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Something strange was happening to the Sartan. Haplo didn’t really intend to notice it, but long experience in the Labyrinth had drilled it into him that when something began changing from how it was supposed to be, it was time to pay attention. More often than not, his experience had been that something that changed was dangerous.
Of course, there was no telling his instincts that bumbling, stammering Alfred was nothing like the monsters of his birthplace.
It started slowly, as Alfred gained more confidence and reclaimed who he was as Coren. The lines on his face faded. His thin, aged hands filled out, gradually.
Then Haplo blinked and the Sartan had re-grown his hair. Now, as Haplo mulled over what to do, Alfred appeared to be not much older than the Patryn himself. In fact, he looked much like he had before going into his crystal chamber and sleeping for hundreds of years.
Haplo couldn’t figure out how. Or why. The Sartan certainly wasn’t vain enough to use his magic to make himself younger.
He sat quietly, watching Alfred poring over his books and notes, with his dog at his feet. He hadn’t meant to share a dwelling place with Alfred, but it had happened anyway when it became clear the Sartan would bury himself in study and forget to take care of himself. The arrangement worked out well enough, as long as Haplo didn’t think about it too much.
Like now, trying to understand what was happening with Alfred. He reached down to scratch the dog’s ears and sighed. There was no point in driving himself mad. He’d just have to ask.
“Alfred, what are you doing?” he asked.
As expected, Alfred jumped at his voice, even though Haplo hadn’t spoken loudly. He also rammed his knee into the leg of his desk and came perilously close to knocking his ink all over his notes.
Haplo waited for him to finish rubbing his knee and pretended he didn’t hear the not-so-muffled swearwords.
“I’m attempting to trace sigil structures,” Alfred finally said, mild blue eyes reflecting his confusion. “Does it look as if I’m doing something else, Haplo?”
The Patryn fought the urge to smile. Maybe he’d been a bit vague, but Alfred loved languages so much, he’d find it funny in a few hours.
“Not at the moment, Alfred. I meant, why are you reverting to a younger age?”
The dog nudged its head under his hand and Haplo obliged it with a more vigorous scratch. This dog wasn’t the same as the one he’d created to carry his better nature, but he was still fond enough of it.
Alfred stared at him with his mouth hanging half open, evidently non-plussed by this revelation. “I am doing no such thing,” he finally said, with enough doubt in the words to make them a question. He stood from his chair, got tangled in the legs, and almost fell. Flushing and darting embarrassed glances at Haplo, the Sartan crossed the room to examine himself in the mirror hanging on the wall.
Haplo waited patiently. Alfred indulged in a louder bout of swearing. It was distantly possible that his language had gotten worse since meeting Haplo. It was a fact that Haplo had been surprised the first time Alfred directed invective at him.
“What is happening to me?” Alfred asked, spinning wildly to stare at Haplo.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked you, Sartan,” he pointed out, unable to help it. Now that he admitted having a sense of humor, it was fun to use it on Alfred.
Those blue eyes turned reproachful. A lock of unkempt white hair, shading to brown on the ends, fell across them and Alfred startled. He raised a hand and brushed his hair out of his eyes with hesitant movements, as if he’d never done such a thing before.
In all fairness, Haplo knew he hadn’t done it for a few decades.
“Allow me a moment, Haplo,” Alfred said faintly. Haplo fully expected him to drop to the floor in a real faint, even though Alfred promised he’d put that behind him.
The Sartan stayed on his feet. He gently sang and swayed his body, calling on the possibilities in the Sartan way, sketching the sigla in the air around him.
The dog rolled over for Haplo to scratch its belly. The Patryn did so, surprised at how amusingly everything was turning out. He’d thought Alfred was at least aware of what he was doing.
Alfred came to a stop and opened his eyes. “How remarkable,” he said and crossed the room to re-take his place at his desk. Perhaps the magic remained with him, because he didn’t stumble once.
“I’m dreadfully sorry, Haplo,” he continued. “I believe that reclaiming my Sartan name and living away from the mensch has reversed something I did to myself without being aware of it. It seems that I prematurely aged myself while living among the mensch of Arianus by drawing on my magic unconsciously. It was a way to avoid suspicion, I suppose. Now that I am myself again, the magic that worked on me is fading away.”
He ducked his head, as if Haplo was going to be angry with him. Haplo didn’t plan to, though he had frowned when Alfred started his explanation with an apology. Now he was too busy wheezing out quiet laughter over his dog.