Wanderlust

by Mary Kirchoff

  “Selana?” Tas asked, grinning enormously. “That was really neat! I—”

  The little bird landed on Tas’s shoulder and chirped impatiently.

  “OK, I get it, I’ll hurry,” said the kender. Shutting his eyes tightly to focus, he strained to imagine his arms covered with feathers and flapping at his sides. Popping one eye open, he gasped upon seeing the speckled gray wings where his arms used to be. Looking down, he saw—feet! He wasn’t a bird, he was a kender with wings! Something chirped and flapped frantically around his head. Without pausing to see who might be watching, Tas closed his eyes again. He remembered Selana’s advice and breathed deeply, visualizing a sparrow.

  Absorbed in this activity, Tas suddenly realized that the world sounded larger and more full of echoes, that his nostrils were filled with scents he had never noticed before—stones and earth and pollen mingled with buzzing insects and crashing footsteps. A sudden, strong breeze buffeted him and lifted him off his feet. Startled, his eyes flew open. All the colors were gone from the world, leaving only black and white.

  “Hey, Selana!” he tried to say, but the sound that came out of his mouth was clicks and chirps. Fluttering above the brick walk, he peered down his nose and saw the reason: he had a beak! He stretched out his arms and felt feathers catch the wind. This is even better than teleporting, he thought to himself.

  Tasslehoff raised his wings and soared upward. He dipped one wing and swooped across the stoop, misjudged the distance, and brushed his wing tip across the bricks of the wall. Steadying himself as he turned toward open space, he worked at learning to control his new body by testing its features. Just when he thought he understood how everything worked, the wind rushed up across the side of a building and tossed him about like a leaf.

  “Tasslehoff, don’t fight the currents,” said a voice vaguely like Selana’s but with a strange accent. Tas scanned around until he spotted the sea elf-turned-sparrow flying circles several dozen yards away. Her voice had seemed much closer than that, he thought.

  “Yes, it’s me you’re hearing,” the little bird said, her feathered crown bobbing, “but I’m not actually speaking. I’ve cast a spell that will allow us to ‘think’ at each other, otherwise we couldn’t communicate at all. If birds speak to each other, I don’t know how, and we haven’t got the time to learn.

  “We don’t have time to enjoy ourselves, either,” her soft voice continued inside Tas’s head. “Work with the currents—let them lift you. It’s a lot like swimming.”

  Tasslehoff found that comparison little help, since he had done almost as little swimming as flying in his eighteen years. Still, he followed the advice and found that the air tides were less troublesome.

  Selana let him experiment for a few more minutes before asking, “Do you feel confident enough to set off for the castle yet? We really must hurry.”

  Tasslehoff bobbed his tufted head eagerly. With a wave of her wing signaling Tas to follow, Selana darted up into the sky above the pristine streets of Tantallon. Hot in pursuit, Tas flapped along behind her, feeling much, he thought, like a baby bird on its first flight from the nest.

  Ah, the world looks much different through the eyes of a bird, said Tas to himself. He saw everything in vivid shades of gray—more shades of gray than he’d ever suspected existed. His vision was so sharp that he could make out bugs on leaves far below him. One caterpillar in particular caught his eye, looking so fat and juicy, and Tas found himself circling back, savoring the notion of a tasty snack. Seconds before diving on the hapless worm and gulping it down his eager beak, Tasslehoff realized what he was about to do and shuddered, ruffling his feathers.

  “Yuk! Selana, I almost ate a bug!” he howled.

  Seeing the distress on his brown and black face, Selana spoke directly to his mind again. “You’re acting on instinct,” she told him. “Remember, you’re a bird now.”

  “How can I forget?” he said. The thrill of flying was better than he had ever imagined, and he had imagined it a lot in his short life. Whenever he had thought about it in the past, though, he had pictured himself in his own body, flapping his arms, or in the body of some majestic bird of prey, like an owl.

  Suddenly he felt heavier, more massive. The wind had not changed, but it tossed him around much less. His wings had tremendous power, his vision was unbelievably keen. He spotted a mouse skittering among some barrels in an alley and circled, watching the succulent tidbit going about its business, unaware it was being watched.

