Urzipan The Sorcerer

by Mike Mayak

The young-looking raccoon scrambled and pulled himself onto the top of the castle’s low wall and sat there breathing heavily.

“This would have been a lot easier to do as a hawk,” he muttered in a human voice. “Demnitos take you, Rehavanc, why couldn’t your magic have worked the way it was supposed to?”

Cygar, known in some quarters as Cygar-The-Thief, had been offered a deal by the Magistrates of Glosber, where he had been caught helping himself to things that weren’t his; charges against him would be dropped if he performed “a small service” for the kingdom.

Mainly allowing himself to be transformed into a hawk and fly to the castle of Prince Tulosbah and find out why Tulosbah and the sorcerer Urzipan were not allowing the promised marriage to Tulosbah’s niece Princess Verona. To find out if the Princess was actually at the Prince’s castle and see what means might be taken to liberate her, for they were sure she was being held prisoner.

But Rehavanc’s magic wasn’t dependable and so Cygar-The-Raccoon had been forced to hitch a ride in the back of a cart traveling between the two kingdoms.

Fortunately, a raccoon was about as inconspicuous in the dark as a hawk would be.

Cygar smiled to himself. And as a raccoon he had a built-in mask, which fit the whole idea of…

“Hey, look! A raccoon!”

Great, Cygar thought. Palace guards. With spears. Just what I don’t need.

Cygar gave the two guards the once-over. Didn’t look too bright or agile. Still they could probably use the spear. Cygar ran the other way and kept to the top of the wall, not glancing back at the guards on the battlements. He turned another corner (How big was this Demnitos-cursed castle anyway?) and stopped where the wall had come to a rise. Almost out of breath, he climbed the angled wall and found himself staring at a lit window in the castle wall. Inside, dressed in greenish robes was a young woman who Cygar recognized from the portrait he had been shown as Princess Verona.

Cygar-the-raccoon watched as she made certain the door to her room was secured, she was after all prisoner of an evil sorcerer. He wasn’t quite close enough to hear but she laughed and suddenly began to shimmer with a soft light. In another moment, Urzipan the Sorcerer stood in her place.

“Oh, they are not gonna like this back in Glosber…” Cygar muttered. “But it does explain why Urzipan wanted the wedding canceled…”

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I was going for more of a Jack Vance feel with the title, but the style of L. Sprague deCamp took over, I guess. —–mike