HAGAR'S LITTLE HELPER - PART 3

“Commander Cossack, Sir.” The soldier at the entrance to the dungeon snaps out a crisp salute as I approach. Now there’s what I’m talking about. I am Cossack the Terrible. Respect my authority, boy. I wave my whip in the direction of the darkened hallway beyond him.

“Which cell are the new prisoners in?”

“Go straight down the hall until you’ve passed two intersections, Sir. Their cell is the fourth door on the left, just after the second junction.”

“Thanks.” I head that way and order the robots patrolling the hall to stop long enough to let me in. They unlock the cell door and I step into the room to scowl at the captives. This is part of the group that’s been behind all my headaches the last few weeks or so. Just an old man, two underfed boys, a thin wench with an attitude and the pretty little brunette with big green eyes. Rebels in mining slave’s clothing. If they hadn’t been caught red-handed trying to blow up one of the storage complexes, I never would have believed it. I get the feeling that there’s more to them than they’re letting on, though, and I gotta find out what it is. More points for me if I can get some useful information out of them before Hagar does. I clap my hands together and rub the palms against each other.

“Okay, folks, it’s time to have a heart to heart with ol’ Cossack. Who wants to tell me something about the nice little hideaway you have on Marlowe?”

The old man pipes up. “We already told you - we don’t know where the base is because we’ve never been there. The rebels came to us to work out their plans for attacking the lazon stores. We were hired from among the locals at Tagris City.”

I look around at the other two men. The dark-haired one is studying his boots while the one with brown hair steals a quick glance at the skinny dame. I glance at the green-eyed gal. She blinks up at me, then her gaze falls on the whip hanging from my belt and her eyes get wide. I grin at her. She bites her lip and scoots away to press her back against the wall. I walk over and squat down in front of her to look her over.

She sure is a pretty little thing. She belongs in jewels and silks instead of a pair of dirty coveralls. I reach out to touch her arm, running my fingertips along the sleeve of her clothing. She trembles and hides her face in her hands.

“We only acted as guides!” The brown-haired fellow blurts out suddenly. “They wanted us to take them to the new lazon storehouses because they didn’t know how to get there!”

“Zelaniel...!” The old man hisses quietly.

I turn to grin at the old man. He gets a look of panic on his face as he suddenly realizes what he’s done. Now I know what the kid’s name is. Let’s see what else I can find out. I unhook the whip from my belt and rub the handle along the girl’s outer thigh. She gives a tiny little whimper and tries to draw up into a ball. Boy, am I gonna have some fun with this one.

“Leave her alone!” Zelaniel cries. “I’ve told you all I know!”

“Not quite. You haven’t told me who hired you to act as a guide.” I hook a lock of her hair with my finger. It’s really silky, feels nice. Sweet little thing, she is. My girlie. Lotor said so.

“They didn’t give us any names. None of them did.”

I study the songbird for a moment. His hair and eyes are the same color as my little sweetie here, and he has some of the same features. Now I get it. I give him a smile and play with the girl’s hair some more.

“How many of ‘them’ were there?”

He hesitates like he knows what he’s about to say next is going to get him into trouble. “Two dozen. I only took twelve in the vehicle I was driving. There was a second vehicle, but I didn’t see where it went. I was just supposed to drive the group I had to the back wall and wait in the van while they found a way to get in. When they returned, I was supposed to take them back to where they came from - the meeting area where they first made their plans.”

“And this meeting area was…where?”

“The abandoned processing plant at the edge of Dangravil.”

Well, I’ll be damned. I had my troops search everywhere but there. I never expected them to hide in a building complex that’s on the verge of collapse. Pretty clever and ballsy too, I gotta admit.

I let go of the girl’s hair and straighten up to face the boy. I think he’s telling the truth. He looks pretty worried about the girl’s safety. The rest of the group is glaring at me with deep hatred in their eyes. I give my unwilling informant a pleased little smile.

