feet tall, slender-almost gaunt-and had vivid green eyes and pale hair. He was dressed in a faded gray shift that came down to his knees. The old garment was threadbare and had been mended many times.

"My name's Dare."

"Edgur." He offered his hand, but the boy stared at it as if he'd never seen the gesture before. "Where's your home, Dare?"

"Over there," the boy said with a vague wave of his hand. "I go where I want and do as I please. I spend a lot of time at this tree."

"Don't your parents mind?"

"Parents?"

A throaty snarl interrupted their conversation. Edgur fumbled for his sword, while Dare scampered up the oak tree with the agility of a squirrel.

"You know what's out there?" asked Edgur, putting his back against the tree.

"Panther warrior," said the boy. "He's been after me for a long time."

Edgur started to sweat. "Panther warrior? Aren't they just legends?"

"They're real. I hope there's not a whole pride of them."

Edgur swallowed hard and gripped his sword with both hands. He'd been outfought already today by Joren, and he felt none too confident of his ability to hold off one of the fearsome panther warriors, a twilight race of panther men who haunted the forests of Terisiare.

He said, "I wish I had more light!"

"Take up the lamp if you want," returned Dare.

Keeping his eyes on the darkness, Edgur squatted and felt about until his fingers closed around a smooth, warm rod about as thick as his thumb. It was stuck in the moss at the foot of the tree. He plucked it out easily and brought it up to eye level. Only then did he see it clearly. The lamp was shaped like a snake, about ten inches long and rigid as an axe handle. It emitted a warm, yellow light.

Edgur let out a yell and dropped the glowing reptile. The same time it hit the ground a dark shape moved across the periphery of his vision. Blindly, he lashed out at the moving form and felt the sword tip dig into something yielding. He recovered, and a gut-wrenching snarl, very close, drove him to strike out again.

This time Edgur's blade met real resistance. He leaned against the hilt, and the sword ripped into whatever it was. Something whispered past his face, followed by a spreading sensation of heat. Suddenly there was a crack, and his sword came loose. Edgur found himself tumbling in the dirt. Terrified, he struggled to his feet. The ironmonger's second-best sword had snapped off half its length.

Fingers tapped lightly on his shoulder. Edgur spun around, broken blade out. Dare caught the iron stump in his small, pale hand. In his other hand he held the strange snakelamp.

"Be at ease, Master Edgur. The panther man has fled. "

Breathing hard, Edgur lowered the ruined weapon. "I never even saw him, " he gasped.

"He saw you, all right. " Dare rubbed a finger across Edgur's cheek. He had three parallel scratches on his face, all bleeding. The boy showed him the blood.

Edgur sat down heavily. "It's not been a good day. "

"You saved us both, " Dare said brightly. "I'm happy about that. Aren't you?"

"I'm cut all over, I'm lost, and the love of my life has been taken from me, " Edgur replied.

"I can help you."

Edgur dropped the broken sword and sighed. "I'd appreciate directions back to Argivia."

Dare held the snakelamp close to his chest. "I can do more than that. With my art I can heal your wounds and repair your fortunes."

Edgur raised his head. "You're a sorcerer?"

The boy spread his arms wide. "I am the guardian of this place. The mana of living things flows through me, and for your service to me, I will repay you."

He pointed the glowing snake at Edgur. It seemed to grow brighter as it neared the older man's face. Dare's strange revelations frightened him, but he was too weary to run. Inches from his face, the snake's eyes suddenly snapped open. They were as green as emeralds. Edgur flinched away, but the snake lengthened in Dare's hand until the reptile's head lightly touched his slashed cheek. A flash of heat passed through Edgur. His head reeled, but when he recovered he found his cheek completely healed.

Edgur slipped a hand inside his torn shirt and found his chest wound was gone. There was still dry blood on his shirt, but no scab or wound remained. His chest was as unmarked as it had been when he left Argivia at noon.

He fell to his knees. "I thank you, great one!"

Dare smiled and bade him stand. Edgur got to his feet. Around the clearing the bushes and trees were filled with pairs of glowing eyes, all looking at Dare. Edgur shuddered with the realization he was in the presence of a nature spirit, a tree nymph perhaps, despite his external appearance as a human boy. The eyes, hundreds of pairs, watched in total silence.

