"Come on, Basil, give us a story!"  the dwarf 
exclaimed, slamming down his tankard and motioning for the 
barmaid to fill it.  It was far from the first time the mug 
had been refilled, and even with his legendary tolerance for 
alcohol, Gerok's words were slightly slurred.  Even so, his 
request was taken up by the other patrons, and they all 
turned to look at the elf trying to be ignored in the 
darkest corner of the bar.
     Seeing all eyes on her, the elf sighed and moved toward 
the center of the room, bringing with her a small ivory-
inlaid case.  The men sitting at the centermost table 
vacated for her, and she turned one of the chairs around, 
satting to face her audience.  
     "First of all," She began her protests, "I do not tell 
stories.  Stories are fantasies to entertain the gullible.  
I tell histories, to enlighten and educate.  And secondly, I 
don't tell my histories just to hear myself speak.  Even I 
have to eat."  Several patrons tossed small coins onto the 
table.  "Surely you jest?  A mere ten coppers?  Perhaps I 
should bring Misha the priest, instead.  For a donation of 
ten coppers, I'm sure he'll fascinate you with one of his 
stories."  She placed scornful emphasis on her last word, 
and rose to leave, pleased to have avoided work for the 
night, but the sound of heavier metal striking the table 
turned her back around.  The barkeeper, Tenkai, smiled as 
she watched her eyes light up at the sight of the two large 
gold coins on the table.  
     "And your drinks are free, so long as you don't start 
sounding like Gerok."  Tenkai said, "Now sit down and start.  
Oh, and I'm still taking orders, mind you."  Several patrons 
ordered something to drink during the tale, and Tenkai 
smiled knowingly.  
     Basil sat down and collected the coins from the table.  
She didn't feel like putting in the effort for an honest 
night of work, but the money was inarguably generous, and as 
she's said, she did have to eat.  Reluctantly, she opened 
the wooden case as drew out a small, finely strung harp 
constructed of a strange golden wood, and trimmed in blue.  
"Any requests?" Several were offered, all of which she'd 
long grown tired of telling.  "How about Song of 
Stormsinger?"  That was met with silence, which she took as 
dissent.  "Lion Chronicles?"  More silence.  "Journies 
Abroad?"  She suggested hopefully.
     "I'm sick of hearing about Stormsinger!" Gerok complained,
"I think you just made him up just so you'd have something new
to tell.  I mean, honestly, who ever heard of a man who looked
like a lion?"
     "Before Stormsinger, none.  Do you dare to suggest that 
my tales are anything less than authentic?"  The other 
patrons tried to silence Gerok, but he was far too 
inebriated to take heed.  Basil motioned for them to let the 
dwarf continue.
     "Yeah, actually, I do.  I wanna know where you got him 
from.  I mean, you can't just have him pop out of thin air 
like at the beginning of Chronicles, and say no more on it.  
Can you?"
     "Just who are you, Gerok, to tell me about taleweaving?  
I don't care how much I'm paid, I'm not about to take that."  
Basil paused and considered.  "But I will allow that you 
have a point.  So be it, then.  You want to hear about where 
Stormsinger came from?"  The dwarf nodded.  "Well, now.  That's
a tale I've never told."  As she settle in to tell the tale, 
her fingers strummed the harp absently, drawing out a slow 
tune that spoke of distant lands, exotic and mysterious.
     "Far to the South, across the vast cold ocean, there is 
a great continent, a land so large that all the islands of 
our Nine Realms and the oceans between them would fit within 
it.  On this continent in years long past, when even I was
new to this world, there dwelled a great magician, known as
Shirak.  A great and mighty mage was he, a prodigy, a savant.
He was renowned throughout this Southern Realm for his skill
in magic, for the blessings with which Fortune had graced him.
But Fortune has ever been a fickle friend, and his faith in
her graces proved misplaced.  Perhaps some of you have heard
of the dreaded disease known as Mage's Blight?  No magic can
cure it, no prayer remove it, no leeches can draw it out.  It
promises its victems a slow, agonizing descent into helpless
madness, destroying first the body and then the mind.
     "In the fourty-third year of his illustrius life, 
Shirak found himself afflicted with this most horrible of 
curses.  His friends, his family, his fellow mages, all 
abandoned him in this, his hour of greatest need, driven 
away by fear of his terrible curse.  Undaunted, Shirak began 
a journey, a quest, seeking to find a remedy for his 
affliction.  But everywhere he sought, he was told again and 
again what he already knew; The Mage's Blight has no cure.  
Resigned to his fate, Shirak returned to his studies, 
determined to squeeze every drop of living available from 
his few remaining years of health and sanity.
     "As so often happens, he found the answer he sought as 
soon as he stopped looking.  In his study of beasts, he 
discovered that some animals can be afflicted with some 
diseases, while others will be completely unaffected.  He 
found this very puzzling at first, but it soon became 
clearer; Some diseases have a favorite sort of prey.  Yes, I 
say prey, for his studies showed him that many diseases are 
caused by an infestation of creatures so tiny they cannot be 
seen, so small that a fruitfly seems a dragon in comparison.  
Excited by this, he used his own tainted blood to perform 
his next tests, and he discovered that of all the creatures 
in the vast Southern Realm, there are only four affected by 
Mage's Blight; Humans, Dwarves, Elves, and, for reasons that 
eluded Shirak and that I certainly do not know, cows.  All 
other creatures are completely unharmed.
     "Now you may wonder what good this knowledge could do 
him.  After all, it does him no good if, say, dogs are 
immune, since he was a man, not a dog.  But, what if he 
could find a way to borrow the dog's immunity?
     "Shirak spent the next year trying to understand..."
     "What does any of this have to do with Stormsinger?" 
Gerok demanded.
     "If you interrupt me again, halfling, you'll never find 
out."  Basil returned, "I'm getting to it, but if you 
distract me, I may forget what I was going to say."
     "Shut up and listen, Gerok," Tenkai warned, "I'll throw 
you out if I have to.  It's bad for business to have you 
ruining everybody else's fun."  Basil nodded her 
appreciation to Tenkai.  "Oh, by the way, I'm still taking 
orders."  Tenkai announced.