  A mental scream jarred Tasslehoff. Looking up, he saw Selana swooping near.

  “Tasslehoff! Stop fooling around and keep your mind on sparrows!”

  Suddenly Tas understood why he felt differently; he had become an owl. He pumped his outstretched wings twice and shot forward, then spiraled upward on a pillar of warm air. The power and grace of this body was exhilarating. “Let me stay like this, Selana, just until we reach the castle.” Tas’s voice pleaded in Selana’s mind.

  “We’ll be noticed for sure,” she replied sharply. “Sparrow!”

  Reluctantly, Tas focused on the tinier bird form again. In a moment he felt lighter once more.

  “That’s better,” he heard Selana say. “Look down, and you’ll see that we’ve flown over the stream.” Indeed, within seconds they were past the ramparts with their stone sentries.

  “I’ve gotten us as far as my knowledge will take us,” said Selana. “Where should we look now?”

  Earlier, Tasslehoff had spotted a building with a “Gaol” sign over the door. He suspected the mage would have moved Flint and Tanis there, because it would be more secure. Still, it never hurt to look around, study the lay of the castle. “Come on,” he said, waving Selana down beside him as he swooped low across the crenelated roof of a guard tower, centrally located to afford a view of comings and goings at the keep, across the courtyard.

  Tas settled down next to a few other birds—mostly other sparrows with a few fat pigeons, all of which edged away, instinctively suspicious. The sun felt good warming his feathers, and Tas’s eyes drooped lethargically.

  “Don’t get lazy and start snoozing in the sun,” warned his companion in her low voice. She pecked him lightly with her beak.

  “Owl” Tasslehoff’s dark, beady eyes flew open. “I wasn’t! I was squinting, to see better in this bright light.” He ruffled up his feathers and slid a bird’s width away.

  “Never mind,” Selana responded. “Where do we go from here?”

  “See the building with the ‘Gaol’ sign on it?” he asked. The building abutted the curtain wall and was joined to the keep by a cloister, an open-sided, covered walkway. “If we’re lucky, they’ve been taken there. If not, they’re still far underground, which will be much harder to get in and out of.” Tas scanned the jail building for bird-sized entrances. “Let’s fly to that high window near the back wall. We can get inside from there.”

  Seconds later they had crossed the open space and were perched on the window ledge. Tas peered into the gloom and was surprised at how quickly his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The room was obviously a cell. A heavy wooden door with a metal grate closed off the entrance. The window where they stood was too narrow for any human to squeeze through and would have been tight even for Tasslehoff, at his usual size.

  “There’s no one here,” thought Selana. “How many more rooms like this are there, do you suppose?”

  “Probably two or three,” Tas replied, cocking his head to the side. A fat beetle scurried up the stones on the side of the window, heading for a small crack in the mortar. Tas peered closely at it, which obviously alarmed the beetle as it sped away to the safety of the crack.

  Tas spread his wings. “We’d better keep moving.”

  “Wait!”

  Selana’s warning caught Tas halfway through his takeoff. Trying to stop himself, he wound up instead tumbling off the window ledge inside the jail. He flapped frantically but to no avail, thumping harmlessly into a pile of moldy straw on the floor.
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  “Hurry,” cried Selana, “you must see this!”

  With straw still stuck in his feathers and more than a little irritated, Tas flitted back up to the ledge. “What is it?”

  Selana’s voice, even though transmitted directly to Tas’s mind, still shook with excitement. “Look down in the cloisters leading back to the main tower. The bald-headed man in red robes. It’s the mage! And do you see what’s on his wrist?”

  Tas’s sharpened eyes locked onto the fellow at once. He had pulled a warm vest over his robes.

  “He’s probably returning from taking Flint and Tanis to the dungeon,” muttered Tas. The kender-bird’s sight traveled down the man’s arm. As it swung, the sleeve drew back, revealing a coppery band.

  “You’re right! It is the bracelet!” cried Tas. Even at this distance, he was certain it was the piece of jewelry Flint had crafted for the sea elf; he could see every line and stone on it. “Let’s fly over and get it from him!”

