Doctor Falanine burst through the door of the office of the
Primalate, breathless from his leap to the second floor. From behind his desk,
the Primalate looked over the tops of his glasses and ceased reading the report
before him.
“Yes, what is it, Julian?”
“Sir, I think… I think we’ve done it!”
The Primalate leapt to his feet. “You’ve done it! Well, sit
down, Julian. Tell me more. Do the others agree with you? Here have a glass of
water.”
The Primalate poured some greenish fluid into a cup and
brought it over to the doctor who crouched, almost croaking with delight.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and his long tongue curled over
the cup and brought the liquid to his broad, round lips. Quenched, he
continued.
“There was a breakthrough last evening. The compounds we had
been seeking were all of a sudden, literally oozing from the ground. We had
searched everywhere, as you know. The team had been trying for months to create
it artificially, with little success and there it was. A batch of cones laying
underneath a Nether Fern in the Shallow Bog, north of the city. Germaine’s lad found it.”
“Clever boy!” shouted the Primalate. “He’ll get a good
reward for this! Now tell me, how long before we can test the compound on the
volunteers?”
“I should think we’ll have the first batch ready in about a
week.”
“That will do nicely. The council will be meeting at that
time to discuss the new contracts with the Earthers, and we can open a new file
with the compound as the subject. What do you propose to call it, Julian? Have
you thought of a name?”
“We have, sir. We decided that what with you being such an
ardent supporter all these months, that we would name it the Primalate Primate
Reclusion.”
“Oh, you overwhelm me, doctor!” The Primalate turned and
walked to the window with a tear in his eye. He opened the shutters and gave
forth with a mighty Jug-o-Rum! The ribbit resounded off the walls of the city
and the citizens below stopped in their tracks to look skyward.
***
The flight path of the cargo ship, N-539, showed a
glimmering purple track as it arced down from orbit to the collection centre on
the eastern edge of the port of New Carthaginia. It touched down with ease,
sending up a soft spray of greenish sludge from the platform as it did so.
Marcus Simmons sighed and turned away from the window of the control tower. He
hated that sludge. It meant another week at least, cleaning the gunk out from
the cargo ship’s jets but he knew better than to expect any different. That was
the way it was here on Phrogos V and the swampy mire of a world that it was. It
had taken decades to carve out (or dredge out) this city region and as quickly
as they cleaned up the ever-encroaching slime, it would reappear. Especially
after the dreaded rainy season.
But there was nothing to be done. Terraforming the entire planet would have
been impossible, as small as it was. And the payoff, in terms of the Calumnite
that was mined here and nowhere else in the galaxy made it profitable at least.
Highly profitable, in fact.
Having overseen the landing, Marcus turned and headed to the
elevators.
“I’ll be back in a bit, Chris. Let me know when the load has finished,” he
said, over his shoulder to the tech sitting at the console.
“Yes, sir,” came the reply. “Oh, and congratulations on young
Melody’s big day.” He added.
“Thank you. Yes, sixteen, it came along way too fast.”
“She’s a wonderful girl. Will she be headed back to Earth
for school?”
“Don’t know yet,” Marcus replied, gruffly. He didn’t want to
think about this constant conversation around his dinner table.
As he rode down in the elevator, he thought about how this
day had arrived. Eighteen years on
Phrogos, climbing the ladder from corporate envoy to president of Calbium
Mining. In a town where his word was essentially law, they might as well have
made him king. He laughed to himself. King. King of a world whose population
numbered millions, only a handful of which could speak the common language. The
rest of the native people could only croak out what their simple language would
allow. Although, he had to admit, they communicated well enough with each other
and the Phrogosian population thrived and was well- advanced in some
areas. Not as high as space travel, of course,
but were somewhere in the 20th century in their development, in
Earth-terms.
They were a particularly homely race though, at least to the
Earthers with whom they traded. The average height of a Phrogosian male was
about four foot six and although they walked upright, their large, thick-lipped
mouths and bulging eyes affixed to the sides of the heads, made them a
difficult group to sit across a conference table with. Especially when it came
to lunch time. Needless to say, except for official functions, there was very
little socializing. A couple of mixed-race criminal gangs had sprung up but
didn’t last long because of the different notions of what constituted swag.