"I–I'll be going now," Edgur murmured.

"I've not finished," Dare said. "You had two other requests. I intend to honor them."

He held up a hand, and there was a flutter from the line of trees. An enormous snowy owl settled on the boy's wrist like a tame peregrine. "This is Phreus, one of my sentinels. He will guide you within sight of Argivia, though he may not enter its environs himself."

The owl regarded Edgur with vast black eyes. Edgur blinked; Phreus blinked. Startled, Edgur repeated the motion, and the owl imitated him perfectly.

"Don't mind him, he's feeling playful. Lastly, you've lost your love, I think you said?"

"Uh, yes," said Edgur.

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Riliana." He broke the owl's spellbinding gaze as he formed the image of Riliana's face in his mind. "She's the eldest daughter of my master, Perrick the Coppersmith."

"Does her father approve of you?"

Edgur's face fell. "No. He favors Joren, scion of the house of Homdallson, senior master of the Bookbinders Guild."

"A wealthy and powerful family?"

"Yes, damn them. Joren has every advantage that I lack-a full purse, powerful alliances, manners, education, looks… but I know Riliana loves me and would choose me if Joren were not in the way!"

Dare thrust the rigid snakelamp tail first in the ground and sprang easily to the low limb of the oak tree. The owl flapped silently to a nearby branch and resumed staring at Edgur. The older man followed Dare to the base of the tree, his hands working as he spoke.

"I challenged Joren to a duel," he said, voice rising. "We met in a meadow not far from here an hour before sundown. Wouldn't you know he's had fencing lessons- fencing lessons, while I've spent every waking hour of the past six years learning my trade!"

"Your problem is a simple one," said Dare, drawing his bare knees up to his chin. "You wish to best Joren, do you not?"

The words came out too easily: "I want to kill him!"

Dare's green eyes fixed him with an unerring gaze. "Killing is easy. What takes care is the afterward."

"What do you mean?"

"There are any number of ways to kill your rival. The trick is not to get caught or to be blamed for the deed. Your fair lady cannot wed a man who has a date with the hangman, can she?"

"True… but you have powerful magic, great one. There must be a way!"

Dare's eyes glittered coldly. "Are you sure of this?"

He wasn't, but he thought this might be his best and only chance. "I am," Edgur declared.

"An assassin might do the job." The boy twined his fingers together behind his head. "Humans are unreliable, though. When caught, they tend to talk too much."

"An animal, then? Perhaps a venomous serpent?"

Dare sighed. "Vipers are too random, I fear. They tend to bite whomever they feel like and often just decide on their own not to bite the one man you want them to."

"Spiders?"

"Even worse. They've no brains at all."

Edgur felt his exultation fading. Even killing Joren was proving too hard for him.

"There is a way-a good way-to remove your rival," Dare said quietly. "It has the benefit of being 'hands-on,' so to speak, and also will shield you from any blame whatsoever."

"What is it?"

"I can provide you with a charm that will allow you to take on the aspects of any animal you choose-a wolf, a panther, a giant constrictor. In that form you will be able to find your enemy and extinguish him."

Edgur pondered the idea with growing excitement. "Yes, that would work! None of Joren's fancy moves or money can save him from a wolf! Riliana will be heartbroken by her suitor's death-"

"And all the more susceptible to the comfort of another," Dare finished for him.

"I'll do it!"

Dare leaned forward, grinning. Edgur was disturbed to see the boy's teeth were shockingly long and pointed.

"What will it be?" he said. "A wolf?"

Edgur averted his eyes from the boy's feral visage. "Uh, no. There aren't many wolves in these parts." He remembered a story he heard in the guildhall kitchen about a bear ravaging local herds of cattle. "I think… a bear. A grizzly bear."

"Excellent choice! There's no fiercer fighter in all the forest." Dare pressed his fingertips together, arching his fingers to create a tent with his hands. A greenish spark appeared between his palms, a spark that rapidly grew larger until it assumed the shape of a convex disk. Dare's youthful brow knotted, and the muscles of his thin arms tightened as he concentrated. The disk became a solid amulet two inches wide, and when Dare ceased his silent conjuration, it fell to the moss at Edgur's feet. He picked it up. It was an emerald of fantastic size and beauty.

