The four limbs split lengthwise to form eight, which became sucker-lined tentacles. They surrounded the mouth, which acquired a short, horny beak. The skin changed to a shiny, mottled, dark-brown integument, over which rippled flashes of red, yellow, white, and black. The Countess had become an octopus.
Thorolf sat paralyzed. When he gathered his bare legs beneath him to spring up, the octopus whipped tentacles around his neck and hoisted its bag of a body into his lap. It pressed its beak against his bare chest, but it did not bite him: it merely touched his skin lightly here and there. Thorolf realized that it was trying to kiss him.
To be seduced by a drunken octopus was, he thought, not a fate that befalls many. If he survived this night, he would have a tale he could dine out on for years; but just now he would gladly forgo the experience.
"Yvette!" he cried. The octopus continued to snuggle, as if she expected him to continue the project on which they had embarked. But not only did Thorolf have no idea of how to do this, his lust had also collapsed like a tent blown down in a gale.
He shouted, still without effect. Then he realized that, as a sea creature, the octopus lacked the organs for hearing and speech. How, he frantically wondered, could he communicate?
At last the octopus slithered off his lap. With serpentine tentacular writhings, it heaved itself across the room to the dressing table, while changes of color, white to tan to brown to black, rippled over its shiny skin. Finding locomotion out of water hard, it clambered laboriously up on the dressing chair and stared at its reflection in the mirror. The image was that of an octopus, proving that this change was no mere glamor or illusion.
Then the octopus slid off the chair with a plop and humped and wriggled to the washstand. There it picked up the pitcher and, its tentacles quivering with strain, tipped the vessel over itself, so that water splashed over its body and trickled to the floor. It dropped the empty pitcher, swiveled about to face Thorolf, and waved its tentacles, pointing a couple of them at the pitcher. It seemed to be trying to say something; but with neither lungs nor an agreed-upon sign language, it failed.
Next, it slithered to the writing desk and, groping about on the desktop, located the inkwell. It dipped the tip of a tentacle into the ink and wrote on the wall in large, crude letters: WATER.
Of course, Thorolf thought, such a marine creature could not long survive in air. But how to succor it? He could not stand pouring pitcher after pitcher over it. The water would leak through the floor and bring Vasco on the run. And whence would come such a supply of water?
The octopus seemed to divine his thought. Again it dipped the tentacle and wrote: TUB.
Light broke upon Thorolf. He nodded, hastily pulled on his shirt and trews, and went below to find Vasco. To the innkeeper he said:
"My lady demands a bath. Will your people haul up a tub and several bucketfuls of water?"
"Sergeant!" said Vasco. "Why can she not bathe in the perfectly good tub at the end of the hall, as ye did aforetime?"
"She's high-born and fussy," said Thorolf. "She insists on utter privacy."
" 'Twill cost extra," the taverner warned. "And 'twill take an hour to heat the water."
"The water need not be heated."
"A rugged wench," Vasco muttered.
-
Back in the room, Thorolf signaled that he had succeeded. He opened the door of the wardrobe and motioned Yvette to enter. She was barely concealed therein when a knock announced the arrival of the squirrel-toothed potboy and the maid, lugging a large wooden tub. They set it down and eyed Thorolf curiously before departing for the water. They soon returned, each bearing two buckets. When these had been emptied into the tub, the potboy asked: "Be that enough, sir?"
Thorolf looked into the tub. "Nay; we need four buckets more."
When four additional buckets had been emptied, Thorolf said, "Methinks that will do."
The maid went out, but the potboy hung around saying: "Will there be aught else, sir?" His youthful glance roamed the room. He must be puzzled, Thorolf thought, not to see Yvette. Either he is angling for a tip or hoping to glimpse a noble lady at her bath. "Well, sir, an ye think of aught else—"
The door of the wardrobe flew open, and Yvette slithered across the floor. The sound of life-giving water had plainly put upon her self-restraint more stress than it could withstand.
As the octopus whipped a tentacle over the edge of the tub, the potboy stared with bulging eyes. When Yvette slid bonelessly into the tub with a small splash, the potboy fled with piercing shrieks.
Thorolf closed the door and looked into the tub. Yvette lay flattened down on the bottom like a cluster of hibernating serpents, with the water covering all but her eyes.
The eyes that gazed up at Thorolf had slit pupils like those of a cat, but the slits were horizontal instead of vertical.
A tentacle snaked out of the tub. For an instant, Thorolf wondered if he would be seized and pulled in, though for what purpose he could only guess. He braced himself to resist, but the tentacle merely stroked and patted his chest, as if to show affection.
Footsteps sounded, and Thorolf heard Vasco's knock. He narrowly opened the door and slipped out, firmly holding the knob to cut off the view of the room.
"Yea, Master Vasco?" he said with an air of innocent surprise.
"Sergeant," said Vasco, "my potboy just now came clattering down the stair, crying that a devil in the form of a monstrous spider had issued from the wardrobe and sprung at him. He raced off into the night."
