"Oh, fine," Zylas squeaked. "That's much better." He circled, seeking a more comfortable position. "At least my fur adds some warmth. I'm small enough to scratch any itch." He added mischievously, "And, by the way, compared to you I smell like roses."
Collins muttered, "Dead roses, maybe. Steeped in pickle juice and fox urine."
"What?" Zylas said, with the innocent air of one who did not hear rather than the indignant tone of one who had.
Suddenly Collins wished he had kept his mouth shut, especially as the musky, allspice aroma of the dragon covered all other smells like a deodorant. The lab rats always smelled like cedar chips, and he had never found Zylas particularly malodorous. ''Nothing. Forget it." *He said,* Prinivere started, and Collins cringed, shaking his head vigorously in a silent plea for her to stop,*that either one of you smells better than any royal guard. You'll have to roll in rotting skunk weed just to pass.*
Thanks. Collins concentrated on the word, certain she understood. *Now both of you get some sleep. You'll need your wits about you.*
Collins' humor turned self-deprecating, You're assuming I have any. He snuggled against the dragon and found that her foot made an excellent pillow and she did give off body heat, which surprised him. They're thinking dinosaurs might have been warm-blooded now, and they were egg layers. Why not a dragon? *A lot of lives are relying on those wits of yours,* Prinivere restored the significance of Collins' mission.*And believe me, you do have them, even if our world doesn't always make sense to you.*
It seemed redundant to respond to someone who could read his every thought, so Collins concentrated on sleep instead. He did not need to vocalize his appreciation for the dragon's trust, wisdom, and support. If she found goodness and reason in him, it had to be there. If she believed he had what it took to succeed, he surely must. Though she claimed only to read the superficial, she seemed capable of digging deeper into his mind and psyche than he could himself.
Despite excitement and worry, Collins drifted off to sleep.
Collins awakened to a gentle mental nudge moments before a rat dropped unceremoniously onto his chest. He opened his lids and looked cross-eyed at the small white-furred creature.
"Excellent," Zylas squeaked. "As recently as yesterday, you'd have jumped to the moon if I'd done that."
I'd have jumped to Mars this time, if Prinivere hadn't warned me. Collins smiled and accepted the compliment. Zylas did not have to know the little secret he shared with the rat/man's lady. He glanced at his watch, which read 11:28 A.M.
Aisa perched on a boulder, in human form, watching the interaction. "If he'd jumped to the moon, you'd have fallen off somewhere in between." She turned Zylas a steep-led-eyebrow look. "If you know he's a mite… jumpy, don't you think you should be more careful?"
Collins sat up, dumping Zylas into his lap.
"Probably," the rat admitted, clambering to Collins' thigh. "I'm just thinking it's better to accustom him to surprises. The king's guards won't tiptoe gently around him."
"True." Aisa tucked a knee between her breasts and turned her steely gaze to Collins. "But if they leap on him while he's sleeping, they deserve what they get." She shook back her thick golden locks, and they fell right back into place. He liked the style on her, flattering to dainty features that gave no hint of the huge, black beak that adorned her face in her other form. Besides the rich yellow hair that perfectly matched her chest feathers in parrot form and the pale eyes, the only remnant of her other form that Collins noticed was darkly rimmed lids. It appeared as if she applied eyeliner, a product he doubted existed in this primitive society; and it reminded him of the miniature black feathers that striped the otherwise bare skin patches on each macaw cheek.
Collins looked around for Falima, but didn't spot her. Most likely, she had left the cave to graze, dangerous but necessary. He hoped she would maintain enough overlap to hide if she saw someone approaching.
Zylas explained. "I'd like to get started as soon as possible. I figured we could get you ready now." He sprang from Collins' leg and scrabbled to a pile of clothing on the floor. "These should fit you."
Collins followed the rat, then hefted a plain gray shift, leggings, and a faded red cloak. "Great. A dress." He glared at Zylas. "If we survive this, remind me to kill you."
Zylas paced out a circle around where the clothes had lain. "Good idea. Threaten the guy your life depends on." A grin stretched the ratty lips wide.
