Come morning, an exhausted Jon-Tom and his wife were still
sleeping soundly. The sun was just coming up, peaking through the curtains into
their bedroom. He fought to ignore the light penetrating his eyelids when he
remembered her change was imminent. He rolled a little and cracked open an eye
in time to see her morph from human to something he couldn't immediately
define. She was smaller, with thick reddish brown fur. She was definitely cute,
quietly snoring away. He ran his hand over her coat, feeling the soft hairs
that made up her new covering. He moved his reach down a little, finding the
hole he had been “abusing" the night before. It was still wet, but tight as a
miser's fist. There was going to be some blood this morning!

     She stirred, gaining wakefulness in response to his intimate probing. She spoke
into his ear. “So horny man, what did I turn into?" He pushed up to look down
at her face. He smiled and shrugged before answering. “I don't know dearest.
I've seen a lot of creatures on this world, but I'm not familiar with this. It's similar to
some I've seen, but different in other aspects. But it looks like it's going to be fun to
screw!" He made a move to straddle her, but politely pushed him off, got up and looked
in the mirror. A soft, rounded face looked back. She made a startled step back.

    “Kioka!" was all she said at first. Jon-Tom ran that through his head. He had never
heard of a kioka. Whatever they were, they were pretty cute. He couldn't see
her face directly, but it clearly visible in the mirror. He could see she was
obviously thinking, for there was no movement in her features, other than her
deeply knitted eye brows. She seemed to come to a quick decision and turned to
him. She gave him a enigmatic smile. When she didn't say anything, he voiced
his question. “So what's a kioka? I've been on this world a long time
and have never heard of them." She crawled back into bed, brushing her tail
across his face.

    “You silly man, Kioka is a friend of mine from the school. This happens to be her
form, which is that of the olingo. I don't know why you've never met them, unless
something happened to them between now and your true time. She happens to be a
real sweetie. You'd like her; she's funny, friendly, and capable of contorting
her body into some amazing twists. She's planning on going into the wizards'
guild, and I think she'll make it. She can do some pretty nifty stuff. Of
course, I can now outshine her like a sun to a firefly, but I'd never tell her
that. I didn't come by my power honestly."

    Jon-Tom was listening intently. He hardly needed her friend to find out how fun this
body could be. He pulled her close, but she responded in a way he didn't
expect. She told him no. “Look husband, you've got a busy day today, and I have
a few things I'd like to do without walking about bow-legged. And yes I could
fix that, but then what would be fun in getting that sore to begin with?" He
sighed and desisted. “So, little miss appointment secretary, what's on the
agenda for today?"

    She eased back again a pillow and tallied on her short furry fingers. “Today you
inspect the boys school, after which you and Graven will need to go down to the
mines and see if their need for more equipment is legitimate. The mechanics
guild will build it, but any major expenditure between guilds must be approved
by the mayor. Of course, you wouldn't have to go and see, but then you would
lose your credibility. Trust me, I'll be home in time for supper, and there
will be plenty of time for dessert. I'll even play the innocent little newbie
if you like." He remembered back when she had been. Blood started flowing to
the wrong head; he pushed down his excitement with as much force as he could
muster.

   “Oh, all right Sybeele. Breakfast first then I'll suit up. Am I going to need the
undertaker's suit again today? It'll probably still be wrinkled." She kissed him
on the cheek. “I fixed that little problem and hung it back up. But no, you
won't need it today. Because you're going to the mines, I'd suggest something
more utilitarian. The boy's school has a dress code as well, but it's a bit
more relaxed. I think it's sexist, but I'm told it's because the boys get
dirtier. So wear your leather pants and your cape if you like, but no white
shirt. Trust me; it'll look like a horse used to for toilet paper by the time
the mining guild leader gets done dragging you around. The dirt and dust will
come off your other clothes much easier."

    He couldn't help but tease her. “You have all my magic, and a little thing like a
dirty shirt disturbs you?" She pointed her finger at him. His body suddenly
felt weightless. As she elevated her finger, he rose until his head
hit the ceiling. She spoke with just a touch of irritation. “Magic is fun, but
I find it no substitute for being self sufficient. I'm here for one reason
only; because I love you. I didn't come over because of magic; magic is what
has been foisted on me to be with you. I'm willing to go through a lot because
I'm so in love. Please don't forget that." She lowered her finger, returning
him to the floor. He was suddenly feeling very foolish.

    “I'm sorry dear," he said contritely. “I guess I got wrapped up in being so powerful
that the little things; the good things, slipped from my sight. I guess you're
a lot like me in that. You like the things that really matter." He apparently
said the right thing. “Yes dear husband, I think I do. I value love and friendship
more than magic, but I'm not averse to using one to benefit the other. Now go
get dressed and be off. I sense Graven is on his way so there's no point in
being late." He dressed quickly, gave her a kiss, and was outside five seconds
before the marmoset arrived.

