Episode 24: Freaky Saturn's Day

The light that had been fading into being over the eastern horizon, while the Justice Knights issued their attack, was now strong as the sun took its low angle in the sky. The viking ship slipped slowly downstream. Gareth, who drew the most attention from the curious Norsemen, lay on the bow, in a spot near the figurehead of the dragon. Binding his wounds had greatly taxed the vikings' resources. It wasn't every day that they required enough clean bandaging to wrap around the girth of a giant lion-bird-thing's chest. Euphrasia lay near him, similarly bound around the head (though she was an easier patient by far), and in restful repose on a makeshift cot.
The company was dog-tired. After all, none of the writers had allowed for much sleep in the past few episodes, leaving them haggard and road weary. Ivan and Jnii lay in a corner on the bow, their heads resting and knocking against the side of the ship. Only Trout was awake. And Dool. The miniaturized wizard had managed, in a moment of uncommon agility, to free himself from the confines of his velvet pouch, and he found that if he stood hidden from the Norsemen, standing a few inches from Trout and lighting the occasional fire between Trout's fingers when the thief looked to be dozing off, Dool could entertain himself immeasurably in these wakeful moments.
Twice or three times, the wizard narrowly avoided an untimely death under the force of Trout's smarting hand.
"Will you stop that!" Trout whispered angrily in the general direction of the low corner where Dool now hid.
He glanced nervously in the direction of the vikings, rowing and singing a low, depressing song about ice. Having lived as one of them, he knew the great store they placed in the words of wizards and such. He didn't want them to think he bickered openly with a magic man.
"Oli-phant..."
Trout looked up to see that Euphrasia had let her arm fall dreamily to one side. She was staring vacantly into space and repeating her champion's name.
"Where... is Oliphant?" she finally mustered, as her eyes rolled far enough to the right to rest on Trout.
He looked around. Damn, he cursed inwardly. He had forgotten about the metal can warrior and naturally assumed that their whole party was together.
"Don't you worry, my lady," Trout cried, loud enough for the vikings to hear and take note. "Sir Oliphant will surely take care of himself. Perhaps we may even cross his path anon."
Euphrasia rolled her eyes away and passed out again.

Ivan was not asleep. He lay with his head on Jnii's shoulder now, his eyes closed, but he was not asleep. He heard this short exchange and considered leaping up then and there and recounting the incident with Oliphant and the violent hacking of that bush supposed to contain Ivan himself. But then the boy decided to wait. There could be advantage in his silence. He didn't know what possible advantage, but still.

Trout, seeing the lady fall unconscious again, rested his head back and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, a searing heat pierced the soft flesh between his fingers. With a quick movement, and before Dool could run on unsteady legs to his shelter in a crack in a plank of wood, Trout blindly snapped his fingers in the place where he thought Dool's groin would be. He overestimated the wizard's height (or perhaps he was shrinking again) and instead flicked him in the head, sending the miniature old man flying into Jnii's side.
She started awake and looked down to see Dool in a happy comatose state in the folds of her skirt. Carefully, she picked him up and returned him to the velvet pouch at her waist and, looking over at her beloved Trout, was glad to see that the con was dreaming so easily that his face was plastered with a smirk.

By nightfall, they had left the Velais river and emptied out into the sea, following pretty closely the line of the coast. With a shout, the vikings pointed to a small island some miles off the coast.
"Uninhabited," Gudmund said to Trout as they stood looking at the dark spot on the horizon. "We were camped there yesterday. Shall return today, and we'll have a feast such as nothing you've seen before! For the isle is rich in wildlife and game, and I have no idea why the idiots on the mainland haven't discovered this yet."
Trout's stomach growled.
"Tomorrow, we make for our land, where surely great things will happen once you and your great company have fulfilled prophecy."
"Say," Trout said, off-hand, "are there wyverns in your land?"
"Of course."
"Any krakens?"
"We call them ice squid."
"But they do have beaks?"
Gudmund nodded. "Oh yes. Why do you ask?"
"No reason."

Gudmund was true to his word. They ate that night around a blazing bonfire on the beach of this peaceful island. Barrels of grog were hauled off the anchored ship; a lyre was found for Trout to play (he was still in the guise of Beurel the musician, since it was an easy part for him to play, refined as he was).
"Oy there!" one of the boisterous Norsemen cried out to Ivan. "Midget! We shall have a dance from you!"
The vikings had not yet recognized Ivan as a child and not a midget. Trout was very amused by this. Ivan was not as amused. As their friendship had grown, Jnii's motherly protectiveness of Ivan also had grown, so she quickly stepped in for the dance. She, after all, was still in the guise of Beurel's dancing girl.
The men had naturally recognized Lady Euphrasia (who now sat propped up and conscious, but rather weary and not enjoying the party) as a beautiful but untouchable noblewoman. Jnii, however, was a working man's woman. There could be no doubt that she was coarse and unrefined, and so the vikings gravitated towards her as a woman more their calibre. But then they remembered the snapping of that rather large twig that was more branch-like than anything else. So during the course of the meal and the dance, as merry and rosy-cheeked as Jnii was under the influence of alcohol, she was met on all turns by eager manly faces that soon grew fearful of her and looked away. Inwardly, she damned Trout for his sound advice.
The mad midget was, at a point, handed a rather large mug of grog, which he downed with alacrity. Ivan then, as would be expected of a slight boy his age, collapsed in the sand and would not wake up.

