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Huntchy was wishing for a downpour, or a tidal wave, or just

about anything that would have cooled his scorched hide. He felt like a hunk of

meat suspended over the fire. He was certain he looked awful. He felt awful. He

was beginning to see where being friends with the new mayor wasn't going to be

nearly as fun as being friends with a new mare! Life wasn't going to be boring,

but that would do him little good if he never survived long enough to enjoy it.

Sybeele,

half way across town, heard the vent of pure rage and knew instinctively where

it was coming from. It was as she and the goddess had feared. The young girl

had taken the direction of the powerful entity, never questioning her decisions

except this one. The girl knew she should have told him right away. But doing

so would have ruined her chances to be with her savior; to be with the only

person she wanted to be with. She was a child when he found her, and she was a

woman when he left. The fact that she carried a babe in her womb attested to

that. True, it was his and not hers, but she was promised there would be time

for that.

Jon-Tom's

rage petered out until even his newly recharged healing ability couldn't keep

his internal fires stoked any longer. He

was dimly aware of the horse's presence. He was a heap on the stones, little

curls of smoke rising from his mane and tail. Even in his present anger,

Jon-Tom felt sorry. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. The nearby trees were

burning merrily, crowned with flames that danced and sputtered. Even his mouth

felt like a match head; shriveled and expended. Despite all this his anger

remained. He never wanted to shirk in his duties as father, a noble emotion

considering the number he had. He had the time and he had the willingness, if

only someone would leave him alone long enough to perform them.

There

was a whole pride of cubs still waiting in the Highlands, as well as a few

equine species he had yet to reunite with. There were lynx, and a particularly

large and wonderful bear named Greta who was carrying twins. Yet, as he thought

about it, none of them were even born, nor were their mothers or grandmothers

born. He was centuries before their existence. So all he had right now was the

present, which was his past. He had Sybeele; wonderful little Sybeele who he had

bedded against his better judgment. She was from his own world, dragged here by

Eve.

Eve! He

had gone to extraordinary lengths to save her from her confinement. He was now

thinking that perhaps he should have left matters as they were. True, her pregnancy

was accidental; a sexual connection between them before she grew used to

dealing with a truly living form. For a mother to give up her child showed that

she only had concern for herself. She was, when it came right down to it,

selfish and immature. He had thought better of her. Power did not mean

compassion, though she seemed to have that trait. He gave thinking about it. It

was only making him angrier by the minute.

All at

once the world shifted again. He was standing on the cobbles stark naked.

Huntchy was slowly getting to his feet, his hide miraculously repaired. Sybeele

was standing silently in front of both of them. The trees were still burning.

She snapped her fingers and the flames went out. Huntchy shivered, and then

dropped to one knee. "Thank you wife of my friend. But if it is all the same to

you, I'll be going inside and writing my last will and testament. If I am to be

caught in the middle of your relationship, I fear my end will come sooner than

expected. It is only proper to have my affairs in order." He trotted into his

house and closed the door. His heavy sigh of relief was audible outside.

Sybeele

had tears in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you. I knew in my heart that you'd be

upset. But it was what Eve wanted from me in exchange for being with you here.

Don't you see? I had no choice other than to die back home of loneliness. Even

grandmother said I should do it. I miss her greatly, but still I am here. I

want a child, and I have a child, even if I'm not the mother. But you are the

father. Can't you accept that?"

Even as

a human, he felt he could spit fire. His guts were still boiling. "I am not

angry with you, my lovely little frau. I am angry with the one who put you into

such a damnable situation. She had no right to demand such a thing from you.

How does she even know that such a child will not kill you?"

The

girl dropped to the pavement. "She didn't. That's why she arranged a spell to

transfer your power to me. She figured I'd need all the help I could get. I do

my best to conserve it, even as great as it is. But so many things keep popping

up; like those rotten pirates. I would have destroyed them in a blink you know.

Lucky for them the girls they took were as of yet unharmed or so help me..."

Jon-Tom

plopped down beside her. He was still angry, but he was becoming more

reasonable. "Ok. I guess I can understand some of this, but what in the name of

the Pillars of Fruschion do your constant changes have to do with this?"

She

paused. "What are the Pillars of; oh never mind. Eve said that the changes

would give her baby the taste of being that creature for twenty four hours. It

is her hope that when the baby is born and matures, it will be able to become

anything it desires."

He was

mulling that over. It made a bit of sense. It was a concern of Roseroar's when

she was carrying his cubs. The cubs changed as the mother did, as they were

part of her body. Each change had to imbue that speck of life in her womb with

some magical ability. But the big question was; why wasn't Eve seeing to this herself?

She was nearly all powerful. Was she really that scared of motherhood? He knew

she wasn't happy with her unexpected conception. But to pawn it off on someone

else? He was about ready to be done with her.