     "Thank you.  At least someone appreciates my talents 
around here.  As I was saying, Shirak spent the next year 
trying to discover exactly why other creatures were immune 
to the Blight.  At the end of that year, he had learned many 
things about the miraculous workings of the flesh, but was 
still no closer to solving his mystery.  It seemed that the 
Blight would defeat him at last.
     "But then, when all hope seemed lost, an inspiration!  
Perhaps it wasn't necessary to know where the immunity came 
from?  He began experimenting with cows, infusing infected 
cows with blood from healthy cows.  There was no effect on 
the spread of the Blight.  Then, he infused the afflicted 
cows with the blood of immune creatures.  As he had hoped, 
as he had prayed, the spread of Blight was halted.  However, 
the cows soon died, slain by the alien blood flowing through 
them.  Shirak remained undaunted, for he now knew that the 
Blight had a weakness."  Basil paused and took a long 
swallow from her cup.
     "At this same time, on the vast western plains, there 
lived a pride of lions..."  As she spoke, the harp and her 
words wove their magic, and the listeners found themselves 
drawn into her tale.
	
     Stormsinger lifted his head and caressed the wind.  It 
was early summer, and he now could feel the coming storm 
constantly at the edge of his awareness.  The plains grew 
clouded, dark and heavy.  He could feel the pressure in the 
air and smell the rain on the winds, and called his pride 
back to the den.  First came Tailbiter, wild and strange as 
ever.  She was younger than the rest of the adults, but 
there was also something not right with her... a look in her 
eyes, intense at times and almost frightening, glazed and 
dull at others.  But, she was happy, so it was well enough.  
After her came her sister, Cloudeyes, herding her cubs in 
before her.  Noser and Starwatcher, as usual, were less than 
enthusiastic about coming in from the rain.  After her came 
Stonetooth, eldest of the pride, though you couldn't really 
tell it from the way she moved.  You only knew it when you 
saw the wisdom in her eyes and the way she hunted.  None 
could stalk as cleverly as Stonetooth.  Lastly came Sunrock, 
Stormsinger's True Mate, and she was pushing a reluctant cub 
named Growler in front of her.  His brother Laughter was, as 
usual, a few paces ahead.  Stormsinger sighed at the 
disparity between his sons.  Growler was dark and moody, 
almost constantly sullen, while Laughter was inclined to 
bouts of wild joy, though of course, he had his serious 
moments as well.  The two were ever wont to quarrel, always 
at Growler's instigation.  For now, however, both were at 
peace, and the call of the winds occupied more of 
Stormsinger's attention.
     Ser-Chup, Singer of Storms, the pride named him, and 
truly he could feel the song of the storm rushing through 
his veins, the raw, elemental fury of the weather.  Noser 
sat nearby, her nose twitching like a rabbit as she sniffed 
the air.  He looked around for his other daughter, 
Starwatcher, and found her lying quietly in the corner, her 
face bearing a look of thought.  Sunrock came to him and he 
greeted her fondly.
     With a hiss, the green smoke quickly filled the cave.  
Stormsinger stood mystified as first the cubs and then the 
females slumped to the ground.  Roaring in confused anger, 
he rushed through the sparkling emerald haze, out of the 
cave and into the storm.  Outside, two figures stood, 
silhouetted in silver by the rain.  
     "Hey, this one wasn't affected!" one of the men
exclaimed.
     "Interesting." The other said, "A naturally occurring 
magic talent, it seems.  This one should make a most 
informative subject."
     Stormsinger didn't understand their words, but there 
was no mistaking their sinister tone.  He lept to attack, 
only to find himself caught in midair.  He struggled 
desperately to escape the force suspending him, but darkness 
overwhelmed him, and in a moment, he was stilled.
	
     Shirak shook his head as he watched his men load the 
lions onto the carts for transport back to his laboratories.  
The experiments were going better than he had any right to 
hope, but everything was still taking far too long.  He said 
as much to his assistant, D'San.
     "Sir, I'm afraid you're being unrealistic." D'san 
replied, "Completing the laboratory complex, collecting the 
animals, performing the experiments, verifying our 
results... These things take time."  Shivak nodded, 
impatiently.
     "Yes, but it is time I may not have.  I need the 
process working before the Blight cripples me or drives me 
mad.  No matter how we refine the process, it won't help me 
unless I'm alive and sane."
     "Sir, you know that the dangers of rushing our 
experiments far outweigh the risk of the Blight's progress.  
I understand your impatience, sir, but we've still got a 
long way to go."
     "I know that, damnit, but that doesn't make me feel any 
better.  Phase II has hardly begun, and the process won't be 
usable until Phase III, at the earliest."
     "Well, I think we know enough to begin Phase III 
experimentation, but we don't have any subjects.  I mean, 
who would volunteer to be butchered and have their body 
magically melded with that of an animal?  I mean, finding 
subjects for Phase II is easy, we just take tissue samples.  
Phase III means a complete vivisection of both subjects 
and..."
     "Damnit, I know what Phase III experimentation means!"
     "Sir, a message has arrived for you!" one of the men 
called, sparing D'san Shirak's continued wrath.  Shirak 
followed to where the message-bearer awaited.  A large bird 
with a vaugely saurian head sat perched on the wagon, and it 
began preening itself as Shirak approached, recognizing its 
master and creator.
     "Speak, messenger." Shirak commanded.
     "His majesty, the king, requests your presence in his 
court at your earliest convenience to discuss important 
matters of state."  The bird gave a perfect immitation of
speech.
     "Which king, you fool bird?  There are dozens of petty 
landholders calling themselves kings!"  The bird hopped back 
a step, fearing the anger in its master's voice.  It gave 
the only answer it knew.
     "His majesty, the king, requests..."  Shirak cursed 
himself for ever thinking to use his early experiments to 
create the bird messengers.
     "Away!  Be off, ignorant bird!"  With a startled and 
oddly indignant sounding squawk, the bird rose into the air 
and flew to the east, as fast as its wings would carry it.
