The moment she first laid eyes on the scarlet-robed stranger, Rilka knew he was going to be trouble. Maybe it was the way his eyes glinted under his tall hat that gave him away, or his wild tangle of a beard, or maybe it was his disreputable-looking yellow dog. But Rilka would not be so rude as to turn a traveler away from her door, and besides, maybe a little trouble was what she needed to add some spice to her life.
And in fact, spice was just what the stranger offered. After she had seated him in her best chair, and he had said his name was Mipriti (suitably exotic, she thought), and said his dog was Drahel, and when Rilka had given him a cup of her famous ale and a bowl of her famous stew, and when she had ladeled out more stew for Drahel to inhale, the man pulled from the folds of his robes a knot of yellow cloth. He took so long to untie it that Rilka had to sit on her hands to keep from grabbing it herself. Inside was a twist of paper, and inside of that was a spoonful of fine powder.
Oh! And what a powder it was!
It was blue like a spring-fed lake on a day when it's a hundred degrees out. Mipriti held the paper up to her nose, and it smelled like the air on the first warm day of spring, and like a hearth right before a festival, and like the sweat of lovers who lie naked under a billion stars.
"What is it?" she whispered.
Mipriti smiled, a flash of white through his black beard, and leaned back in his chair. He knew it was only a matter of haggling now. At his feet, Drahel wagged his tail and grinned his doggy grin.
"I bought it," Mipriti said, "a few months ago from a man who had come from over the Eastern Mountains. His journey was filled with danger, and his companions all died. In fact, this man himself looked on the verge of death, and...." He went on like this for a while, spinning an improbable tale that featured bandits, monsters, evil wizards, and the other usual trappings. Rilka guessed that this was supposed to make the powder seem more valuable.
Finally, she yawned theatrically. "Look here," she interrupted. "I really don't care where it came from. What does it do?"
Mipriti looked disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to finish his story. He cleared his throat. "The truth is, er, I'm not sure. But I was assured that it has the power to change things. Somehow." He waved his hands dramatically, as if the worth of such a substance were obvious.
Rilka was skeptical. Sure, the powder smelled enchanting, but did that mean anything? And even if it was magic, that didn't mean it would necessarily be good. In her thirty years of experience, change just as often made things worse as it did better. Still, though, it was intriguing, and things had been so boring since Carvis had died.
So she made Mipriti an offer. He acted insulted, naming a sum they both knew was ridiculously high. Then they both smiled and began the bargaining process in earnest. They were very close to reaching an accord when the cat wandered in through the open door, mewling for her supper.
She wasn't much of a cat, just a thin slink of stripes. She'd showed up a few weeks before, and she didn't even have a name because Rilka kept telling herself she wasn't going to keep her. Clearly, though, the cat knew better: she'd staked out a favorite napping spot by the fire, and she already had Rilka trained to an appropriate feeding schedule. So you couldn't blame her for coming in when she did.
And you couldn't blame Drahel for leaping up when he caught sight of the cat. He was, after all, a dog. And you could even give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he merely was anxious to make the cat's acquaintance. But leap up he did, and his broad head bumped into his master's hand, and Mipriti's long red sleeve swept the twist of paper right off of the table.
Before either Mipriti or Rilka could react, the powder fell down onto the dog's shoulders and back like a miniature blue blizzard.
Mipriti shouted a terrible oath.
Rilka clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
The cat expanded to triple her normal size and let out a menacing growl.
And Drahel simply froze, impossibly, in mid-air.
There was a sound like a thousand pottery jugs breaking at once. An azure cloud formed around Drahel, and when it dissipated a few seconds later, the dog was gone. In his place stood a man with shaggy blond hair and golden tan skin stretched over impressive muscles. He had expressive amber eyes, and he looked even more amazed than Rilka and Mipriti. He was naked, save for a leather band around his neck that bore a suspicious resemblance to Drahel's collar.
