When a mysterious figure had appeared to Hesperos in the dead of night, offering reward for some unknown good in exchange for status as co-conspirator in some unknown pn, they had expected to be thrust into the middle of it all, plunging into plots, searching through piles of scrolls for the right piece of information that would bring the enemy down. That was not what had taken pce. Instead, for over a week, Hesperos had been essentially kept in storage.

  Not that Shirrin phrased it that way, of course. She had given a speech about the importance of timing when it came to pnning, of waiting in quiet patience until the moment of perfect opportunity. The accommodations weren’t exactly stifling, either. Hesperos had been given the second floor in the home of an elderly, widowed leatherworker, whom Shirrin had given a rge pile of silver in exchange for the assurance that the man would keep Hesperos supplied.

  After so many days, Hesperos was beginning to wonder if this was some sort of trick or practical joke, if their master would soon burst in to flog them for their indigence. They paced back and forth, arms held firmly behind their back, arguing with themself about whether to start a scene, and what they could do even if they did. Then came a sudden creak of settling floor-timbers, and when Hesperos looked up, Shirrin had arrived. She was dressed quite differently from how they had seen her st, having discarded the robe she’d worn the st time they had met for a tightly-fitted doublet. Hesperos thought it looked quite strange, but the confusion sted but a fraction of a second before it was repced with anger.

  “About time you made an appearance,” Hesperos said. “I was about to think that you had abandoned me entirely.”

  “My apologies,” Shirrin said with an exaggerated bow. “I have been busy with other affairs. There are many pieces to this pn, and dreadfully few of them move of their own accord. But the time where your movement begins is almost upon us now, and though I might have preferred to begin preparations earlier, not even my power can turn back time.”

  Hesperos sighed. “Fine. I’ll accept that as an apology, though I do sincerely hope this pn won’t involve much more of me lounging around doing nothing.”

  “I cannot say. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you need me for, then?” said Hesperos. “Do you need a document forged? Do you have some piece of accounting that you need searched through?”

  “No, not quite,” said Shirrin. She moved across the room with an elegance, depositing herself onto a couch before gesturing at a carafe of wine. “May I?”

  “Of course, your coin bought all of this.”

  Shirrin poured herself a cup and began to drink. A moment ter, she said, “Are you familiar with Abderus of Eunon?”

  Hesperos was. “Exarch of Philgeonia, veteran of the Temple Rebellion, son of the te Exarch, Antiochus. I believe he and his court will be arriving in Chrysopolis shortly, at the festival of Tertalia. Why do you ask?”

  “Because he has an important part to py in the events to come. But I cannot be in two pces at once; after he has returned to Eunon, I will be unable to manage his actions as closely as I would like, meaning that it will be your job to guide him in the necessary direction.” Shirrin took another mouthful of wine before setting down the cup. “But, if you are to do that, you will need to be in the proper guise. I need your consent to work this magic on you; do I have it?”

  Hesperos hesitated a moment, then shut their eyes. “I have already set myself fully upon this mission, whatever doubts I may speak of. Yes, work your magic.”

  “One piece of advice, Hesperos: do not forget to breathe.”

  Shirrin muttered something under her breath, words that were both too quiet to be understood and so loud that they reverberated across the room. Immediately, Hesperos started to understand the necessity of Shirrin’s advice. Invisible cws seized their body, threading themselves through their skin and into their flesh and organs, penetrating them organ and bone. Hesperos sucked in as deep a breath as they could manage, but still felt out of breath, so they wheezed it back out and tried again. Their chest heaved as they staggered back, hand spping against the wall to keep them from colpsing on the spot.

  A sheen of sweat formed instantly across Hesperos’s body, rendering them pale and shiny. There came a horrible cramp in the pit of their stomach, something hot and roiling that forced them to clutch their belly, where through the scant fat they could feel the organs shifting about and changing. A moan escaped Hesperos’s lips, but it was a smooth, musical tone, not a moan in their own voice. Instinctively and with no small amount of panic, Hesperos cpped a hand across their mouth.

  But that hand looked strange already, soft and growing softer by the second. An awful tingling raced across Hesperos’s skin, sinking down to the skull as lips grew smooth and eyes grew wide and doeish. All across their body, came a strange bloating, not the hot bloat of infection but a cool, smooth expansion of flesh being filled in. Hips fred, stomach pouched, shoulders shrank and became smooth, thighs broadened and feet diminished.

  Shirrin paid this discomfort no mind. “Years of spying have proven to me that the Temple Rebellion was not the end of the Temprs; it merely drove them underground, forced their rebellious urges to stew in resentment and impotence. There are forces within the very walls of Eunon itself who yearn for the day when Abderus or someone like him will take up the charge, and I do believe that Abderus has the character for a rebellion. All that he requires is a slight push, and Abderus’s dormant ambitions of control will come to life, and the Empire will be drawn into war.”