     "It isn't the bird's fault, sir." D'san offered from 
beside Shirak, "It only knows what it's been told."
     "I know, I know, and if I ever find the fool who sent 
that message, I'll use him for Phase III!"
     "Sir, does it not seem that this summons might be from 
Galeck?"
     "Galeck?" It took Shirak a moment to place the name.  
"Ah, yes, Galeck of Darklin.  He rules the Low Province, 
yes?"  D'san indicated the affirmative, and Shirak shook his 
head.  "There are too many tiny kingdoms to bother keeping 
track of.  What brings him to your mind?"
     "Not him, sir, so much as his son.  The boy is gravely 
afflicted with a terrible sickness."
     "And you think Galeck would come to me for help?"
     "I'm sure of it, sir.  The boy's illness bears a good 
resemblance to the Blight." Shirak's aide leaned closer, 
lowering his voice conspiritorially, "We may have found our 
first Phase III subject, sir."  Shirak smiled, cold and 
sinister.
     "I like the way you think, D'san."  D'san bowed, grinning.
     "I learned from the best, sir."

     "Welcome, Wizard, welcome!" Galeck boomed, sounding as 
though he were greeting a long parted cousin rather than a 
stranger known only by reputation, "I'm so glad you could 
come."
     "Truly, I would not have wanted to miss your legendary 
hospitality, honored king.  It is not often that one such as 
I am offered it.  Indeed, if I may ask, why..."  Galeck cut 
Shirak off with a loud clap of his hands, pretending not to 
hear the half-spoken question.  Immediately, porters 
appeared to usher Shirak to his guest quarters.
     "I'm sorry that I cannot show you to your rooms myself.  
Urgent matters of state, you know.  We will talk more at 
dinner.  Until then, make yourself at home."  With that, 
Galeck turned to leave and Shirak was practically lifted off 
his feet and carried away.
     Once the servants had stowed his belongings and been 
excused, Shirak set about wandering the castle to pass the 
hours until dinner.  His was not, however, an idle search.  
He searched methodically through the castle, disturbing 
linin closets and scullery maids until he found what he was 
looking for.  On the third level, through darkly lit and 
seldom traveled corridors, he found the object of his 
search; a child's room.  As he entered and saw the occupant, 
however, he thought he might be mistaken, for surely, this 
was no child?  This boy, who sat in a cusioned chair, 
restrained by fetters at his hands and ankles, must surely 
be closer to twenty.  Shirak turned to leave, and a scuffing 
of his foot on the stone tile floor revealed his presence.
     "Aw, please, sir, doan go."  The boy asked, his voice 
sounding amiable and open, "They've left me here all by me 
loansome, they have, and it does git so borin with no-one to 
talk to, an all."
     "Well, I wasn't meaning to intrude.  I thought you were 
someone else."
     "Aw, yer not intrudin', sir.  I was just thinkin to 
meself just how nice it would be to have a little comp'ny 
for a spell."  The boy motioned with his head to a chair 
near his, this one lacking bonds.  Shirak took the seat, and 
found himself facing a young man, looking to be in his late 
teens or early twenties.  He seemed a handsom enough fellow, 
with a smooth, well-shaped faced framed by chesnut hair that 
showed signs of being neatly trimmed at one time.  He looked 
healthy, vibrant, and Shirak could see no trace of the 
disease he'd been told the boy was carrying.  His eyes, 
however.  There was something about his eyes, they way they 
sparkled, the way they seemed to burn through you with their 
intensity, that spoke of fevered insanity.  But his manner 
and appearance were so at odds with the facts Shirak knew of 
Galeck's son that the mage found himself doubting the boy's 
identity.  
     "I say, you are Galeck's son, aren't you?  I was told 
that he was deathly ill, yet you appear to be perfectly 
healthy."
     "Aw, yeah, I was a mite under the weathah for a while.  
But I'm feeling much bettah now.  Soon I reckon they'll be 
lettin' me have me stroll through the woods again, eh?"
     "Well, it seems that either Galeck called me here for 
some other purpose, or he is wasting my time.  Either way, 
it was pleasant to meet you."
     "Aw, sir, the pleashah was all mine," The boy said, in 
his peculiar accent.  Forgetting that the boy was fettered, 
Shirak extended his hand to take his leave. 
     A momentary flash of manic glee was all the warning 
Shirak recieved as the boy lunged forward and bit his hand, 
sinking his teeth in and ripping away a sizable chunk of 
flesh.  Shirak jumped an amazing distance for one who led 
such an academic life, straight backward, catching himself 
on his chair and tumbling to the ground, his scream of pain 
drowned out by the deranged hyena laughter of the boy.
     "So, I see you've met my son," Galeck said as he helped 
Shirak off the floor, an amused tone bordering on laughter 
in his voice, "The fact that he's lashed to the chair wasn't 
warning enough for you?"
     "But, the way he talked.. I mean, he looks.."
     "Damnedest thing, isn't it?  He can act as innocent as 
a lamb one moment, and then turn on you like a wolf."
     "Are you certain he's sick and not just possessed?"  
Shirak asked, but Galeck motioned for them to leave.  When 
the sound of the boy's sadistic pleasure faded behind them, 
he answered.
     "I'm positive.  I've had everyone I could think of in 
to treat him.  Priests of every cloth, mages of every kind 
imaginable, leeches and sawbones and old wives and anyone 
else who looked like they might be able to help."  He 
lowered his voice to a stage-whisper, "Even a few of the 
more... unsavory types, if you understand me."  Shirak did, 
and was amazed by the amount of trust--or desperation--
Galeck showed by admitting having traffic with witches and 
dark priests.  "If it was a deamon, High Priest Buraka would 
have known.  And if not him, then certainly Mistress Krendel 
of the Green Horror.  No, those few who know anything about 
it tell me that it is a close cousin of the Mage's Blight."  
He cleared his throat, and continued, "Which is why I have 
asked you here.  I have it from reliable sources that you 
are close to curing the Blight."
     "Not exactly a cure, honored sir, more of a radical 
treatment."
     "How radical?"
