distinctly heard the sound of the water of the fountain falling and splashing in the pool. It did, indeed, tinkleânot like the sound of small bells, but with the very distant, fragile notes of glass wind chimes, clashing in the light breeze. The sound was somehow inexpressibly lulling to the nerves, and the rich and mingled odors rising from the blossoming flowers in the flower beds reinforced the effect; so that all at once Jim felt as if he had been plunged into a dream place where nothing was quite real and certainly nothing was overly important.
He moved slowly up the path and paused to read the signpost before the house. The sign itself was a plain, white-painted board with black lettering on it. The post on which it was set rose from among a riot of asters, tulips, zinnias, roses and lilies-of-the-valley, all blooming in complete disregard for their normal seasons. Printed on the board in black, angular letters was the name S. Carolinus. Jim went on up to the front door, which was green and sat above a single red-painted stone step.
He knocked.
There was no answer.
In spite of the soothing effect of the fountain and the flowers, Jim felt a sinking sensation inside him. It would be just his luck and Angie's to arrive at the residence of S. Carolinus when S. Carolinus was not within it.
He knocked againâharder, this time.
The sound came of a hasty step inside the house. The door was snatched inward and a thin-faced old man with a red robe, black skullcap and a thin, rather dingy-looking white beard stuck his head out to glare at Jim.
"Sorry, not my day for dragons!" he snapped. "Come back next Tuesday."
He pulled his head back in and slammed the door.
For a moment Jim merely stared. Then comprehension leaked through to him.
"Hey!" he shouted; and pounded on the door with some of his dragon-muscle.
It was snatched open furiously once more.
"Dragon!" said the magician, ominously. "How would you like to be a beetle?"
"You've got to listen to me," said Jim.
"I told you," Carolinus explained, "this is not my day for dragons. Besides, I've got a stomach ache. Do you understand? This-is-not-my-day-for-dragons!"
"But I'm not a dragon."
Carolinus stared at Jim for a long moment, then threw up his beard with both hands in a gesture of despair, caught some of it in his teeth as it fell down again, and began to chew on it fiercely.
"Now where," he demanded, "did a dragon acquire the brains to develop the imagination to entertain the illusion that he is not a dragon? Answer me, O Ye Powers!"
"The information is psychically, though not physiologically, correct," replied a deep bass voice out of thin air beside them and about five feet off the groundâcausing Jim, who had regarded the question as rhetorical, to start.
"Is that a fact?" said Carolinus, peering at Jim with new interest. He spat out the hair or two still remaining in his mouth and stepped back, opening the door. "Come in, Anomalyâor do you have a better name for yourself?"
Jim squeezed through the door and found himself in a single cluttered room which evidently took up the full first floor of the house. It contained pieces of furniture and odd bits of alchemical equipment indiscriminately arranged about it. S. Carolinus closed the door behind him and walked around to face Jim again. Jim sat down on his haunches, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling.
"Well, my real name is JamesâJim Eckert," he said. "But I seem to be in the body of a dragon named Gorbash."
"And this," said S. Carolinus, wincing and massaging his stomach, "disturbs you, I gather." He closed his eyes and added faintly, "Do you know anything that's good for an unending stomach ache? Of course not. Go on."
"I'm afraid not. Well, the thing isâWait a minute. Are you talking dragon, or am I talking whatever language you're talking?"
"If there's a language called 'dragon,' " said S. Carolinus, grumpily, "naturally, you're talking it. If you were talking
He moved slowly up the path and paused to read the signpost before the house. The sign itself was a plain, white-painted board with black lettering on it. The post on which it was set rose from among a riot of asters, tulips, zinnias, roses and lilies-of-the-valley, all blooming in complete disregard for their normal seasons. Printed on the board in black, angular letters was the name S. Carolinus. Jim went on up to the front door, which was green and sat above a single red-painted stone step.
He knocked.
There was no answer.
In spite of the soothing effect of the fountain and the flowers, Jim felt a sinking sensation inside him. It would be just his luck and Angie's to arrive at the residence of S. Carolinus when S. Carolinus was not within it.
He knocked againâharder, this time.
The sound came of a hasty step inside the house. The door was snatched inward and a thin-faced old man with a red robe, black skullcap and a thin, rather dingy-looking white beard stuck his head out to glare at Jim.
"Sorry, not my day for dragons!" he snapped. "Come back next Tuesday."
He pulled his head back in and slammed the door.
For a moment Jim merely stared. Then comprehension leaked through to him.
"Hey!" he shouted; and pounded on the door with some of his dragon-muscle.
It was snatched open furiously once more.
"Dragon!" said the magician, ominously. "How would you like to be a beetle?"
"You've got to listen to me," said Jim.
"I told you," Carolinus explained, "this is not my day for dragons. Besides, I've got a stomach ache. Do you understand? This-is-not-my-day-for-dragons!"
"But I'm not a dragon."
Carolinus stared at Jim for a long moment, then threw up his beard with both hands in a gesture of despair, caught some of it in his teeth as it fell down again, and began to chew on it fiercely.
"Now where," he demanded, "did a dragon acquire the brains to develop the imagination to entertain the illusion that he is not a dragon? Answer me, O Ye Powers!"
"The information is psychically, though not physiologically, correct," replied a deep bass voice out of thin air beside them and about five feet off the groundâcausing Jim, who had regarded the question as rhetorical, to start.
"Is that a fact?" said Carolinus, peering at Jim with new interest. He spat out the hair or two still remaining in his mouth and stepped back, opening the door. "Come in, Anomalyâor do you have a better name for yourself?"
Jim squeezed through the door and found himself in a single cluttered room which evidently took up the full first floor of the house. It contained pieces of furniture and odd bits of alchemical equipment indiscriminately arranged about it. S. Carolinus closed the door behind him and walked around to face Jim again. Jim sat down on his haunches, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling.
"Well, my real name is JamesâJim Eckert," he said. "But I seem to be in the body of a dragon named Gorbash."
"And this," said S. Carolinus, wincing and massaging his stomach, "disturbs you, I gather." He closed his eyes and added faintly, "Do you know anything that's good for an unending stomach ache? Of course not. Go on."
"I'm afraid not. Well, the thing isâWait a minute. Are you talking dragon, or am I talking whatever language you're talking?"
"If there's a language called 'dragon,' " said S. Carolinus, grumpily, "naturally, you're talking it. If you were talking
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