For a long moment, none of them moved. It was like one of the living tableaux that Rilka had heard were popular at court. Then the naked man broke the scene by trying to dive under Rilka's bed. He didn't even begin to fit, and he looked so silly with everything sticking out except his head that she couldn't help but giggle.
Mipriti was not amused, however. His face having turned a shade that almost matched his robe, he swung around to Rilka. "You owe me five gold pieces!" he shouted.
"But you were only asking two for the powder," Rilka protested.
"The rest are for MY DOG!!"
"Your dog was the one who spilled the powder to begin with. I'm not paying you anything." She crossed her arms and frowned at him. She had a reputation in the town for a hot temper and a stubborn soul. Milpiti couldn't have known this, of course, but he must have had an inkling from her expression. Without another word, he swirled around and marched out the door.
"Wait!" Rilka called after him. "Drahel!" But he ignored her.
The naked man scooted out from under the bed and raced after him. When he reached Mipriti's side, however, his master pushed him, hard, in the direction of Rilka's cottage. The man followed after for a step or two, and then stopped, his handsome face awash with confusion.
After a moment, Rilka grabbed a blanket off of her bed and walked up to him. She noticed that nosy old Gresthe was standing in her doorway across the road, her toothless mouth agape. Rilka draped the blanket around his waist, and when he looked at her with those sad eyes, she put her arm around him and gently led him back inside. She sat him on her bed and stood over him, unsure what to do next.
"He left," said the man dejectedly. His voice was deep and pleasantly rough. She nodded. He looked up at her. "Will he come back?"
"I don't think so," she answered kindly. "Would you like to stay here for a few days?"
He jumped off of the bed, letting the blanket fall on the floor, and flung his arms enthusiastically around her. She had to admit this wasn't unpleasant, and for a moment she let him stay. Then she disengaged herself and knelt in front of her ancient cedar chest.
"Here," she said, holding some of Carvis's old clothes out to him. "These ought to do for now."
Stifling more giggles, she watched him dance around on one leg for a while. After he almost crashed over backwards, she stepped forward and helped him dress. The she had a thought. "Uh, Drahel?" He smiled at her. "You are, uh, housebroken, aren't you?"
He snorted. "Of course! Since I was a pup." Then his eyes widened and his muscles tensed. Rilka turned around and spied the cat, who was peeking hesitantly around the door frame.
"Drahel, no!" she said sternly. "If you're going to stay here you can't chase the cat."
He looked a little crestfallen for a moment, and then he scratched vigorously behind his right ear. The cat meandered over to her bowl and looked at Rilka expectantly. Drahel watched her carefully, but didn't move. Rilka filled the bowl with some of the cooled stew, and watched as the cat attacked it with enthusiasm.
"Hey! Someone's here!" Drahel shouted suddenly. He ran to the door. "Who are you? This is Rilka's house."
"I'd ask the same as you," grated a voice.
Reluctantly, Rilka turned and greeted her visitor. "Good afternoon, Gresthe. Drahel, it's all right. She's a neighbor." Drahel eyed the old woman suspiciously for a minute and then went off to stare into the stewpot.
Gresthe put her head close to Rilka's. "Who's that?" she whispered. Rilka noticed she'd had cabbage and onions for dinner. She stepped back and began to swing the door shut.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have so much work to do!" Quickly, she shut the door. She turned in time to catch Drahel sticking his finger in the pot. He grinned apologetically when he realized he's been caught. He was too cute to yell at, she decided.
The truth was, she really did have much to do by tomorrow. She went back to her cedar chest and pulled out a dazzling confection of whisper-soft lambswool. Drahel trotted over immediately and grabbed for it. She snatched it away just in time. "Stop! Lady Zophina wouldn't be pleased to have your grubby pawprints all over her new shawl." She saw that he was eyeing the birchwood knitting needles her mother had given her. "And you can't have those, either."