Collins shivered. "Don't do that. Rat smiles look positively evil." He studied the rough homespun in his hands and hoped it would not itch. He turned his gaze on Aisa, waiting for her to politely excuse herself, but she did not take the hint. Remembering that the Barakhains were used to seeing one another naked twice per day, he resigned himself to the fact that he would get no privacy.
Turning his hack, Collins stripped off his running shoes, his socks, then his jeans, suddenly wishing he had left on his sleeping boxers. Wondering how the Barakhains survived without underwear, he jammed a foot into the leggings, rushing to get the whole thing finished as soon as possible.
Zylas interrupted, "You might not want to wear-"
Snarling, Collins twisted to face his companions.
"You'll get my underwear when you pry it off my cold, dead legs."
A shocked silence followed, while Collins returned his attention to wrestling with the leggings. The fabric felt like burlap against his flesh and pinched his toes.
Zylas cleared his throat. "I was just going to say 'you might not want to wear those backward.'"
Collins stopped fighting and looked at his feet. Now, he noticed the fabric bunching at his heels and understood why his toes felt so squashed. "Oh," he said sheepishly.
Aisa added with a hint of disdain, "Though you probably shouldn't bare yourself in front of anyone wearing your… precious underwear either."
Collins replied quietly, "No, I guess I shouldn't."
Zylas finally took the hint. "Come on. We're making him nervous. I think he'll do better if we leave him alone for a bit."
Obligingly, Aisa hopped down from the boulder, and Collins watched her walk away. Removing the leggings, he turned them and tried again. This time, they fit much better. He pulled the shift over his head, smoothing out wrinkles with his hands, then added the cloak. He spun, feeling the breeze of the fabric billowing away from knees and thighs, and felt like an utter fool. Suddenly, going stark naked in front of strange women did not seem so bad in comparison. *You look lovely.*
Prinivere's assessment startled Collins, who had considered himself alone when Aisa and Zylas left. "Thanks, I think."
Zylas skittered up to the dragon's shoulder to examine his companion. "Good. Except Orna buttons her cloak."
Collins looked down his front, only then noticing the three cloth buttons on his chest. He fastened the lowest one, then the one above it, and finally the last.
Zylas shook his head, his little pink ears quivering. "Undo the first one."
Collins' hand drifted to the upper button.
"No, the first one. On the bottom."
Collins shifted his hand obediently, though the gesture felt as strange as his new clothing. He usually left the top button or two open when he deigned to wear a dress shirt, but he had never heard of anyone leaving the bottom one undone. He unclasped the button, and Zylas nodded approvingly. "Now you look like Orna."
Collins tossed back the cloak. "I feel like Little Red Riding Hood."
"Who?"
"Forget it."
Zylas leaned toward Collins, still studying him. "I'm just saying that's how Orna wears it."
"It?" Collins repeated. "You mean this exact cloak?"
"One of her favorites," Zylas proclaimed proudly. "Swiped it yesterday."
"You did?" Collins could not believe Zylas had slipped away without him knowing.
"Not me, personally," Zylas admitted. "One of ours, though."
Collins nodded, appreciating the renegades' competence. His life might rely on it. *My tur
n,* Prinivere announced.*Come here, Ben.*
Though it went against every survival instinct, Collins approached the dragon. The dim light from the cave mouth seemed to swathe her in a gently glowing blanket. Ancient scars marred the green-black scales, some small as splinters, others large as craters. She reached a claw toward him, nails chipped and broken.
Collins lowered his head, but the dragon's massive foot closed over his face. The lowest toe tilted his chin upward, and he met the slitted green gaze with trepidation. He felt as if he were falling deep into those vibrant eyes, spiraling into a dense morass of age and wisdom, from outer weakness to inner strength. His face prickled and grew icy cold. It felt like his features were withering and melting like putty beneath the confines of her scaled, wrinkled claw. Then, within a few moments, she removed her toes from his face and turned her head toward Zylas, still perched on her shoulder.*How's that look?*
Zylas examined Collins, twisting his furry head from one side to the other. He smiled that frightening, ratty smile. "Perfect."