     "So radical that it may well be years before it is safe 
to use."  Inwardly, Shirak grimaced at how true that 
actually was.  "I caution you against false hopes."  
     "That isn't acceptable," Galeck said flatly, his tone 
hardening, "They tell me he'll die within the year."
     "Him?  He looks healthy enough.  Surely..."
     "Healthy looking, yes, but inside?  The madness is 
burning him alive.  Even I can see that he can't go on like 
this much longer."
     "Surely there are charms and sorceries that will keep 
him sedated?"                     
     "He's under as many enchantments and spells and potions 
as my best mages can manage without killing him right now, 
and you saw how little effect they have!  Doesn't your 
Blight act this way?"  Shirak nodded.
     "So you want me to use my process for treating the 
Blight to save your son?"  Galeck nodded.  "I'm sorry, but I 
can't condone that.  The process is far too experimental!"
     "Do it, wizard.  The risk doesn't matter anymore.  If 
there is a chance that it will save him, it is worth 
trying."
     "But the boy could die, or be changed beyond 
recognition!  There's no telling how much of your son will 
be left afterward."  Galeck sighed, a heavy, mourning sound.
     "Wizard, my son died a long time ago.  That... thing 
back there." He jerked his thumb back toward the room where 
the lunatic's laughter was dying down to giggling fits. 
"Killed him.  If there's a chance of salvaging anything of 
my boy, I'll take it.  No matter the cost.  What do you 
want, Wizard?  Name anything, and I'll pay it."
     "I ask nothing, noble sir.  If you insist on this 
treatment, I will do everything I can to restore your child 
to health, but... you must swear a sacred oath that you will 
not seek vengance against me if this treatment does not meet 
your expectations."
     "Of course.  By my eternal salvation, I swear it."
     "Excelent.  Well, if we're going to do this, then 
there's no time to lose.  I will return to my laboratories 
immediately and bring back a conveyance suitable for 
transporting such a volatile cargo."
     "My thanks are yours, Wizard.  I am eternally in your 
debt.  Oh, and I'll send someone to your room with bandages 
for your hand."
     "Don't thank me yet." Shirak said as he turned to 
leave. "Save your thanks until the treatment is done."
	
     A week later, a large coach came to a halt before the 
castle.  Shirak stepped out, and introduced Galeck to D'san, 
who bowed and made such obiesances as were appropriate.  The 
ordeal of transporting the madman from his room to the coach 
was made more problematic by the fact that he seemed to pass 
through magical restraints with little or no effort.
     "You see?" Galeck said, "Magic hardly seems to touch 
him."
     "Sir," D'san whispered aside to Shirak, "Won't that 
prove problematic?"
     "It's something we'll have to overcome anyway, if the 
process is to work on me later on.  I think he'll do just 
fine."  Shirak whispered back.  More loudly, he said, "There 
is no problem here.  If we can't restrain him with magic, we 
can simply leave him in the chair.  Behold."  With a flicker 
of his hands, the mage set the chair in motion, hovering it 
inches above the floor before propelling it out of the room, 
and pacing it several feet in front of them all the way to 
the coach.  D'san latched the coach door shut, and with no 
further delay they left, heading north for the laboratories.
 
     "Well, now, boy, pay attention." Shirak said to the 
levitated youth much later, back at the laboratory, "I'm 
going to explain the process to you.  I doubt that you'll 
understand much of it, but I want to see if you can remember 
any of it after the process."
     "Aw, come on, admit it."  The boy said in his 
disarmingly charming way, "You just wanna show off, 
doancha?"  Shirak still found it hard to believe that the 
boy bound hand and foot behind him was really the same 
lunatic monster he'd glimpsed before, but he had a nasty 
gouge in his hand to remind him not to let his gaurd down.
     "I won't argue that." he replied, walking down a 
corridor and propelling the prince ahead of him at a safe 
distance with a gesture of his hand, "Now, as I said, pay 
attention.  The disease afflicting you is highly resistant 
to magic and utterly incurable by normal methods."  He came 
to a stop in front of a large panel window, looking down on 
a wide holding pen.  Below them in the pen, several vaugely 
bovine shapes milled about.  "This was our Phase I 
experiment.  We afflicted cows with a disease similer to 
yours, and then applied our treatment.  We took other 
animals, who proved to be immune to the disease, and 
combined their tissues and traits with those of the 
afflicted cows.  To do this, we had to magically alter the 
basic features to an amalgam state."
     "An amal-what?"
     "Amalgam.  We made the cow's tissues similer enough to 
those of the other creature that they could co-exist when 
the same process was applied to the other creature's 
tissues, giving them properties like those of a cow."
     "Oh, so you just made 'em sorta half-n-half, part cow 
and part somethin else.  Kinda like makin your own 
werewolves."
     "Smart boy." Shirak nodded, "Yes, it is a bit like 
that.  We then observed which tissues produced the best 
resistance to the disease, and used this information in the 
next Phase of our experiments."  The wizard moved on, 
sending the lad ahead of him.  They stopped in front of a 
larger window farther down the corridor.  "Now this is where 
the fun really begins.  Here we are doing what only gods and 
savants have ever dared."  In the pen below them, several 
shapes with varying degrees of human shape were huddled.  
     "By the Ten, what are they?" The lad asked.
     "Not the work of the Ten, boy, but my creations.  We 
really haven't finished this Phase yet, but you can see our 
early sucesses.  We took various tissues from human beings, 
manipulated them magically into a quantity and form we could 
use, infected them, and then used the amalgamation process 
from Phase I to combine them with animal tissues, imbuing 
the beasts with human-like traits while giving the human 
tissues immunity to the disease.  Below you can see the 
results.  Of course, a high percentage of our attempts 
proved to be degenerate, but that is to be expected.  We 
are, after all, practicing an art never seen before."  
Looking down, the boy could see the poor souls the wizard 
spoke of.  Twisted, mishappen, painful to look at, they 
gibbered and screamed and writhed about in their agony.  
"But the others, boy, the others!  Are they not beautiful?"  
