“Ellwood Cyrene,” I cried, so glad to see my old friend that I momentarily forgot my ruse. “Um, is me, which is to say that I am Ellwood Cyrene.”
“Yes,” said Ellwood stiffly. “He is Ellwood Cyrene. And I am the… ahem… great story-teller Eaglethorpe Buxton.”
“Story-teller adventurer,” I offered.
“Story-teller adventurer.”
“Great story-teller adventurer,” I added.
“I said great,” said Ellwood.
“You said great the first time, but you didn’t say great the second time.”
“I am the great, the marvelous, the wonderful adventurer and story-teller Eaglethorpe…”
“And hero,” said I.
“Never mind,” said Ellwood. “He is Eaglethorpe Buxton. Go ahead and kill him. I no longer care.”
“Foolish children you are,” said Myolaena, her face taking on a snarl which quite detracted from the, well, if not beauty, then certainly the attractiveness that I had seen in her before. “Do you think for one moment that I could not tell who this idiot was?”
“Idiot is not quite the word you are looking for,” said I. “Perhaps bard or wordsmith might be a better fit.”
“Silence! I know who the true Eagle-brained Buffoon is.” She turned to Ellwood Cyrene. “Just as I know who you are. You have your father’s eyes.”
“I met his father once and I don’t think he looked anything like him,” I opined. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was adopted.”
“That is because you are an idiot,” hissed the sorceress. “What do you know of it? What do you know of anything? You write a play about the royal family of Aerithraine and you wouldn’t know the Queen if she fell on you!”
“That is not so,” said I. “The Queen and I are quite close. I once spent a fortnight in her company.”
A smirking noise came from my friend, which he, somewhat less than valiantly, tried to suppress.
“You find this funny?” asked Myolaena.
“Well, yes,” said Ellwood. “You see, he actually did spend a fortnight in the company of the Queen. It was her infantry company, and he served in it for a whole two weeks before he was drummed out for failure to carry out his duty.”
“Oh varlet, villain, and false friend!” said I.
“I did not hear “liar” amongst those names,” quoth he.
“Enough of this,” snarled Myolaena.
“Yes, enough of this,” said Ellwood. “Let this foolish hack go on his way and you and I will find some quiet place to quench your fire.”
“Campfire?” I asked.
“The fires of passion!” hissed the sorceress.
She did not have the passionate look on her face that I had expected. In fact her expression was nothing like it had been when we had spoken before, when she thought I was Ellwood Cyrene. But at last she gave a curt nod.
“All right,” she said. “But Eaglethorpe Buxton shall not go his way unscathed.”
And before either Ellwood or I could do anything, she aimed her wand at me and I was engulfed in a purple light. I felt myself shrinking and had just enough awareness left to realize that I had been turned into a toad.