"You hold in your hands living mana of the forest made solid. " Dare said. "Half its power will be expended when you use it to transform into a bear. The other half will be needed to make a man of you again. " Dare thrust a finger at Edgur. "Do not lose the amulet! Without it you cannot change into a bear or change back once assuming ursine form. Do you understand?"

"Yes, great one. As a bear, will I have human knowledge and thoughts?"

"Yes, but you may not always act on what you think. A bear is not a man. Remember that. "

Edgur carefully placed the amulet in his coat pocket. When he looked up again, Dare was gone. The bright snake began to lose its glow, and the night rapidly encroached on the clearing once more. A thousand eyes encircled Edgur, but this time he wasn't afraid.

"Thank you, great one!" he shouted. "I'll never forget this!"

The great white owl rose from the oak tree and flapped away, his soft wings inaudible against the rising background of crickets, peeping frogs, and whippoorwills. Phreus circled until Edgur thrust his broken sword in his belt and hurried after the patient bird. The owl's snowy plumage was easy to see even in pitch darkness.

When he was gone, a panther warrior slowly approached the oak tree. His shoulder was bloody, and the end of a crude iron rapier protruded from the wound. The panther crept to the tree and prostrated himself among the gnarled roots.

"Master, I am here," said the panther raggedly. "Did I do well?"

Dare's voice filtered through the sighing oak leaves. "You did well, Aga. You drove the human straight to me and played the stalking panther to perfection."

"You're most gracious, master."

"Pull out the broken blade, Aga, and I will heal you."

Paws were useless for the task, so the panther had to use his teeth. His wound burned fiercely, and he closed his jaw delicately on the ten-inch blade. With a single sideways wrench of his head, the panther warrior drew out the broken blade. His caterwaul carried far in the darkness, raising the hair on Edgur's neck as he hurried home.

Phreus left Edgur at the gates of Argivia. The young man was so excited by his night's adventure he couldn't sleep. He spent the time till dawn writing a passionate love letter to Riliana, predating it a day hence. By then Joren would be dead and Riliana his.

He knew his enemy's habits. Joren divided his evening hours among three taverns: Penkin's, the Acorn amp; Hammer, and the Midus Well. Joren and his cronies would be at Penkin's come sundown. Edgur managed to put in a full day's work at the coppersmithy, brushing off his colleagues' questions about the duel. All was well, he told Meckie and Artulle; the duel was over, and so was his love for Riliana.

He stayed late at the workshop, ostensibly to repair a double boiler sent over from Tanton's distillery. When the shop was dark and empty, he got out the emerald amulet and placed it on his worktable. Even by lamplight the gem was dazzling. Though the surface was smooth, the amulet was faceted internally like a star, each line cleaving from the center to the outside edge. The color was deep and dark, with gold highlights fracturing off the inner facets.

Edgur donned his good jacket and placed the amulet in the inside pocket. He slipped his letter to Riliana under a pile of guild correspondence going out in the morning. The city watch announced the hour. It was time to go.

Penkin's was at the bottom of a steep hill near the harbor. Argivia's harbor had steep, bowl-shaped sides. All the warehouses and businesses catering to the sea trade were sited down in the bowl, while the landlubber residents inhabited the high ground above the harbor. Penkin's was a typical waterfront dive, a gaming house as well as a tavern, much frequented by sea captains and foreign traders. Edgur trod down the steep cobblestone lane, the shore breeze blowing in his face as he went.

He thought about the first time he met Riliana, at the guildhall of the coppersmiths during the Feast of Fruits. He'd not wanted to go, but Meckie, Artulle, and the other journeymen chided and teased him for two weeks until he sullenly decided to attend. Normally he didn't like formal events. Graybeard guildmasters made windy speeches while he suffered in the stiff, uncomfortable guild uniforms. Edgur forgot all that when he beheld Riliana.

Her hair was black as onyx, and her enormous dark eyes spoke of wit, kindness, and passion. He was smitten, and he followed her around the hall like a marionette. She was good-natured about it and even consented to dance with him. Their one slow caper was the most wonderful six minutes of his life. The idyll ended when Joren showed up. Riliana introduced the big sap as her fiance. Joren monopolized Riliana for the rest of that night.

