“I’ve brought Prof. Audenne,” Mr. Higgins announced when David greeted him at the door. “He has plenty of doubts, but is curious to see your proof.”

“Most curious,” agreed the man who followed Mr. Higgins. He was so short that David at first could see nothing of him but his black umbrella and the surprisingly workman-like heavy leather shoes. When he folded his umbrella, Prof. Audenne turned out to be an elderly but spry gentleman. His complexion indicated that his family either came from Valoir itself or one of the colonies surrounding the Mer Central. His black hair had receded and mostly faded to grey, while his long nose ended above an impressive moustache that seemed to belong to a taller man. His clothes were well-made but sturdy like the shoes, and he carried a flat leather case.

Prof. Audenne looked at David’s dinner clothes a little disappointedly. “I was hoping we would take a field trip straight away. It’s going to be a crescent moon tonight, certainly the best part of the month for a first scientific observation?”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity for such observations,” David promised, and they shook hands before he stepped aside to lead the way over to the salon. His father was waiting with Andrew and Lane, and also Fenn and the Morgulon, who didn’t exactly growl at each other – Fenn was in his human form – but tended to stick to opposite sides of the room. Morgulon was visibly uncomfortable indoors and paced up and down one side of the room restlessly. Fenn, apparently subconsciously, kept angling his upper body so that he could always keep sight of her.

Duke Desmarais sat in the heavy armchair right at the fireplace, Henry at his feet, who was so busy watching the two older werewolves he could barely enjoy the bone one of the servant girls had gifted him.

When Mr. Higgins and the Professor entered, all heads, human and wolf, turned towards them. The Morgulon stopped her endless wandering. Mr. Higgins froze, but Audenne pushed past him to have a better look, his eyes alight with curiosity. When he pulled a sketch pad out of his pack, the Morgulon started pacing the room again.

“Prof. Audenne and Mr. Higgins,” David introduced the two newcomers. “His Highness, Duke Desmarais, Countess deLande, my father, Baron Feleke, and my brother Andrew. Also the Morgulon, Fenn O’Brien, and Henry.”

Mr. Higgins bowed to Duke Desmarais, and Lane as well.

The duke waved him off. “Let’s not waste our precious time on formalities,” he said. “This will most likely be your only opportunity to observe as fine a collection of werewolves as this. You should use it well.”

This led to the usual avalanche of questions, which David, Lane, Bram, Andrew, and even Fenn had all answered dozens of times. The Professor, of course, also wanted to see the werewolves transform. Henry, showing that he did understand every word spoken around him, turned into his human body promptly, though, like Greg, he staggered around quite a bit. Prof. Audenne stared in shock at the naked little boy suddenly standing in front of him.

“All right?” the kid asked, looking at Duke Desmarais.

When the duke nodded benevolently, he turned wolf again. The transformation into a human had been fairly fast and smooth, but the reverse took nearly a minute and looked both painful and disturbing, even to David, who had seen Greg and Lee transform plenty of times by now.

Prof. Audenne was sketching like mad.

“I don’t suppose it’s possible to do it even more slowly?” he asked, without looking up from his paper.

“It hurts like hell to do it at all, this time of month,” Fenn grumbled.

The Morgulon, however, stopped her pacing, hackles raised and bristling, head tilted.

“How slowly?” Lane asked.

“Why, as slowly as possible,” the Professor said.

So the Morgulon did. At first, the change wasn’t even noticeable, but after a few seconds, they could see the fur retreating, while the snout and tail shortened.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Audenne muttered. “Hold it, hold it, hold it, just a little longer... perfect. And onwards, if you please...”

“Sun’s bloody ashes,” Fenn whispered and turned his back to the room. “Hurts just to look at that.”

It did, David had to agree. Nothing – no living being – should look like this – contorted, unbalanced, one arm longer than the other, ribcage pounding like a bellows, drawing breath in sharp, irregular bursts. Backbone contorted and the emerging face scrunched up in pain.

Prof. Audenne sketched away happily and didn’t seem to notice.

When it was over, Morgulon cowered on the ground for a long, long time, face hidden behind her long hair, still panting heavily. Andrew shrugged out of his dinner jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Eventually, she pushed herself up and fumbled with the knob of the garden door behind her until it opened. She stumbled outside and turned wolf between one step and the next, easily the smoothest transformation David had seen so far. She laid down in a puddle on the porch, curling up against the rain.

“What’s she doing?” Audenne asked.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“She just pulled out all her finger and toenails for you, and now she’s taking a break,” said Fenn sourly. “I hope you got lots of sketches, cause you’ll never see that again in your life.”

He shuddered. “You have no clue how painful that must have been, and how difficult to do.”

“Difficult in what way?” Audenne wanted to know.

Fenn huffed. “As difficult as jumping off a rock and floating to earth instead of falling. I wouldn’t have thought this was possible at all.”

“His transformation was quite slow, too,” Mr. Higgins said, pointing at Henry.

“Because it’s close to new moon, and he had to climb up to the rock. Also, because he’s new at this, and didn’t know – didn’t have the magic to jump up.”

“Greg called it finding the tight-rope in his mind and controlling on which side he falls down. Depending on the moon phase, it might be necessary to climb onto the rope first,” Bram offered.

“That’s a good comparison, too,” Fenn said.

David watched the Professor take more notes.

“Since you are the one most easily verified as – as sane,” Audenne asked Fenn, “will you show us your transformation as well?”