"Oh. that," said Thorolf, thinking fast. "My lady had disrobed and secluded herself in the wardrobe. When the maid departed, she issued forth, supposing your boy had likewise gone. When she saw the stripling, she snatched my cloak and wrapped it about her."
Vasco rubbed his chin. "Very well, Sergeant, if ye say so. I do hope there be no wizardry connected with this. If the word got out, 'twere bad for my trade."
"Worry not," said Thorolf. "Meanwhile, pray give orders that none shall enter the room until we signify."
"I understand, Sergeant. Strength to your yard!" With a knowing leer, Vasco departed.
Thorolf returned to the room and sank down upon the settee, thinking. At last he rose and bent over the tub. Speaking with exaggerated lip movements, he said: "I go to visit Doctor Bardi again." When she lay quietly, he pointed to himself and then to the door. He pulled a coverlet off the bed, spread it over the tub, and left.
-
III – The Sinister Sect
"D ear me!" said Doctor Bardi, in nightgown and nightcap. "This is most unfortunate. What is this creature ye say the Countess hath become?"
"A polyp. I saw them in the fish markets when I studied at Genuvia. The Tyrrhenians eat them under the name of polpo."
"Meseems not like gourmet fare. Hast ever partaken thereof?"
"Aye, once. It tastes not unlike other seafood, save that the one I ate must have been a tough old monster marine. It was like chewing rawhide bootlaces. I learned much at Genuvia, but not what to do when my sweetling becomes a creature of the deep. What wilt do about it?"
Bardi nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me, did the Countess partake of any intoxicating beverage betwixt the time I cast the spell and that when it took effect?"
"Sink me in Lake Zurshnitt. but did she drink! She outdrank me, with but half my bulk. By the time we returned to the room, she was as drunk as a Locanian lord. Forsooth, she even forgot her aristocratic interdictions against carnal commerce with commoners and set about seducing me! Shed have succeeded handily, too, had not this change come upon her. But what—"
Bardi struck his palm against his forehead. "Ah, the penalties of age! Thorolf, I meant to warn you twain that she must not touch any alcoholic liquor, even small beer, until after the change hath taken place."
"Well, why didst not?"
"I forgot! Ah, woe is me! Since this contretemps is in part my fault, I'll charge but half my regular fee—"
Thorolf roared: "You'll charge for turning my beau
tiful countess into an eight-legged sea monster? Go futter yourself! Not a penny shall you have; and you shall repair your error or face a suit for magical malpractice!"
Bardi recoiled. "Dear me! From what ye say, the lady hath suffered no lasting scathe. An I can restore her proper form, I shan't have harmed her. Belike I had better view her myself. Wait whilst I dress."
He vanished into the bedroom and soon reappeared in his symbol-spangled gown, saying: "Now, where did I put my cap?"
Bardi rummaged through his clutter and eventually located his headgear resting on the dried human head. It was an academic skullcap of stiff black material, atop which was fixed a square of the same material embellished with a dangling purple tassel.
-
At the inn, Thorolf whisked the coverlet off the tub. "There she is. Believe it or not, that is the veritable Yvette of Grintz. You made her short, dark, and dumpy with a vengeance, and at a most inconvenient time."
The wizard had been breathing hard from keeping up with Thorolf's soldierly stride. He gave a dry chuckle.
"Oh, ye were just about to ... Ah, to be ninety again! At least it's better than if she had turned werewolf."
Bardi fell silent while changing his eyeglasses, more closely to scrutinize Yvette, who waved a tentacle in greeting. At last he sighed.
"My good Sergeant, I fear ye've set me a task beyond my poor powers. The counterspell calls for some of the rare ingredients of the original, and I lack more of these. It might take a year or more to replace them."
"Mean you she must remain a polyp till then? *'
"Nay. There are others of the fraternity of greater puissance than I. Surely one of those can reverse the spell."
"Name one."
"The ablest for this, in my judgment, were the Great Psychomage, Doctor Orlandus."
"The Sophonomist? That were like begging aid from a tiger when fleeing a lion. I suspect Orlandus be more wind and boastery than true ability. It's rumored that his doctorate, even, be not genuine but self-conferred. I'd liefer consult Doctor Tetricus at the college; he is one of the few who backed me in the Dorelian trouble."
"But Tetricus is on sabbatical leave, is he not?"
"Oh," said Thorolf. "I had forgotten."
"So I am not the only one, ye see." The iatromage shrugged. "From all I can gather, Orlandus is not a man to be trusted overmuch; but of his genuine wizardry powers there is no doubt. All I know for sure is that Orlandus' followers report amazing cures. One ninny, who never finished four grades of schooling, so augmented his powers that from the sound of a footfall he could tell the sex, age, weight, and general aspect of the walker. Orlandus claims that he who takes his full course can acquire such godlike powers; he calls such a one a 'diaphane.' "
"I've heard of them. Hast ever met such a demigod?"
"Nay; but others tell me thereof, for whatever the tales may be worth." Bardi spread his hands. "I have told you all I can. Sergeant. This metamorphosis is particularly difficult to reverse, requiring a magician of the highest powers. Otherwise she might not recover her natural form for months or even years. I can but urge you to hie yourself and the Countess to Castle Hill and bespeak Orlandus' aid—with due caution, certes."
