No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently.
~Agnes De Mille
I never do exactly understand what I’ve run myself into this time. Ultimus, or Ban, as he prefers to be called, never quite explains things clearly enough to me. Or I just don’t understand. The latter seems more likely; what does a thief off the streets understand of governing, and magic, and great libraries that are reknowned throughout the world? I’ve never even been in a library.
What am I talking about? You well may ask. Even I don’t know. But I have stumbled into a world of wonders, a world I thought reserved only for those born into it. The Great Library of New Thuban is truly great; it is Ban’s domain, and soon, I prowl through the shelves much as I prowled through the city streets. So many books! Whenever I am not studying, that is. I accepted the place as an apprentice. My thirst for knowledge will most likely be my undoing some day, but I could not resist the chance of studying in a place like this. I learn so much!
This place grows on me after the first week, and I hate to leave. But, despite its many charms, I cannot shake off the feeling of being a misfit...a sparrow among peacocks, you might say. Small, drab, and out of place. Ban doesn’t like it much, but I frequently go on brief excursions outside the city, to explore the many worlds that lie just a thought away. I manage to survive this new life as best I can...as well as I have survived any life. New Thuban feels almost like home now. Especially the library.
I’m on another of my excursions, journeying down the fair shoreline near Beryl, toward a curious rock formation further down. As I pass the first stone outcropping, something catches my eye. It’s that young man from Beryl again, but he’s...shapeshifting?
One thought hits me. Damn. Then another. Run. And I do run. No demons are going to catch me and turn me into their mindless drones. Never!
I soon realize that I must shift if I am to escape him. In his eagle form, he overtakes me swiftly, and a shrill shriek sounds from overhead, the cry of a bird of prey on the hunt. A cynical little grin crosses my face. “You’re in for a little surprise, demon,” I mutter, and let the shift take me, the ice and fire sweeping through me. I hear talons click shut over my head, and I snap at them, growling. A wolf. Perfect.
The eagle lands on a rock, turning to face me, and I can read the shock in his eyes. But he doesn’t seem to realize that I shapeshifted. I mentally shrug. All the better for me.
He shifts again, this time to a griffon. Oh, damn, I think, and dart forward, snapping at his paws. I’m too slow to dodge back out, though, and a heavy blow sends me reeling backwards, against the rocks. The griffon then turns to sniff the sand, apparently looking for tracks. Idiot, I grumble inwardly, and let the change sweep through me again. My limbs vanish, and I’m a snake.
The griffon turns, startled at the sight of a snake, and a damn big one at that. He backs away half a step, and, before I can stop myself, words come.
“What do you want?” I hiss, then stop, startled. A sentient snake. I must remember this form for future reference. The griffon looks startled, too.
“Leave me be,” he snaps, and turns away. Stupid. “I have business to attend to.”
“Yeah, sure,” comes my reply, tone sullen and sarcastic. “What business is that?”
“That girl--” he begins.
“I’m not going with you!” I snarl, furious, then shut up, hoping he has’t caught on.
He hasn’t. “I never asked if you would!” he shoots back, annoyed. He still doesn’t get it! There’s something funny about this one. “You can stay here for all I care. All I want is that girl.”
I’m not going back there! “Demon!” If I were in human form, I would have screamed it. It comes out as a particularly vehement hiss.
“Oh yeah?” he replies, defensively. “So what if I am?” He shifts again, this time back to a human form. There’s definitely something odd about this one, I realize upon seeing his agonized expression. “I couldn’t help it!”
I can’t resist baiting him. “You’re weak,” I tell him. If I could, I’d smirk. “Demons are supposed to be strong.”
“You should see me on my bad days,” he replies ruefully, in a tone touched with bitterness. “There are times when the power flows.”
That one catches me off guard, and I slowly realize that this fool, thoughtless as he might be, is not a demon at all. But what is he, then? “Then why do you want the girl?” I question him. “What for?”
“I saw her stealing something that wasn’t hers.” I groan inwardly. No, not a demon, one of those self-righteous do-gooders. He suddenly narrows his eyes, studying me curiously. “Why am I telling this to you? After all,” here he smiles wryly, “you won’t come with me, remember?”
I ignore that question, and offer my justification for stealing, the one Cobe taught me eight years ago, when I was an abandoned child, scared and lonely. “Sometimes, the only choice people have is to steal,” I say. “It’s a matter of survival.”
He seems vaguely amused. “You are beginning to sound as though I should kill you, for putting such ideas into people’s heads, instead of her. This, in turn, amuses me. How foolish can one be?
“I’ve noticed you’re also a bit dense.”
He bristles, folding his arms over his chest. Obviously, he thinks he has to be tough. Oh, is there no end to this laughable idiocy? “Yeah, so what if I am?”
I mentally sigh. “Never mind,” I mutter.
“Who are you, anyway?” he asks, the curious, and suspicious look returning to his face. “More importantly, what are you?”
I can’t resist baiting him further. “Do you make a habit of becoming friendly to all you victims, demon boy?”
“Stop calling me that!” he cries, furious. I pause, and he turns around in a huff. “I am not a demon. And I have a name, you know.”
I shift back to human and slide off the rock. “So do I,” I reply, tapping his shoulder. He whirls, startled, and stares at me. “But, if you’re not a demon, why can you shift?”
He still doesn’t get it. Where did you--” he stops, his eyes sliding past me to the rocks. “I mean--” He pauses again, his eyes narrowing. “I was born that way,” he replies. “And what of you? Why can you shift? Are you a demon?”
This inflames me promptly. I’ve only been running from those damned monsters for months! My hands rest on my hips and I glare at him furiously. “Most certainly not!”
“Then you must be a wizard, or a druid, or...or something!”
I roll my eyes and lean back against the rock. “Look, I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but where I lived, the only people who worshipped trees were considered mad.” I smirk, and the color rises in his face.
“Druids are beings of--” he begins, but I cut him off.
“And do I look like a wizard to you?” I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Or maybe you think I’m crazy. Do you? You think I’m some sort of witch!” He flushes uncomfortably. “Well, let me tell you something. friend, you’re wrong! I have--”
He cuts me off with a raisesd hand, his eyes narrowing. I meet his gaze, fuming impatiently, as that sense of familiarity washes over me again. But I don’t know him! And I don’t want to! Scowling and cursing under my breath, I shove past him and walk away. But I know I’d better be careful; I have this feeling I haven’t seen the last of this do-gooder.