By the time the moon was high in the night sky, there was no one who was not drunk or else passed out (from drink or from wounds to the head or from both). It was probably the influence of the drink that made Trout seize Jnii's arm and speed towards the woods that lined the beach.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jnii slurred as she tore her arm away. Without waiting, she swayed on her feet, gesturing violently, and said, "Ohhh no. I'm smartening up, I am, Mister Beurel. I'll have none of you!"
"None of me?" Trout cried with distress, his affections heightened by nothing more than the powerful effects of the alcohol. "Oh, give us a ki--"
"None of you!" Jnii shouted, but there could be no fear that her voice would be heard over the bonfire din.
"Now look here," Trout shouted back, indistinctly. "I didn't have to take you with me. In fact! This whole thing would've been a lot easier without you, dearie."
It was an argument they had had a hundred times. Unseen, Dool had pulled himself to the mouth of the pouch and was watching them bicker with interest.
"You seem glad enough to have me along, most times!" Jnii cried. She suddenly started sobbing. "Oh, you villain! Oh, you monster!"
"Little girl," Trout grumbled with disdain. "Always crying. Always blubbering. Little girls are all alike."

They didn't hear the small words that came from Dool, just before he fell back asleep and into his pouch.

In a blink of an eye, all was changed. Both screamed and fell back and instantly sobered somewhat. Trout found himself looking slightly up into a mirror image; Jnii found herself looking slightly down into her own mirror image. And as each leaped back, they saw themselves leap back.
"What--What is this?" Trout said, but his voice sounded strange to him.
He saw himself put his hand to his head, and heard his own voice say, though he was himself not saying it, "Oh--oh, by the gods!"
It was a remarkable thing for Jnii, as she rested her head in her hands and uttered a plea to the gods, to see herself standing there, gaping at herself.
Her fingers touched hair, but it could not have been her own. It had suddenly grown very short. There wasn't very much of it at all in her fingers. And then she looked down, as did Trout. Then they knew the awful truth.
Jnii was dressed in Trout's jerkin and trousers. She had grown curiously flat-chested and much taller, it seemed. Trout, meanwhile, realized that he had sprouted some parts he had never had before and lost one that he particularly prized. He also was wearing a dress.
"Oh!" Jnii said again, and her voice was Trout's. She leaped forward and grabbed the pouch from Trout's (her own) waist. "It's Dool! He's put a spell on us, surely!"
"That little--"
Jnii fumbled with her new man-ish fingers and couldn't get the pouch open, so Trout had to step in and open it for her. Jnii took Dool gently in her hands and tried to shake him awake.
"Let me have him!" Trout cried in his newfound thin, feminine voice.
"No, you'll kill him, and then where will we be?" Jnii shouted hoarsely.
Trout tried to run his fingers through his hair, but got them caught in Jnii's long dirty tresses.
"Damn it!" he shouted, and his voice cracked under the force of his oath.
"Gareth! Perhaps Gareth will know what to do!" Jnii cried, and she quickly grabbed the pouch from Trout's waist and returned the wizard to his safe container.

The two bewitched ones ran back to the bonfire, toward the distant dark spot where Gareth slept on the beach. But one viking in particular, seeing Jnii running breathlessly in front of a clearly agitated Trout, somehow felt that she had lost a little of that mysterious strength they had so feared before. There was an entirely different aura about her now. Why, she looked like any frail female! He stopped her as the two rushed by.
"Ah, woman," the viking said, bleary with drink.
"Unhand me!" Trout cried, forgetting for a moment who he looked like.
Jnii stopped and watched.
"Surely, Beurel," the viking said to Jnii, "your lady is not yourn alone, eh?"
Trout had no patience for this. He slapped the viking with Jnii's open hand. But it was not Jnii in Jnii's body, and somehow the powers which her gloves gave her did not transfer to him. So his strike was very commonplace and weak, and the viking merely smiled and seized Trout by Jnii's waist.
"Hey! Unhand me!" Trout screamed.
Jnii stood and stared at the odd spectacle of seeing herself manhandled by a viking... and resisting.
Trout managed to turn to her. "Help me, you little slut!"
Jnii was inclined to help him, or rather help the image of herself, since of all people in the world she did not want to see herself get hurt. But she conquered this delicate feeling, and rather enjoyed seeing Trout get fondled by the huge rowman, even if he did look like her while it was happening.
"It's your body!" he shouted at his image, standing there smiling.
"She's a loyal one!" the viking remarked in amazement to the one he thought was Trout. "Most women get a might touchy when it comes to property issues. Tell her it's all right."
"It's all right," Jnii said, smiling at her kicking self. "There's nothing wrong with it."
"There's a great deal wrong with it!" Trout cried in despair. "You want to see your--myself--handled by this brute?"
"Why not?"
Trout somehow managed to free himself from the rowman's grasp, and he stood panting, staring at Jnii. "You seriously don't care?"
Jnii folded Trout's arms and said, "Not a jot!"
"Oh!" Trout said, leaning back. "Then I might as well enjoy myself, eh?"
And he proceeded to feign dangerous grasps at various parts of his new body. Jnii screamed and ran forward (and the viking had never seen Beurel mince so).
"You take your hands off yourself--missy!" she yelled.
"I thought you didn't care!" Trout retorted.
"Well, I do when you're the one handling yourself, you--you--hussy!"