"How shall I get the Countess from this inn without causing a riot?"
The aged mage furrowed his brow. "Could those who fetched the tub hither take it down the stair—unaware of its contents?"
Thorolf grasped a corner of the tub and, with a grunt, heaved it upward. The corner rose a hand's breadth, while the water sloshed about. Yvette moved uneasily in the tub, while color changes flickered over her mottled hide.
"With the water and Yvette," said Thorolf, "it must weigh two hundred or more. Vasco's domestics could never manage it; nor could I alone. It's an awkward shape to carry. Hast no levitation spell to lighten our labors?"
"Alas!" sighed Bardi. "In my youth I could levitate a hundredweight as featly as ye raise a spoonful of pottage; but with age my psychokinetic powers have dwindled. How if we hired brawny workers and fastened poles to the tub for carrying? Or better yet, run it out the window on a boom or crane and lower it by rope?"
Thorolf shook his head. "Vasco would never let us make so free with his tub."
"Ye could buy him a better."
"But in the course of this cheaping and chaffering, Yvette's transformation would surely come to light and cause a turmoil. And once we got the tub to the ground, what then? Carry her in my arms, or ask her to wriggle along the cobblestones after me like a faithful dog? We should have a mob of Zurshnitters running and shrieking like the fiends of the Dualist Hell. Whilst I know not how long these sea creatures survive out of water, I dare not expose her to the atmosphere longer than can be helped."
"Well, then," creaked Bardi, "wherefore not buy another tub, hire a carter, place the tub in his cart, and fill it with water? Then ye can lower the Countess by a bedsheet from the window."
"Canst imagine what the good folk of Zurshnitt would think, if they saw a monstrous polyp climbing down the sheet by its tentacles? Besides which, the terrified carter would flee ere she reached the ground."
Bardi sighed. "It would simplify matters an ye boiled her up and ate her, as ye say they do in Tyrrhenia."
"An ill-timed jest," growled Thorolf. "I may not be a perfect gentle knight of romance, but I have some sense of responsibility. I have it! We'll buy the tub, rent the cartage, and I shall carry Yvette out wrapped in a wet bedsheet. I'll tell Vasco that the Countess be departed, and this bundle be the dirty linens from our travels, which I am taking to the washerwoman."
" 'Twould require a journey to Pantorozia and back, not a day's fishing, to accumulate so much wash," said the mage doubtfully.
"Cannot be helped. Now we shall catch a wink of slumber." Thorolf pulled off his boots. "Luckily the bed is big enough for the twain. You're not the bedmate I should have chosen; but if you thrash about not, we shall manage."
-
With the first dawnlight, Thorolf yawned, stretched, and came fully awake. He found Bardi already up, sitting on the dressing chair and trimming his fingernails. Thorolf pulled on his boots, saying:
"I'm off, Doctor, and may be gone some small time. You shall remain to guard the door and keep Yvette company whilst I seek the needfuls. For reasons I need not recapitulate, I expect you to pay for these purchases."
"Such a mercenary springald!" grumped Bardi. "A warrior true is a reckless spendthrift."
"I profess not to be a warrior true; I save to pay for the professors' fees when I study for my doctorate. And tell that to my father, who ever chides me on my lack of proper Rhaetian rapacity! So pay me now!" With a menacing scowl, Thorolf presented his palm.
"Dear me!" Grumbling, Bardi fumbled in his purse. "How much?"
"Ten marks should cover."
"But what shall I do for food?" queried the ancient. "Your Countess, likewise, will require aliment."
"You could climb into the tub and let her breakfast on you, if your tissues prove not too tough and stringy."
"Now who makes jokes in ill-taste? I'm sure she would find a plump fish more to her liking."
"I'll fetch you a bun and the Countess a fish," said Thorolf. "I'll tell Vasco that my lady be ill of a contagious disease, wherefor you are treating her; and his folk must on no account enter herein. That is no great falsehood, either."
"One thing more," said Bardi. "The polyp, I infer, is a creature of the sea. When ye fill this other tub, add a spoonful of salt, for your lady's health."
-
Noon was nigh when Thorolf returned. He handed Bardi his bun, unwrapped a carp, and dropped it into the tub. A tentacle whipped the fish out of sight beneath the umbrella of arms.
When mage and monster had finished their repasts, Thorolf gathered up the sheet and dipped it into the water. With Bardi's help, he spread it out on the floor and motioned Yvette to climb out on it.
She seemed reluctant to leave the water but at last appeared to grasp the idea. Over the
edge she came, first writhing tentacles, then slit-pupiled eyes, and at last the bulky, boneless bag of a body. She coiled herself into a mottled brown lump on the sheet, watching Thorolf with unwinking stare as he made a small bundle of Yvette's garments, borrowed from Vulfilac the smith.
Thorolf gathered the corners of the sheet and tied them together into a bag. He picked up the improvised sack.
"Is she heavy?" asked Bardi.
"No more than when she was human, which is to say a little above a hundred. Come along!"
The Pixilated Peeress Page 4
