Catfantastic II

him sneeze.

'Bless you,' said Flax, instantly concerned. 'I do hope that you have not contracted my own difficulty.'

Skarn harrumphed loudly, displeased that the wizard's attention had been distracted. 'I should not require much room,' he persisted. 'Any small space where I might roll up in a blanket…'

'Eh? Oh, a place to sleep,' said Flax. 'We have a number of spare rooms here-no problem at all. Take off your cloak, then, Master Skarn, if you are staying. Drop, put on the kettle, if you will, and we shall offer our guest some herbal tea. He can use the back room two doors down from my study… I believe that its bed is made.'

'So warmly hospitable.' Skarn grimaced, showing narrow, rather sharp teeth that reminded Drop of a wharf rat he had once chased on a dockside. Unaccountably, the hair stirred at the back of Drop's neck.

Skarn whipped off his cloak, and tossed it at Drop without any word of thanks. Drop hurried to fold the cloak across a chair in the small guest room. Wrongness, he thought-there was something unnatural about Master Skarn, something besides his unmistakable reek of pepper.

During the evening meal, Skarn withdrew an ornamental metal shaker from his vest and liberally dusted his plate of stew. 'A weakness of mine,' he confided. 'I don't invite you to try this spice blend, Master Woostrom, since most folk find it exceedingly strong. I encountered the ingredients in far Druzan years ago, and plain food now seems insipid without it.'

Drop and Flax sneezed simultaneously as a faint whiff of the spice mixture reached them.

'I'm sure that would be too lively for my simple tastes,' commented the wizard. 'Pray tell me, is it true as I have read, that Druzan is much afflicted by sorcerers?'

Skarn airily waved a sharp-nailed hand. 'I did not find it so. The Druzanians seemed most willing, even eager to share their knowledge. But doubtless I have bored you with my lengthy traveler's tales.' His mouth gaped in a vast yawn. 'Forgive me-I find I am wearier than I thought. If I might retire for the night?'

'Of course. Drop, light a lamp for Master Skarn. Thank you. Let me show you to your room. This way.' With a final sneeze, Flax bade his guest good night, and shortly afterward, the household settled into peaceful slumber.

It seemed peaceful until Drop roused-sharply, suddenly wide awake. What had caught his ear? Some unusual sound? Not waiting to tug on his slippers, Drop padded barefooted along the twisting hallway toward the wizard's study. Furtive sounds were emanating from that direction, and even Drop's now woefully inadequate night vision could distinguish glimmers of light around the closed study door.

Closed? Master Flax never closed his study door. Drop crept silently to the threshold and listened. Something or someone was definitely moving about inside. Spreading his fingers wide, Drop gently pressed his unbandaged hand against the door. The rough wooden surface eased back until Drop could see into the study. Fitfully illuminated by a yellow-greenish witchlight, Skarn was rummaging through the cubbyholes and drawers of Flax's desk.

A surge of anger swept through Drop. Taking a deep breath, he cried out loudly, 'Thief! Flax-Come!'

Skarn spun around at the call, gesturing at the door, which slammed violently open, revealing his accuser. 'Be quiet!' Skarn snarled, but both of them could hear the sneezes of the awakened, approaching wizard.

Flax stopped behind Drop, and peered over his head into the study. In a deceptively mild tone, the wizard observed, 'Why, Master Skarn… if you couldn't sleep. I would gladly have recommended a soothing spell-although surely a man of your talents could have managed that on his own.' With a quiet word, Flax gestured, and the candles in the study kindled. Skarn's witchlight contracted to a point, then vanished.

'Bah!' Skarn bared his teeth in a thoroughly unpleasant smile. 'The time for acting is past. I mean to have Kryppen's potion. Where have you concealed it?'

Flax appeared genuinely puzzled. 'Kryppen's potion? I do assure you that I have no idea what that might be. I frequently make up Kraffen's poultice for drawing out boils, and of course, there's Warpin's pitch for sealing leaky vessels, but as for Kryppen's…'

'Silence, you garrulous old fool!' bellowed Skarn. 'Do you realize how much trouble you have caused me? So far, I have had to kill four men and one demon to trace the path of this precious potion to your door.'