The talks for the new set of contracts with the Phrogosian trade
delegation hadn’t been going well. There was a certain group among the younger
set, that were of the opinion that Earth was taking advantage of Phrogos and
that things needed to change. In fact,
there was one subset of these complainers, who’s insolence bordered on
rebellion. The called themselves The Web. Very dramatic, Marcus thought, although
it more properly described their feet than their interconnectedness. He decided
to pay a call on Carlos before returning to his home. Carlos Vestaberian was
the official Carthaginian trade envoy to the Phrogosian leadership. Maybe some
progress had been made. The Earth group was in a bind as only the indigenous Phrogosian
could quickly produce the amount of Calumnite needed in any particular cycle.
***
Melody Simmons (Mel to her few friends, the ‘princess’ to
her doting parents) paced about her room with a sullen look on her face. She
was a very pleasant girl if viewed in the main, but if something set her off,
she could be quite difficult. Indeed, something had set her off today. The
object of her wrath was her new shoes that were wonderful to look at but were
completely non-sensible. And she was a no nonsense sort of girl.
In reality, it was not so much any one bee in her bonnet but
the fact that she was bored stiff. She had been born two years after her
parents had arrived on Phrogos and had grown up with the city. Until she was
eight or nine, that had been fine, and she had wondered at the battle between
the forces of Earthen architecture and the sea of mire that surrounded the city
site. And the animals, well, there was another thing that she found great
excitement with. Phrogos, although most suitable to reptilian life, of course,
was not devoid of other creatures. A large variety of birds inhabited the drier
areas of the planet and in the lakes and seas, countless aquatic forms were to
be found. Including her favourite, the Quang, a large, brilliant blue cephalopod
not unlike the earth octopus. She had a small one as a pet when she was girl,
but it quickly outgrew its containment and finally had to be dealt with after
it attacked one of the day-care workers during show-and-tell day.
Once she hit her teens her main enjoyment, however, came
from any engagement that came along whatsoever, with the Phrogosians. She
enjoyed their musical speech and their way of describing things (those that
could manage the Earthen common language). They were peaceful and happy as
shown by the fact that in the entire history of the planet, there had never
been a war per se. Regional differences were settled fairly quickly and the
relatively short life-cycle of the populace, leant to them a fairly deferential
nature when dealing with each other. She was allowed for a time to attend a Phrogosian
school for a number of days each week. She even took part in a Phrogosian
theatrical production that was put on for a select audience of both races. It
was a big success. Her father had insisted that she learn as much as she could
about them as she might someday need the knowledge. She didn’t need to be
encouraged in this and when that time came to an end, she found it extremely
difficult to return fully to Earthen classes and the dull faces and concerns of
her class-mates.
Now, she was frustrated and after turning sixteen, her
frustration wasn’t just figurative. Now, here she was on the verge of seventeen
and she was without love or even strong like-ship with any of her
acquaintances.
She turned and looked down on the streets below. Things were
busy at this time of year, it being the dry season, and the large numbers of
the populace were out enjoying the rays of the sun under the dome of their
sealed-in city.
She decided to go for a walk. She changed her shoes, chose a
smart looking hat and slipped out of the house before anybody could see her
leave.
***
“It’s too risky!” Disdan, leader of The Web, croaked from
his seat in the darkest corner of the fen.
“And if we do nothing? What then?” Evangenine retorted. “You
know that winter is coming on and the Earthers won’t even consider opening the
contracts to allow for better trade. If we don’t get a better deal, our people
are going to suffer even more than they did last year.
“We have a trade commission to deal with all that.
Intervention of any kind now would only open us up to …”
“Don’t you see what they’re up to?” the youngest of them,
Faduha, interrupted. “They care for only one thing. Profit. What happens to us
is completely beside the point. And why have we organized, anyway? To hold
pitiful protests outside the gates of Carthaginia. To raid their outposts and
steal a few meals and some clothing? We aren’t even allowed to bring our
concerns to their council in person because our own council won’t recognize
us!”
“It is time for action, my brothers and sisters!” Evangenine
shouted. “We must make them wake up and notice us as something other than a
strange oddity for them to point at and make jokes about!”