The others he referred to were shambling about aimlessly in 
the pen.  The prince had to admit that they did have a 
certain sort of beauty about them.  Humanoid in body, animal 
in feature, they ranged from rabbit to cat and from squirrel 
to wolf.  Despite their humanoid shape, however, it was 
obvious that there was no spark of human intellect in their 
brains.
     "I doano, they look a mite on the dim side, if you ask 
me."
     "Well, yes," Shirak admitted, "Altering the brain has 
proved to be most problematic.  Most of the degenerates were 
created when we became too ambitious with the brain 
amalgamation.  For some reason, it resists our efforts.  Not 
to worry, though, we will prevail."  Shirak began pushing 
the boy forward, "Anyway, onward to Phase III, which is what 
you should be most interested in."  
     As they left, the boy noticed a group of creatures that 
he'd missed before.  Huddled near each other in the corner 
just below the window, they were almost completely hidden 
from view.  If he hadn't looked back just when he had, the 
boy would have missed them entirely.  These subjects had the 
well-formed bodies of the shamblers he'd already seen, but 
they were obviously different.  One, a feline of some sort, 
saw him looking and alerted the others with a soft cough.  
They all looked up at him, and he was surprised to see a 
very human anger smouldering in their eyes.  Several of the 
shamblers stopped, their vacant expressions replaced with 
malice.  The boy almost laughed when he realized that Shirak 
was being outsmarted by his own creations.  Then the window 
passed out of view, and with it went the vision of burning, 
hating eyes. 
     "Well, here we are, then."  Shivak said, coming to stop 
in front of yet another window.  This one, however, gave a 
view of an empty chamber.
     "What, you made 'em all invisable?"
     "No, this is the holding pen for Phase III subjects.  
Once the process is done, it will be your home."
     "What?"  The friendly, open tone had vanished, replaced 
with a voice that dripped with evil and ill-intent.
     "You are going to be our very first Phase III subject.  
You should feel most honored.  We already have the perfect 
beast chosen for you."  Shirak looked over at the enraged 
boy and smiled.  "Maybe this will teach you not to bite 
people."
     "No!  You can't do this to me!"
     "I can, and I will.  Of course, I doubt that we'll get 
the process exactly right, but then, that's why we call it 
experimentation, yes?  Look at it this way, your sacrifice 
will greatly advance the progress of knowledge.  Isn't that 
exciting?"  The boy told Shirak exactly where he and the 
progress of knowledge could go and what they could do with 
each other, with a degree of vivid detail and graphic 
explicitness that left Shirak wondering what sort of people 
the boy had been exposed to before he became infected.  
"Well, I can see that you just aren't going to be up to any 
decent conversation anytime soon.  I suppose we had better 
return you to your cell."  With that, Shirak sent the boy on 
his way, marching him back to the "guest room" they had 
prepared for him.  
     The next day preparations began for the grand 
experiment.  D'san was pleased to see that his mentor was 
practically beside himself with anticipation and seemed to 
have shaken off the melancholy that had been afflicting him.  
After all, when Shirak was unhappy, he made certain that 
every one felt much the same.  Woe betide a cheerful fool 
who crossed paths with the mage when he was in one of his 
dark moods, which came more and more frequently as time went 
by.  D'san feared that these moods were a precursor to the 
Blight's inflamation, though he kept that to himself.  The 
thought filled him with dread, though not for Shirak's sake.
     'Please, may he live a few years longer', the aide 
silently prayed, though he strongly disavowed all gods, 
'There are only a few things more I need to learn.  I can't 
let the bastard die now, when I've gained his confidence and 
am so close.  The old fool doesn't realize the potential of 
what he has discovered.'  
     "D'san!" Shirak's voice called from behind him.  D'san 
quickly banished any thoughts but those he wanted Shirak to 
know of.  Few mages actually possessed the ability to 
casually read the mind, but one could never be truly sure, 
especially with one of Shirak's stature.  "D'san, my boy, 
how soon will it be ready?" 
     "The apprentices are setting the wards and underlying 
magics in place right now, sir, and the lion you chose is 
being prepared for sedation.  We should be ready to 
undertake the major stages of the process within three days, 
with any luck."
     "Then it will be done in three days, luck or no."  
D'san bowed.
     "Of course, sir."  The aide paused, hesitant to openly 
question his mentor's judgement, but decided to voice his 
doubts anyway.  "Sir, about the lion.  Are you sure it's 
wise to use that one in particular?"
     "What do you mean?"
     "Well, the beast has already demonstrated an innate 
grasp of elemental magic.  Sir, you are adding variables in 
what is already a very chaotic experiment.  I do not doubt 
your judgement, sir, but will this wild factor not 
invalidate our data?"  Shirak sighed, though he did not seem 
as displeased with the question as D'san had expected.  His 
sigh seemed intended more toward the state of the world in 
general than at D'san.
     "D'san, my boy, what do you know about true genius?"
     "Only that it resides in you, sir."  That earned an 
approving smile.
     "Besides that.  You claim you recognize genius in me, 
but do you know what genius truly is?  Can you define it, 
outside of your one example?"  D'san thought his answer out 
carefully, as Shirak expected him to.
     "No, sir, not having experienced it first hand, that is 
to say, not being such a genius myself, I don't believe I am 
qualified to say what genius is."  Shirak nodded, letting 
D'san know that he'd given the answer that was expected.
     "Very good.  Now, I will tell you what genius is.  It 
is not merely a matter of intellect, though assuredly, that 
is a great part of it.  No, what separates brilliance and 
cleverness from genius is one thing: instinct.  I have an 
instinct for magic, just as that lion does.  And my 
instinct, my intuition, tells me to use this subject.  I 
believe that wild talent you fear just may be the factor 
that decides this experiment for the better."
     "I understand, sir.  My only question now is about the 
repeatability of the experiment.  If it succeeds, and your 
instincts are true, where will we find another such beast?  
Finding this one was merely by the purest chance."
     "Yes, but that is because we did not seek animals with 
such a talent.  Beasts exist that posses magic naturally.  
