Luck in the Shadows

made quite a study of it, years ago. Few of the spells are permanent and the risks are often high, but I do enjoy them."
    "He turned us into all sorts of things," Seregil told him. "And it still comes in handy now and then."
    "There are several general kinds of changes," Nysander went on, warming to his topic.
    "Transmogrifications change one thing completely into something else—a man into a tree, for instance. His thoughts would be those of a tree and he would exist as one without memory of his former nature until restored.
    "A metastatic spell, however, would merely give a man the appearance of a tree. To alter the nature of a substance-iron into gold, for example-would require an alchemic transmutation."
    "And what about that intrinsic nature spell of yours?" Seregil inquired blandly, staring down into his mug.
    "I might have known you'd bring it around to that," Thero sniffed. "A trick to entertain children and country peasants!"
    "There are those who believe it has some value," Nysander said with a meaningful look in Thero's direction. "Myself among them."
    Seregil leaned over to Alec as if to speak in confidence, though he didn't bother to lower his voice. "Thero hates that spell because it won't work on him. He has no intrinsic nature, you see."
    "It is true that this particular spell does not affect him," Nysander admitted, "but I am certain that we shall discover the impediment eventually. However, I suspect that it was not Thero's nature you had in mind?"
    Seregil gave Alec a playful nudge in the ribs. "How about a bit of magic?"
    Nysander laid his knife aside with a resigned sigh. "I see that I am not to enjoy this meal in peace. I suggest we retire to the garden in case Alec proves to be something especially large."
    "Me?" Alec choked down a bit of ham. He had no idea what an intrinsic nature spell could be, but it suddenly appeared that they meant to work one on him.
    Seregil was halfway to the door already. "I just hope he doesn't turn out to be a badger. I've never gotten on with badgers. Thero will probably turn out to be a badger if you ever get it to work."
    They followed Nysander down to the Orлska gardens and into a thick stand of birch surrounding a small pool.
    "This will do nicely," he said, stopping in the dappled shade near the water's edge. "I will transform Seregil first, Alec, so that you may observe the process."
    Alec nodded nervously, watching as Seregil knelt on the grass in front of the wizard.
    Resting his hands on his thighs, Seregil closed his eyes and all expression vanished from his face.
    "He attains the suscipient state so readily," Thero muttered with grudging admiration. "Still, you take a chance, trying to work anything on him."
    Nysander motioned for silence, then laid a hand on Seregil's head. "Seregil i Korit Solun Meringil Bokthersa, let thy inner symbol be revealed."
    The change was instantaneous. One moment Seregil knelt before them. The next, something was squirming about in a tangle of empty clothing.
    Nysander bent over the wiggling pile. "The change was successful, I gather?"
    "Oh, yes," replied a small, guttural voice, "but I've lost my way in here. Could you lend a hand?"
    "Help your friend, Alec," Nysander said, laughing.
    Alec gingerly lifted the edge of the surcoat, then jumped back in surprise as the blunt head of an otter thrust out from under the loosened shirttail.
    "That's better," it grunted. Waddling free of the clothing, the sleek creature sat up on its hindquarters with its tail stretched out behind. It looked exactly like any otter Alec had ever trapped, except that its small round eyes were the same grey as Seregil's.
    Seregil smoothed his drooping whiskers into place with a webbed paw. "I should've stripped down first, but the effect is more startling this way, don't you think?"
    "It's really you!" Alec exclaimed in delight, running a hand over the otter's gleaming back. "You're beautiful."
    "Thank you-I think," Seregil clucked. "In light of your former profession, I'm not certain if that was a compliment or an appraisal of the worth of my pelt. Watch this!"
    Humping to the edge of the pool, he slid into the water and dove out of sight with sinuous ease. After a few moments he climbed out again to deposit a flopping carp at Thero's feet.
    "A cold fish for a cold fish!" he announced with otterish glee before dashing back into the water.
    Scowling, Thero nudged the carp back into the pool with his foot. "He never can go anywhere without stealing