mixture, looking exactly like thickened blood of
yantler, or some foul strain of snake. Quickly, Baus offloaded the
disregard he harboured for blood to a more practical form of
utility.
“Now then,
Weavil,” Nuzbek chided sombrely, “the facts. As I see it, a certain
number of prized appurtenances have been reduced to rubble as a
result of your crass meddling.”
Weavil brushed
off the charge as a fluke of circumstance. Nuzbek, of course, would
hear nothing of it. “The items number in the tens—or twenties: for
instance, my balloon rockets, my flaring whipper sticks, my
sobospheres, polyglome toxomy, mystic fife, hurdy-gurdy, jumping
shoes, and ah dear, the list goes on . . .”
Nolpin
addressed Nuzbek in a soft, consolatory voice. “You loved that
hurdy-gurdy so! You polished and cared for it for an age—also your
flying puppets, which are now completely decimated, having
similarly come under fire of the witless villagers.”
Nuzbek cried
out an anguished retort. “Ah, Nolpin, you are a cruel reminder of
past deeds!” He clutched his ears with vengeance. “The point of
contention is that, naturally I require recompense for these
damaged articles. Given that I dislike inequities in the universe
of any kind, now—I decree that a stasis be restored!”
Nolpin agreed
pleasantly. “But how, and under what conditions?”
“That is to be
determined.”
“And how does
this include me?” huffed Weavil.
Nuzbek gave a
frown: “An important query, Weavil, which will be answered in due
time. But for now, you must be concerned with other matters.
Namely, your safety. Being my premier ‘test case’—in the new mode
of embalming, consider yourself favoured. First!—a swift reduction
to the size of a centauro.”
Weavil cried
out in loathing: “The procedure is precipitate. I find high
aversion to it!”
“Nonsense! You
shall feel only a prick of a pin. Hold him, Nolpin, whilst I apply
the resin. Remember! As I administer the unguent, be advised that
the squib’s accursed squirming may sabotage the procedure!”
Weavil swatted
out and cried. He voiced an unpleasant malediction, but Nolpin
ignored that and continued to jam his elbow into his larynx.
Weavil jerked;
Nolpin was adamant to the inconvenience, whereupon Weavil chomped
hard into Nolpin’s wrist, prompting a cry of painful surprise.
Baus, laughing drunkenly, struggled in Boulm’s half nelson, but to
no avail. He could not render Weavil any succour, or minister to
his own needs.
Nuzbek clucked
like a happy hen. “How I am fond of these play-times!” Clapping his
hands, he simpered. “Now, Nolpin, careful! Your blows are coming
down a little hard upon Weavil. We must exercise decorum here. I
demand perfect specimens for my experiments, for careful
preparation of my expositions!”
Nolpin agreed;
he conducted his exploits in a manner to abide by Nuzbek’s
wishes—yanking Weavil’s ears, worrying his ribcage and cradling him
fast between his knees while Nuzbek splashed the requisite unguents
over Weavil’s entire upper body and howls of pain and rage
ensued.
The air
suddenly became thick. The victim’s eyes bulged; orbs popped with
dread; Weavil’s lips began to foam and for a brief second, he began
to pulsate in a fish-scale blue, then a parrot orange while
writhing like a serpent which sheds its skin. Weavil’s torso
succumbed to an abrupt sort of jerking, then a shimmering of
venomous green. To Baus’s unadulterated amazement, his friend’s
entire body, except his squirrelly head, compacted an entire
inch.
Weavil stifled
an outburst. Baus felt a limp cry rising in his throat. Before his
very eyes, he saw Weavil shrink, inch by inch, to a knee-high
homunculus. The trousers, vest, shoes and necklace seemed to
diminish in accordance with the puppet that Weavil was
becoming.