“Thanks, Zelaniel, for the information. Tell you what. Since you didn’t get any names, I want you to think of faces and see if you can come up with some descriptions that could be useful.”

“But they wore coverings over their faces,” he replies miserably. “I have no idea what any of them look like.”

I shake my head sadly at him. “That’s too bad. Guess I’ll have to put your little lady friend here to some questioning in private.” I head for the door to call for a pair of guards. Zelaniel looks like he’s about to wet his boxers when the robots come in and unchain the girl from the wall. He really must not know anything more, because he yells and begs for her to be left alone, but he doesn’t offer any more information. All things point to the fact that he would have if he could. When he realizes his yelling isn’t going to do him any good, he quiets down and lowers his head. I pause at the threshold to look at him.

“Say, kid, I’ll tell you what,” I say to him. You think about those people you were working for, and if you can recall any details that might help me locate where they came from, I’ll drop what I’m doing and come back to talk.” I give him a cheery wave and drag the girl out of the room by her shackles. The robots lock the door behind me and I stroll off down the hall.

“Please...!” I hear him call after me, then it sounds like he’s crying. I look around at my girlie and give her a grin. She takes interest in the floor all of a sudden. I stop and take her face in my hand, raise it to look her over. Yeah, she’s gonna clean up real nice. I start off and give her chains a tug. She stumbles along behind me.

That was a lot of fun. I gotta try this interrogation bit more often.

I wait a full five minutes after the door shuts and the robots move away from the cell before I turn to address the rest of the group in a quiet tone. “All right, that’s it. Mission accomplished so far.”

“I hate to imagine what he plans to do to her.” Old Tallam gives his head a shake. “She’s a very brave young woman, your sister.”

“There’s no reason to worry.” An expression of disgust crosses Dana’s features. “I told you he’d be attracted to her if she acted timid and afraid of him. If she plays her cards right, she’ll have him eating out of her hand within the hour.”

“Ack.” Reid makes a face. “Like she would want that.”

“We’re still in big trouble,” I say quietly. “This scenario was supposed to be played out back on Marlowe. We had a good chance of escaping on our own turf. The chances of survival here are very slim. Once we get handed over to Hagar, we’re finished.” I frown at the cell door. “Who expected Cossack to get smart and take us all to Doom with him when he left?”

“This makes matters even worse for you, Zelaniel,” Tallam says. “I believe Cossack has figured out the connection between you and Aria, and if he mentions to Hagar how willing you were to talk to protect her, Hagar may decide to work on that fear and exploit it.”

I give a shrug. “There’s no choice. We have to take it all as it comes now. Aria’s going to be in a position where she can kill Cossack the moment he drops his guard. That will affect the morale of the Doom forces on Marlowe. They’ve already lost one Commander already.”

Dana makes a face. “I don’t think your sister has the guts to plant a knife in Cossack’s slimy gut. She’s too soft.”

“Don‘t underestimate her. She’s capable of being strong when she needs to.”

“I sure hope so, or our sacrifice is for nothing,” she replies grimly.

I sigh to myself and settle back against the wall. It’s going to be a long night.

“Here we are,” Hagar says as we reach the bottom step of an impossibly long flight of stairs. We’re in a large open area that’s been cut into the bedrock of the castle’s foundation. The light at the tip of Hagar’s staff is the only source of illumination present, keeping the blackness from pressing in on us from all sides. She holds the staff high as she leads the way, crossing the floor with confidence to a hallway directly opposite. About thirty feet in we make a right turn from the corridor to go down a long tunnel. Moments later we emerge into the lab. It’s a large natural cave with several passages leading from it. It smells of powder and mildew, incense and burnt wood. The air is cool and damp and clings to my skin.

“Are there any lamps in here?” I take a step forward and squint into the darkness.

