The Thief of Shagrim

"Another cup of tea?" asked the wizard, arching his eyebrows questioningly. Afeek nodded and scratched behind his ear with a long, sharp claw. Something about thick scales made him itch.

"There is one question I was meaning to ask you," said the young thief. "Do you think you could see yourself magicing me back into a Katrin? It's not that I'm ungrateful or anything Effendi, I just can't see myself spending the rest of my life eating flies. It's just not me."

The wizard seemed to ponder this; he was one of those magic-users who pondered a lot. "I could change you back I suppose, but then, that would involve casting a spell, and I really can't be bothered working up the effort right now. You wouldn't believe the things that are expected of a court wizard you know."

Afeek nodded. "I quite understand, lots of bat guano and things of that sort. It's only, I really need to rub my eye and I'm afraid these claws might do some serious damage."

The wizard stiffened at this and put his cup down. "Good Gods above, you're quiet right young fellow. Wouldn't want you putting your eye out. It would take forever to get the blood out of my carpet for one thing." He muttered a garbled incantation and waved his hands around in a theatrical style. The change was instantaneous, and Afeek soon had his beloved fur back, fleas and all.

The Katrin breathed a sigh of relief and took a long swallow of tea. It was genuine Shagrimian tea and one of the stronger blends, not that weak stuff they sold down in the bazaar. This was real, gut-wrenching brew of the highest calibre. He grinned, momentarily seeing double, and put his cup back on the table. That shot would last him for hours.

"Now then," said the wizard. "Back to business. What were you doing here, and why were you touching my things? Don't you know it's dangerous to meddle with a mage's belongings?"

Afeek blinked. "I do now," he said. "But to answer your first question, I'm here on official business from Sheikh Hekim. He asked me to deliver a message to the Sultan."

"Poppycock," said the wizard. He sat back and lit his pipe, blowing a series of perfect smoke rings into the air. Afeek was suitably impressed and made a mental note to ask the secret before leaving.

"That's right, your story. It's poppycock young fellow. You're a thief, anyone can see that."

For a moment Afeek was dumbfounded. If anything, a thief was supposed to be difficult to spot. He decided that if he escaped here alive, a change of outfit would be required. Something non-black. "You can tell that can you?"

The wizard nodded. "Pretty obvious really. Still, that doesn't explain what you came for."

Afeek searched his mind for a suitable answer and came up blank. His was an unprecedented situation, and that called for unprecedented excuses. The truth.

"I'm came to steal the Sceptre of the Golden Dawn," he said, sitting back to enjoy the startled expression. It was not forthcoming.

"The Sceptre eh? Well shouldn't be too difficult. It's in the Sultan's chambers and he sleeps as heavily as a troll after a drunken binge. The only difficult part would be getting into the chamber. But of course, magic could get you in without any trouble at all."

For a moment, the young thief couldn't speak. If the wizard was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting, then Afeek might just live to see the morning.

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