They are a bit harder to catch because of that, but if it 
makes the process work, it will be worth it.  By the Ten, 
I'll hunt down manticores and Asmodacus himself if need be.  
Whatever happens, D'san, I will survive, do you hear me?  I 
will survive!"  Towards the end, Shirak's voice rose to an 
angry shout.
     "Yes, sir, of course.  I do not doubt you."  D'san's 
meek reply calmed Shirak's sudden inexplicable rage.  Shirak 
sighed, this time for himself alone.
     "So it begins." He pronounced, shaking his head.  
"Inform me when all is ready." He ordered D'san, as he 
walked away.
     "Yes, sir."  D'san toadied, then, when Shirak was out 
of earshot.  "So it begins, indeed."

     "Sir, the room has been prepared, and both subjects are 
ready, if not terribly happy about it.  There is one 
problem, though."  D'san informed Shirak a few days later.
     "Yes?"
     "The boy, sir.  He isn't responding to any method of 
sedation.  We've tried potions, elixirs, magic, even using 
the light fixation technique you suggested.  Which reminds 
me, when you have the time, I'd like to talk with you about 
that technique.  I'd like to understand exactly how it 
works.  It looks like magic, but from what you say, anyone 
can do it.  I..."
     "Hit him over the head with something."  Shirak said, 
sounding as though he had ignored the entire last half of 
what D'san had said.
     "Sir?"  
     "The boy.  Take something fairly heavy and just smash 
him over the head with it.  Talk to one of the physicians, 
they should know the best spot."
     "Yes, sir."  D'san said, sounding hesitant and a bit 
troubled.  "Um, you were serious, right?"
     "Yes, very serious.  Can you think of any other way to 
make the boy unconcious?"
     "Uh, no.  I just thought that..."
     "D'san, my boy, I may be about to make history, and 
find the cure that I have been seeking for years.  Don't 
bother me with details."
     "Yes, sir.  The boy will be ready when you arrive."
     "Good.  See that he is."

     The boy was indeed unconcious when Shirak arrived to 
begin, though he had the physician make certain that he was 
otherwise without permanent harm.  Once the boy's health was 
established, the lion was brought in, and the two subjects 
lay side by side, both senseless.  
     "Are you sure of this, sir?" D'san asked, one last 
time.  "It isn't too late to consider another.."
     "I am certain.  Poor D'san, you can't feel it, can 
you?"
     "Feel what, sir?" D'san confirmed.
     "Destiny.  Fate.  Good luck, if you want to call it 
that.  Forces are aligning in our favor, my boy, and if you 
were sensitive enough, you could probably feel it.  
Everything is perfect.  We may begin."  
     "Very well, sir.  Where shall we begin?"
     "With the vivisection, of course.  I have told you how 
I want the lion cut, yes?"
     "Yes, sir, most explicitly."
     "Very good.  You and the other task mages can handle 
the lion, then, and I will deal with the boy."  They went 
about their seperate tasks, D'san's pride still smarting 
from being lumped together with mere task magi.  
     'A task mage, am I?' he thought, 'When the time comes, we 
will see who is the lesser mage, prodigy or not.'  He ordered 
the magi to begin the vivisection of the lion.  Gathering 
their magics, they formed etherial blades, sharper than any 
material scalpel could be, and began to make the incisions 
as they'd been directed.  They were astonished to find that 
their blades dissapated upon contact with the lion's flesh.  
'That damned negation again!' D'san seethed, 'I told the fool 
we should have used another beast.'  Aloud, he said. "Stand 
back.  I will make all the incisions personally."
     "But, Shirak said..."
     "Silence!  I am in charge of this proceedure.  The 
ultimate responsibility lies with me."  They could not argue 
with this, and therefore they stood back, while D'san called 
upon his secret reserve of spells, magics which even Shirak 
didn't know he'd learned.  An ebony-black blade of magic 
formed at his command, and the lighting of the room seemed 
to fade and dim for a moment.
     "You can't make the incision with that!" One of the 
mages protested, "This requires precision and..."
     "I said silence.  I will do this as I wish, and you 
will not interfere."  D'san focused his magic in another 
spell, culled from ancient texts that dated before the 
advent of man, a spell that gave him preternatural sight, a 
sharpness of sense and motion that was inhuman.  Not 
trusting the magi to work without interfering with his 
magic, he also began weaving the preservative spells 
himself, uttering them harshly between clenched teeth as he 
began to slice through the lion's flesh, which no longer 
offered up even the slightest resistance.  What little blood 
was shed before the preservative spells took effect was 
consumed by the blade itself, which seemed to give off an 
evil sound, almost like the laughter of the damned.  On 
seeing this, one of the magi gasped in realization.
     "A vampyric blade!  D'san, this magic is forbidden!  I 
cannot stand here and let you do this!"  Without a moment of 
hesitation, without even deviating from the course of his 
cutting, D'san lashed out with the blade, slicing the mage 
in two before he could even begin to muster a defense.  As 
the blade sunk into the mage's flesh, time seemed to slow, 
and his skin seemed to deflate as the sword drank him dry, 
until only a skeletal-looking husk remained.  All the while, 
the sword's evil laughter grew louder, and if possible, more 
terrible.  D'san finished his final incisions and spells, 
aided by the power the blade was now feeding him.  He turned 
to the other mages, who shrunk back from the terrible light 
that blazed in his eyes.
     "You saw none of this.  Do you understand?"  Both of 
the remaining mages nodded.  "Good."  D'san, with a supreme 
effort of will, cast away the sword and its power.  There 
lay the danger of such a magic, the unlimited, addictive 
power it gave its user.  And all it required in return was 
blood sacrifice.  Small wonder the magic was extremely 
forbidden.  The ancient spell he still held onto let him 
read the mages' faces so well that he knew with certainty 
that neither would ever tell of what had transpired.  Having 
confirmed this, he released the last spell, and through 
another effort of sheer will, managed not to shake or fall 
as the impact of his magic and its temptations struck him.  
"Inform Shirak that we have finished, and the subject is 
ready for the next stage.  I will await his leisure in my 
room."  D'san actually did make it all the way to his room 
before the tremors he was hiding finally overwhelmed him.