Something had
gone amiss. Nuzbek’s fey magic seemed tainted. Whether it was real
or complemented with dark energies, the magic had been deprived of
sufficient
yantler, or some foul strain of snake. Quickly, Baus offloaded the
disregard he harboured for blood to a more practical form of
utility.
“Now then,
Weavil,” Nuzbek chided sombrely, “the facts. As I see it, a certain
number of prized appurtenances have been reduced to rubble as a
result of your crass meddling.”
Weavil brushed
off the charge as a fluke of circumstance. Nuzbek, of course, would
hear nothing of it. “The items number in the tens—or twenties: for
instance, my balloon rockets, my flaring whipper sticks, my
sobospheres, polyglome toxomy, mystic fife, hurdy-gurdy, jumping
shoes, and ah dear, the list goes on . . .”
Nolpin
addressed Nuzbek in a soft, consolatory voice. “You loved that
hurdy-gurdy so! You polished and cared for it for an age—also your
flying puppets, which are now completely decimated, having
similarly come under fire of the witless villagers.”
Nuzbek cried
out an anguished retort. “Ah, Nolpin, you are a cruel reminder of
past deeds!” He clutched his ears with vengeance. “The point of
contention is that, naturally I require recompense for these
damaged articles. Given that I dislike inequities in the universe
of any kind, now—I decree that a stasis be restored!”
Nolpin agreed
pleasantly. “But how, and under what conditions?”
“That is to be
determined.”
“And how does
this include me?” huffed Weavil.
Nuzbek gave a
frown: “An important query, Weavil, which will be answered in due
time. But for now, you must be concerned with other matters.
Namely, your safety. Being my premier ‘test case’—in the new mode
of embalming, consider yourself favoured. First!—a swift reduction
to the size of a centauro.”
Weavil cried
out in loathing: “The procedure is precipitate. I find high
aversion to it!”
“Nonsense! You
shall feel only a prick of a pin. Hold him, Nolpin, whilst I apply
the resin. Remember! As I administer the unguent, be advised that
the squib’s accursed squirming may sabotage the procedure!”
Weavil swatted
out and cried. He voiced an unpleasant malediction, but Nolpin
ignored that and continued to jam his elbow into his larynx.
Weavil jerked;
Nolpin was adamant to the inconvenience, whereupon Weavil chomped
hard into Nolpin’s wrist, prompting a cry of painful surprise.
Baus, laughing drunkenly, struggled in Boulm’s half nelson, but to
no avail. He could not render Weavil any succour, or minister to
his own needs.
Nuzbek clucked
like a happy hen. “How I am fond of these play-times!” Clapping his
hands, he simpered. “Now, Nolpin, careful! Your blows are coming
down a little hard upon Weavil. We must exercise decorum here. I
demand perfect specimens for my experiments, for careful
preparation of my expositions!”
Nolpin agreed;
he conducted his exploits in a manner to abide by Nuzbek’s
wishes—yanking Weavil’s ears, worrying his ribcage and cradling him
fast between his knees while Nuzbek splashed the requisite unguents
over Weavil’s entire upper body and howls of pain and rage
ensued.
The air
suddenly became thick. The victim’s eyes bulged; orbs popped with
dread; Weavil’s lips began to foam and for a brief second, he began
to pulsate in a fish-scale blue, then a parrot orange while
writhing like a serpent which sheds its skin. Weavil’s torso
succumbed to an abrupt sort of jerking, then a shimmering of
venomous green. To Baus’s unadulterated amazement, his friend’s
entire body, except his squirrelly head, compacted an entire
inch.
Weavil stifled
an outburst. Baus felt a limp cry rising in his throat. Before his
very eyes, he saw Weavil shrink, inch by inch, to a knee-high
homunculus. The trousers, vest, shoes and necklace seemed to
diminish in accordance with the puppet that Weavil was
becoming.
Something had
gone amiss. Nuzbek’s fey magic seemed tainted. Whether it was real
or complemented with dark energies, the magic had been deprived of
sufficient
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