“We have neither the technical power nor the military
training to do anything. It would be absurd. We would be overwhelmed within a
day,” Disdan said.
“Not if we follow Doctor Falanine’s plan. It could work, I’m
sure of it. If for no other reason than that it would give them something to
think about. A new way of looking at us.”
“What about it doctor? Are we ready to try this out?”
Doctor Falanine rose to his feet. “My friends, I am glad to
report that we are indeed ready. The genetic reconstruction formula is ready.”
“Then it has been tested? It works?”
The doctor hesitated. This was the hard part. “No. it hasn’t
been tested.”
“I told you!” Disdan shouted. “It hasn’t even been tested.”
A disappointed murmur rose from the crowd and all eyes were
on the doctor.
“It hasn't been tested because it can’t be tested. At least
not in our laboratories. It can only be tested… in the field.”
“And why is that?”
“Because the re-agent involved has to be live and
spontaneous. We will only get one crack at it and if the selected party
falters, then word will get out and the experiment will be a failure.”
“And what is this re-agent?” Evangenine
asked.
“Human saliva. Warm, live and non-contained. Our agent must
obtain this and apply it immediately and also ensure that the donor doesn’t
report them.”
“You mean kill them? In cold blood?” Faduha said, weakly. He
started to feel faint.
“As a last resort. Preferably we would have found a
collaborator.”
“How quickly will the transformation work” Disdan asked.
“We don’t really know,” Falanine replied. “It could and
should be instantaneous. At least it was in the lesser test subjects.
***
Melody sat in her usual corner of the Dupuiss Library in
Peeperville. Peeperville, so nick-named not only because it was the area of the
city frequented by young people but also because it was also one of the only
areas in which Earthers and Phrogosians intermixed, again mostly those of a
young age. It had most of the schools and the arts and culture buildings of the
city were crammed into a seven-block area. Not to mention the area assigned to
nightlife and entertainment. Not that Melody was much interested in the former.
Yet.
She turned the pages slowly, enjoying the tranquil lighting
and comfortable atmosphere of the large reading room. She sat with her back
deep in the lounging chair and one leg tucked underneath her. Suddenly, a
throaty yet youthful voice interrupted her fictional wanderings.
“You’re reading Pellenjine,” the voice said.
Melody looked up to see a young Phrogosian sitting across
the aisle at a table covered with different books.
“She’s one of my favourites,” he said.
“Yes, mine too,” Melody replied. “Although I sometimes find
her work to be too whimsical.”
“Whimsical?”
“Yes, I would like to see her sometimes connect her thoughts
through real life circumstances than rely on…” she paused.
“Allegory?” the young fellow tried. “I suppose it comes from
growing up on a world which has no seasons, where everything is pretty much the
same from year to year. One tries to use the imagination in more unusual ways. Many
of our writers are like that.
“I suppose so. Still, I love to read her.”
“I also,” he said and returned to his books. Melody noticed
how finely dressed this young Phrogosian looked and then she realized that at
the next table two heavy-set military types in plain-clothes were sitting. One
was watching them and listening to their conversation. The other was studying
the surroundings and the people coming and going.
“Friends of yours?” Melody said.
The Phrogosian looked up once more and sighed. “I’m afraid
so. They are assigned to watch out for
me when I’m in the city.”
“Watch out for you?” she said.
“Yes. Um, I suppose I should introduce myself.” He stood and
stepped over towards Melody. One of the bodyguards
started to rise as well but was waved down by his partner.
“I am Amberjine, second son to Cantrinan, ruler of the
province of North Pool.” He bowed a short, ungainly bow and held it for a
second or two as if waiting for some response that Melody had no idea how to
give. She’d heard about but never met Phrogosian royalty before.
Embarrassed slightly, Melody rose to her feet. “I am Melody
Simmons, only daughter of Marcus Simmons, the chief executive officer of New
Carthaginia.” That sounded dumb. She floundered on. “Pleased to meet you,” she
said, flushing slightly, “I’m sorry, I’ve never met royalty before. Of any
kind. Should I be doing something?”
Amberjine laughed. “Not at all. I normally don’t go around
announcing my heritage. Don’t take me for one of those.” They sat back down.