     "D'san!"  A voice intruded upon the darkness, a voice 
distant, but insistant and familiar.  "D'san, you fool, wake 
up!"  D'san did, and was rather sorry that he did so.  
Shirak was standing above him, shaking him.  "We need to 
begin the next stage now.  Unless you would rather I gave 
that honor to some other mage?"  D'san was quickly on his 
feet.
     "No, sir, I'm ready.  I must have fallen asleep while 
waiting."
     "Well, you should have yourself checked out.  You don't 
look well, and I can't have you falling sick at this point 
in the scheme of things."  D'san, did, indeed, look 
terrible, his face drawn and pale, looking almost anemic.
     "I'll manage, sir.  You can count on me."
     "There's a good lad.  Now, come along, we've got to 
start the amalgamation process while the preservative spells 
still hold.  Mine will hold for a few days, but what with 
the task mages working with you, we can't be certain of the 
lion.  We'll begin there, and then do the boy."  D'san had 
never seen the wizard in such high spirits, and the mood was 
infectious, despite his exhaustion.  Besides which, this was 
the moment D'san had been waiting for.  The amalgamation 
magic was Shirak's best kept secret, and it was one of the 
final elements D'san needed to learn to understand the 
entire process. 
     "Sir, if you would show me what to do, we could devide 
the labor again."
     "Oh, there is no need for that, D'san, no need at all."
     "But, sir..."
     "I said no, D'san, do not make me repeat myself again."
     "Yes, sir." D'san replied, keeping his tone carefully 
neutral.  'Damn!  It's as if he knows what I'm planning.'  
That thought gave the aide a moment of terror, before he 
realized that if the old man did know, he would have killed 
D'san by now.  D'san found that to be a distinctly odd sort 
of comfort.  
     The amalgamations went smoothly, with D'san handling 
all of the routine magic, which kept him busy enough that he 
missed most of what Shirak did, which, D'san was beginning 
to suspect, might have been the whole point.  Again D'san 
wondered if the wizard might know of his intentions, and 
again he dismissed the worry as irrelevant.  Once the 
amalgamation was complete, the tissues were ready to be 
joined, and for that, all the other magi were dismissed, 
D'san included.  D'san protested, of course, for the joining 
was another process he wanted to learn, though not so badly 
as the amalgamation process.  After all, he'd seen it done 
during Phase II, though that was hardly as ambitious and 
complex as this would be.  He was confident that, if need 
be, he could decipher the joining on his own.  His protests, 
however, fell on deaf ears.
     "This is past the point of magical process, boy." 
Shirak said, a tone bordering on religious ecstacy in his 
voice, "This is sheer art!  I will not be disturbed from it, 
not even by you.  Now go!"  And in the face of that, D'san 
went, consoling himself with the knowledge that, even if he 
did not learn the process this time, Shirak would have to 
teach him eventually.  After all, skilled though the wizard 
was, he could hardly perform the vivisection and joining on 
himself.  
     Alone with the two amalgamated, vivisectioned subjects, 
Shirak began the joining.  First, in his mind, he invisioned 
the creature that would result, half man, half lion, 
picturing how he would integrate each feature.  
     'The lion's tan fur... yes, that would be good... and the 
prince's red hair... integrated into the mane, oh, yes that 
is good.  Very good, actually.  The face... hmmm... 
basically leonine, but perhaps soften the features... yes, 
like that, bring the cheekbones in, and the eyes... use the 
tissues from the lion for that, but perhaps... ah, yes, that 
will solve the color problem.  Hmm, not a bad shade of 
amber, actually.  Now, the limbs.. basically humanoid, of 
course... but the fingers will be a slight challenge.  Twice 
as much tissue as I need, come to think of it, might as 
well... yes, human fingers, remove the ends and amalgamate 
with... retractable.... yes, that will be very good.  Boy 
should thank me for this... he was kind of puny, really, and 
now... By the Ten, he's beautiful.  And mine.  My creation, 
my genius displayed in living flesh.  Hmmm... how to work 
the teeth and digestive... well, best of both... probably 
favoring carnivorous would be best... use as much of the 
lion's muscle as possible... and now the brain...' 
	Shirak's hands began to weave the magic that would 
start the joining, using the mental image as a guideline.  
The two bodies seemed to melt and flow together under his 
command, not quite seeming liquid, yet neither seeming 
solid.  The bones and flesh began to twist together, some 
parts fusing, some being discarded altogether.
     'Strange, so strange... The boy's tissues resist, try to 
fight me every step of the way, but the lion's tissue... 
like it's seeking the joining... wanting to be made whole... 
wait, no, it's going too fast!  The magic... NONE of the 
tissues respond, they act of their own will now... it's as 
though the lion's tissues are devouring those of the boy... 
fascinating... I never imagined... wait... the brain!  Oh, 
by the Ten and all holiness, I never finished mapping out 
the joining of the brain!  I've got to try... no use... 
won't respond at all... negating my magic, both tissues now, 
but both look to be seeking union... is this the power I 
sensed before?  Can this be... Destiny?'
     The process continued without his control, yet still 
according to his purpose.  The tissues began to take on the 
shape of a single humanoid body, and as Shirak watched, 
amazed, the body came to resemble the image in his mind, 
almost exactly as he'd envisioned it, though slicked down 
and coated with blood.  Shirak looked on the creature with a 
sense of wonder and astonishment that he'd not felt in all 
his jaded life.  'Destiny,' He thought again, 'There can be no 
other way.  But the brain...'  His musings were cut off as 
the creature opened its eyes, and drew its first breath.  
     "How do you feel?"  Shirak asked, hopeful of an 
intelligable answer.  The creature produced several grunts 
and growls, much to the wizard's disappointment.  Another 
failure.  Another mindless shell.  'No, I won't accept that!  
Destiny cannot be denied!'  "I ask again, how do you feel?"
     The creature again responded with soft growls and 
rumblings, but this time, it was almost recognizable as 
words.  "Hrrrrow... frr.. free... frreeel?"  Understanding 
dawned on Shirak.