  “Shirrin, what are you…” The voice which emerged from Hesperos’s mouth was melodious and coppery, filling them with a thrill of terror. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Making you suitable both for yourself and for my own ends in a single move,” Shirrin said. It was only then that she noticed Hesperos’s sweaty skin, the look of infinite distress on their delicate features, the panic in their eyes. “Damn it all, is the transformation really too much for you? Are you in pain? If it’s pain, I can fix that.”

  “I wish I were in pain,” Hesperos whined. “Being in pain would make it make more sense.”

  The cloth of Hesperos’s tunic rubbed rawly against their chest. The flesh there rose and rose, heart beating panic through the bloodstream, skin pulled and stretched with the softest sound of groaning leather. There was a wet tension all across Hesperos’s body, one that begged to be torn out with sharpened fingernails, or grasped between tooth and tongue. Even their tongue was changing in their mouth. With a creaking that was felt from within more than it was heard from without, their bones started to shift, grinding against each other as some grew and some shrank. Hesperos’s eyes fluttered open. Both of their arms were wrapped firmly around their midsection, trying to contain the next of slithering serpents there, chest still heaving with breath as their fresh breasts pressed against their ill-fitting tunic.

  Their legs scissored together as the bubbling tension in their stomach reached its peak and began to reach out. A sudden fear arose that they were going to burst, overflow like the rot bursting from a corpse, but it was not to be. Hesperos bit down on their lip to stifle themself from making noise as things continued to shift and slither, legs locked together so tightly that they trembled. They were being hollowed out, carved deep and undone. Then, all at once, the spell ended. Every ounce of tension all across Hesperos’s body released all at once, the heat and discomfort vanishing so instantaneously that their eyes flickered open and a gasp of relief escaped from their lips before, exhausted, their legs gave out and they fell.

  Or they would have fallen, had Shirrin not caught them. “It gets a lot easier once you’ve done it a few dozen times. My apologies, I had not considered that this might be disorienting.”

  For a short while, Hesperos remained in Shirrin’s arms, panting for breath. There was no soreness, no remaining ache despite the power of the transformation, only an exhaustion which rapidly began to fade. Eventually, they threw Shirrin’s grip off of themself and turned their attention downward. Now that the innate horror of flesh shifting before their very eyes had passed, Hesperos could treat themself with a mix of curiosity and rapacious need. Their hands roved more freely than they would in any other circumstance, delivering a firm pat-down from colr to chest to stomach to hip. The only concession made to Shirrin’s presence was that Hesperos’s hands remained above their tunic.

  Somehow their mind caught on the tunic in specific. They were still wearing a man’s tunic after all that had happened. It no longer felt even remotely appropriate considering what was underneath. Indeed, there was a strange sort of thrill to this act of crossdressing, one weirdly full of possibilities. Hesperos chuckled manically to themself. They looked embarrassedly at Shirrin, but their mind could only make another observation: their height had barely changed, and Shirrin was still taller than they.

  “What was that you said before about Abderus?”

  “I believe that the forces which brought about the Temple Rebellion—”

  “Not that, I remember that part well. What are you going to do about it, and why did it require that you… re-sex me so.”

  “Abderus of Eunon is brave but not foolhardy, generous yet conscientious, kind but not easily taken advantage of. So far as I have been able to tell after years of investigation, his only weakness is that he is overmuch fond of wine, women, and song. Thus, the best way to get at his heart, is through his bed.”

  A chill went through Hesperos’s chest. “And I was the only one you could think of to carry it out? I’ve less romantic experience than a virgin bride on her wedding night, and you want me to be your temptress? This body you’ve given me is beautiful enough, but… me?”

  Shirrin shrugged. “Do you want the truth?”

  “I demand it.” Hesperos gazed with all their strength into Shirrin’s eyes.

  “No, you’re far from the best person for the job. There are a thousand courtesans who could have Abderus wrapped around their finger within a day. But I cannot trust any of them to carry out the mission to its completion, no matter how much gold and silver I offer.”

  Hesperos hesitated, licking their new lips as they looked over at the half-empty pitcher of wine that Shirrin had left behind. “You don’t know that. I could betray you tomorrow.”

  “But you won’t, and for two reasons. Firstly, you are loyal by nature, and unlike your prior master, I have sought to earn your loyalty rather than demand it.” Shirrin approached, resting one hand against the soft curve of Hesperos’s cheek. “Secondly, I have given you all that you have ever dreamed of, my dear. Who else could give you that?”

  Hesperos blinked, averting their gaze as they were suddenly overtaken by a realization. They had taken it all too much for granted, that fate would bring this impossible dream into the real world, even if it had to come at the cost of involvement in murky waters. But how had Shirrin known? She wouldn’t have done this to someone who did not have as feminine a spirit as Hesperos’s, that would be foolish.