"I

guess I get it. But don't expect me to be happy with it. I've taken on a lot of

responsibility during my years, and I've done my best to live up to them. You

should be carrying your own child, not someone else's. And when I see Eve

again, she'll know full well what I think of her actions." He leaned over and

kissed his wife on the head. She latched onto him and cried into his shoulder.

Huntchy

waited until things had gone quiet for a half an hour before he ventured to

stick his head out the door. The human couple was still out on the cobblestones.

Jon-Tom was still naked, and now so was his wife. He sighed. They could have

come inside instead of making a scene in the street. But he looked up and down

the way and saw no one. That girl had incredible power if she could keep the

townsfolk from coming to investigate the recent conflagration. It also kept

their tender moment private. Except for him. He closed his door and let out his

pent up breath. This town would never be boring indeed!

It was

about an hour later that they were done. She got dressed, and made his old

favorite clothes reappear. He did enjoy his leather pants and his lizard skin

cape. There was of course his old instrument. They were now like new. She even

put the hidden pouch back in, the one Mihandra had made all those years ago.

Well, sort of. Time travel! He put his hand in hers, and they walked back to

their house. The town slowly came alive, like it had been in a stupor. By the

time they reached home, it was as if nothing untoward had happened.

There

was one catch however. There was a group gathered at the house, or more

technically true, at the Mayor's office. It was lead by a fat, officious little

gopher in a pompous suit, topped with an enormous hat. Sybeele groaned. "It's

that little ass who owns the biggest bank in town. I wonder what he's all up in

arms about?"

That

little ass had a name; Pomfray. And by the time he was breathlessly done

harping at Jon-Tom, it was clear just how much of an ass he was. And it was the

equine kind either. "Look here! You're the mayor, and since you've arrived

there has been all kinds of trouble. Do you have any idea how much money I

stand to lose if this town gets overrun with pirates, or burns to the ground

because of rogue magic turning people into dragons?"

Jon-Tom

stood to his full height. He stood like a monolith over the smaller rodent. "Oh

dear. Your money. That would be a terrible thing to lose, wouldn't it? It's

nice to know you value your life less than gold, just as you apparently value

everyone else's life equally as low. Your pirates have been dealt with, and as

for rogue magic, I'd suggest you get used to it. If this town is getting to hot

for you, than I would suggest you leave. NOW! I am here to look after the

entire town, not some selfish little prick who needs a tailor with good

eyesight. As for money, this is what I think of it!"

He

pulled out his duar. His fingers flew across the strings. He knew just what he

wanted. A cloud appeared; a small black cloud that hung over their heads. A

flash of lightning caused the vapor to split. Rain poured out. Gold rain. Coins

fell on the assembled crowd's heads. They fell and fell and fell. The noise

from the clinking and clanging grew deafening. Promfray was torn between

pulling off his hat to catch them and keeping it in place to preserve his

scalp. The coins grew into a pile, and kept growing. All at once, Sybeele

snapped her fingers. The rain stopped. Another snap and they vanished.

"What

my husband is trying to tell you is that you need better priorities. Life is

precious. Remember that." The little banker grunted. "Life is worth nothing

without gold. I intend to never be poor!" Sybeele grunted. "Too late." The

gopher vanished.

The

crowd gasped. "What have you done with Pomfray? He is one of the most respected

citizens of this town. Whatever you have done, you have no right to treat him

like you have!" Sybeele, of course, was responsible for his disappearance. Through

a quick mental connection Jon-Tom knew what had become of him. The questions however,

were directed at him, so he chose to answer. "He is with the rest of the

pirates. Their only concern was wealth and down-trodding those who cannot

defend or support themselves." His stomach growled. A few of the weaker hearted

folks in the crowd blanched and fainted. They knew he had just been a dragon,

so the idea of Pomfray presently being digested wasn't as preposterous as it

sounded.

He

turned and stepped into the house. His wife followed, a wicked look on her

face. She turned, and slowly shut the door. She dropped the latch into place

and began giggling. "Oh lord, they think you ate that stringy, stingy old

miser! That would have been too good for him!" Jon-Tom's stomach growled again.

He was most definitely hungry!

"I

wish! I haven't eaten for well over twenty four hours! Where did you really send

him?" Sybeele looked devilish. "The same place you sent the pirates, as I told

you. He'll soon enough learn to value his life, or he'll die as he lived. Either

way, the outcome will be positive. As for food," she snapped her fingers, "I

say you deserve a feast!' The smells rolling down the stairs about made him

collapse. She put a supporting arm under his. "And afterwards, I think a bit of

dessert would go nicely, don't you?" She winked suggestively. He agreed.

"Yes,

that sound's delicious; maybe something with whipped cream and a cherry on

top?" She giggled again. "Cherry? That will have to wait until morning when I

assume my next form!"