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“Well, Howl, this is an interesting proposal.”
Madame Suliman peered over the top of the paper she had been handed at her pupil, who squirmed in the chair opposite from Suliman’s at the latter’s desk, however comfortably appointed the heavily cushioned chair might have been. All around them, the various instruments set out in her office dipped to and fro, or hummed or chirped or chimed, glinting silver, gold, white, red and blue in the dazzling light pouring in from the window. A spindly device sitting on Suliman’s desk, designed to detect discomfort, was markedly active, its little gold pendulum swinging wildly back and forth.
“I don’t know how to brew Morton’s Fifth Transformation myself,” Howl explained, blue eyes flashing in something like shame—come to mention it, Suliman couldn’t remember the last time she had heard Howl admit to not knowing something (And hadn’t that led to some interesting mishaps?). “Will you help me?”
That sudden determination was so characteristic of Howl—no uncertainty at all when the child’s mind was finally made up about something. In this case, though, Suliman could not help but judge ‘determination’ as ‘foolhardiness,’ when she couldn’t discern if Howl really understood the weight of the matter. Suliman pressed her fingertips to her forehead, wishing she had had the sense to call for tea earlier. “Howl, if this is because you’ve taken an interest in girls…”
“What?!” Howl squeaked, face turning a remarkably vivid shade of scarlet—perfectly matching the cushions of the chairs in the office, actually. “You know about that?”
A low rumble of laughter welled up in Suliman’s chest. “Why, yes, Howl, I do. I know about the milkmaid, and the shopkeeper’s daughter, and the young woman who has taken over as Master Clinton’s clerk.” She smiled teasingly at Howl. “It’s my business to know what my pupil gets up to when out from under my care—especially if that involves trying to flirt with every pretty girl you come across.”
“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Howl replied, looking distinctly nonplussed. “But that’s not why.”
Well, that told Suliman very little as regards to Howl’s actual motivation. “Then why do you want to take the potion?” she asked, regarding Howl closely, so that the child drew back into the cushioned chair. “Regardless of your answer, I won’t stop you from trying to obtain it in a dispensary, but I can’t make my mind up on whether or not to help you unless you tell me why.”
At this, Howl tensed, shoulders stiffening, hands pressed flat on knees, too much so to be natural. “I’ve always felt this way,” Howl said adamantly, in a harder voice than Suliman thought she had ever heard from her pupil. “It felt strange to hear my parents introduce me as their daughter, strange to wear dresses and play with girl’s toys—alright, maybe those things weren’t quite as strange,” Howl admitted, no doubt remembering the old doll that had made the trip to Kingsbury with its owner. “But whenever I thought of myself as a girl, something felt…” Howl’s mouth twisted in frustration “…wrong. I thought I’d grow out of it, but I didn’t. And then I found Morton’s Fifth Transformation in the potions book you assigned me,” Howl said simply, shrugging. “Then the answer seemed obvious.”
Suliman sank back in the soft cushions of her wheelchair and sighed.
The Pendragons had a tendency of giving their children rather outlandish names, to the point that the name by itself rarely indicated gender one way or another. Basilon Pendragon had sent her a characteristically vague missive commending his brother’s child to her care; by his words, Howl was a gifted child who had already mastered everything Basilon was capable of imparting. The missive did not tell Suliman if Howl was a boy or a girl, nor even how old Howl was. Suliman had agreed to teach the child, and wondered sardonically if she would be receiving a teenager or a toddler. Knowing Basilon and the rest of the Pendragons, it could easily have been either one.
When Suliman first encountered Howl, she found that her pupil was nine years old and that, in spite of the boy’s breeches, stockings and waistcoat she wore, Howl was in fact a young girl. Or so it had seemed. Howl could be coaxed into a dress for formal occasions (though never a girl’s tight, narrow-toed shoes), and had just as much of a passion for dolls as she did toy soldiers. Frankly, Suliman saw little need to pester her pupil about the clothes she wore or the toys she played with in her free time—why bother about something so petty? But when she thought about it, she had sensed some of the discomfort Howl now expressed to her, the unease with which Howl navigated the world as a girl.
Howl had come to learn from her over two years ago. Madame Suliman supposed this day had been a long time coming.
“It is not,” Suliman said slowly, “required by law that you obtain your family’s permission before beginning the treatment. However, I would not advise doing so without at least seeking their blessing, as taking the treatment without their approval could lead to certain complications. Have you spoken with your family, Howl?”
“Uncle already knows,” Howl said bluntly.
“And your parents?”
At that, Howl shrugged, a look of uncertainty flickering over his face. “I haven’t seen my parents in years. I’m not certain why they’d care.”
Suliman suspected they would care much more than Howl thought they would, but no matter. She had legal guardianship of Howl for the duration of his apprenticeship, and by the apprenticeship ran its course, Howl would be an adult capable of earning an independent living. “Very well. Let us talk about the potion itself.” Suliman fixed Howl in a piercing stare and went on, in a deceptively mild voice, “For those who, like you, wish a body that reflects their gender, Morton’s Fifth Transformation is the most thorough treatment available. However, it is also the treatment most rarely used. Can you tell me why that is, Howl?”
Howl nodded and said promptly, “Because the potion is difficult to brew, and the ingredients difficult to obtain.” He scowled suddenly. “I can’t even buy half of them until I’m an adult. Also the potion has to be drunk once a month for twelve months to have its full effect, and once you’ve begun taking the potion, you can’t stop. If I stop at the second, third or fourth dose, then I’m stuck at whatever in-between stage I’d be in by the time I took that dose. And there’s no known way of reversing the effect. But I’m sure about this,” Howl insisted, his jaw set. “I won’t change my mind.”
No, Suliman suspected he wouldn’t. But Howl had not listed all of the effects of the treatment. “There are other factors to take into consideration, Howl.”
Howl frowned slightly. “Like what?”
“The treatment will be painful. Extremely so,” Suliman told him, tapping her fingernail against the polished surface of her desk. “That is part of the reason Morton’s Fifth Transformation is so rarely used, because many have found the pain unbearable, and considered stopping the treatment short of its completion preferable to going on in such agony.”
To this, Howl said simply, “All transformation potions are painful. I’m not afraid of pain.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not all.” Suliman matched Howl’s frown with one of her own. “There is a detail that would not be listed in your potions book, namely that Morton’s Fifth transformation renders the drinker sterile,” she explained, watching closely for any sign of a reaction from Howl. “You won’t be able to have children.”
For the first time, Howl hesitated, his brow furrowing. But he quickly overcame that moment of hesitation. “I can always adopt,” he remarked lightly. “And didn’t you tell me that a wizard’s apprentices are dearer to them than their children?”
“Without children, it’s difficult to form a basis for comparison,” Suliman said dryly, “but I do recall saying something like that. Alright, Howl, I’ll help you. We’ll brew the potion together; it will be good practice for you.” Howl’s face lit up, but before he could say anything, Suliman held up a hand. “There’s just one more thing.”
Howl stiffened, suddenly wary. “What’s that?”
Suliman rested her elbow on the desk, and her chin on her hand. “The treatment will give you a male body, but not everything will be as it would be if you had been born with a male body. For instance, while your voice will likely deepen, your face won’t look too different from what it would have been if you hadn’t taken the potion. Also, you won’t have any more body hair than the average grown woman.” Suliman smiled wryly. “So you can forget about any dreams of growing a beard.”
For a moment, Howl stared at her, silent. But then, he laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking and his blue eyes sparkling. “That’s fine by me! Why mess with perfection?”