The guards relaxed.
“I come here to do research for my historical analysis of
the effects of the last few decades of the interaction between our peoples. It
is my graduating work.”
“You’re an historian?” Melody asked.
“Yes, although I like to dance as well,” Amberjine said with
a croaky laugh. “But every other cycle I come here to study.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before. I come here quite
often.”
“Ah well, that’s probably because my father arranged for a
private reading room on the upper level. I suggested to him that if I am to
write about interactions between our peoples it would make more sense to mix
in, as it were.”
“That sounds right.”
“Still, the price to pay is the constant company of my two
friends here. They’re not too bad, though,” Amberjine said, turning to the two.
“That’s Croydon and the other is Tellemine. They try to stay… inconspicuous.”
The two guards smiled politely at Melody and returned to
watching the people coming and going.
“What are they worried about here?” Melody asked. “Who would
want to harm you. And why?”
“Well, I can’t really answer that. One of the rules, I’m
afraid. I can understand my father’s fears although I think it’s a bit
overdrawn.”
“Very mysterious,” Melody said. She like this Phrogosian. He
was a strange mix of diligent upbringing and youthful skepticism. She had a
sudden thought. She almost buried it but then thought, why not? He could only
say no. “You know, my father is giving me a party next week. I’m turning 16
which seems to be a big deal. He is allowing me to invite anyone I wish, but
I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of friends.
Would you care to attend?”
The two guards looked at each other while Amberjine just
stared at Melody.
“Seriously?” he said at last. “You would like me to come
there? A non-Earther? That’s very unusual.”
“I suppose so. But it’s my party. You can bring a friend if
you wish. To help you feel more comfortable.”
“Well, you’re very kind. I do have a close friend who would probably
get a kick out of attending, I would think. I’ll question my father about it.
How can I get in touch with you?”
“You can call me at the offices of the CEO, that is where we
live. If he wants, your father could speak to my father as well.”
“All right. I will do that,” Amberjine said, and rose and
collected his books. “I should be going now.
It was very pleasant to meet you, Melody Simmons. I’ll be in touch.”
Before Melody could get up, Amberjine and his two bodyguards
trundled off to the stairs and started down. Phrogosians never took the
elevators. It wasn’t a health thing; they were scared to death of them.
***
King Cantrinan of North Pool sat under the leafy fronds of
the palace balcony and gazed out at the expanse of his kingdom. In the
distance, the domed city of New Carthaginia arose, gleaming in the midday sun.
A few shuttles scurried around outside the dome returning from delivering goods
back and forth to the trading outposts. Along with the occasional scientific
party. They looked like flies buzzing up and down to the landing elevators.
That made his highness remember that it had been several hours since eating. He
rang the bell at his side. A moment
later, his son, Amberjine appeared carrying a covered plate.
“Amberjine! What’s this? Are you a servant now?” he asked.
Amberjine smiled and laughed lightly. “I passed Minder on
the way up and carried this the rest of the way. Lunch, your highness?” he said
with a deep bow.
“Yes, I’m starving. I spend all morning with the trade
commissioner, Vestaberian. My gods, what an irritating man! The only words he
seems capable of uttering are ‘I’m sorry, your highness, it just can’t be
done”! Can’t be done? Why can’t it be done. There are only the two species on
the planet at the moment so, in theory, anything could be done!”
“Now, father,” Amberjine said softly, “simmer down. You’ll
give yourself a stroke at this rate.”
“Simmer down. You try spending four hours across from that
incredibly ugly human who has only one thought in mind. How to do us out of our Calumnite as cheaply
and quickly as possible. Thank the gods we don’t actually have any use for the
blasted stuff, or we’d be at these bargaining sessions for weeks.”
Amberjine sat down on the couch and looked at his old
father. He was a good ruler who commanded the respect of all of his subjects
and in large responded with the security and peace they desired, as well as
helping all the citizens of all the kingdoms to prosper. He loved the wise old
amphibian very much and wished he could do more to help with the Earthers.
That’s why he had secretly joined The Web. Not to take part in the protests and
such, he could never get away with that. But at least to keep tabs on their
goings on and make sure that the situation wasn’t getting out of hand. He shuddered to think how his father would react
if he learned of this subterfuge.