  “How?”

  Tas thought for only a second. “We’ll turn into bears and bite his hand off!”

  Selana shuddered. “That’s disgusting. And dangerous. Although we may look like bears, we would still have just the strength of a sea elf and a kender, and we would be forced to fight many guards, not to mention his magic.” She shook her head. “No, we have to follow him and find a more subtle way of getting the bracelet from him, in a more private place.” Selana had no idea where that might be or how it might happen, especially since the effects of the potion could run out at any time.

  “We can’t just go flying around inside the castle,” argued Tas. “Someone would try to catch us or chase us out.” He glanced down at the mage, who was rapidly disappearing. “We’d better think of something fast.”

  “Do as I do,” instructed Selana quickly. “And don’t even think about eating me.” Amid a tiny shower of purple sparks, the sparrow turned into a fly.

  “There’s something I hadn’t thought about being!” exclaimed Tas. It might be interesting, he said to himself. The kender-bird closed his eyes tightly and concentrated. Sparks flew and suddenly he felt very tiny indeed. As he opened his eyes, he felt dizzy, seeing dozens of images across his line of sight. He might have stumbled, if not for the six legs holding him up. He spent several moments sorting out his vision. The first thing he managed to focus on was Selana buzzing away toward where the mage was headed. Breezes dashed him about as he launched himself into the air.

  “Slow down, Selana,” Tas complained, straining to keep his sight on her ahead of him. “I can barely see where I’m going, and I sure can’t see very far.”

  “I hadn’t counted on this vision problem,” agreed Selana. “We’re bound to get used to it eventually. In the meantime, try to stay close. And whatever you do, don’t think about being something else now.”

  “All right, but if we don’t catch up to him soon, we’ll lose him in the keep.”

  The massive, central stone structure, which was no more than a dark blob in the background of Tas’s vision, was nevertheless getting steadily larger. Suddenly, the featureless gray shape resolved into stones. “We’re too far to the left,” cried Selana. “The door from the cloister is over there, to our right.” Both flies veered sharply to the right, paralleling the wall while keeping it within sight.

  It dawned on Tas that with his eyes looking straight ahead (which seemed to be the only way they could point), he could see the stone wall to his left, Selana straight ahead, and the blurry outlines of the jail and courtyard to his right. He could concentrate on any portion of that field of vision without turning his head or eyes. “Once you get the knack of it, this isn’t so bad,” he said to himself.

  Then he began wondering what to do with his legs. As a bird, it had seemed natural to tuck them under his body. At the moment, all six were dangling beneath him, swaying uselessly. Tas pulled them up tight against his abdomen. No, he thought, this doesn’t feel right either. He resolved to pay more attention to flying insects in the future.

  “Please stop that,” begged Selana. “You’re distracting me terribly. Remember that everything you think is echoing in my mind.”

  “Well, pardon me for thinking,” Tas muttered, realizing too late that this comment, too, was being broadcast to Selana.

  “Have you noticed how fast we’re traveling?” Now that he had a good visual reference along the wall, Tas was amazed at how quickly they flew. Before Selana could answer, Tas realized they were in the cloister, right next to the door where the wizard had headed.

  “It’s closed,” thought Selana. “Can we squeeze around it or under it?”

  “We don’t need to. Look behind you.”

  Out of the blurred distance strode their man, bald and wearing a robe. Tas shivered at the hideous sight of the wizard’s missing right eye, the lid forever sealed shut by scar tissue.

  “We beat him!” the kender whooped. “We were moving a lot faster than I thought.

  “Quick, get to the wall by the door. When he opens it, we’ll follow him through.”

  Both flies settled onto the stone wall at waist height moments before the heavy door was dragged open. A blast of cool air washed across them, then the mage was past and through the door. Both flies streaked in, Selana colliding with the human’s robe as he stopped and turned to pull the door shut. With a thud it sealed out the light, leaving the trio in a dimly lit hallway.

  Selana thrashed from side to side, trying to escape from the heavy folds of the wizard’s robe. At last she broke free, but clung to the outside edge, riding along unnoticed as the human strode down the hall, past doorways flanked by dripping candles. Tasslehoff buzzed along behind, trying to count the doors he passed in case he needed to follow this route again.

