FANTASY ADVENTURE HUMOR

Werner and the Alchemist

Wizarding is best left to the wizards

I was lounging away the effects of a long evening at the Crying Man when Darvyn knocked on my bedchamber door.

As I review a long, misspent life and all the times I’ve almost died horribly — and there have been a shocking number, considering my lifelong commitment to self-preservation — a surprising proportion have stemmed from my propensity to bed any enthusiastic female within reach.

It was just such a circumstance that almost led to my being carried shrieking into the next world in a particularly unpleasant manner.

“Sir. There’s a lady here to see you,” said Darvyn.

I pondered this. I wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Do I owe her money?”

“She prefers to disclose her name and business to you alone, sir. She arrived in a carriage with two footmen and appears wealthy. Not someone with whom you would typically associate.”

I ignored this dig, judging it as accurate. A lady of apparent means, paying a visit to me in my new apartments located upwind from the slaughterhouse (bought with the loot I’d grabbed as I fled the Goblin Queen’s throne room, which story will be told in due course) was an unexpected event. And possibly a profitable one.

“Show her to the drawing-room, Darvyn, and advise that I will join her presently. The servants may remain outside.”

I hauled myself out of bed and winced as I searched my wardrobe for a suitably dashing outfit, finally settling on an all-black tunic with silver trim, tight black hose, and knee-high boots. I set it off with my short sword and an array of decorative daggers impractical for any kind of rough work, but suiting my reputation as a daring ruffian.

Entering the drawing-room, I saw that Darvyn hadn’t exaggerated. The woman’s long, gray, gown alone would have bought a pair of Escalian servant girls, with a stable hand thrown in for good measure. She wore a hooded shawl disguising her features.

She stood up when I entered the room, which I regretted not having tidied from the previous evening’s entertainments. “Sir Werner,” she said. “I am Lady Seraphine Medora.”

A Medora, calling on me? I was rising in the world. They were one of the oldest families in Morts Ford, related to the Cyneward clan who’d ruled the Empire before it spun apart in the Ducal Wars. Rumor said that like many of the high-born, they were lately short of cash, but her clothing seemed to belie that notion.

“Werner will suffice m’lady,” I said. “My family could not afford a lordship.” Among the nobility, I affected a rough, speak-my-mind nature that served me better than aping their manners and speech.

“Werner, then. I’ve come because I have some business with which you may be able to assist. There is sensitivity to the task, and you are known as a discreet man.”

She lowered the hood. She was younger than I expected, perhaps thirty, with black eyes that the poets would have called smoldering and dark hair worn down after the fashion of the more daring aristocrats. I assessed my chances and thought them slim; Medora ladies didn’t seek assignations with low-born rogues, even those with a few sovereigns newly banked.

Nevertheless, it pays to charm, and I flashed my best Werner smile. “I am ever discreet, m’lady, especially with so lovely a client.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment but didn’t smile in return. “Indeed.”

I strode to the sole chair in the room and removed a lacy garment from its high back, revealing a suspicious stain. “Please have a seat, m’lady, and tell me how I may aid you.”

She glanced at the chair. “Thank you, I prefer to stand.” She paused. “We have a … houseguest who declines to leave. My husband Lord Marcus is at home now, but is unable to convince him.”

“I see. Even with the aid of the servants?”

“As I said, the matter requires some discretion. The less the servants know, the better. And we feel that convincing this guest may require a firmer hand.”

I considered this for a moment. Perhaps the lady had taken a lover who was now requesting a blackmail payment? Perhaps she and her husband both had? There were some unusual household situations among the upper crust, and while I was not one to judge, I’d learned that getting involved in domestic disputes could be dangerous.

“And this guest — is he armed? I would like to better understand the task.’

She shook her head. “I can tell you no more. You must come and see, and decide then. I will pay you ten pieces of silver, five now and five when the job is complete.”

Ten pieces of silver was barely enough for a single night of debauchery. “If I may be blunt, m’lady, my fee is normally higher.”

“I’m sure it is. But in spite of appearances, our family is not in a position to pay more.” She lowered her head and looked up at me, holding my eyes with hers. “I would be most grateful. Perhaps we could negotiate some other form of payment?”

As I said, the toffs have some damned unusual domestic arrangements. And what kind of gentleman would refuse a lady in need?

A short time later I was mounted on my old stallion Blackbeard and following Lady Seraphine through the high gates of her estate in the Cardinal district. We stopped in the front courtyard and she exited her carriage, motioning to me to dismount. I did, and one of the footmen led Blackbeard away.

She pointed to an outbuilding screened by trees some fifty yards to the side of the main house. “That’s where my husband and our guest are.”

As we approached the smaller building — perhaps twice the size of my apartments — she turned towards me.

“You may be shocked by what you see. But I beg you not to leave.”

I nodded and loosened my sword, regretting that I had not brought spear or shield, and plotting the fastest route from the door to the front gates. Blackbeard could be retrieved later if needed.

