The meditation on a memory continues...

Frederigo stood at the edge of the crowd’s ring, watching the movements of an elaborate illusion of a large striped cat-beast with rippling muscles and lashing tail, as it passed in circles about the magician. The cat-beast loped about the crouching man once more with an increasing pace and vaulted heavily over the crowd as its parting trick. There was a light flash and the smell of sulphur as it passed by and dissipated into the air. This creation actually brought a smile to his little face through its technical grace.

There was a smattering of applause and a few cheers in response to this particular illusion, and he found his own hands working as well. As the applause was dwindling off, Frederigo watched the crouching court magician as his hand touched along the dirty cobblestones beneath him. A mare’s tail of sandy grit spilled from his palm as he rose to his feet, and was carried a short distance by the wind as he cast his hand high. The man turned to face those on each side of the towne’s rough square, his garments spiraling slowly about his lean figure as he made his apparent leave-taking. As Frederigo watched the peculiar motion with a sinking heart, he noticed that the man’s shaven jaw worked, as though he --

Frederigo’s steady breath caught briefly, the gasp echoing through the cavern.

He recognized the greeting of Earth and Sky and the Four Winds, right from the manuscript he was taught from. That was a classic set of motions to set the foundation for a spell, which the magician had partly masked as the embellished farewells to all in the crowd. His heart’s pulse began to pound in his head, but he tried his best to ignore the agitating sensation. There was also something being spoken under the magician's breath... if he could seize it, he felt certain that it was the incantation to unlock the pendant’s powers.

He watched the man idly, wondering if the illusion had been the last offering the magician was to present to the crowd. He felt a gloomy sinking of his heart until he took a closer look at the man’s behaviour. Over the growing din of idle chat blooming from the gathered townsfolk, his eyes and ears picked up a repetitive intonation of unfamiliar vocalizations. Something was happening. The boy pricked his ears towards the man’s voice, trying to make sense of what was being said. Frederigo took an unconscious step forward, tilting his head to the side.

"...an...-...s-...de....r..."
And the amber stone flashed brightly with life...

"...an..y-als-..de..ar..."
The hair on his arms began to rise, as if the housemaid had brushed near him in winter with a fresh bed linen...

"...aniy-als-adelaar..."
He could pick it out, faint amid the startled gasps from the crowd...

"...aniy-als-adelaar..." Frederigo murmured, lips moving about the syllables, tasting their potency. With closed eyes, he committed it to memory, his fingertip tracing the runic equivalent in the air repeatedly, as though on paper. This was an old habit that carried over from his early years of memorizing maps, mathematical equations and tables of elements, but served just as well.

That was the verbal key, the repeating of those foreign, ancient-sounding vocalizations. Combined with the prescribed motions of Earth and Sky and of the Four Winds, this was the witching required to summon the magic gifts of the Shapeshifter’s pendant. At least, he was fairly sure that this was everything he needed to know. He opened his eyes into the dim light of the cave, and smiled, despite the progressing headache.

Content with this new knowledge of the stone’s transformational powers, he felt sure enough in his abilities to attempt a transformation.

1. The decision is made to activate the stone...

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