  His count was disturbed by Selana’s mental urging. “Tasslehoff, land on his back. Then you can’t get lost.”

  While this seemed like a good idea to the kender, he quickly realized it was easier thought than done. The fly’s form was not nearly as graceful as the sparrow’s, and the mage’s back was constantly in motion. His clothing flexed and heaved with every step. Tas’s first pass missed by many inches. On his second approach, he rammed into the churning surface and was knocked away. “It’s too hard,” he protested. “I’m losing count of the doors.”

  The wizard stepped through a doorway and onto a set of stairs that wound up and to the left. As they climbed, Tasslehoff became aware of how tired he was growing. Obviously, he thought, flies don’t have much stamina. His wings ached, and he was very hungry. The hunger, he realized, was something new; flies must burn up food awfully fast. He considered looking for something to eat, but his recollection of the things he had seen flies eating quickly changed his mind. He decided to wait until something palatable appeared, then he would turn into something that could eat it.

  Now they neared the top of the stairs. The mage stepped through the open doorway and turned left. As Tas raced after him, he collided with something invisible and stopped dead. He tried to move his wings, but the right one was stuck. The left one buzzed futilely, then it, too, brushed against something and stuck fast.

  Selana’s voice rang in his mind. “What’s the matter? Why have you stopped?”

  “I’m not sure,” Tas responded. “I’m stuck in something, but … oh, my.”

  “What is it?”

  Tas’s voice was thick with apprehension. “It’s a spider web, and I’m all tangled up in it. My legs and wings are caught, and the more I struggle, the more I get tangled.”

  “Wait there.” Selana launched herself off the mage’s back and headed back toward the doorway. She had just gotten the web in sight when Tas, who was working on freeing his legs, heard the mental equivalent of a scream. “Above you, Tas—the spider!”

  The kender looked up in time to see a brown, hairy, murderous monster with venom-coated fangs racing across the sticky web toward him. Before he could do anything, it was on top of him, spinning web line as it whipped the trapped fly betw
een its back legs. Tas felt the strands tightening with each revolution.

  He wasn’t frightened—kender rarely were—but the situation did seem grave. At the same time he was fascinated, marveling at the spider’s efficiency and speed. Each time it turned him around he could see his own dark face reflected in the multifaceted eyes of the spider.

  Selana buzzed helplessly past the web, too frightened to get close and too upset to think clearly. The webs began lapping over Tas’s face. The spider’s unblinking eyes hovered near Tas’s neck, poised before driving its paralyzing fangs into its prey. Tas abruptly closed his eyes and relaxed. A moment later, surrounded by tiny, sparkling flashes, the fly became a little brown mouse. The web strands encircling him burst apart, the web itself shredded, and Tas plummeted to the floor as a mouse, twisting in the air to land on his four feet. The spider fell away, then caught itself on a hastily spun web, which it climbed as quickly as possible to the safety of the ceiling.

  Laughing almost hysterically with relief, Selana landed next to Tas and metamorphosed into a mouse herself. She stood on shaking legs as Tas stretched his bruised limbs.

  “Why didn’t you think to do that right away?” she asked.

  “I didn’t hear you thinking to suggest it,” he retorted. “Anyway, everything turned out OK. Why are you so upset?”

  Selana ignored the question.

  “There’s old One Eye now,” said Tas. They saw their quarry standing before a door at the end of a long hall lit by candles. The two mice skittered down the hall, hugging the base of the wall, staying in shadows until they were across from the door. The mage opened the plain wooden door and stepped through. Tas, ahead of Selana, could see there was a room beyond, not more hallway. But the door shut before they could reach it.

  The two mice approached the door cautiously. Their sharp mouse ears could detect him moving around on the other side. The bottom edge of the door cleared the stone floor by at least an inch, plenty of room for two mice to squeeze through.

  “After you,” thought Tas, motioning with his whiskered snout. Selana slipped noiselessly under the door, followed by the kender, both of them wondering what horrors they would encounter on the other side.