“Father,” he said suddenly. “I was at the library in
Carthaginia today.”
“Really,” Cantrinan replied. “Our libraries not good
enough?”
“Well, not if you want to learn about the Earthers.”
“Hmmph-rabbidd,” came the expected response his father
always gave when not convinced of something but not wanting to pursue an
argument.
“I met a girl there, Amberjine said. That made the old man
perk up. Getting Amberjine successfully married was an ongoing thorn in his
side. He dreamed of the day when he could sit and watch the tadpoles frolicking
in the birthing pond.
“An Earther…” Amberjine continued. Cantrinan fell back on
the sofa, disappointed. Again.
“Do tell,” he said with a sigh.
“Yes, quite an interesting girl. She’s the daughter of
Marcus Simmons the overlord of Carthaginia. Her name is Melody.”
Now that news perked him up again. Could this be the
beginning of Amberjine taking some sort of lead on the diplomatic front? Maybe
he had been wrong disapproving of his going there.
“Really?” he said.
“Yes, in fact we got on quite nicely. She has invited me to
a party at the dome on her birthday. I thought, if I accepted, it might be an
opportunity for you to actually speak with Simmons for some reason other than
an official function.”
“Hmmph, well when is this affair?” he asked.
“Next week. I said I would let her know, pending your
approval, of course.”
“Well, I imagine that could be arranged. With the necessary
security precautions in place, of course.”
Amberjine flushed at that. “Absolutely not, father. I’m not
going to show up at girl’s birthday celebration with an armed escort. Out of
the question.”
“Oh, very well,” said Cantrinan. “But you would take the bodyguards
with you? At least?”
Amberjine knew this was going to be a difficult joust. “Tell
you what. I’ll take Croydon. Tellemine is a distinct social liability. All
right?”
“Hmmmph-rabbidd,” said the king. Then he thought, ah well,
what harm would come of it? There was virtually no crime in the city, and after
all he would be at the abode of the ruler of the city.
“Shall I request a voice call between Marcus Simmons and
yourself?” Amberjine threw in.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary for the moment. Why don’t
we wait and see how this friendship of yours develops. You may find that she is
a complete boor, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
“Father!”
“I mean simply because she’s an Earther. They’re not exactly
the epitome of wit and grace as a group, are they?”
“Well, this one, I think, is different. At any rate thank
you father. Enjoy your lunch.”
Amberjine hurried out to make the call to Melody and contact
the Web. The King returned to his lunch. It didn’t take long for him to consume
the dozen or so ‘snails-on-grass’ on his plate.
***
Later, in the laboratory of Dr. Falanine, the Prince, Disdan
and Evangenine stood around a desk laden with beakers and softly boiling
substances.
“So,” said the doctor. “You understand what we’re asking of
you?”
“Yes,” Amberjine replied, “but I don’t feel good about it. I
mean after all, it isn’t Melody’s fault, all of this.”
“She is just a puppet, Prince,” Evangenine broke in. “Her
ignorance of the way our people are being treated by the Earthers is no excuse.
Besides, this is the perfect opportunity. Once the formula has been ingested
and the transformation taken place, a party is the best place to blend in. From
that point on, after the party, Croydon won’t be noticed in the city and he can
move about freely, gaining intelligence and passing it on as needed.”
“But is Croydon to be trusted fully?” said Disdan. “Is he
capable of this kind of maneuvering?”
“Croydon is smarter than he looks,” the Prince said,
seriously.
“He’d have to be,” said Evangenine. The Prince shot her an
angry glance, and she looked away.
“I still don’t know how I am going to obtain this human
saliva,” said the Prince.
“Any amount will do,” the doctor replied. “Even a trace, say
from a glass or cup. A cup would be ideal, actually. Then you could just add
the Primalate Reclusion and pass it on to Croydon. He hides from view, drinks
from the cup and then re-emerges in his new form.”
“Very well,” said the Prince. “I just hope this concoction
works and doesn’t just kill him on the spot.”
“We’re close to almost certain that it won’t, your
highness,” said the doctor and handed the Prince a vial of the yellow liquid.