Reaching the door, she pulled it open and gestured for me to enter. The door opened into a large room, with several tables full of beakers and other equipment, as well as shelves lined with books, scrolls, and general bric-a-brac. A slim, handsome man stood in the corner to my right, holding a large tome and reading aloud in some unidentifiable language.

What truly caught the eye, however, was the back wall, or rather its absence. The greater part of it formed a swirling vortex of dark and light, with sparks flying from its rim. From the center of the maelstrom protruded the face of a giant toad, orange-colored, with great bulging eyes and a mouth as wide as my outstretched arms. It appeared to be trying to free itself from the wall. Periodically it shot an enormous tongue towards us with an unpleasant grunting sound.

“Great gods,” I said. Were Lady Seraphine the most practiced and coveted courtesan in the old empire, she would not be worth testing my sword on this monstrosity.

The man closed his book and rushed over to me, speaking in a panicked tone. “Werner, I am Lord Marcus. I beg you to stay. I have closed the portal, and the Wuhnar is trapped. But the spell will not hold forever. You — we — must kill it or push it back to its own dimension before it escapes.”

I shook my head. “There is no ‘we’, m’lord. This seems a task for a wizard, not for a warrior.” And certainly not for me, I added silently.

Marcus nodded. “It is, but I can’t call on a mage. I’ve been experimenting with alchemy for some time. I thought this formulation would bring me a golden touch, but it went wrong. I somehow opened a portal and the Wuhnar came through. The wizard’s guild are jealous of their secrets, and if they learned I was spellcasting without their leave, they’d likely feed me to the beast themselves.”

“I guess they’ll figure it out when the thing escapes, at any rate. With all due respect, I was misled as to the nature of the work. Good day, m’lord, m’lady.” I gave a shallow bow and pivoted back towards the entrance.

As I opened the door, Seraphine spoke. “Two gold sovereigns.”

Two sovereigns was good money for a day’s work, but not worth getting eaten. Still, I turned and walked back towards them.

“What would you need me to do?”

Marcus smiled wanly. “Just distract the Wuhnar long enough for me to grab the large blue bottle on that table.” He pointed to a long table covered in containers, well within reach of the monster’s tongue. “The monster is stupid, it will use its tongue to snatch anything moving within its reach. Watch.”

He reached over to a nearby shelf and grabbed an empty jar, tossing it forward. The toad creature — Wuhnar — flicked its tongue almost too quickly to see and sucked the jar into its maw.

“We’ve already lost one dog.”

“Loyal creatures, dogs,” I said.

“All I require from you is to get close, but not near enough for it to take you. We sought a soldier because this will require steady nerves, and possibly a sword, but there should be little risk if you judge the distance correctly. While you divert the beast’s attention, I will get the blue bottle and throw it. It contains an agent that should kill any demon, or at least cause it sufficient discomfort to retreat.”

I calculated the odds. Two sovereigns plus the promised pleasures of the lovely Seraphin was sorely tempting. I had seen the length of the toad’s tongue and felt sure I could stay out of reach while still demonstrating the requisite contrived valor.

“I accept.” I stepped forward slightly, pulling my sword from its scabbard and waving it in my most dauntless fashion towards the Wuhnar.

The monster turned its massive eyes to me, while Marcus readied himself to sprint for the bottle.

But there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip. As I edged closer to the beast, my boots touched some slimy patch — drool from the late hound perhaps — and lost purchase on the floor.

My feet flew out from under me, and I landed hard within range of that gigantic, clinging tongue. Before I could blink, the monster had seized my left leg.

There are moments when my innate cowardice proves of value. While a braver man might have hacked away fruitlessly with his sword and been swallowed whole for his pains, I dropped my weapon, kicked off my boots and pushed my hose down my legs.

In a moment, I was free. The Wuhnar pulled in its tongue and swallowed my garment — twenty silver coins from a tailor on Adnar Row, dammit — while I leaped to my feet and grabbed the blue bottle from the table. I flung it towards the beast, which lashed out and sucked the container into its massive maw.

I fled pantsless out of range and turned to see the Wuhnar turning an even brighter shade of orange, and wrinkling its mouth in a way that presumably indicated distress. In a moment, it had retreated back through the vortex, and the wall became solid behind it.

I turned towards Seraphin and Marcus. Needless to say, the hose I had selected that morning were far too tight for any kind of undergarment, and I was now fully exposed. I thrust out my chest and tried to maintain my dignity as best as possible.

“Have you got a blanket?”

Seraphin removed her hooded shawl and handed it to me, but not before casting what I took to be an admiring glance at my newly revealed attributes. I wrapped it around my waist, noting at the same time that Marcus seemed barely less intrigued than his spouse.

“How about my payment, then?” I said.

As a discreet man, I’ll say little more, except that I received my sovereigns and other remuneration as negotiated. My sense of Marcus’ interest was not misplaced, and suffice to say that a merry afternoon was had by all. It doesn’t pay to piss off the aristocracy, you know. Sometimes you just have to buckle down and do the job.

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