But Edgur didn't give up just because she was engaged. He contrived ways to return to his master's house and steal brief moments with her.

"What will you do if my father catches you loitering here?" Riliana once asked him.

"I'll tell him I love his daughter," Edgur replied simply.

She smiled. "Shouldn't you tell her first?"

Edgur ran straight into the broad back of a sailor idling at the red brick quayside. Muttering apologies, the youth got his bearings and realized he'd walked ten yards past Penkin's tavern. He quickly doubled back. It was still early, and the house was not yet full. Edgur skirted the patrons at the bar and took a dark booth in the corner, facing out so he could see whoever came in. Though he preferred Penregon beer, Argivia was a wine town, so Edgur nursed a flagon of muddy Korlisian burgundy and waited for his rival to appear.

He was in the dregs when Joren and four cronies entered, laughing and calling loudly for dice. The young blades cut a swath through the other gamblers clustered around the dice and card tables. Edgur watched Joren bet and lose more money in a single pass of the dice than he earned in a year.

Wastrel. Spendthrift. And he had the nerve to lay claim to Riliana's hand!

Quite unconsciously he found himself stalking toward Homdallson's heir, flagon hanging at his side, dribbling drops of blood-red wine on the holystoned floor. One of Joren's pals spotted Edgur and dug a warning elbow in his friend's ribs.

Joren straightened, dice poised in his hand. "What are you trying to do, jinx me?" he said. Conversation died when the rest of the gamblers spied Edgur. His grim countenance was plain evidence he'd not come to join the game.

"You?" Joren said breezily. "What do you want?"

"I want you to renounce Riliana."

Joren frowned. "Are you mad? Is that your problem?" To his friends he said, "Here, I beat the poor fool in a pitiful duel that would do shame to a street fair, and he has the gall to accost me in public and demand I give up my fiancee. Now, I ask you, is this man mad or what?"

"He looks distracted," said one of Joren's cronies, "or drunk."

"Give her up, you worthless filth, or the gods themselves will take vengeance on you!" Edgur cried.

"Five korls to anyone who removes this annoyance from my presence," Joren said, bored. A dozen sailors and stevedores rose from their benches, eager to comply.

One of Joren's friends, a dark-skinned Jamuraan, slapped another fellow on the arm and said, "Let's you and me do it, Varno. We'll save Joren five korls. "

Varno, a rugged-looking fellow who wore the emblem of the stonecutter's guild, stood up and replied, "Oh, no. If I do Joren's dirty work, I want the money!"

They advanced on Edgur, who swung his pottery flagon at the Jamuraan. He wore a gold-chased headband, and the cup shattered against it. Before Edgur could put up his hands to fight, Varno knocked him to the floor. There among the boots and slippers of the dice table patrons, he was kicked and hammered by Joren's friends. The beating abruptly ended when Penkin's bar-keep and some of the burly hired help intervened.

"Who started it?" snapped the barkeep, tapping a well-worn oak cudgel against the palm of his hand.

"He did, " said Joren, tossing the man a coin and pointing to Edgur. The coppersmith was curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Right!" With a nod, the barkeep signaled his boys to remove the offender. They grabbed Edgur by his heels and dragged him out the door behind the bar to the profane cheers of the customers.

In the alley out back, the Penkin bouncers beat Edgur with staves, even though he did not fight back or speak out. The barkeep finally ordered them to stop, saying, "Nobody makes trouble in my place. You come here again, you're a dead man. "

The back door slammed shut. Dazed, bleeding from a gash over his right eye, Edgur blazed with inner fury. He propped himself up against the rear wall of the alley and fumbled in his coat with aching fingers for the emerald. Before, he just wanted Joren out of the way. Now he was going to exact a less discriminating revenge.

He found the heavy stone and clasped it to his chest. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked, and he assumed when the time came the transformation would be automatic. For a long time nothing seemed to happen. Edgur clutched the stone so tightly the sharp edges cut into his fingers. One thought raced through his mind: Change. Change. Change!