Collins' face felt numb and tingly, though he dared not touch it for fear of damaging the magic. *It's all right,* Prinivere sent.*You can touch it, but it won't feel any different to you. It's an illusion.*
Cautiously, Collins ran a finger down his nose. It did seem the same, though the pressure on his face gave his flesh that pins and needle sensation he got when trying to bring feeling back into his hand after it had "gone to sleep."
Apparently having heard the same words as Collins, Zylas nodded. "Best not to touch it much, though. You'll have a tendency to look as if you're poking through your face or in your eye, and we don't know if too much handling might shorten the spell."
Collins lowered his hands, simultaneously curious and trepidatious, wanting to know what he looked like yet not sure he could stand the sight of his face. "So… I'm Orna."
"You look like Orna," Zylas confirmed, picking his way down Prinivere's foreleg. "And it's almost my turn."
Collins glanced at his arm, only then remembering he had left his watch and glasses with his regular clothing. They would definitely reveal the deception. Instead, he retreated to the corner that held his backpack, willing himself into character. He was a twenty-seven-year-old female guard with an attitude, gruff yet taciturn, and more than capable of speaking her mind to the detriment of those around her. Though entirely unlike him, he appreciated the role. This way, he could mostly keep his mouth shut. Under his breath, he practiced the voice Zylas had taught him and hoped he did it well enough to pass, should speaking become necessary.
While waiting for Zylas' switch, Collins opened his backpack and examined the contents for anything that might prove useful without revealing who he was. Unless he developed a headache or heartburn, he saw no need to risk discovery of the medicines. He would have loved a bath with soap and shampoo, a liberal application of deodorant, and a good toothbrushing; but those scents might attract undue attention. The illusion made a close razor shave unnecessary on his face, and he knew the Barakhain women left their legs and armpits natural. He was not a hairy man. He slipped his multitool into a shift pocket. It might come in handy, and he believed he could keep it safely hidden. He balanced the lump with his mag light and one of the packs of matches in the opposite pocket, then ran his hands along his clothing. He could feel the items, but they did not leave obvious bulges. No one ought to be touching him, and an accidental brush would not reveal the nature of the objects he carried. It seemed safe enough.
By the time Collins had made his selections, Zylas was pulling a tan tunic over matching leggings. The outfit looked strange on the albino, who usually preferred black. As he adjusted his perception, however, Collins realized the new color suited his friend better. It made his ultra-pale skin seem less stark in comparison. Zylas added a leaf-green cloak to the outfit, which brought images of forests and Merry Men to Collins' mind. Had Zylas added his usual broad-brimmed hat, he might have passed for the taxman-thieving Robin Hood himself.
Noticing Collins' regard, Zylas bowed regally. "You approve?"
Collins shrugged. "It's… different." Caught staring, he now regarded Zylas from every angle, pacing around him with a thoughtful glower. "Suits you."
Zylas grimaced, his small, well-formed nose pulling upward to immerse his sky-blue eyes into a squint. "I'm supposed to be a royal guard, so I'll take that as a dire insult."
Collins threw up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll remember that the next time I decide to give you a compliment."
"See that you do." Zylas approached Prinivere, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "Ready, my lady?"
The dragon's old head bobbed. As usual, she conserved motion, though she did not seem wiped out by the spell she had cast on Collins. On his last visit, the magic she had cast to allow him to communicate had left her nearly comatose through the following day. Collins felt a warm flush of pride at the realization that he had, apparently, accomplished something by stealing the crystal from the castle.
Zylas approached. The dragon raised her massive foreleg and clamped her weathered claw over his face. This time, Collins could not actually feel the magic, but he smelled ozone, heard an erratic hum, and saw random sparks and flashes emanating from the contact. The process fascinated him, drawing and holding his gaze until he doubted he could pull it away even should he wish to do so.
"What do you think, ma'am?" Aisa's voice, even as softly as she spoke, startled Collins, though he managed not to show it outwardly. His heart thudded faster in his chest, and he silently caught his breath.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Who else?"