  “Who else indeed. You know my every secret, even the ones I have never told.”

  Shirrin frowned, raising one eyebrow. “Did you forget? I am a friend of the Pale Prince, and he was quite a close friend of yours indeed. I am sorry that such secrets were shared beyond the darkened pace rooms, but it was necessary.”

  Hesperos’s mind naturally turned back to that time, eons ago, when they were but a young eunuch at the bottom ranks of the pace hierarchy. It had felt like a miracle that they had ended up speaking to the chosen heir of the Emperor. As the topics of conversation had grown ever more personal, the locations ever more secret, the two talking about politics and philosophy te into the evening, it had begun to feel like some sort of esoteric dream. For a while, Hesperos had grown quite infatuated with the Pale Prince, believing themself to be in some rags-to-riches fairy tale.

  Eventually the dream did come to an end, of course. It became obvious that the Pale Prince felt only friendly affection towards Hesperos, not love, and though he used his influence to spare the eunuch the worst of his master’s excesses, he had no intention of sparing Hesperos from their ordained fate. It was a wondrous thing, to share thought so deeply with another, but thought was all that was to be shared. And then the troubled times had come. The Pale Prince’s choice of associates had been made into one of the many daggers embedded in his back, while Hesperos was merely gd that they had already been marked worthless by virtue of their station. All that had come after they watched from afar, feeling only a faint sense of pity.

  Twelve years was too long of a time. It had all faded since then, been made backstory and missed opportunity, not something that could be dredged to the surface and made to matter once again. And yet here was Shirrin, the foreign witch, supposedly aiming to bring forth revenge on the Prince’s behalf.

  “But when could he have told you?” asked Hesperos. “The Pale Prince hardly left Chrysopolis, and when he did…” They allowed the thought to finish itself. “I have no memory of you ever visiting the city before you were brought here in chains.”

  “Not all is as it appears,” Shirrin said, her arms outspread. “You have seen already the things of which my magic is capable, and you still question me on matters of logistics? You should question me instead on what comes next.”

  Hesperos rolled their eyes and tried to fold their arms, though the tter proved to be problematic after the transformation. “What comes next?”

  “Tailoring,” Shirrin said promptly. “Coiffure and cosmetics as well. The feast of Tertalia is in a few days, and if you cannot find your way into Abderus’s heart when that comes, then I will be forced to take drastic measures.”

  Hesperos did not want to imagine what Shirrin, who thought nothing much of reshaping flesh with a word and gesture, considered to be drastic. Without any further ado, they made to move to the stairs out of the house; just before they reached the door, however, a slight breeze made them suddenly conscious once more of their outfit. As interesting as it might be for Hesperos to step outside while still wearing a man’s tunic, it felt wrong to begin their new life with obscenity rather than waiting to indulge.

  “Do you have anything more appropriate for me to wear?”

  Shirrin frowned, having not considered it. “Would you know how to wear such a thing if I did?”

  Hesperos’s heart quickened, the fear of another secret being revealed still sharp as ever, in spite all that the circumstances should have done to disarm that fear. “I would,” they said, voice timid.

  “Give me just a moment,” Shirrin said, an expression of curiosity flickering briefly across their face. They proceeded to do a sweep of the room, gathering up a rge wool cloak and several small metal finishings. With another exertion of magic, they turned the cloak into a fine dress of cotton-cloth, and the candlesticks and sewing needles into the requisite pins and brooches.

  “I will wait for you downstairs. If the owner of the house asks any questions, tell him the truth and report to me the expression on his face.”

  Shirrin left at once, the tapping of her footsteps vanishing down the stone of the stairs and leaving Hesperos feeling even more alone than they had been while waiting for her to arrive. Changing into the dress—the fabric marked it as a good middle-css dress or a simple rich one—would be difficult. They hadn’t done it too often. But stripping out of the tunic was easy, and the interim gap proved highly informative.

  Shirrin had done good work, leaving Hesperos looking like the statues of Lady Coel that adorned both her temples and the bedchambers of the wealthy. It was at once thrilling and terrifying, the way battle was often described in stories, to be this new person. A charming woman was an excellent thing to be, and above all else Hesperos took joy in that; but at the same time, all-new channels of failure had been unearthed to them, their charm something which could succeed or fail.

  Shirrin had put so much importance on their part in the pn, on the necessity of their ability to seduce Abderus, that to fail would prove the uselessness of their womanhood once and for all. What a miracle, to have been both man and woman and failed at both in turn. Perhaps then Shirrin would have no choice but to turn them into a fish. But before any of that came into py, Hesperos had to overcome the first challenge: putting on the dress.

  SaffronDragon