Changer (Athanor) (78 page)

When he arrives hours later, the Changer needs very little explanation.  He listens to their report in silence, his single yellow eye almost unblinking, his hand (for he had shifted human-form) resting on Shahrazad’s head.

“We go, then,” he says, when Anson finished his speech, “and I thank you both.”

He tilts his head to one side so that his gaze can rest on Shahrazad.  “You are nearly old enough to be left alone now, little girl.  Yet…”

Again the tilting of the head, the inspection by the yellow eye, this time of the Sea King and the Spider.

“But I am reluctant to do so.  Twice she has been used against me: once when my enemy would have killed my family to set me on Lilith, once when they kidnapped her.”  He makes a dry sound that passes for an ironic chuckle.  “I have a weakness, and she is a few pounds of baby coyote.  Shall I leave her where she may be safe but I shall wonder, or shall I take her with me?”

Anson tosses the pup a chunk of donut.  “She danced the Harmony Dance, Changer.  How much longer must you fool yourself that she is a pup to be sent on her own way when she reaches six months or a year?  She is one of us.”

Duppy Jonah nods and, to emphasize his point, gets on his knees so that he can stroke the coyote pup. “This is my niece, Changer.  You have had young before, but most take after their mothers.  This one has found her heritage young.  Let us bring her with us, have her declared in Harmony.  She will be guaranteed a juvenile’s protection within the Accord.  It is more than you alone can do for her.”

The Changer smiles one of his rare, open smiles.  “Good.  You’ve convinced me to do what I wanted to do.  Now I am certain that Shahrazad will be safe even when I must leave her.”

As they spiral down the mountain roads toward the outspread gleam of the city lights, the Changer asks question after question, formulating his plans.

“Drop me off near the fairgrounds,” he says.  Then he glances at his nudity, which to this point had not been an issue between them.  “No, I will need clothing.”

“And we will need to put Shahrazad somewhere safe.”  Anson chuckles.  “We cannot bring a coyote to a place filled with livestock.  It would not be fair to her.”

The three men frown.  Shahrazad whines sadly.

“Can we put her in a room at the hacienda?” Duppy Jonah asks.  “Or will she howl?”

“She may howl, but she knows the place, so she may not.”  Anson drums his fingers along the steering wheel.  “This is the answer.  I will call ahead.  We will drive around, maybe get something to eat, until we are told that Sven and his crew have left.  Then we go to the hacienda, get some clothes for the Changer, and put Shahrazad in the care of some stay-at-home.  Then we head to the Fair.”

The Changer nods.  “Make your call.”

For Rebecca Trapper, the wonders of the State Fair, revealed in the light of early evening, are almost enough to make her forget her uneasiness regarding Sven Trout.  She had grown to maturity hearing from her Aunt Swansdown and the Olsens the legends of the athanor.  In these Sven Trout, by his various names, had often had an unsavory role.

Yet, watching him stroll along, dressed now in jeans and a garish Western shirt, cotton candy in one hand, an inflatable rubber hammer in the other, she cannot find him a figure of fear.

The Head is easier to fear.  Like most of the theriomorphs, this is his first outing of this sort, but even the satyrs’ open lust as they stare at the pretty girls in their short skirts or tight pants, as they whistle admiringly at the cleavage revealed by low-cut blouses, is warming and natural compared to the grasping avarice and weird complacency with which the Head gazes around from his mismatched eyes.

“It’s as if he has seen the world,” Rebecca whispers to Bronson, resisting an urge to cling to his hand, “and not only has he decided that it is good—he’s decided to have it gift-wrapped and sent to him at his hotel.”

Bronson grunts agreement.  “I won’t let him harm you, dear.  Now, what do you want to see next?”

“Swansdown and the Olsens want to take the children on the rides.  The
kappa
want to go, too, but I’d rather see the Indian Arts Building.”

“We can split into smaller groups.”  Bronson reaches into his sleeve pocket.  “I have a watch.”

“Let’s do that then.”

They have just finished making arrangements with the other yeti and sasquatches when two voices call out.

“Rob!  Rob!”

Looking over they see Chris Kristofer and Bill Irish hurrying up.  The two men seem genuinely pleased to see “Rob.”

Bronson quietly notes that they did not have any trouble picking one green-robed figure out of the group.  Maybe they hadn’t blended in quite as well as Rebecca had thought.

Rebecca shakes Chris’s hand, noticing again how big her own is in contrast, and dips a bow to Bill.  He bobs back.

“Having fun?” Bill says.

“Yes.”  Rebecca gestures to Bronson.  “This is my… best friend, Bronson.”

“I think we saw you this morning,” Chris says, looking up into the hairy face.  “Pleased to meet you.”

“And I you.”  Bronson offers his huge hand briefly.

With instinctive caution, Swansdown and Snowbird have moved the rest of their group along, so more introductions are not needed.  Demetrios lingers on the fringes, but seeing Georgios licking his lips and leering after a pretty Hispanic girl, he hurries to defuse the situation.

Bill asks, “Where you headed next?”

“We were going to see the Indian Arts Building,” Rebecca says shyly.  “We’ve just finished looking at the Spanish art.”