“No, there’s no electricity at all,” Hagar replies. “This is my most personal lab, where I mix all the really good stuff. Electricity would disrupt the aura I need for proper spell-casting.” She waves her staff around to point out torches resting in niches and several thick candles on tall brass holders placed around the room. “Let’s start lighting those.”

“Yes, Hagar.” I find a small metal tin full of matches within our radius of light and make my rounds. Hagar decides to show off a little. She whispers a phrase as she traces a circle in the air repeatedly with her right hand, and a small sphere of fire appears. It hops from torch to torch on her side of the room, setting each one ablaze and dispelling after the last one is lit.

“Very nice,” I tell her.

“It’s not difficult to do if you think about the separate elements it requires. But that’s something to ponder later. Right now let’s get started.” She points at a heavy round wooden table in the center of the room. “Everything gets set up there.”

“All right.” I turn my attention to collecting items for making the potion. I find a small brass cauldron that she approves for size, set it up in its holder and place a slow-burning candle in the niche beneath it. The book of potions gets placed on a wooden rest, and she opens it up to the recipe she needs.

“We’ll need water, wellock fat, salt and powdered marsh lizard’s tooth for the basic broth,” she reads aloud. I gather the ingredients and a group of measuring spoons for portioning them out. She goes to the other side of the room and begins to rummage through a battered cabinet, returning with a wooden spoon in hand. I retrieve a mortar and pestle from a nearby shelf and set them beside the miniature cauldron. Hagar fills the cauldron halfway with water, lights the candle and sits down on a chair nearby. Her cat takes advantage of the lap opportunity immediately.

Nothing more to do until the water starts boiling.” She settles back in her seat and scratches Coba under the chin. I pull up a chair of my own and take a moment to study the lab and its furnishings. Shadows have collected in inky patches along the rough walls and ceiling, and occasionally they seem to move contrary to the flicker of the candles and torches. It still unnerves me a little even though I learned how to create that illusion a long time ago.

“Atmosphere lends much to the casting of a spell,” Hagar says. “It helps the caster settle into the appropriate mood.”

Something is watching me intently at the very edge of my vision. I turn my head to view it directly, and it’s gone. “We must be creating something awfully spooky, then.”

Hagar smiles. “Yes we are, and it’s one of my old favorites. Mist of Nightmares. It seeks out the deepest, hidden fears in the mind of the victim and brings them to life, be they real or imagined.”

“So I’ll be using it on the Voltron Force when I get to Arus?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Take out the pilots, and so much for the lions.”

Hagar shakes her head. “That’s not exactly the result I want this time, though I certainly won’t mind if it does happen. I nearly met with success the last time I tried an approach along those lines.”

“When was that?”

“It was some time ago, not long after the lions had been found. I went to Arus myself to deal with them, but I had to resort to violence because Zarkon was too anxious to allow me enough time to prepare the kind of spell I wanted to use. So I put a robeast to work on pounding one of them to a pulp. It’s simple math - five lions plus four pilots equals no Voltron. But wouldn’t you know, the little brats came up with something creative. I never expected Princess Allura to take the helm of Blue Lion.” A wistful grin crosses her features. “Those were the days, when I only had five of them to worry about. But now The Boy in Red has gotten smart and trained back-up pilots for the Voltron Force. That’s why a different set of tactics will be necessary.”

“Want me to turn him into a toad for you?”

“No, I want you to make sure he gets affected by the potion, and then he might just think he’s a toad on his own. A psychiatrist will have a wonderful time with it.”

“Ah.”

Her next words are spoken with care. “Child, this project is of the utmost importance. I’d like for you to have nothing to disturb your focus.”

“Meaning...?”

“You’ll be on Arus for a very long time, and you may find yourself dealing with a very specific distraction. Lousy fashion sense notwithstanding, he’s not a bad-looking young man...”

It takes me a moment to realize what she’s hinting at. “What, you think I’ll get a fixation on Keith and want to make him my prince?” I roll my eyes. “Oh, please. I know the tendency runs in my family, Hagar, but give me more credit than that.”