***
The last refrain from the birthday song had faded away and
the candles on the huge cake had been blown out with repeated tries much to
everybody’s squealing delight and a happy Melody Simmons looked up and around
her group of friends. Happy and yet more than a little disappointed that the
Prince hadn’t shown up. She had asked every Phrogosian she knew to the party
(which wasn’t many) and two had actually arrived, probably because Melody had
mentioned that Amberjine would be there. It was just a little embarrassing
actually as the two were just hunkered in the corner with a plate of food. She had
been mortified when the two first arrived, a young lad named Ivankeen and his
date, Favine, as the other party goers just stood and gawked at them, and if
she hadn’t gone over to break the ice, they probably would have left. As it
was, they sat on their chairs and munched away.
Melody had made sure that the finest Phrogosian food her
cook could muster would be part of the birthday fare and he had actually done a
fair job of cooking up the Solas Eyes in Frothy Mint gravy and small bites of
Tinna root, soaked in three-salted brine. To be sure, there was going to be
plenty left over.
The more she thought about it, she started to get a little
angry with the Prince for standing her up. Who did he think he was anyway? She
was as important in her world as he was in his, wasn’t she? Notwithstanding
that you had to address him as ‘your Highness’. Now here she was, standing in a
cloud of birthday smoke, getting upset. She laughed to herself. It was as if
her boyfriend, if she had one, had run off. Then all that was forgotten as, when
the smoke cleared, there standing in the archway with his trusty bodyguard was
Amberjine.
He smiled as he came in and the room went silent. All eyes
were on him and on Melody as she approached to welcome him.
“I am so sorry, I am late,” Amberjine said, and gave a deep
bow. “There was a malfunction in the disinfection gate, and everybody had to
wait for quite a while to get in. There was a long queue.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, your highness,” Melody replied,
“that seems to be happening more and more frequently. Such an inconvenience.”
“Well,” Amberjine said, “this is a lovely hall and look at
all the guests! And that table, so extravagant, and, my goodness, are those
Solas Eyes there in the bowl? Unbelievable!
So thoughtful.”
Melody blushed. “There are two of your country men here as
well. There in the corner, Ivankeen and Favine. They will be glad you made it.”
“Ah yes, I know them! He’s studying Earther architecture,
isn’t he?”
“I believe so. Would you like to say hello?”
“Certainly!”
Melody led him over to his two compatriots, first stopping
for a plate of food.
The rest of the evening was a blur for Melody. She was
dazzled by the Prince’s wit and charm and the more she conversed with him and saw
how easily he conversed with the Earther guests, the more she began to realize
that she was in the presence of a remarkable individual.
And also, as it turned out, an amazingly skilled dancer.
When the first of the dancing was announced the awkward teens milled about not
wanting to make the first move. As per
usual. But Amberjine wasted no time in turning to Melody, offering his arm and
leading her onto the dance floor as the small orchestra began to play a popular
tune of the time.
The Prince wore gloves so as not shock any Earther with whom
he came into contact with his cold skin. But the skin was only that; cool. It wasn’t in any way slimy or reptilian. In
fact, he was covered with a fine hair that glistened under the hall lights,
having the effect of making him seem to glow a little. So, dancing with him was
no different than with anyone else, except that his muscles were all in
different places. She found it startling that he could dance so well given the
size and shape of his feet. But he never made a misstep, and her toes were left
unscathed.
Towards the end of the evening Melody realized that Amberjine’s
bodyguard, Croydon, was nowhere to be seen. She supposed he must have wandered
off in search of more adult entertainment.
As the last songs were played, the guests, one by one, began to say
their goodnights and congratulate Melody on a magnificent evening. To a person
they remarked on the wonderful impression made by the noble Prince Amberjine.
Finally, aside from one or two stragglers scarfing down the
last of the delicacies at the banquet table, Melody and the Prince were
alone.
“Well,” said Amberjine, “I suppose I should collect Croydon,
wherever he is, and take my leave. It has been a wonderful evening. Thank you
so much.”
“It was wonderful to have you here, Amberjine. It really made
my birthday a special one. Here, why don’t we go and search for Croydon
together?”
