Story #325 - Dog Days

Dog Days

“I am quite certain this is the Chancellor, my Lord,” the plump young man said, petting a small dog he had cradled under his arm. “I found him rooting through the garbage this morning.”

Regent-Lord Laneth sighed. It wasn’t the first such wild claim he’d heard, and was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Six weeks ago, the Chancellor had disappeared after a meeting but no body had been found, no ransom note delivered and absolutely no evidence of foul play located. The last person to see the aging politician was a palace servant – and not the kind whose loyalty could be questioned.

Despite that fact, some called for Ellorin’s interrogation but Laneth put his foot down – the ancient man had served six Chancellors over fifty years and was one of the most respected men in the Empire. To torture him would serve no purpose except to shore up fear among the commons and give the impression those in the palace had no leads on the Chancellor’s whereabouts.

They didn’t – but the commons didn’t need to know that.

“Let me be very clear,” Laneth said softy. “You are telling me that you have found the Empire’s Chancellor – and that he has been transformed into a dog?” He frowned; the dog wasn’t even of a large or ferocious breed but a mutt that had likely spent most of its life on the streets of the capital, judging by the mats in its fur and the poor condition of its teeth.

“Yes, my Lord,” the young man said, bowing. He was a potmaker from the South Row and while he seemed sincere enough, wideness around his eyes and a strange tightening of the mouth that spoke to chemical exposure – not a surprising as his craft involved the use of a number of odd mixtures and gases.

“And what exactly leads you to believe such a thing?”

“Look at the face!” The potmaker said, holding up the small, blonde-furred beast for emphasis. “It is the same angular construction and has the same sweeping brows!”

Laneth almost laughed aloud; the potmaker had a point. He could see a measure of the Chancellor in the mutt’s face, but there was no chance the beast was actually a transformation. Such magic been banned for the better part of a century and no practitioners remained in the western half of the Ruby Empire.

“Benno,” he said seriously, and looked to his right for confirmation. His attendant nodded – even if Laneth made an error in the potmaker’s name no objection would be raised, but he liked to be precise. “I appreciate your efforts, but this dog is not our chancellor. Its gait is all wrong.” A strangled sound behind Laneth’s chair spoke to his attendant’s effort to keep from laughing; humor could be found in the most unlikely places. “You will leave the mutt with us, however” he went on, “so that we can perform the appropriate tests for confirmation.”


The potmaker’s eyes brightened, but Laneth shook his head. “You will not be rewarded for this discovery, Benno. Should we determine that the Chancellor has in fact been transformed, you will be properly compensated. Until then return to your shop and continue your work.”

Benno’s round face took on a look of petulance, and Laneth was certain the fool considered opening his mouth again. Without the Chancellor in place, his authority as Regent-Lord was wearing thin and if no solution could be found to the disappearance a new Chancellor would need to be selected. The trouble with such a solution lay not only in choosing a worthy successor, but ensuring that the old Chancellor stayed lost instead of being found. Appointing a new office-holder when the current one still lived was a treasonous offence punishable by death - no matter the circumstance.

“You are dismissed!” Laneth’s attendant said sharply and directed two steel-plated guards forward. Benno went without further comment, the dog handed off to a servant who ran in from the great hall’s edge.

Shifting on the great wood chair of the Regent-Lord, Laneth sighed. His position was rapidly becoming uncomfortable.

***

“You can’t be serious!” Laneth downed another glass of wine, fear rising. It had been four days since the audience with Benno – why had it taken so long for a report to be made?

“I never joke, my Lord.” Arcanist Dunne’s face was bleak. “I have detected remnants of transformative energies inside the Chancellor’s private bath.”

“So our Chancellor has in fact shrunken in size and grown two extra legs?” Laneth couldn’t keep a smile off his face – Dunne’s seriousness only made the situation more ridiculous.

“No – the dog is not our Chancellor, and it has been released.”

Laneth frowned at that. He hadn’t specified what would happen to the beast. Though he had no plans to harm it, others should have asked his permission before taking any action.

“It was the animal that led us to search for energies – such a thing has not been seen here in two decades, and none of us suspected such foul play.”

“Fine.” Laneth felt panic begin to grip him again, but forced himself away from the wine. Drunkenness would do nothing but let others take charge. “So the dog pointed you in the direction of magic, and the Chancellor’s bath revealed as much. Do you have anything more specific to offer me?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Dunne’s tone hovered on the verge on insult, but Laneth didn’t have the time or inclination to punish the thin old man. He needed information, not more enemies. “The residue left in the bath is consistent with a transformative magic known as metallocy.”

“Metallocy?” Laneth had never heard the term.

”It is the shifting of flesh to metal – the Chancellor has not been changed into a dog or any other animal, but rather a piece of copper or tin. Only basic metals can be used.”

“What?” Laneth was stunned. “How would be even begin we find him in such a case?”

Dunne frowned. “It will not be easy. I will require one who shares his blood to act as a tracker, imbued with the power to follow. It will not be easy – or pleasant.”

Laneth’s spirits sank. Few knew of his secret paternal lineage, but Dunne was such a one. “Fine.” His tone was petulant. “Proceed.”


- D