Raucous laughter filtered through the dark brick walls. The beating and ejection of one poor journeyman didn't disturb Penkin's patrons. Edgur blinked through swollen eyelids at the rear door, four planks strapped with black iron. He struggled to his feet. The emerald slipped from his grip and fell to the dirty cobbles.

His anger still burned deep inside, but outwardly he felt strangely muffled and disconnected. Edgur raised a hand to pound on the rear door of the tavern. He would make them fight him fairly this time… but it wasn't a human hand that swam before his fevered eyes. It was the broad, hairy paw of a huge bear.

Edgur froze. Was this some kind of trick? He had seen no flash of light, felt no surge of power when he willed himself to change. People always said those sorts of things happened when magic occurred, but he had experienced none of it. Holding up his other hand, he found it was a paw as well, tipped with five razor-sharp claws. His heart beat faster. It was true! Praise Dare and his green magic!

Instead of knocking on the door, he demolished it with two blows. His new body was almost too bulky to fit through the doorway, but he wormed inside just in time to confront one of Penkin's servants, arms laden with a washtub full of dirty flagons. The man gazed in horror at the grizzly bear, standing on its hind legs, its head scraping against the dark-beamed ceiling. He was one of the ones who'd beaten and dragged Edgur from the dice table, so the grizzly smacked him on the side of the head with one broad sweep of its paw. The man somersaulted sideways, losing the tub and crashing against the wall. His head was twisted at an odd angle, and his empty eyes stared sightlessly.

The commotion brought more apron-clad servants through the swinging doors. When they saw Edgur, their eyes widened in shock and they scrambled back through the door to the barroom. Edgur dropped to all fours and charged, bursting through the flimsy wooden partition in time to toss two men onto the bar with a shake of his enormous head. The tavern erupted in screams as the brown bear tore in. There was a mad rush to escape, and several of the drunker patrons were trampled by the rest in their haste to depart. Edgur rose up on his hind legs again and waded through the crowd, swatting men like horseflies. One man cowered by the overturned dice table. Edgur batted the furniture aside and picked the screeching fellow up by his shirt. Only then did he realize he'd cornered a woman, a prostitute by the look of her. He had no quarrel with her and set her gently on her feet.

She stopped screaming and stared at the terrifying bear. For a few seconds there was a calm center to the vortex of chaos in Penkin's. Then a fiery pain shot through Edgur's rear haunch. With a roar, he spun and found Joren and his Jamuraan friend backed against the wall with short swords in their hands. Since Penkin's didn't allow sidearms they must have smuggled them in.

There was blood on Joren's blade. He'd stabbed Edgur, running his eighteen-inch blade into the bear's leg. Edgur felt the pain, but it troubled him no more than a pinprick.

Joren paled when he saw the grizzly turn on him. The beast roared, baring yellow fangs three inches long. Shaking its head from side to side, the bear lumbered forward.

"What's a monster like this doing in Argivia?" gasped the Jamuraan, readying his slight blade.

"You're asking me?" Joren replied. He lunged, jabbing his point at the bear's eyes. Edgur swatted the sword tip away.

"Did you see? He set that whore back on her feet and didn't harm her," the Jamuraan said. "Maybe it's a tame bear?"

Edgur flung a broken tabletop at Joren and his friend. Joren lost his sword when it became imbedded in the table.

"He disarmed me!" cried the astonished young man. "Adal, give me your sword!"

"What? What will I fight with?"

"Never mind that-give me your sword, Adal!"

The Jamuraan reluctantly handed his weapon to Joren. Edgur advanced. Joren lunged, hoping to drive his short blade through the bear's heart. Edgur twisted away from the sword tip and brought his powerful paw down on Joren's sword arm. Joren screamed as the bone audibly snapped.

Adal swung a chair leg at the bear. Edgur brushed this feeble attack aside and thrust his claws at the Jamuraan. With a simple scooping motion, he eviscerated Adal. Only Joren was left.

The richest young man in Argivia crawled on his knees with one hand toward the door, cradling his shattered arm close to his chest. Edgur stood over him, blowing hot breath down Joren's back. Joren collapsed, rolling on his back.

Edgur stood astride him and roared, "Now you die, worthless parasite! I, Edgur, will kill you!" No one understood him, for he could only make the inarticulate sounds of a bear.