She chuckles. “I do, child, I do. More than you realize.” She runs a hand along Coba’s blue fur. “I won’t pry into your personal matters any more, as long as you’re able to keep your priorities straight. Entertain yourself with the soldier if you must, and have done with it. I will commend you on taste, at least. He seems to be decent enough.”

“Then you approve of him?”

“I didn’t say I approve. I merely said you seem to have made a good choice, that’s all.”

“I’ll settle for that.” I nod my head toward the table. “The water’s boiling.”

“Time to get to work then.” She sets the cat down and approaches the table.

“Some wine, Your Majesty?” The slave girl takes a timid step forward and holds the bottle up for me to see. “It’s Debrethian, one of your favorites.”

I give a grunt in the affirmative and hold the goblet out for her to fill. The girl on my lap continues to play with my hair as she has been for the last half hour or so. It helps to quiet my jangled nerves a little as I ponder the current turn of events.

Tira. My half-sister and, worse still, a legitimate heir to the throne. I remember the day father made the announcement. I was all of nine years old. He declared her to be his own flesh and blood before an audience of thousands as I stood by the crib and made faces to see if I could frighten her. All she did was slobber and smile, the stupid little tart. I should have stuck a knife in her then, but I don’t think I had one handy at the time.

Shortly after father’s announcement the old witch whisked her away to parts unknown. A decade later I spent some time searching through the far reaches of the Empire, trying to hunt her down so I could kill her. I wasn’t successful, of course. And no wonder. Hagar could have kept her hidden in the castle itself and I wouldn’t have known. Now here she is, out in the open and proclaiming her sisterly love. Does she honestly think I’ll fall for it? Just how stupid does she think I am?

I drain my goblet and wave it toward the girl holding the bottle. She hurries to fill it for me. Modru arrives as I’m working on making it empty again. He approaches the bottom of the steps to my throne and dips his head in respect.

“My King. You sent for me?”

“Yeah, Modru. Get up here. I want to talk to you.”

“As you wish, Sire.” He bows again before ascending the stairs. He’s one of father’s former advisors, so the whole bowing and scraping thing is a well-ingrained habit. That’s one of the reasons I keep him around. Now it’s time to see if he can give me another.

“What do you think of my sister, old man?” I ask as he reaches the top of the stairs.

“The princess?” He gives a thoughtful pause. “What would you have me say?”

“I would have you say the truth.”

“She appears to be a nice young woman, Sire.”

“She’s not nice, Modru, she’s a threat. A threat to my continued rule of the Empire. If something were to happen to me, she’d have the throne. I used to wonder why the old witch stuck around after father vanished when she was the one who blamed me for his defeat. Now I think I have the answer. Do you see it?”

He nods. “I believe I do, Sire.”

“So how do I get rid of Tira?”

“Perhaps you could have her banished, declared an outcast from the Empire for life.”

I shake my head firmly. “That’s not good enough, Modru. I want her dead.”

“But she’s under Hagar’s wing. Are you sure it’s a wise idea to risk the old witch’s wrath?”

“Good point. We’ll have to separate them first and make sure her death looks like an accident.”

“That may be easier said than done, Sire.”

“I know. That’s why I summoned you to help me think of something.”

Modru gets an expression of distaste. “I don’t know if I care to be involved in a royal assassination plot, Your Majesty.”

That makes me laugh. “Well, isn’t that something. You had no problem with standing by and watching all your fellow advisers get executed when I gave them the ultimatum to join me or die.”

His reaction is interesting. He tenses all over and his hands tremble. He’s fighting to keep them from clenching into fists.

“I…had no control whatsoever over that situation, Sire.” He casts an angry gaze at his feet. He doesn’t dare aim it my way.

“And you have no control over this situation, either. You’re my advisor, Modru. So advise me.”