Collins glanced around the cave, at the damp, mossy walls and the craggy floor empty except for his own backpack and a few scattered satchels. "Prinivere. Falima. Someone you might refer to as 'ma'am.'"
Aisa raised her shoulders, studying the magical activity in front of them. "You'd better get used to it."
Jarred to the remembrance that he was masquerading as a woman, Collins knew Aisa was right. He smoothed his shift with his hands and drew the cloak more tightly around him, trying to make the gestures look feminine and casual. "Thanks for the reminder. I guess I'd better." It occurred to him that women often played the part of older boys and young men in stage productions, such as Peter Pan. He would simply reverse the tradition. He strutted toward the entrance, swinging his hips. "How'd I do?"
Aisa's gaze followed Collins, and she loosed a snickering snort. "Way too much." She shook her head with unspoken disdain. "Just stick with your normal movements, all right? Orna's not a particularly womanly woman, not what one could describe as dainty or… " She pinned her gaze on Collins' hips. "… grotesquely over-the-top flirtatious."
Thank God. Collins hopped back up beside Aisa just as Prinivere released what used to be Zylas' face. His forehead had become broad, his eyes dark and widely set, his ears low and partially hidden by a fringe of thick, sandy hair without a hint of wave or curl. Though fair, his skin seemed positively swarthy compared to his milky hands.
Prinivere clearly addressed Aisa, though Collins, and presumably Zylas, heard the question, too.*What do you think?*
Aisa stepped between Zylas and Prinivere. Her right thumb and forefinger pinched her nose, the other three fingers curled around her pursed mouth. At length, she released her face to touch Zylas'. "A bit broader here." She brushed a fingertip along the bridge of Zylas' new nose. "And a touch of red to the hair."
Prinivere reached for Zylas, and a few more sparks flew from the contact. A moment later, she had made the changes.
Aisa nodded her approval. "Perfect."
Zylas explained. "Most birds have a good eye for small details. Aisa's great at that."
"Thank you." Aisa stepped back, still examining Zylas. She nodded again. "Yes, perfect." Her stare fell, and she stiffened. "Almost perfect." She crossed the cave, grabbed a satchel, and returned. Dropping it to the ground, she opened it to reveal jars of varying colors, slim sticks, and a sl
ate. She opened three of the pigments and began mixing colors on the slate with a stick. Glancing between her work and Zylas, Aisa messed with the mixture several times, adding a bit of this or that until she finally seemed satisfied. "Remove your cloak."
Zylas did so, and Aisa painted his arms and hands with the mixed pigments. As she worked, she glanced back and forth from her work to Zylas' face, occasionally pausing to add some color to the mix.
Collins appreciated her intensity and her eye. She seemed a definite asset, and he wondered why Zylas had not chosen her the first time they had met rather than the hostile and flitty hummingbird, Ialin.
The answer came sooner than Collins expected. Even as Aisa worked on him, Zylas twisted his head to his companion, "Ialin will meet up with us."
Surprised that Zylas seemed to have read his mind, Collins started, "How did you…?" Figuring it out, he turned his attention to the dragon. "You told him, didn't you?"
Prinivere rolled her gaze to the ceiling and gave no reply.
Zylas seemed to take no notice of their exchange. "It's important that we have someone who can let the others know if we need anything or something goes awry."
Still a bit leery of the hummingbird/man, Collins looked longingly at Aisa. It seemed impossible that, just a day ago, he had wanted Ialin back. "Can't she do it?"
Zylas closed one eye and squinted along his nose at Collins. "Uh… no, Ben. We need someone who can… um… fly."
"But she can…" Collins started, then understood. "… but not until evening, Ialin's a bird during the day."
9:00 A.M. to 9:00 P.M. He had gotten better at remembering that every human was an animal and every animal a human, except for fish; but he still had trouble with the inviolate sanctity of each individual's switch-time. That seemed the key to its inconvenience. If people could choose when they took each form, he wondered if they might not actually consider it an advantage rather than a curse.
Apparently reading Collins' discomfort, Zylas added, "He's just going to keep a lookout. For safety reasons. If he's doing his job right, you won't even sec him."
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