He grasped Joren in both paws and hoisted him into the air. Joren fainted with terror and the pain of his broken arm, so Edgur shook him awake.

Eye to eye with a ferocious, implacable grizzly, Joren shrieked, "Let me go! Let me go, I'm too rich to die!"

Edgur did let him go-he dropped him, and before Joren hit the floor he thrust his claws under his rival's chin. With a shocking rip, he tore Joren's head from his shoulders. The lifeless body fell to the floor, and Joren's head, no longer handsome, landed on the bar and rolled to a stop among the overturned cups.

Penkin's was empty. Exultant with his terrible deeds, Edgur had only to revert back to human form in some quiet, out of sight place, and his revenge would be complete. Dropping to all fours, he waddled back through the kitchen and into the alley. All he had to do was use the emerald again.

But where was it? As a bear, he had no pockets, no place to keep the vital gem. He pawed through his clothing now lying torn apart in the gutter. No emerald! Frantically Edgur searched the alley from side to side. His bear eyes were not very strong, but his nose was keen, and he soon found the lost gem in the shadows by the tavern's slop buckets.

Bells clanged in the street beyond, and he heard shouting and the clamor of armed men. Survivors from the tavern had summoned the town watch! Edgur frittered away precious seconds trying to take the emerald in his paws, but they were too clumsy to pick up and hold the gem. The shouting was getting louder. As a last resort, Edgur lapped up the jewel with his tongue. It was hard and sharp in his mouth.

Lamplight flooded the alley. "There it is!" a voice shouted. Bowstrings hummed, and a volley of arrows flickered down the alley. One struck Edgur in the left shoulder. He groaned, careful to keep his mouth closed. With a sudden burst of speed he tore through the band of watchmen into the side street. There were at least a hundred people gathered there with torches and makeshift weapons. At the sight of an eight-hundred-pound grizzly, bleeding from wounds on its left leg and shoulder, the mob yelled and hurled brickbats, bottles, and stones. Edgur turned away and galloped up the hill. Fortunately the mob impeded the city watch and their bowmen.

He tore past the closely packed houses, startling the life out of an old gentleman in a white nightcap who opened his door to empty his chamber pot in the gutter. A blood-soaked grizzly whizzed past, and the old man stumbled backward, dropping the jar on his own doorstep.

Edgur's leg and shoulder ached. The mob was hard on his heels. Where was an alley he could duck into? He needed a few minutes' respite to change back into a man. The emerald, slick and hot in his mouth, rattled against his teeth as he ran. He was terrified it would shatter if he was to stumble.

He topped the hill, forty yards ahead of his pursuers. The harbor lay spread out below, gleaming with a thousand lamps and lanterns. Major thoroughfares in Argivia ran parallel to the shoreline, but the intersecting road he'd reached was no help. To the left was the street of the leather vendors, to the right, the forges and furnaces of Ironmonger Lane. Edgur ran straight across. This was Lanyard Street, where the ropemakers had their shops. If he kept going in this direction, he'd eventually reach the city gate.

Arrows beat on the pavement at his heels, spurring him onward. To his increasing fear, he saw masses of torches flanking him on other streets. The mob was trying to cut him off. He paused to look back and saw the ranks of the city watch had swelled to more than fifty. Even as he looked on they lofted arrows at him.

An awful noise rose from the adjoining streets. Householders were turning out, banging their pots and pans and shouting. Edgur turned away from the side street when he saw it was full of housewives armed with carving knives and ropemakers wielding hatchets. He galloped a few yards into the next street, but his left leg failed, and he tumbled to the pavement. Before he could get up, a gang of yelling boys threw a heavy net over him. Men on horses had hooks and ropes attached to the net, and they pulled it tight, so he couldn't move.

The street filled with torch-bearing Argivians, quiet now that their quarry was caught. The city watch pushed through the crowd and surrounded the bear, pikes leveled and bows drawn.

Edgur could not change back now. If he suddenly resumed human shape, the people would slay him where he lay, city watch or no watch. No, he had to be patient. Perhaps if he acted passively they would cage him up, and once alone, he could return to his natural form.

The captain of the watch was haranguing the crowd. Whose bear was this? Where did it come from? No one knew.