Drahel looked unhappily down at the floor, and Rilka sighed. She was never going to finish this way. Then she had an inspiration. She told him, "Stay!" and dashed out the door. When she returned a few minutes later with a chunck of beef bone she'd begged from the butcher, she was pleased to find him still standing there. She was able to settle him contentedly in front of the fire, and for most of the evening the only sounds in her little hut were the click-clack of her needles, and the purr of the cat, and the grind of Drahel's teeth on the bone. Periodically, he'd look up and grin at her, and she'd smile back.
Bedtime was a problem. He didn't seem to mind turning his back while she slipped into her nightclothes, and he needed only a little help changing into his. But he looked miserable as he watched her preparing him a nest of blankets by the hearth.
"Can't I sleep with you?" he begged. "I'll just curl up at the foot of the bed."
She was going to say no. She'd had the bed to herself since Carvis, and she didn't regret it. But he had those melting eyes, and the night was cold...
When some small sound woke her shortly before
dawn, Drahel was snuggled up warmly against her back. She was left with
only a corner of one blanket and the cat wedged under her chin.
She allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in a little. Drahel seemed tired, too. She supposed changing into a man was probably exhausting. Eventually she got dressed and fed the three of them some porridge with milk.
"I have to do some errands--" she began.
Drahel interrupted eagerly. "Can I come?" She thought for a second and then nodded. He managed to dress himself fairly adeptly.
He followed her happily into the fine winter day. Most of the town was already up and about, and Rilka noticed many curious glances cast her and Drahel's way. He was oblivious, though, as he sniffed deeply at the woodsmoke-scented air and trotted in little circles around her.
"Where are we going? Will we stop and get something to eat? Could we go for a walk in the woods? Ooh! What's that over there?" The sun picked up the golden highlights in his hair. Rilka was surprised to find herself at Lady Zophina's carved wooden door so quickly.
The Lady herself came to inspect the workmanship of her new shawl, and to drape it over her bony shoulders. She smiled predatorily at Drahel as he toyed with the baubles on her mantel. "Delightful!" she said to Rilka, stroking the buttery lace but looking at Drahel.
Rilka had to strain to remain polite, but when she and Drahel finally escaped, several gold pieces richer, her heart felt light and free. She decided to go to the market.
When they first arrived among the bustle and crush of the stalls, she almost regretted it. Drahel kept darting off after interesting smells and intriguing sights, only to call her name frantically when he lost her in the crowd. Finally, she took him firmly by the hand and led him through the mazelike rows.
She bought the makings of a feast: crusty bread, and small sweet apples, and tangy cheese, and even some expensive nuts from the other side of the Eastern Mountains. She found herself haggling over an emerald ribbon that exactly matched the cat's eyes. At Drahel's insistence, she filled the remaining space in her basket with three brown eggs and a few extravagant pieces of candied ginger.
On the way home they encountered a man with two huge brindled dogs. Rilka waited indulgently while Drahel and the dogs traded sniffs (he sniffed their faces only, she was relieved to see) and open-mouthed grins. "He's quite fond of dogs, isn't he?" laughed the man.
Rilka's lips twitched. "You've no idea," she said drily, and tugged Drahel away.
It was late by the time they arrived home, and the cat was already demanding to be fed. Rilka tied the ribbon in a bow around the cat's neck and paused to admire the effect. Then Drahel earnestly, if not particularly usefully, helped her prepare the meal. They ate until they were too full to do anything but drowse in a heap by the hearth.
Rilka leaned lazily back against his shoulder. "Are you upset to have been changed?"
He yawned hugely. "No. Being human's not too bad. Better food."
"Do you miss Mipriti?"
He looked thoughtful, then nuzzled her neck. "Not much. He was never as nice as you. And I like a warm bed at night."
She turned to look at him. "You do understand
we'll be looking for a good home for you?" He said nothing. She continued,
"You can't stay here. I have my life all settled now, and we'll find someplace
more suitable for you. Out in the country, maybe. You can't stay here."