“I’m grateful. Maybe we could make a game of it. The one who
spots him first gets to ask something of the other. Sound all right?”
“That sounds like fun. Let’s go” said Melody and hurried off
down the hall.
As he watched her leave, Amberjine slid the vial of Primalate’s
Reclusion from his pocket and removing the stopper, placed a few drops into his
cheeks. About an hour ago, he had found Croydon laid out on the floor of one of
the outer rooms, sick and immobile. He had retrieved the necessary used cup all
right, but as it turned out, he was highly allergic to the fluid and passed out
after regurgitating it and the effect had failed to happen. He now sat against
a window ledge breathing deeply and nursing a splitting headache.
Amberjine followed along behind Melody until they reached
the end of the corridor that housed the room with Croydon in it. Amberjine
stopped beside the door and called to Melody.
“Let’s check in here,” he said. When Melody came back, he
opened the door revealing an embarrassed Croydon quickly getting to his feet. “Come
along,” the Prince commanded, “we’re leaving.”
“Yes, sir,” Croydon replied and hopped by them into the
corridor. “I shall await you by the main entrance”
“That will be fine.”
“Well,” said Melody, nervously. “It seems you won the game.
You get to ask a request of me.”
Amberjine glanced over to the window and the door to the
outside which opened onto a large balcony with green trellises.
“Perhaps a few moments on the balcony there?” he asked.
“Of course.”
They moved to the balcony and Amberjine held the door for
her as they walked out into the night air. The orange moon overhung the dome
and added a lovely glow to the buildings and streets below. A faint, artificial
breeze stirred the leaves of the greenery around them. Amberjine looked up at the moon.
“That’s lovely,” he said. “It must be magnified by the convex
roof of the dome. I’ve never seen that before. It’s astounding.”
“Yes, I come here often to watch it cross the sky,” said Melody.
“This is the highest structure in the city, so the view is uninterrupted.”
They watched in silence for a bit before the Prince turned
to her and said, “I suppose I’d better be on my way. It’s getting late. Your
father will wonder where you are.”
“Yes, probably so.”
“Thank you again. May I ask one more thing of you? Feel free
to refuse.”
“Of course.”
“A kiss on the cheek?”
“You want a kiss from me?” Melody said, getting more than a
little flustered.
“I know, it’s terribly forward of me, but I find you and all
of this and this entire evening so intoxicating, I’m afraid its making me
somewhat reckless.”
“All right,” she managed to get out in a whisper.
The Prince bent down and offered his cheek, but as Melody
closed her eyes and was about to administer the kiss, Amberjine quickly turned
his head and kissed her full on the mouth.
“What are you doing?” Melody cried out and leapt back.
“I’m so sorry,” Amberjine said, “but you see, it had to be
done.”
Then he stopped speaking as an incredible wave of nausea and
warm shock passed through his body. He feared he was going to go the same way
as Croydon, but suddenly the nausea was gone. He couldn’t really understand what
it was he felt next, but he imagined this was what internal warmth must feel
like.
“Amberjine! What’s the matter?” Melody shouted as he hit the
floor.
Amberjine slowly raised himself into a kneeling position and
grasped for the balcony railing. His insides were on fire, and he felt his
bones shifting from side to side, as if searching for a way out of the confines
of his body. He raised his hands to his face and could feel the muscles and cartilage,
give way and new cartilage and bone forming.
This all happened in less than a minute. He turned to one
side and attempted to stand and as he did so, glanced down at his feet. Gone
were the thin, webbed toes and now, in their place, were the stubs of what appeared
to be human feet. Human feet that were growing longer.
Melody screamed and ran from the room and Amberjine flung
himself to a couch against the wall with a long moan. He thought he might go
mad with the pain. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain was gone.
There was still a sensation of change happening to his body and face, but in another
coupe of minutes, that too was gone. He looked down at what were once long,
slender green tendril-like fingers. He now had two human hands.
He rose unsteadily to his feet. In the glass of the balcony doors,
he could vaguely make out his reflection. His clothes had been either ripped
apart or fallen loosely from his new form. He staggered towards it, to get a
closer look, inspecting himself from head to foot.
So, it had worked.
