The Spell

But then Ambaric said: "It is time to burn the powder to produce the cloud of incense. I must ask you to leave the room for a few minutes, Lord Frederigo, since if any of the incense was to get onto you the spell could affect you too. You wouldn't want it to appear to everyone that you were wearing a dress, would you?"

Astra giggled, but Fred was suspicious. "Why wouldn't it do that to you as well?" he asked. "Or are you going to leave the room too?"

"No. Since I am the spellcaster, I am immune to the spell's effects. That is a basic rule of magic. Are you going to leave? If not, then I cannot proceed."

"Go on, Fred," Astra said. "What does your being here achieve? You can wait just outside the door if you like."

"No," Fred said stubbornly.

"I didn't want to have to do this," Ambaric said. He gestured at Fred, who immediately slumped to the floor. "Don't worry," Ambaric told Astra. "He's just deeply asleep. He'll come round in half an hour or so. I'll just drape a sheet over him, to avoid the risk of his coming into contact with the incense, and then we can proceed."

Thirty minutes later, Fred came round. The first thing that he saw was Astra looking down at him.

1. She seemed to be wearing a long white gown. The spell had evidently been a success.
2. She appeared to be wearing a very strange outfit indeed. "I'm sorry," Ambaric said. "I'm afraid that it seems to have gone slightly wrong."
3. At least, he assumed that it must be Astra, although her appearance had been radically and weirdly altered, whether by illusion or in reality. She was still naked. Ambaric had gone. Had he made a mistake or done this deliberately?

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