    The tour of the boys school went much as had the other. The students lined up, and
the only difference now was that Jon-Tom was looking more intently at the
various species represented. Sure enough, he spotted two olingo boys, as well
as a half a dozen other mammal species he was completely unaware of. One young
fellow looked remarkably like a raccoon, only with doglike features. Perhaps
some kind of crazy crossbreed? Then he remembered that the only crossbreeds happened
about four hundred years in the future. They all looked like their mothers,
thankfully.

    The principal looked at Jon-Tom's clothes with visible distaste, until Graven
mentioned that they had the mine inspection following the school visit. Then he
spoke freely. “I say my Lord Mayor, I was wondering at your choice in style.
It's rather hideous. But I see you have wisely chosen something you can throw
out once you're done. I certainly wouldn't ruin a perfectly good suit in the
mines either!" Jon-Tom wanted to tell him off, but figured there would be
little point in wasting his breath. But it still rankled him to the core. He
had saved this world from certain destruction wearing these clothes!

    The school inspection went smoothly outside of that, and they finished and ate
lunch there. A few of the boys showed an interest in the new mayor, but not
nearly as much as had the girls. He knew why; they knew nothing about him. On
top of that, they had not had a little blabbermouth in their midst telling them
sexually explicit stories. It was just as well. He hardly needed to be
deflecting advances from both schools. Once their meal was over, the principal
escorted them outside, where a horse and buggy were standing at the ready.
Jon-Tom walked up and bowed to the Belgian pulling it.

    “Good day sir!" He said in a kind tone. The horse looked startled and backed up a step or
two. “Scuse me gov, was you talkin to me?" Jon-Tom winked. “I wasn't talking to
the buggy. I figured it was only proper to introduce myself to the person who
was going to convey me to the mines." The horse flung its head in bewilderment.
“Look 'ere gov, I'm off cart pulling duty just to gets you and fetch you back.
But I thanks ya from me 'eart, I does, for you noticing poor ole Huntchy. But
iffin ya don't mind, can you get your arses into the seat? I ain't getting good behavior points
for lollygagging about." Jon-Tom shook his own head in amusement and climbed
aboard.

    The drove through the outer edge of town before leaving the walls and entering the
country side. The land as far as they could see was filled with fields and
orchards. The road, however, still had the quality of the city. It was
interlocked stones that fit together with nary a crack. The ride was a smooth
as if they were riding in a limo. Once in a while, Huntchy would glance this
way and that, then divert off their route long enough to snag a snack. His
riders said nothing. Graven whispered to Jon-Tom. “Not everyone who works for
the guild are apprentices. The town has a jail, but we prefer not to have it
occupied. We give anyone breaking the rules a chance to work off their crime.
Huntchy here isn't a bad soul, if a bit rough. But he likes to drink. When he
drinks too much, he gets in trouble. This last time he defecated in front of
the door of the mine guild hall. No one noticed until they walked out the door
and stepped in it. His punishment was to work for the guild until such time as
it was saw fit to release him.

    Jon-Tom leaned down and spoke back, also in hushed tones. “I understand. I had a friend
a bit like that. Huntchy reminds me a bit of him, though my friend was an
otter. I think he would rather pick the jail than work though." The horse's
keen ears missed none of the conversation. “An otter eh? Ain't none in this
town. Otters is no good for nothing 'cept thieving and whoring. Taint their
fault though; seems to be conditioned into their makeup. Course, you want the
best fisherman on the planet, you get yourself an otter. I don't eat no fish,
but them that does knows where to find them that can catch em. Only problem is
getting any before the damned blighters eats them all. The little water rats
have insatiable appetites for everything in life, cept work. Me, I'm just bored
with the institution." He returned to silently plodding down the road.

    Jon-Tom looked at Graven. “What institution?" The marmoset leaned back and called out
to the horse. “Huntchy, you mind if I tell our new mayor all about you?" The
horse whinnied and farted at the same time. “Look mister mini monkey, I don't give
a damn what anyone does. If it helps you all to pass the time, talk away. I
ain't proud of me life, but I ain't ashamed of it neither.

