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[i'm feeling the need for some good melodramatic monologuing and denoument (it's all Dio's fault!). Ben and William are always good for that, so while I'm sitting on Busted, and polishing up the last draft of Dirty Basement (the second complete Ben and William story) I give you... Toymaker! Or, rather, the first draft dump of it. That seemed to work pretty well with Busted. My son likes these, so this one's going to be PG, at worst] William reined in his horse as he crested the hill. The mid-morning sun was warm on his naked shoulders, turning his tanned skin a rich gold. A light breeze fanned his long white hair out behind him, near-blinding in the light. The dark leather straps that crossed his bare chest, his only garment beside the short kidskin wrap around his waist, soaked in the heat and gave contrast to the cool air. At his side was a rapier, its hilt and scabbard a matte black with silver tracery. He was tall, lithe, and regal, looking every inch the barbarian prince astride his coal-black mare. Beside him, on a horse as white as William's hair, sat Ben. He was dressed to match, though his skirting was fine green silk. His dark hair was tightly braided and nearly touched the back of his horse, and across his broad shoulders twined black lines and spiral tattoos that were impossible to look closely at. Around his neck were charms on leather thongs. At his wrists were wide bracelets of tooled leather set with small blood red garnets, wrapped around each bicep were strips of braided bronze. His sword was heavy, its menacing aura clear even sheathed. William sighed as he looked at the town below him. Five miles or so at the end of the road that wound lazily down the hillside and through the farmsteads in the valley, along a narrow river. The farms continued for miles on the other side, stopping abruptly at the foot of the mountain range that marked the other side of the valley. It was quiet and pastoral. Innocent even. Hardly what he'd expected. "This the place?" Ben asked. The question was rhetorical. He'd been there with William when they'd driven the bandits off and rescued the family, he'd heard the story as well as William had. It had started with strange noises in the night, then livestock had vanished, until finally their youngest son had been stolen in the night. By the Faerie, or so they'd said. They'd abandoned their farm and fled rather than risk their remaining two daughters. "Looks like it," William replied. He frowned. The family had been frightened, there was no doubt about it, so terrified that they'd left their farm. People just didn't do that, didn't just leave, not unless they were wizards or had the wanderlust. The ties to a realm were too strong, binding people to the land they were born to. It took something catastrophic to change that. That there was no outward sign of anything was worrisome. "It looks peaceful enough." "Yes," Ben said. "Except for the castle and storms." "What?" William looked over at him, puzzled. It was a beautiful day, and there were a scant few wispy clouds in the sky. "Where?" "Follow the road." He did, down the hill, into the town, and out the other side. It went through farms to the foothills, and up the side of a mountain until

[Hrm. Looks like my tendency to mushy background stuff is getting in the way. 1700 words and nothing's exploded! Have to fix that in the next piece...] William finished dressing himself a few minutes later. Gone was the barbarian prince, and in his place was an ordinary, unremarkable merchant. He was wearing a tunic and brown overshirt, belted at the waist, and a pair of dark green leggings. He'd exchanged his doeskin boots for a pair made of sturdy leather. He tugged at the collar of the shirt. It fit well enough, but he'd grown accustomed to wearing less, and it made him uncomfortable. "Eyes," Ben said, looking at William. "And the hair." He'd changed himself. The simple tunic and hose were nothing special, but they emphasized Ben's size, his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He'd kept his boots and slung his sword over his shoulder. He still wore his bracelets, though the charms around his neck were gone, into the pouches tied to his belt. "Do I have to?" William asked, tugging at his hair. It had taken him a few weeks to get used to it, and the constant weight pulling at his head, but he'd found he rather liked it. More importantly, so did Ben. Getting rid of it was problematic as well. "It's distinctive," Ben observed. "It's going to itch when it grows back out," he grumbled. The hair had come as part of the curse that had changed him and bound him to Ben those months ago, made him taller and fitter, leaving his hair long and white, his eyes pale lavender, and his skin clear and tan. The curse was still on him and he stayed that way, unless he fought it, and even then he could only hold it off temporarily. Normally he had no complaint, but it made changing his appearance troublesome. He'd tried cutting his hair a few weeks after he and Ben had met. It grew back, two and a half feet in ten minutes. It itched badly, left him ravenously hungry, and feeling like he had bugs on his head for days. It wasn't something he was looking forward to. Ben was right, though. Sighing, he let his eyes unfocus and his Sight slip in. The colored threads of mana that wove into spells had always been difficult for him to See, but now they almost sprang into focus unbidden. He wasn't sure why, a side effect of the curse, a gift from being bound to Ben, or a result of him finally accepting himself, but it didn't matter. He closed his eyes and wrapped his mind around the tendrils of the curse that wound through him. It was far past his ability to remove, if he'd ever want to, but he was talented enough to suppress it for a little while. Holding it in check, he nodded to Ben, who pulled out his sword and cut his hair short. William felt the curse react and pushed back. As his hair and eyes darkened to shades of brown, he spelled a knot around the curse, locking it in place. The spell was only temporary, but it would do for a while. "Something for you?" William asked as he opened his eyes. Ben shrugged. "I'm nondescript." Laughing, William mounted his horse. "You just hate being noticed," he said. "By anyone but you," Ben answered. That was true. William was the first person he'd been around in years, since his accident, that he was comfortable with. Ben had been a wizard himself, until the accident destroyed his Sight and left him unable to do magic. Even worse, Ben had been born seeing auras, being able to tell from a glance how people were feeling, but the accident had robbed him of that as well, even as it disintegrated his apartment building and killed Mel. It was just a single flash, one experiment gone horribly wrong. It stole the talent that gave his life meaning and the person who'd made it worth living, and thrust him into a world filled with people he could no longer feel. Despondent and terrified, he'd run, and kept running, until he ended up deep in the wilderness. That's where he'd stayed, until William had found him, and made things right again. He still hated being around people. William understood, and ran interference when Ben's gruff barbarian seeming didn't put someone off. "Well, my good man," William said, letting a nasal whine into his voice as he slipped into character, "shall we see what this fair hamlet has to offer?"