A storm moved in by midnight, and well after daybreak it remained dark and wet out. It was a good morning to work on the fluffy wrap that was intended for Princess Seirna's newborn son.
Drahel seemed content at first to doze under a mountain of blankets, but when some thunderclaps rumbled distantly he scooted out of bed and tried to lean unobtrusively against her legs. She didn't mind.
By noon it had slowed to a dreary drip, and all three of them were too restless to stay indoors any longer. Rilka put on her heavy gray cloak, and she and Drahel ventured out into the sticky mud. He didn't seem bothered by the drizzle. He shook his shaggy wet hair in her face and she pushed him away, but he came back to her side, laughing.
Her house was near the edge of town, and before too long they were walking between flooded fields of winter wheat. The clouds still scudded angrily overhead, but she thought she saw a sliver of blue at the western horizon. He was in a buoyant mood, chatting nonstop about some chickens he'd chased last month, and the time he bit a thief in the leg, and the fight he'd gotten into in a village at the base of the mountains. She said very little.
Just as she was thinking of turning around, they met up with a couple who had been friends of her mother. They made a few polite comments about the storm, and then she introduced Drahel to them. He greeted them spiritedly.
Rilka looked appraisingly at the couple for a moment. She'd known them since she was a child. "I wonder," she said to them, "if you know of someone who needs a worker. A farmhand, maybe? Drahel is looking for work and a place to live."
The corners of Drahel's mouth turned down a little, and perhaps the woman noticed. "I don't know..." she said.
But her husband interrupted, "He looks like a strong lad. We could use some help with the heavier chores."
Rilka smiled at Drahel. "What do you think? They live on a farm, at the edge of the woods. I'll bet you'd enjoy living near the woods." Drahel didn't answer. "They have cows," she added. "And goats."
Drahel perked up at this. "Goats?" he said.
But the woman clutched her husband's elbow and started pulling him away. "Really, Rilka, there's very little to do this time of year. But if you're still needing a place come spring, Drahel, come out and see us."
"All right," Drahel said cheerfully.
Rilka nodded politely. "Thank you." To herself
she added, but we'll certainly have found something by then. She
and Drahel continued their walk for a short while before turning back home,
and if he noticed that she was subdued, he didn't comment on it.
It was another drizzly afternoon several days later when they again walked down the road and out of town. She'd been able to get very little knitting done; as soon as she would settle herself in her favorite chair, Drahel would get bored and restless and start to pester her. If she shooed him out the door, he would return shamefaced, an irate townsperson at his heels complaining of some transgression. Or he would track mud and unsavory debris into her previously immaculate home. If she decided he should stay in, he would end up breaking something or chasing the cat through her balls of yarn.
Finally, she took him back into the country. They came upon a squat stone cottage next to a meadow of sheep, and Rilka held onto his arm firmly when he showed untoward interest in the placid flock. As they neared the cottage, they were suddenly surrounded by a muddy, motley mob of mutts. Drahel thumped at their flanks happily and seemed likely to join in their collective barking and howling.
The door swung open to reveal a handsome, blond-haired woman slightly older than Rilka. Her faced was flushed as if she'd been close to the fire and she held a potato in one hand.
"Rilka!" she exclaimed. "Out of wool so soon?" Then she saw Drahel and her eyebrows arched up nearly to her hairline.
"Good afternoon, Theune. A fine day for spinning, isn't it?"
Theune just looked at her.
Rilka put on her most charming smile. "Theune, this is Drahel." He looked up from the dogs and waved. "He's, um, looking for a place to stay. For a while, anyway."
"Why not with you?"
Rilka glanced at him over he shoulder. "I just...I don't need that right now. I want my life to stay nice and simple. Quiet."
Theune leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms. Drahel was throwing a stick and the dogs were rushing and growling over it. "Rilka, what do you expect me to do with another mouth to feed?"