    Jon-Tom was waving his hands to clear the air. The smell was hardly pleasant. Graven
was used to it and merely placed a scented handkerchief over his face. He
talked through the fabric. “Huntchy here is probably one of the smartest
prodigies to come out of the schools in Hobarrow. His main disadvantage is his lack of
hands. It's hard to be an artisan, or a mechanic, or much of anything when you
can't express your abilities with action. His mind, despite what his present
dialogue would suggest, is a sharp as a razor. Don't forget that. His mind
holds a lot of information. He could be a wonder; he is a wonder, but I
sympathize with his physical limitation. People often look to our four legged
brethren as merely good only for manual labor. Huntchy's dam was an excellent
singer, and his father was a keen agriculturalist. We had high hopes for him,
as did his parents, but the fates must have found it funny to put the mind of a
genius into a body ill-suited for expressing it. Hence why he took to drinking.
No one blames him, but no one can help him. It is beyond anything we can do."

    Jon-Tom sighed. If he had his magic, he could help. But he didn't, and it was clear
that Sybeele wasn't likely to lend assistance. No one knew of the power she
presently held, nor who he was. There was no way of telling them, for the
important events he was involved with wouldn't happen for centuries. So for
now, he had to be content being drawn down the road by a disgruntled genius. He
eased back into the seat and watched the scenery. There were fields of flowers,
as well as vegetables and grains. But off to one side he could see a hillock of
barren dirt. Graven pointed it out too.

  “That is the rubble pile from the silver mine. It is there that we will meet the
guild leader. They have apparently discovered a new, rich vein of ore. They
wish us to verify it so that they can obtain tools from the mechanics guild,
and spells from the wizards' guild." Jon-Tom was curious. He knew a little about
mining, both from his own world as well as from here. “What kind of spells do
they need in mining? I thought it was all by hand digging?"

  The marmoset nodded. “Extracting it from the ground is one thing, processing it is
another. In the old days, they used noxious chemical mixtures. Now we use magic
to pull the metal from the stone. It is cleaner, and they give a share to each
of the other guilds involved as payment." They had drifted over onto a side
road, narrower than but still as solid as before. In a short while, the
entrance to the mine came into view. It was a gaping maw leading down into
darkness. Miners were going in and out. One hollered when he saw them. “OK
Huntchy, play time's over. Get unhooked from that baby carriage and get to
work!" The horse whinnied back. “Fuck you, Hadrit! I'm on the clock until this
'ere lot is done inspecting your 'ole. Maybe I should warn them it's as wide as
a buggered whore, and just about as safe!"

   The exchange was apparently commonplace, because everyone within earshot laughed.
Huntchy waved his head to the right. “Gorcheal is over that way, examining new
samples. Me, I'm gonna stand right 'ere and nap." Without further ado, he
closed his eyes. But Jon-Tom knew he was still listening to everything going on
around him. Gorcheal, it turned out, was a rather plump mole. Jon-Ton said nothing,
but chastised himself mentally for not figuring that out before. He had been at
the meeting, but he had a lot to absorb at the time. It was easier to remember
everyone after a one on one encounter.

    The mole was wearing dark glasses. Apparently, even on a cloudy day like today, it
was too bright. But he smiled when he saw the town's leaders. “Ah good, good!
I've been waiting for you. See here," he exclaimed, holding up a clump of rock
shot through with a wide vein of metal, “this new discovery is much richer than
our previous excavations. And according to our assay, it also has a few other
metals mixed in. There might be enough copper here to save the mechanics guild
importing more in. That would make us much more self sufficient!"

    Jon-Tom smiled. The little thick furred fellow was quite happy with his work. Nothing
excited him more than digging. And from the look of his fur, normally gray, he
was rarely in contact with a bath. His face was black, covered in dust and
granules, and the same could be said for the rest of him.  He looked like a dust mop after one too
many sweeps across the floor. Sybeele was wise in having him dress in something
easily cleaned.

    The mine tour was interesting, if a bit claustrophobic. The mole and the marmoset
were much smaller, and found no trouble in negotiating the narrow passages and
low ceilings. Jon-Tom had to bend over, crawl on his knees, and once or twice, was
forced to wiggle through cracks. He had done something like this before
escaping from pirates, but now his life wasn't in danger. His mere presence
here might be construed as dangerous. By the time they were done and out in the
open, he knew he looked like the mole; disheveled and filthy. Graven was
similarly coated. When asked for his approval for the guild's requests, Jon-Tom
was quick to give it. He was afraid another tour might be in order if he
didn't. Huntchy was waked from his nap, and they set off for the town. Jon-Tom
spent half of the ride picking stones out of his hair, his pockets and his
waist band.

  The horse dropped him off at his house, and Graven opted to swing home from there.
The horse was happy enough with that. “Take care you two. I ain't got no love
for authority, but you two don't walk above the ground like you own the place.
And I ain't got no particular love for human's, but something about you is
different, man. I can't place my hoof on it, but I'd swear you were part
horse." Jon-Tom leaned in towards his alert equine ears. “Horse? What kind of a
damn fool thing is that to say? Try unicorn." He turned and stepped into his
house. The horse was left standing there dumbfounded.