Fenn sighed but shrugged out of his clothes. His transformations were fast and smooth in both directions, and he got dressed again quickly. His bare chest was still enough to distract the young woman who entered to tell them that dinner was served.

David couldn’t fault her. Fenn was a handsome bastard.

Lane went outside to see if Morgulon wanted to come out of the rain for dinner. She did, but didn’t want to turn human.

There was something about the she-wolf, David thought, something he had no name for. In a human, he would have called it charisma, or perhaps even gravitas. Fenn and Henry weren’t the only ones who unconsciously rearranged themselves when she moved, and it wasn’t just because of her size. Even when she lay curled up behind David’s chair, chewing on a bone, he knew without looking whenever she shifted around and felt himself twitch in response. When she stretched her long fore-legs like a dog, most necks craned to look at her, even though she hardly made a sound.

Fenn nearly jumped out of his chair.

Prof. Audenne hadn’t moved, but he did notice Fenn’s reaction and looked around the table. “Is she your pack leader?” he asked Fenn.

“More like my queen,” Fenn said slowly. “I’m surprised you cannot feel it.”

“Feel what?”

Fenn shrugged. “I have no idea. Magic probably. I know where she is, even if I cannot see her. Even if she is a few miles away, I know in which direction I need to walk towards her. Like a compass knows where north is. This close to her, I know when she twitches her ears. The Rot can feel it, too. It flees the area she calls her territory. Tonight, it doesn’t matter what may come down the White Torrent, it’ll pass through Deva quietly, and won’t leave the waters for miles.”

“Yet the Inquisitor managed to call the Rot out of the ground, right under her nose,” Duke Desmarais said thoughtfully. He had barely spoken all evening.

“Called it, sure,” Fenn said. “With lots of magic and a bloody human sacrifice. Any mother giving birth in the city tonight is safe. Unless some fool pours more magic over her.”

“But your presence doesn’t have the same effect?” Audenne wanted to know.

“On a smaller scale, sure. And it builds, too. She and I, here together, makes the safe area even bigger. Twenty years from now, I’ll have the same effects, probably.” He paused. “Maybe twenty-five years. I’ve been a werewolf for almost fifteen years now, but I don’t know how old she is.”

“I’ll need to talk to my colleagues,” Audenne said to Mr. Higgins. “We need to find a way to quantify this effect, measure it properly. It has to be a magical field, certainly... But I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It might be something else entirely...”

“Talk to the alchemists, too,” Bram suggested. “They pay huge sums for werewolf-claws, perhaps they can tell you more about their effects.”

“You feel it though?” Fenn asked. “At least when you’re this close?”

“I think I do,” Bram said pensively. “There’s something, yes. But what it is...”

“Hunters are attuned to their prey, not surprisingly,” Audenne said, and made a note when David and Lane nodded along.

“This is all very exciting,” the little Professor continued. “Magi-Zoology is still such an untested field, due to the restrictions the Church placed on us. We’ll need more werewolves of different ages to test the effects, measure them, learn more about how magic affects living beings. See if perhaps a unicorn has the same aura.”

“We will do our best,” Duke Desmarais said. “But I hope you understand that securing the lands against the Rot will have to take priority over hunting unicorns. You are, of course, welcome to observe the two werewolves that are now living around Castle Blanc. They’re both fairly young, compared to the Morgulon or even Fenn, but it’ll give you the opportunity to see for yourself how the Rot is fought.”

“And can you grant us the right to that research?” Audenne asked. “Most rumours spoke of the Duke of Mannin reaching for the crown, not you.”

“We have an understanding,” Duke Desmarais said.

“May I inquire how this understanding will pertain to our studies?”

“We both understand that we have no hope to defeat the Rot and its champion, the Church, if we do not stand together. The Duke of Mannin further understands that he will not win over enough Valoisian nobles to crown himself king without my help. I shall thus continue to serve as Viceroy of Loegrion, only under his kingship rather than the Roi Solei’s. We’ll figure out what title I shall wear sometime in the future, but for the time being, you can also think of me as the Minister of the Interior, and thus certainly able to grant you permission to this research.”

So that was the deal. Most likely, Duke Desmarais hoped to gain influence over George Louis, perhaps even to become the true power behind the throne.

Quite risky, David mused. He had serious doubts that George Louis would allow himself to become a puppet. He was far more likely to rid himself of anyone he felt might become a puppeteer.

Still, it was good to hear that Duke Desmarais didn’t intend to fight George Louis for the crown. If the two of them could work together, there was hope – slim hope, but still – that they really could beat back the Grande Armée that would inevitably attack once d’Evier reached Rambouillet and informed the Roi Solei of all that was going on in his northern-most colony.

The Roi Solei would not be happy. Most of the Grande Armée was occupied over a thousand miles south of them, engaged in yet another crusade against a new group Unbelievers. All David knew about these particular Unbelievers was that they followed a Prophet, had no intention to worship Mithras, and were giving the Grande Armée hell.

If luck was with them – or rather, if the Roi Solei stayed true to form – there would be a first hastily assembled force led by mage-priests thrown against Loegrian shores before winter, which they might be able to defeat. But afterwards, even the Roi Solei would have to realize that d’Evier was not exaggerating about the werewolves’ abilities to fight the Rot. Once winter was out, there would be an invasion, relying on soldiers rather than sorcery. The Roi Solei had full control over the seas, and there was little they could do about that.

They would be fully dependent on the railways to transport those goods that were currently going by boat.

But there was a chance, David reminded himself.