Calling on Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede

Antorell cried as Fiddlesticks raised a paw and flexed his claws.
    â€œSee?” said Fiddlesticks, and began washing wizard germs out from between his toes.
    â€œCalm down,” Morwen told Antorell. “Fiddlesticks won’t hurt you. Unless I tell him to, of course. What are you doing in the Enchanted Forest?”
    â€œI won’t tell you.” Antorell was plainly trying to sound defiant, but all he managed was sulky.
    â€œMorwen?” Scorn wound her way around the far edge of the bush. “How long are we going to have to watch this staff? It’s not doing anything, and Jasper wants to take a nap.”
    â€œI’ll be there as soon as we finish with Antorell,” Morwen said.
    â€œWhat is it?” Telemain asked.
    â€œScorn wants the staff taken care of,” Morwen told him. “Antorell—”
    â€œThat presents no difficulty,” Telemain said. “If you’ll just fetch it here, Scorn, I’ll do it for you.”
    Scorn gave him a long look. “
Dogs
fetch.” She turned her back and lay down, her tail thrashing indignantly.
    â€œThat means ‘no,’ I take it,” Telemain said with a sigh.
    â€œIt does. And I told you I didn’t want the staff anywhere near the wizard,” Morwen said.
    â€œA proper spirit of scientific investigation—”
    â€œI’m more interested in self-preservation. Study the staff later. Antorell—”
    â€œHa!” said Antorell. “You are too late! Behold!”
    With a flourish, he raised his right arm. As he did, he began to glow. Fiddlesticks pulled his head back in surprise, and the glow began pulsing, first bright, then dim. After three pulses, Antorell started growing. He gained an inch on the next pulse, two on the one after that, and then he had grown to a foot in height.
    â€œBother,” said Morwen, and grabbed for the bucket.
    â€œArgelfraster,” said Telemain, and pointed at Antorell.
    â€œEeeaugh!” said Antorell, his expression changing from sinister to shocked. He continued to glow and pulse, but he was no longer getting taller. A puddle of brown goo began to spread out from under his robe where his feet should have been. “No! Help! You can’t
do
this to me!”
    â€œWow!” said Fiddlesticks. “Look at him go!”
    Morwen nodded, but she kept the bucket of soapy water ready to throw, just in case. Antorell was now melting faster than he was growing. In another minute, all that was left were his robes and the puddle of goo sinking slowly into the moss. Fiddlesticks edged up to it and sniffed, then backed away rapidly.
    â€œWhat was all that noise?” Killer said from behind Telemain. “Part of it sounded like another donkey.”
    â€œNo, it was a wizard, though in this case it’s much the same thing,” Morwen said. “You needn’t worry. He’s gone now.” She set her bucket down once more and gave Telemain a nod of approval. “Congratulations. It works.”
    â€œYes, and did you notice the echo effect on the size-amplification spell?” Telemain shook his head. “Remarkable. The theoretical ramifications—”
    â€œAre very interesting, I’m sure,” Morwen said. “How permanent is this?” She waved at the gooey robes.
    â€œNot very, I’m afraid,” Telemain said. “He’ll be back in a day or two.”
    Killer ambled over to the puddle. “Is this edible?” he asked in a doubtful tone.
    â€œNo!” said Morwen and Telemain together.
    â€œWhat an awful idea,” said Fiddlesticks, wrinkling his nose.
    â€œWhat a mess,” said Scorn.
    â€œDon’t touch it,” Morwen said to Killer. “With two spells on you already, you shouldn’t take any chances with wizard residuum.”
    â€œOh,” said Killer. He looked at the puddle again and sighed. “But I’m
hungry.
And thirsty. What do donkeys