     "AH!  You are trying to speak, but the speech center of 
your brain is human-amalgam, while your vocal cords are 
lion-amalgam as well as human-amalgam!  No wonder you're 
having trouble!  Well, keep trying lad!  I'm sure you can do 
it."  Shirak was positively bubbling over with glee.  The 
creature continued to try, but it had little success.  Hard 
consonants were nearly impossible, though rolling words were 
almost right.  
     "Wharrrr arre ah?"  It took Shirak a minute to 
interpret the question.
     "You are in my laboratory.  What do you remember?"
     "Rrrerrrerrerr??"  
     "Hmmm.  Well, you'll need to be able to talk before I 
can accurately judge your intelligence.  Keep at it, my boy, 
my child, keep at it, and I will return in a moment!"  
Shirak burst out of the room, bowling over D'san, who was 
standing at the door, looking suspiciously as though he'd 
been listening.  
     "D'san!  D'san!"  Shirak called, and then looked down 
and noticed his assistant on the floor, "D'san, there you 
are!  Get off the floor and come see what I've done!  It's 
perfect, and it's trying to speak!  Imagine, D'san!  It 
could be the prince's mind, completely healed!"  D'san, 
however, was unable to share his mentor's joy.
     He was too busy looking at the stars that had exploded 
through his head when the door contacted with his nose.

     "It was not to be, however."  Basil told, "Upon 
awakening, the creature had no personal memory at all.  The 
prince was lost forever, died giving birth to this strange 
new being.  The creature, whom Shirak named Unsai, meaning 
"first", did learn to speak, though it was a long time 
before the act of speech became comfortable or easy.  The 
creature had much of the prince's knowledge, though none of 
his mind, and proved as intelligent as Shirak had hoped.  
Shirak allowed himself the luxury of true hope for the first 
time since learning of his affliction."  The elf gave her 
harp a final strum before draining her last mug.  She made a 
good show of packing the harp back in its case, expecting 
that Gerok would complain at any minute.  To her surprise, 
it was another patron who spoke up.
     "What, that's it?  What about D'san?  What was he 
planning?  What happened with the Phase II creatures?  How 
did Stormsinger.. or Unsai or Firemane or whatever he was 
called... get to the Nine Realms?  What.."  Basil interupted 
him, as she'd been planning to do all along.
     "There are answers to those questions."  She smiled.  
"But that is another tale entirely, and it is far to late to 
begin such an epic."  A quick glance confirmed what she'd 
already suspected.  Gerok was on the floor, out cold, the 
mug he'd been drinking from spilled beside him and its 
contents seeping into his beard.  Dwarves did usually have a 
high tolerance for alcohol, but somehow Gerok managed to 
drink enough to be carried home despite being so 
handicapped.  
     "Closing time, people."  Tenkai announced, "Somebody 
take the dwarf with them on the way out.  I have enough to 
clean up already."  Everyone rose to leave, and as Basil 
stood there was a smattering of actual applause.  
Considering the source, that was high praise, and Basil was 
obliged to take a bow.  As everyone slowly filed out, Tenkai 
caught the elf's eye and motioned for her to remain where 
she was.  When the tavern was empty and the last patron had 
left, Gerok slung over his shoulder like a very odiferous 
sack of potatoes, Tenkai sat down next to her.
     "That was a good story, and well told.  And if I did 
know any better, I'd swear you'd really never told it 
before, but had to pull it together as you went along."
     "It isn't a.."
     "Sorry, tale, then.  I didn't mean to offend you.  In 
fact, I was actually wondering if you were the type who'd be 
interested in stable employment."
     "You serious?  Me, a regular employee?"  Immediately 
Basil got the unpleasant claustophobic feeling that came 
with the idea of any sort of permanence in her life.  Tenkai 
noticed, and understood.  She'd dealt with the type before.
     "No, no, you misunderstand.  I'm offering you a deal.  
I know how you feel about being tied down, so right off I'll 
say that you aren't obligated to me in any way.  What I'm 
suggesting is that we arrange a regular time when you can 
come and be sure of a good audience."
     "Why?  I mean, I like the idea, but what's in it for 
you?"  Tenkai laughed.
     "Good girl.  Don't trust anyone, you'll go far.  Look, 
you may not have noticed, but everyone got so caught up in 
your st.. tale that they didn't bother to keep track of 
their tabs.  They go so involved they lost track of time, so 
they stayed longer, and drank more.  Hells, I even had to 
open the kitchen, people started ordering late dinners and 
such.  Besides, the way you ended that back there, everyone 
will want to know when you'll tell the other half of the 
tale.  None of them will want to miss it, and I'd wager 
they'll bring friends, too.  You're a good bard, kid, you've 
got a lot of talent, and the fact that you're pretty doesn't 
hurt.  How did you like the arrangement tonight?"
     "I can't complain about the pay, and the drinks were 
good, even if you did start watering them toward the end."  
Tenkai made a small gesture of culpability.
     "Sorry about that, it's just one of the tricks of 
running this place.  When it gets late and they don't know 
if they're drinking wine or water, give them both.  Saves 
them the confusion, you see?"  Tenkai laughed at her own 
joke, and Basil joined in, out of courtesy.  "I didn't mean 
to water your wine, but I guess it's just a habit by now.  
It won't happen again."  Tenkai thought about it.  "Well, at 
least not so long as your working.  If you're a customer, 
you get what everyone else gets."  Basil made a note of 
that, and wondered if the other taverns in town had a 
similer policy.  "Well, kid, what do you say?  Once a week, 
same deal as tonight?"  Basil was interested, but still 
hesitant.  It still set off warning alarms in her heart, 
with feeling of being trapped and tied down.
     "Can you give me some time to think about it?"
     "Sure thing, kid.  Just do me a favor, and don't tell 
the other half of that tale until you give me an answer, all 
right?"
     "Sure, no problem.  Mind if I take a room upstairs?"
     "I happen to have one free.  If, of course, you can 
part with the coin for it?"  Basil sighed.  Deals or no, 
there was still no such thing as a free lunch.