"I thought he could help you. I bet he'd be good at herding the sheep, things like that. And he's strong. And he told me he hunts. When did you last eat game?"
"He doesn't look all that useful. He looks like a fool."
"Theune, he's good company." Both women turned and looked into the empty cottage. "Why not try?"
By the time Theune was convinced, the sun had almost broken through. Drahel was panting from his romp with the dogs, but he was more handsome than ever. Rilka assured him he'd be happier on a farm. She promised to visit often. He cried a little, but seemed to understand.
"It's all right, Rilka. I love you."
The fields were hushed as she walked home,
only the sound of drips and an occasional bird's cry breaking the silence.
Her little hut was quiet, too. Even the cat was out somewhere, probably
looking for food.
Things remained quiet for the next few weeks. She found herself making so much food she couldn't possibly eat it all, and had to bring plates of it across the road to a grateful Gresthe. The cat was starting to get fat.
When Lady Zophina's cousin commissioned a shawl fancy enough to make the Lady jealous, Rilka knew she had to buy more wool. On a morning when the new spring shoots were just barely poking through the ground, she walked out to Theune's farm.
The minute she arrived at the door, Drahel flung himself onto her with an enormous bear hug. He nearly knocked her over. His hair had been cut short and his face was ruddy from the early spring winds. Theune was friendly enough, but seemed a little guarded.
"I see the new lambs have come," Rilka said awkwardly.
The other woman nodded. "It will be a good season, I think." They were both silent for a bit. "This wool is the finest I've had. You'll be pleased."
"Lady Zophina won't be." They both smiled at that. The Lady was famous for her vanity.
Rilka looked at Drahel, who was now sitting by the table with a small grizzled dog in his lap and a broken piece of some kind of machinery in his hands. He grinned easily at her. "Theune, I don't think I can fix this. We'll need another," he said. He continued to toy with it, though.
Rilka placed her hand on Theune's arm. "I'll leave you to your work. Would you two like to come share a meal with me tomorrow? I'll be making my last batch of winter stew."
Theune grasped her hand warmly and her blue
eyes crinkled at the corners. "We'll be glad to. Thank you." Impulsively,
she gave Rilka a brief embrace.
On the first truly warm day of the year Rilka felt a sudden craving for something sweet. Strawberries, perhaps. So she filled the cat's bowl and set out briskly for the market. Maybe she would find a flower seller, too.
She was already close enough to hear the calls of the hawkers and the clatter of carts when something scurried past her so fast she only caught a glimpse of a scraggly brown tail. Whatever was attached to the tail hid behind a heap of course sacking.
She continued walking a few steps and then stopped. Stepping softly, she backtracked and peered around the stack.
His long fur was matted and filthy, and he was painfully thin. He backed up a few steps but didn't run. He had one brown eye and one blue, and they both looked at her warily. His ears were pointed and drooped a little at the tips, giving him an almost puppyish look, yet he was quite tall.
"Hey," she said quietly, holding out her hands. "Are you hungry?"
He came forward slowly until he could sniff cautiously at her hands.
"Good dog. Good dog." She thought she saw his tail twitch a little. "C'mon boy." She headed back home and, looking over her shoulder, saw that the dog was following her. He was limping, and she noticed a gash over his right foreleg. She encouraged him with soft calls and whistles.
When they walked in the door, the cat took one look and darted under the bed. The dog barely glanced at her, though, but waited patiently as Rilka spooned him a large plate of bread and gravy. When the plate was licked clean, he looked up at her expectantly, and she refilled it.
She lectured him as he ate. "All right. You can stay--for a while. But you'll need a bath. And I suppose we'll have to do something about that wound. No chasing the cat. No bothering me while I work. And no sleeping on the bed."
The dog swept his tail in circles and licked
the gravy from his lips. "Thank you!" he said. "I've been so miserable
since that peddler spilled his blue powder on me and changed me into a
dog."