The Salamander reappeared with her kettle and the package of herbal medicines from Master Pao's shop. She extracted the white-wrapped packet from the rest, measured the proper amount into the cup and poured the hot water over it.
Cameron eyed her with misgiving. "And just what is that?" he asked sullenly.
She gave him the cool look of mingled superiority and pity that had quelled impertinent undergraduates many times in the past. "Medicine from Master Pao," she told him crisply. "He wants you to leave off whatever you're dosing yourself with and take this instead. I am inclined to see to it that you do, now that I have taken note of those quack nostrums you think necessary. Half of them are probably poisonous, and the others useless, and I intend to see that you at least try Master Pao's medicine."
He paused in the very act of conveying another bite to his mouth, and gazed at her with astonishment, his jaws still open. "And just how do you propose to do that? Pour it forcibly down my throat?"
She sniffed, and regarded the steeping tea with a thoughtful eye. "I dosed a puppy for worms when I was a child," she told him matter-of-factly, feeling rather like a governess with an unruly child to tend. I don't think I would have any particular difficulty with you. You can hardly hold up your fork; the puppy was considerably more active."
He continued to gape at her, the paw holding the fork slowly dropping. "By George," he managed, finally. "I believe you would!"
"Whether you believe it or not is immaterial, for the tea is done and ready to drink." She poured it into the strainer held over the second cup, and waited while it dribbled into its new container. "There." She shook the last few drops into the teacup, and picked it up, handing it to him. "Do you take it yourself, or do I tilt your head up, pour it down your throat, and allow you to make the choice of drinking or drowning? I probably wouldn't have to rub your nose to make you swallow", she added thoughtfully, "But I might forget you aren't the puppy and do it by reflex."
"I might as well see what miserable potion that wretch Pao has decided I must have," he replied ungraciously. He looked as if he would have preferred to snatch the cup from her hand for effect, but it was all he could do to stretch out his paw and take it with a face full of distaste, he sniffed it, then gulped it down.
"Pfaugh!" he choked, tongue lolling out exactly as that long-ago puppy's had. "And this is what I must have instead of my pain-killers?"
"If there is opium in them, as Master Pao asserted, I would consider it a better choice," she said steadily. "You ought to consider the notion that your so-called pain-killers might have been responsible for the condition you are in at the moment. Remember what all your books have said about working Magick under the influence of strong drink or drugs. However, it is up to you, of course, if you choose to be a fool and disregard all of the instructions to Apprentices that you have had me read so assiduously."
He gave her a look as sour as a pickled lemon, but said nothing, only went back to stabbing his pieces of meat and gulping them down as viciously as if they were personally responsible for his plight.
Or as if they were coming out of my flesh. She restrained a shiver, looking at those long, white teeth. How much of him was Jason Cameron, and how much the beast? Would he turn on her if she provoked him too much?
But if I lather him with pity and sympathy, he will not pull himself together; if I treat him with fear he will disdain me. I must treat him as what he is—an equal who has made a great fool of himself, and deserves some sharp words.
He finished his meat, set the fork down wearily, and managed to get plate and fork back up on the tray. His condition improved moment by moment, and she felt cheered by that much at least.
"Since you already know that I am impertinent, I am going to be unconscionably rude as well," she said at last. "How on earth did you come to this pass? What happened to turn you into—?" She could not find the words to describe him, but he answered her anyway.
"Hubris," he said bitterly. "I was already sufficient Master of every aspect of Fire Magick that there were no more challenges for me, and I began to experiment with other forms of Magick. One I found in a medieval grimoire, an incantation to enable a man to put on the aspect of a wolf at will and put it off again at will."
"The loup-garou," she breathed, nodding. "I remember it from the old legends."
I also recall the ferocity of the werewolf, and his insatiable hatred for humankind while in that form. How could he possibly want to take that aspect upon himself?
"Not exactly. The werewolf of legend has no control over his shape-change, nor does he retain a human mind in the form of the wolf. This would allow me to make such a shift safely and with my human mind and reasoning intact—or so I thought." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, bitterness obvious even in so alien a face as his. "Something went wrong. I was frozen in this hybrid form. That is why you are here, to help me find the missing part of the formula—I must find away to reverse this condition."
"Well, at least now I know what I am looking for." She clasped her hands together on her knee and pondered, thinking in the back of her mind that this wolf-man hybrid was not so horrible, really. If he had been disfigured, there would have been the ugliness of the wound, and that awful feeling I always get when I look at someone who's been hurt, that feeling that makes my throat tighten and makes me want to run away. This is just different. I expect I could actually get used to it in time. "Forgive me for asking, but—how much of you is wolf?" She blushed as she realized just how that sounded, and amended it. "Has this altered your personality or your emotions, for instance? Are you likely to have to howl at the moon or go run with a pack?"
His laughter was very like a bark. "Hardly! And I pledge you, I am sufficiently housebroken!" But there was an uneasiness behind his words, as if he, too, was wondering how much he was subject to lupine instinct rather than human reason.
The unease hung between them, killing any conversation, and she decided to change the subject. "I can certainly understand now why you have been so reclusive, but surely we need not go on as we have," she told him, surprising herself a little as she spoke things she had only just thought of. "Now that I have seen you, there can be no reason why you must send books up to me and have me shout them at you through the speaking-tube. I believe it would be the most logical for me to come up here to read what you want—that way, if something in another volume occurred to you, we could pursue it immediately, rather than waiting until the next day for you to find it and send it down to me."
He licked his lips, thoughtfully, his red tongue passing across the sharp, white teeth. "You are not completely revolted by—this—?" he gestured at his face, with his hand that was half paw.
She managed to look him in the eyes, steadily. "It is not pleasant, but neither is it unpleasant. Your appearance is rather startling, and I could imagine that to some of your former acquaintances, particularly those unaware of your work in the arcane, it would come as a shock. But I cannot say that I am revolted by it." And she discovered, even as she spoke the words, that they were true. "It has a certain striking quality, actually. Certainly ordinary people are most pleased when their beloved dogs look near to human—there is some of that in this hybrid form you wear."