"It must have come from somewhere! Bears don't just roam the streets of Argivia!" shouted the irate captain.

A middle-aged man in long robes appeared. He had the pale skin and soft hands of a man who read books all day, and Edgur saw him approach carefully. The captain and the robed man exchanged whispers. Edgar grew cold with fear. If this man was a wizard, his plot would be unmasked for sure.

— something unnatural about this beast," the pale man muttered.

"What are you saying?" asked the captain.

"I'm saying this animal could be bewitched. It should be killed without delay."

Edgur began to struggle. He rolled over on his back with such force he toppled one of the horses keeping the net lines taut. A flurry of arrows punched into his hairy hide. Edgur bawled with the pain, and Dare's jewel slipped from his mouth.

"Hold!" shouted the captain as the gem clinked on the cobblestones. Gingerly he leaned in to retrieve the amulet.

Edgur watched helplessly as the key to his metamorphosis was taken away.

"What do you make of this?"

The pale man examined the stone. "It's a diamond," he said. "Of the first water. The clearest specimen I've ever seen."

Diamond? Clear? What had happened to the green magic?

"The animal had it in its mouth," said the captain.

"There's your proof," said the apparent sorcerer. "Gems are often used in enchantment spells."

As Edgur's life ebbed, he tried to summon the image of his lost Riliana in his mind. She did not remain long. The last thing he saw, before the pikemen finished him off, was the face of the trickster Dare, laughing. Somewhere he was enjoying his jest.

Riliana, veiled in black, departed the funeral of her late fiance Joren in an open coach. It was a fine day despite the grim business of the morning, and she relished the sunshine as an antidote to her sadness. A small wicker tray was laden with letters addressed to her, no doubt condolences from her friends and relations.

"Lady," said the coachman, "I hope you don't think it forward of me, but we'll be passing near Bowline Square."

"So?"

"The monster bear that slew Master Joren is on display there," he replied. "The city watch gave the carcass to the Ropemakers Guild in recognition of their catching the beast."

"Why should I want to see it?"

He tugged his forelock respectfully. "I thought it might do you good to see the culprit's fate, lady."

Riliana knew her coachman was curious to see the enormous bear everyone in Argivia was talking about. It brought no pleasure to her heart to think the carcass of the poor mad beast was on display, but the coachman would be more careful and appreciative if she indulged him, so she allowed him to detour to Bowline Square.

With an elegant ivory letter opener, Riliana broke seal after seal on the letters in the tray. Each was full of the usual platitudes and the empty rhetoric of regret. After three in a row that essentially said the same thing, she set the rest aside unopened. One letter remained.

"My dearest love," it began. Who wrote this? She turned the page over and saw Edgur's copper-engraved signet. A flush came to her face. "This will be a difficult day for you-"

"Whoa," called the coachman, drawing hard on the reins. The carriage stopped. The crowd was very large and surprisingly orderly. They couldn't drive any closer than the edge of the square. The coachman stood on his seat, trying to see the infamous man-killing bear.

"I see something hanging from the gibbet," he said, shading his eyes, "but it doesn't look like a bear. "

"It's not a bear, " said an old woman at the edge of the crowd. "Haven't you heard? When the sun came up this morning, the watch found a dead man hanging in place of the bear. He has all the wounds the bear had, they say. "

"A man?" Riliana said. She stepped down from the coach. Overnight she had accepted the verdict that her fiance had been slain by a wild animal. There was talk the bear had come ashore from the harbor, searching for fish. Grizzlies were powerful swimmers. Now they were telling her a man killed Joren?

"Let her through!" said the coachman as Riliana walked forward like a somnambulist. "Her husband-to-be was killed last night by the bear!"

Murmuring, the crowd slowly parted for the mourning girl. She was aware of a blur of faces beyond her veil, of softly expressed condolences and bluntly curious stares. Riliana walked on, indifferent to the closely packed people around her.

The timber frame erected to display the dead bear was a good seven feet tall. Stout ropes were looped over the top timber, and the grizzly had been hoisted up to a standing position by ropes tied under its front legs. Riliana drew off her heavy veil. The old lady was correct- the bear was gone. In its place was the naked corpse of a man, a man she knew well: Edgur the coppersmith.