beginning to clarify. “What else?”
“I can unhappen things going back as far as four years ago, when I got my talent. And I can unhappen myself as far back as a day, if I haven't unhappened something else in that time.”
“Yourself? So you don't remember what you did?”
“No. I always remember. But sometimes I need to get out of a spot picklement.”
“I can't think why,” Becka said dryly.
He missed her sarcasm. “Last time it happened was when I kissed a pretty girl, and her brute of a father caught me.”
Becka almost laughed. “And you had to get out of there in a hurry!”
“Right. I unhappened the kiss. It remained just as real to me, but not to her.” He glanced at Becka. “So if you want to kiss me, I can unhappen it, and--”
“No!” She didn't want to kiss him, and also suspected that there could be a lot more to it, all conveniently unhappened so she couldn't prove a thing if she complained to anyone else. It would be their secret, and the Dastard was a liar, so wouldn't admit it. This also gave her more of a hint why the Dastard hadn't told her to go away at the outset: He wanted to get his hands on a cute girl, one way or another. If she weren't what she was--a dragon girl--she would have been in trouble. As the Good Magician must also have known. She was coming to better appreciate Humfrey's cleverness, though she wasn't at all sure she liked it.
Did she really have the whole truth now? Not quite. “You said you couldn't unhappen people, but I think you were lying. So can you?”
“I hate to waste lies,” he said evasively.
She was definitely on to something. “Our deal's no good if you don't tell the whole truth.”
He sighed. “Yes, sometimes I can unhappen people, when they're young enough, by preventing their parents from meeting. So I wasn't really using up a valuable lie. I can't unhappen you or anyone over four years old.”
Valuable lie? Becka decided not to follow that up, sure she would not appreciate the answer. “Okay.”
“And one other thing,” the Dastard said. “If I happen to be standing there when you turn over in your sleep, and you show something, that's not my fault.”
He never gave up! “That won't be a problem.”
The Dastard made a quarter smile. He thought he had reopened the loophole.
They reached the camping place. It was enchanted against dangerous creatures, and there were pie trees growing in fresh abundance. Caterpillars had left two large tents, and there were pillow and blanket bushes. There were even several litterbugs to clean up any litter they might leave. It was ideal.
That night the Dastard retired to one tent, and Becka to the other. She lay down, but didn't bother with a blanket. She knew the Dastard didn't value his given word, and would try to catch a forbidden glimpse of her underclothing as she slept. She wasn't concerned. She changed to dragon form, curled up with her tail across her nose, and slept.
In the morning the Dastard seemed ill of temper. Becka could guess why: He had tried to peek into the tent and see her panties, and spied only the dragon. She suppressed a smile; it served him right. One of the weird things about men was that they were always so eager to see what would freak them out. But nobody accused men of being sensible.
They cleaned up. She did so in dragon form, swimming in the nearby river, then changing back to girl form. She was fortunate in that her dragon scales became her girl clothing; she was never exposed while changing. In her natural form, her girl front was clothed, her dragon rear scaled. She could take off her clothing if she wanted to, but it was easier just to turn dragon, wash her scales, then turn girl with a new outfit.
They ate more pies. Then the Dastard spoke. “There's a nexus.”
“A what?”
“A meeting with significant potential. I will discover who it is, and maybe unhappen it, and you won't interfere.”
“I agreed not to,” she said. “Unlike some folk, I have a
“I can unhappen things going back as far as four years ago, when I got my talent. And I can unhappen myself as far back as a day, if I haven't unhappened something else in that time.”
“Yourself? So you don't remember what you did?”
“No. I always remember. But sometimes I need to get out of a spot picklement.”
“I can't think why,” Becka said dryly.
He missed her sarcasm. “Last time it happened was when I kissed a pretty girl, and her brute of a father caught me.”
Becka almost laughed. “And you had to get out of there in a hurry!”
“Right. I unhappened the kiss. It remained just as real to me, but not to her.” He glanced at Becka. “So if you want to kiss me, I can unhappen it, and--”
“No!” She didn't want to kiss him, and also suspected that there could be a lot more to it, all conveniently unhappened so she couldn't prove a thing if she complained to anyone else. It would be their secret, and the Dastard was a liar, so wouldn't admit it. This also gave her more of a hint why the Dastard hadn't told her to go away at the outset: He wanted to get his hands on a cute girl, one way or another. If she weren't what she was--a dragon girl--she would have been in trouble. As the Good Magician must also have known. She was coming to better appreciate Humfrey's cleverness, though she wasn't at all sure she liked it.
Did she really have the whole truth now? Not quite. “You said you couldn't unhappen people, but I think you were lying. So can you?”
“I hate to waste lies,” he said evasively.
She was definitely on to something. “Our deal's no good if you don't tell the whole truth.”
He sighed. “Yes, sometimes I can unhappen people, when they're young enough, by preventing their parents from meeting. So I wasn't really using up a valuable lie. I can't unhappen you or anyone over four years old.”
Valuable lie? Becka decided not to follow that up, sure she would not appreciate the answer. “Okay.”
“And one other thing,” the Dastard said. “If I happen to be standing there when you turn over in your sleep, and you show something, that's not my fault.”
He never gave up! “That won't be a problem.”
The Dastard made a quarter smile. He thought he had reopened the loophole.
They reached the camping place. It was enchanted against dangerous creatures, and there were pie trees growing in fresh abundance. Caterpillars had left two large tents, and there were pillow and blanket bushes. There were even several litterbugs to clean up any litter they might leave. It was ideal.
That night the Dastard retired to one tent, and Becka to the other. She lay down, but didn't bother with a blanket. She knew the Dastard didn't value his given word, and would try to catch a forbidden glimpse of her underclothing as she slept. She wasn't concerned. She changed to dragon form, curled up with her tail across her nose, and slept.
In the morning the Dastard seemed ill of temper. Becka could guess why: He had tried to peek into the tent and see her panties, and spied only the dragon. She suppressed a smile; it served him right. One of the weird things about men was that they were always so eager to see what would freak them out. But nobody accused men of being sensible.
They cleaned up. She did so in dragon form, swimming in the nearby river, then changing back to girl form. She was fortunate in that her dragon scales became her girl clothing; she was never exposed while changing. In her natural form, her girl front was clothed, her dragon rear scaled. She could take off her clothing if she wanted to, but it was easier just to turn dragon, wash her scales, then turn girl with a new outfit.
They ate more pies. Then the Dastard spoke. “There's a nexus.”
“A what?”
“A meeting with significant potential. I will discover who it is, and maybe unhappen it, and you won't interfere.”
“I agreed not to,” she said. “Unlike some folk, I have a
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