Master Wolf

were gibberish. It was only when you strung them together in the right order and said them with just the right intonation and emphasis that you got results. The speaker could only hope the Great She Wolf would guard his tongue and prevent him from forgetting a word or pronouncing it wrong.

If a word did come out wrong and the speaker was lucky, nothing terrible would happen. The spell would merely fail, canceled out by ineptitude. The only penalty would be being forced to learn it again, for all memory of the spell would vanish once it was used, even if used incorrectly.

It was when the speaker got the spell wrong and was not lucky that the trouble began. For then, in spite of the fact that some element of the spell was incorrect, the spell worked-but incorrectly, frequently heaping devastating consequences on the inept magic-user who had conjured the spell improperly.

These effects usually wore off within the time span allotted to the spell. But sometimes, in the interim, the magic-user or an innocent victim would be killed, maimed, or altered irrevocably as had almost happened when Mika changed Celia's mother into a cat. Celia might never have forgiven him if Tam had actually eaten the cat.

In spite of his boastful words, Mika was very worried that he might get the spell wrong. One had to be at least at the seventh level to use the Polymorph spell, which allowed one to change from a human form into that of an animal.

Seventh level was still several years away in ability. Years of intense study. But nothing else would do! If Mika turned himself into a great white snowy owl, he could slit the top of the wagon with his sharp beak and slip inside. Once he had explored the dark interior of the wagon with his superior owl vision, he would let himself out and fly away undetected. The plan was foolproof. Who would suspect an owl?

Tam nudged Mika's leg with his nose. All right, all right. So Tam would know, but fortunately, he couldn't tell.

The words marched round and round in his brain, till he could repeat them perfectly, well almost perfectly. Each time he thought he had the spell memorized, he would go blank and forget a phrase or blither and mix two words up front to back. But he kept at it, goading himself with the thought of the wagon.

Mika stared into the forest dreamily. Pearls. That had been his latest guess. Pearls from the kelp beds. Lustrous beads that he could drape round his woman, all around and under the sweet soft naughty places, a great long rope of pearls.

Mika sighed deeply, looking off into the dark night, seeing Celia in his mind's eye reclining on the green moss wearing nothing but a string of pearls. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, Matin appeared on the moss next to Celia, reached out for the rope of pearls and… Mika straightened up with a frown on his face.

'Problems, Captain?' asked Klaren sympathetically, appearing unseen and unheard at Mika's side.

'What! Oh! Um, well, just thinking about tomorrow. Plans. Strategy. That sort of thing,' Mika said brusquely.

'Sorry to intrude, sir. Just wanted to report that all is quiet. The last of the men have turned in and we'll be ready for an early start. You should try and get some rest, too, Captain. It's been a long day.'

'Thanks, lad. I'll be turning in soon,' said Mika, not mentioning what he would be turning into. 'Sleep you well'

'And deep,' he muttered beneath his breath as the young nomad nodded and turned away.

Mika continued to study the elusive words until he was quite sick of them. Finally, he shut the book, stuck it in his pocket and, hanging the precious pouch from his shoulder, toured the camp once more.

It was as Klaren had said, everyone was asleep. Even the Guildsman snored as heartily as Horns-buck, thanks no doubt to the largess of his wineskin.

Unfortunately, the wagon that was Mika's objective stood closest of all to the bonfire, which still blazed high against the damp of the evening.

Anyone or anything, even a great snowy white owl, that tried to enter the wagon would be easily seen.

Mika fretted, wishing that the circumstances were more to his liking. He considered waiting another night, possibly even longer, until conditions were more favorable, but his natural impatience, which always demanded immediate gratification, whispered, 'Do it now. Do it now.' And it was impossible to argue.

Mika and Tam walked deep into the forest, passing the second and then the third of the springs that had risen to the surface, then further still, forcing their way into the thickest, most tangled copse.

The light of a fallen phost tree drew him like a beacon, and he settled gratefully on its rough, shaggy surface, trying to still his hammering heart.

As the moment drew closer, he found himself filled with doubts. He might have turned back at that last moment, but Tam pawed at his knee and looked up into his eyes, whining plaintively, as though begging him not to try the spell. Mika's resolve hardened.

'It'll be all right,' he reassured the wolf. Then he undressed, placing his leggings, cloak and boots alongside the glowing log. Why burden the owl with clothing?

He picked up the book and the feather, quickly found his place and scanned the words one last time. For the millionth time he regretted that one could not read a spell aloud but must have it memorized. It was also necessary to close one's eyes and picture that which you hoped to accomplish, at the same time that you said the words.

Mika squared his shoulders. Then, he tucked the book back into the pouch and cleared his throat nervously. He sighed deeply and clutched the feather with determination. There was nothing left, he was as ready as he would ever be.

He closed his eyes and started chanting. One. Two. Three sentences done! Four. Five. Six. Uh oh, a slight bobble on his intonation as nervousness gripped his throat. Mika paused, waiting for the knowledge that he had failed. But there was nothing. Maybe it was still all right. He continued. Seven. Eight. Tam whined. Nine. Damn! Now his nose itched. Ten. Done! He kept his eyes closed, unable to look, knowing that he would soon be aware of whether the spell had worked… or failed.

Mika felt dizzy and a bit sick to his stomach. He put out an arm to steady himself and could not open his fingers. He opened his eyes and for a minute the world spun dizzily around him. Then it stilled and he found that he was looking Tam directly in the eyes.

Tam stared at him long and hard, then sniffed him softly, snuffling his scent through the big black nose that would be so easy to nip with a sharp beak, and then lay down on the carpet of dead leaves with a great sigh.

Nip Tam's nose with a beak? Whoa! Mika's eyes swiveled around, and he saw why he had been on a level with Tam. The spell had worked! He had really done it! He, Mika, a lowly, lazy, bumbling fourth-level magic-user had pulled off a seventh-level skill! He had always known he could do it. Why did everyone think this magic stuff was so hard?

Mika puffed out his huge fluffy white chest and took a step forward, feeling the need to strut, to get the hang of this owl stuff.

Then he stepped on a yarpick thorn that pierced the bottom of his foot and caused him to hop around the tiny clearing hooting with pain.

Wait a minute, this wasn't supposed to happen! Thorns weren't supposed to stick you if you were an owl! Owls had tough, scaly feet with long curved talons. You only got stuck if you had big, soft, floppy human feet with ugly toes.

Mika looked down with a sinking heart and letting out the owl equivalent of a human groan as he saw his own huge, big, soft, floppy human feet, complete with ugly toes, sticking out at the bottom of his beautiful owl body. He had goofed! Mika stomped around the thicket muttering curses. He circled around the log and walked right over Tam who followed his progress with mournful eyes.

Mika kicked a stump. It hurt. He tore a hunk of wood out of a branch with his beak. Blehh, it tasted terrible. Damn! What now? Would he be stuck like this forever?

Mika forced himself to calm down, glaring at Tam with fierce owl eyes, which he was not pleased to notice had retained their human vision instead of gaining the owl's ability to see in the dark. Curses! Why did nothing ever go right!

Mika continued glaring at Tam as though daring the wolf to give him his I-told-you-so look. But Tam turned his head, refusing to meet Mika's furious gaze.

Finally, unable to vent his anger on anyone other than himself, and unable to think of a solution, Mika shrugged his wings, which he had to admit were very handsome, and admired himself as he pondered the problem.

All right, so he'd botched things a little. But all things considered, they'd worked fairly well for a mere fourth-