'My door?' Flax shook his head. 'I fear you must have been misled. I have no such item.'

'Ha! You can't deceive me. Master Kryppen created it twenty years ago, and I have sought it for ten. You have hidden it!' Skarn glared at the jumble of items he had already disarranged. 'I know it is somewhere here, and I intend to find it.'

'But I have never heard of Master Kryppen,' Flax objected.

Skarn ignored the assertion as he impatiently scrabbled through a file of dusty bottles on a desk shelf. 'He sold some of it to Nementh of Goor, whose lackwitted nephew gambled it away. Never mind its trail over the years-it came to you after you performed some service for Mistress Wryfern, who, not knowing what she had, gave it to you.'

'Dear Mistress Wryfern,' exclaimed the wizard with genuine warmth. 'I do hope she fares well nowadays.'

'She's as hard to pry news from as a clam embedded in stone,' rasped Skarn. 'Still, I determined what she had done, and I have come to claim my prize.'

'Why?' inquired Flax.

'What do you mean, 'why'?' retorted Skarn. The wizard sighed, employing his most patient tone, familiar to Drop from his reading instruction. 'I mean, why do you consider it your prize? If this particular potion had been given to me as a token of gratitude, why should you claim it as yours?'

'Because I know how it should be used,' snapped Skarn. 'In my hands,' he added with gleeful satisfaction, 'it could slay hundreds… thousands.'

'Nonsense!' said Flax stoutly. 'I distinctly recall that particular potion now. Mistress Wryfern described it to me clearly as a mere entertainment for parties-a prank potion.'

Skarn guffawed. 'No doubt that was as far as that fool Kryppen could envision a use for it. But consider the possibilities on a battlefield or against the crowded populace of an enemy city-when I applied my mind to that aspect, I was quite inspired. I thought of the rot-flesh fungus almost at once.'

Drop saw all trace of color drain from the wizard's face.

Evidently appalled, Flax blurted in a strained voice, 'Skarn-you would not. You could not!'

Skarn rubbed his hands together. 'Oh, but I could, and I did. Just ponder the glorious combination-start with an innocent potion that spreads your intended effect from person to person by touch. What merriment at a party to have first one guest brush another, who touches a third, and each one commences to sneeze or laugh or twitch- most amusing, wouldn't you say? Picture that multiplying effect transferring the activity of the rot-flesh fungus. You will have seen what happens to any luckless animal who brushes against those fungal growths from the far southern swamps? Something like the action of quicklime, or general corruption, only much accelerated.'

'You could not loose such a plague,' said Flex hoarsely. 'You would yourself be caught up in the contamination.'

Skarn bobbed his head, smirking as if pleased by his listener's insight. 'And so I would, should I be demented enough to be present-but I do not intend to be present. Someone else will be my agent. They will necessarily perish, of course, but then every great plan has its minor costs.'

The wizard's pale face seemed stricken, but he also appeared to have come to a decision. 'Drop,' he said quietly, 'you did well to summon me. This is far worse than a case of mere thievery.' His voice hardened with resolve. 'Skarn-if that be your true name-you are contemplating murder on a hideous scale. You shall not have that potion.'

'Ah, but I do have it within my very grasp,' purred Skarn. 'Is that not the private seal of Mistress Wryfern on that quaint little blue glass bottle I have just uncovered at the back of your desk?'

Throughout this confrontation between Skarn and the wizard, Drop's sense of unease and alarm had been mounting. It was clear to him that Skarn was a dangerous creature who must be prevented from stealing Master Flax's property. Giving no advance warning sound, Drop leaped toward Skarn, hoping to bear him to the floor, away from the desk.

Skarn, however, whirled at the initial movement, and pronounced some harsh sounds. Instantly, Drop found his forward thrust jolted to a stop, and his limbs immovable.

'Relying on a one-handed lad to defend you, eh, Woostrom?' crowed Skarn. 'My binding spell will deal with