The Norseman took a few steps backwards towards the remainder of his singing and dancing comrades at the bonfire. Whatever was going on between the minstrel and his woman, the rowman was not entirely sure he wanted to get involved. He quietly slipped back to the dancing, and shook his head until he forgot all about the creepiness that he had just witnessed.

Jnii and Trout, meanwhile, were too heated in their argument to notice that they were free of the viking hassle. It took them a few moments of shouting and slapping wrists to realize that they were alone.
"You're wasting my time!" Jnii hissed at Trout.
"And you're wasting my time," Trout replied.
And they continued on to find Gareth, both of them fuming.

Gareth opened only one eye when he was so rudely awakened. He peered up at Trout and Jnii as they stood looking down at him.
"Have you grown so accustomed to waking at all hours of the night?" the beast growled under his breath.
"Gareth, you have to help us!" Trout said to him in a tone that was strangely effeminate.
"Get up!" Jnii snarled.
The beast opened both eyes now and regarded them both with his beak closed. After a pause, he said, "Something's wrong with you two."
Jnii tried to grab the pouch that now hung from Trout's waist. "It's all his fault!" she said, as Trout twisted away from her reach.
"Beurel's?" Gareth asked blandly.
"Dool's!" Jnii cried.
And the two of them explained to him what they thought the wizard had done.
"Oh, my," Gareth murmured. He did not seem overly shocked by what had happened. To him, these things were normal. "Let me see him."
Trout carefully removed the tiny wizard and held him in the palm of his hand. Dool was curled up and sleeping soundly.
"Well, there's no waking him when he's like that," Gareth said.
"You mean we have to stay this way?"
Gareth made a low growl. "Would you rather we wake him and risk whatever else he might cast on you? He's very sick! He doesn't know what he does anymore."
"The little bastard--" Jnii (Trout) cried.
"It's best if we all just get some sleep. We'll sort it out in the morning."
And Gareth closed his eyes again and went to sleep.
Jnii and Trout stared at the beast incredulously.

The next morning the whole crew was back on the ship. The vikings seemed to be suffering no ill effects of their merrymaking of the night before, but Ivan and Trout both were a sickly pale shade of green. Twice, Ivan had to run to the side of the ship and expel his breakfast.
"You're all lightweights," Jnii cried from her place squatting in a very unladylike fashion near the figurehead.
Ivan stared. Trout patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. Ivan started and looked at Trout in alarm.
"It's all right," Trout said with a smile. "You'll get your sea legs soon, I bet." And then he went serious, grew pale, and headed for the ship's side as well.
"Look here," Jnii said, getting up and striding over to Trout. "Is Dool awake yet?"
Ivan glanced down at the pouch at Trout's waist. "Hey, why do you--" he started, but Jnii shoved him aside.
"I don't think so," Trout said, leaning his head on his hands. "And I think he's shrinking again. The pouch is getting lighter."
"Little bastard didn't escape, did he?" Jnii said hoarsely. She grabbed the pouch and looked inside. Dool was sleeping soundly in his cocoon.
Jnii scowled and gave Trout a dark look.
"What is going on?" Ivan said, too loudly for Jnii's taste.
She turned on him and whispered angrily, "Shut your mouth, Applesmith! Everything's fine! We have nothing to worry about. Just everyone act normal."
Trout drew a protective arm around the boy. Jnii seemed to take exception to this. She pointed at him and hissed, "Get your arm off him."
Trout stuck his chin in the air defiantly. "I won't have you talk to Ivan that way." He looked down at the boy. "Ivan, if I had a son, I imagine he would be a little something like you."
Ivan tried to squirm his way free.

"We need to return, immediately!" Euphrasia said.
She had woken and managed to bring herself to a sitting position. She stared around herself as if she was not quite sure of where she was.
"Uh..." Jnii put her finger to her lips and knelt beside Euphrasia's cot. "That's not the best idea," she whispered. "You see, these vikings are going to be taking us directly to a place where we might be able to get some help. For Dool, I mean."
"Yeah, Euphy," Trout said, behind them.
Euphrasia furrowed her brows and looked up at the rogue as he stepped forward, snorting and scratching himself.
"We're on our way to better things," Trout said in an exaggerated growl. "Plus, Olipants can take care of himself. We don't need him."
Euphrasia stared.
Ivan, unseen, nodded in agreement.