“Want a local guide?” Chris asks.  “I’d say ‘native,’ but that has other meanings around here.  I’m no expert, but I do know an inlay from an overlay.”

Rebecca notices that Bill’s gaze has wandered after a couple of pretty high-school girls.

“Do you know Indian art, too, Bill?  I mean, I wouldn’t want you to be bored.  And we’d be stealing your friend.”

Bill shrugs resignedly.  “I’ll come along.  It’s not as if I’ll have any luck with the babes.  I’m cursed.”

“You should talk to our friend Georgios.”  Rebecca giggles.

“No!” Bronson says firmly, taking her elbow and steering her toward the Indian Arts Building.

“Did someone call for Georgios?” says a voice filled with lusty enthusiasm.  The satyr comes up, Demetrios trailing behind.

Chris quickly offers his hand.  “I think we met last night in the Pyramid Club.  Rob was saying that you could teach my poor young friend something about getting girls.”

“Nobody does it better,” Georgios says smugly.

Over both Bronson and Demetrios’s protests, Bill is escorted off, linked arm and arm with Georgios.  Rebecca notices that Chris looks as pleased as Bronson does worried.  She wonders about it for a moment, then decides to relax.  They’re all blending in wonderfully.  There’s no need to be concerned.

At the main gates into the fairgrounds, the Changer stands with Eddie, Anson, and Duppy Jonah.  Arthur is already somewhere on the grounds escorting one group of theriomorphs.  Vera is with another, Jonathan with a third.  Sven had insisted on guiding a fourth and no one had been able to come up with a polite reason why he should not be.  The rest of the athanor are either loosely attached to one of the groups or about their own business.

The Changer looks about the milling grounds, a dissatisfied expression on his face.  “It will take hours to find Sven in this crowd if I stay a human.  I may even miss him entirely.”

“He’s certain to be with some of the sasquatch and yeti,” Eddie offers.  “The group we assigned him had the Trappers and the Snowbirds.  That should make finding him easier.”

“Still,” the Changer grumbles, “it will be easy to miss him.  I had no idea the Fair would be so crowded.  I may do better to wait until he leaves.”

“We sent over vans,” Eddie says.  “He won’t ever be alone.”

“And you’re in a worse situation if you confront him in a place where there are members of the Accord,” Duppy Jonah reminds his brother.  “He can appeal to them for protection against you and even if they don’t like it, he will be within his rights.”

“I still think,” the Changer repeats, “that finding him will be nearly impossible.”

“Then what do you want to do, eh, ancient?” Anson asks.  He’s already wandered over to a cart and purchased a large bag of buttered popcorn.

“Let me shift into a raven.  I can scout the grounds and narrow our search.”

“And your clothes?”

“I’ll give them to you.”

Duppy Jonah sighs.  “Do it.  You have a point.  And if you see Amphitrite, would you tell me where she is?”

“Gladly.”

The Changer and Anson step into an empty restroom and the change is effected.  A large black raven soars out the front door and into the twilight.

“He says,” Anson comments as he rejoins the others, “that he will shift to an owl when the full darkness comes, but he prefers to be a raven while he can.  They’re common here.”

“And what do we do?” Duppy Jonah asks.

“I suppose we enjoy the Fair,” Eddie says dubiously.

Anson finishes his popcorn and licks the last of the butter from his long fingers.  “Of course we do!” he says enthusiastically.  “I’ve had enough of this health food.  I smell barbecue, sausages, pies, and caramel apples.  Let’s go!”

A grin of pure amazement glints within the rich darkness of Duppy Jonah’s beard.  “Yes, Spider, let’s go.”

Over the fairgrounds the Changer soars, catching the warm thermals from the food stands, the rides, the clustered people.

He perches on a tented bandstand beneath which a boy plays a country fiddle before a small but supportive audience.  There are several green-robed yeti in the crowd and a faun pushing a
kappa
carefully propped up in a baby carriage.  The
kappa
’s wizened features and indented skull are covered by a frilled infant’s bonnet.  The Changer examines the group carefully but finds no flame-haired Sven.

Pushing off into the air again, he soars over a long avenue lined with booths selling souvenirs and food.  He sees Jonathan Wong helping a selkie select a tee shirt, notes Vera seated on a bench instructing her charges how to eat cotton candy.

He soars on.  Near the barns where prize farm animals are waiting to be judged, he sees a pair of
pooka
giggling in a corner.  He is not at all surprised when on his second pass two more ponies wait for the judges’ inspection.

In the horse arena, Arthur Pendragon sits in the stands with a contingent that includes a few green-robed figures, the Smith, Frank MacDonald, and a brace of
kappa
sitting in their laps.

Passing back over the avenue, the Changer sees Anson purchasing hats from a vendor.  They resemble those worn by the Cat in the Hat in the book of that name.  The ancient shapeshifter pauses long enough to watch the great and revered King of the Sea don his unlikely crown.  Then he quorks laughter and flaps toward the midway.

Full darkness is now falling, and the lights of the various rides glow and sparkle.  The Changer sweeps down to the lip of a wire trash barrel to scavenge some french fries soaked in cheese.  Thus fortified, he flies to a rooftop and turns into a small owl.

Continuing his search, he lands between the cars on a towering Ferris wheel.  He sees several green robes in line and soars down to check their company.