Fetch Quest
#11 of Quickies
There's a lot of stories out there about thieves stealing magical items and getting cursed; I want to write a story where the thief was acutely aware that this was a possibility and tried to take precautions against it.
But still ended up transforming...
Fetch Quest
My eyes scanned the room, an odd feeling of familiarity creeping over me. "Have I tried to rob this place before?" I muttered to myself as my vision landed on a gilded candelabrum.
"Sh, Quintus!" Grumio sharply admonished, unhappy I'd distracted him from analysing the floor for magical runes. "And don't touch anything!"
"I'm just looking," I whispered in assurance, scratching the back of my neck, my sigh of relief cut short.
"Don't look!" he grumbled, "Just stand there and breathe."
"Why would you hire a thief whose talents you didn't want to use?" I wondered, wishing I'd heeded the alarms which went off in my head once the plump wizard had joined me out of a tavern. Buying me a drink, he'd sketched out a plan to rob Patella's insula at his place out of town. "He's got all sorts of traps," Grumio explained, "mostly around turning men into dumb beasts, so don't touch anything I don't tell you to!" It certainly explained the strange menagerie I'd seen on the way in, so I was in no place to argue with my employer.
My nostrils felt chilly, and I sniffed instinctively, catching Grumio's nervous sweaty smell, my own increasingly rank musk and the odour of a lot of various, interesting things passing through. My stomach tightened as we tiptoed forward, each step after thorough examination of the granite block Grumio was going to step on.
I glanced back towards the front door, scratching my itchy skin through my shirt and enjoying the relief it offered. A delicious scent wandered in from the kitchen: someone hadn't finished eating a roast boar earlier. My stomach reminded me that I was starving; once we were out of here, I'd return to the tavern and spend all my earnings on eating until I passed out.
A quill scratched on parchment upstairs, my pointed furry ears twisting around to locate the sound. Absent-mindedly, I started to remove my shirt; the rustling of the cloth pulling Grumio's attention from the stone slab he'd been studying.
"Impossible!" he stated, terror in his eyes as he looked back at me, more surprised than I at the fur-covered torso I bore. I didn't remember my body being covered by thick, dark fur before; although a vague notion gave me the impression I shouldn't have been surprised.
"What?" I said, muffled by the long tongue that poured out of my mouth. The cold air on my fur felt oddly relaxing, though my hackles raised as I heard someone's weight shifting off of a chair and onto their feet, their muffled footfalls padding towards the room.
"I checked everything!" Grumio announced, a little too loudly. I believed him: beyond the sign warning off trespassers, we'd been travelling at a snail's pace. "When did you trigger one of the traps?"
"Years ago," a voice boomed, the tone very familiar. My nose sniffed, the scent was drawing closer.
"Oh shit," I cursed, memories suddenly washing over me. I grinned guiltily at Grumio, my returning muzzle suiting it well. "Yeah, you really fucked up hiring me."
"This idiot tried to steal from me before, Grumio," the voice called out: Patella's voice, the master of the house, and of me when he'd caught me. "I've made him far more useful."
My back didn't permit me to stand any more, my body falling naturally on all four limbs, each shifting into a more canine shape. I wanted to tell Grumio what I was now remembering: Patella caught me, said, "Well, I guess I need a guard dog, and since you're here..." and suddenly found myself getting hairy. But the memories were flowing out just as fast as they were coming in, all of the dog instincts and thoughts Patella had forced on to me returning.
"Your mistake, Grumio," Patella told the plump wizard, "was not checking the thief you hired wasn't under my control. I temporarily turned him back, the spell lasting just long enough for you to hire him and drag him here."
Instinctively, my tail wagged as the door opened, and Patella entered the room. I felt a burst of intense hatred - the man had cursed me into being his dog for the rest of my life - but my lucidity was passing, the fog of dog rolling through my head. My master was standing there while I wriggled out of the clothes he'd bought for me, padding over to get a reassuring head scratch as I planted my furry rear down beside his feet.
"Now, as for what to do with you," Patella's monologue continued, "well, I just roasted my last boar, so we've just had a vacany open up."
The rest of their conversation was a jumble of nonsense, so I interested myself in licking my private areas while Patella finished gloating and Grumio finished wetting himself. I started paying attention again when the boar smell suddenly started growing. The instinct for food kicked in, and I barked, sniffing at Grumio's form as he scrambled backwards. "Too late for that," my final human thought bubbled through my brain, my body raising as I growled.
I started to pounce, but a sharp word from my master halted me. Instead, for some reason, he wanted me to let the increasingly porcine-scented man run across the room, a trail of cold urine following him out as he burst out the door.
After a few moments of laughter, where I grinned up at Patella and wagged my tail, my master patted my head approvingly. Then my master decided he'd had enough playing around, and the sternness set into his voice again.
"Fetch," he ordered.
My front paws had already hit the floor by time he'd finished.