He gives a deep, heavy sigh and his shoulders slump a little. This problem too heavy for you, old timer? That‘s too bad. Life can really stink that way.

“Very well, Sire,” he replies after a long pause. “I believe I have an idea that may work. It would have to performed in careful steps, but in the end you should have the final result that you desire. First, however, you must tell me how much you value the rebels.”

“The rebels? I’ve pretty much decided that they’re Cossack’s problem. Why do you ask?”

“Imagine this scenario, Your Majesty, if you will. There is an escape from the dungeon, the rebels take your sister hostage as they try to flee. Cossack is sent to recapture them and in the crossfire there are several fatalities, with the princess being counted among them.”

I’ll be damned. He sure is a clever old bastard when he wants to be.

“That sounds great! You really think you could pull it off?”

“As I have said, the plan would have to be implemented carefully. Certain roles would have to be orchestrated, while others must be left spontaneous. There may be unexpected sacrifices as well...”

“Fine, as long as she ends up as one of the sacrifices. When do we start?”

“I’ll need some time to think up the precise details. By your leave, Sire.”

I grin at him. “Okay, Modru, you have my blessing. Go think up whatever you have to.”

“Yes, Sire. I will return to discuss the plans with you soon.” He dips his head to me, a slow lean slightly forward, a half-second pause, a slow rise, then he turns and quietly descends the stairs. Pretty classy.

So much for Hagar’s little helper. I’ll feel much, much better once I’m rid of her. It’ll be a warning to whoever else might be waiting in the shadows, eager to make a play for what’s rightfully mine. And there could be quite a few of them. There’s a nine year difference between Tira and me. Father had plenty of opportunity to expand the family during that time. It makes my head hurt just to think about it. And if I’m going to have a headache just now, I’d prefer that it came from the wine.

I drain my goblet and hold it out to get another refill.

“Pay attention, child, to the color of the liquid. When it gets a yellowish cast on the surface, that’s when the final ingredients have to be added.”

I nod in reply and watch carefully as she scoops powdered onyx into the potion with a tiny silver spoon, three measures in all. The liquid boils up briefly with each spoonful. Greenish wisps of smoke drift up from it. She pauses to study them.

“Almost ready...” she mutters to herself, then she points a bony finger toward the shelves behind her. “Fetch me the dreamflower pollen. Little black jar on the third shelf down.”

“Yes, Hagar.” I hurry over to the shelf, pause and chew my lip a little. All of the ingredients are in little black jars. Oh, isn’t this wonderful. Now what do I do? The potion will be ruined if Hagar doesn’t have the pollen right when she needs it. She did say almost ready, didn’t she? Yes, she did. That gives me time to find the right container, I hope...

The contents of the first jar I choose sparkle in the flickering torchlight. Powdered diamond. Wrong one. I frown and set it down again.

“I’d like to have my pollen sometime today, Tira, before the mixture overheats.” I can almost see the look of irritation on her face.

“Yes, Hagar.” I pick up another jar, peek, set it down again. Strike two. What is wrong with me? Sixteen years of study and hard work, and here I am acting like I don’t know the difference between lizard tongue and toad hearts. I reach for a third jar.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I pause with my hands on the jar. “Am I?”

“I’m the one asking the questions, girl.”

“Yes, Hagar.”

“So consider that jar. It looks exactly like all the others, doesn’t it? Such containers should have labels on them to prevent confusion, shouldn’t they?”

“Yes, but -”

And then I remember. I call up my magical sight and study the jar again. The marking sigils flare into appearance immediately. This one has plain old sugar in it. I look the others over quickly, locate the jar of pollen and turn to hand it to her triumphantly. She gives me a bemused smile, then she frowns.

“Forgotten how to look for the sigils already, have we?”

“I’m sorry. I -”

“Never apologize, especially when it involves your knowledge of magic.” She returns her attention to the potion. “The uninitiated always make grand assumptions about those who have mastered the magical arts. The less mistakes you admit to, the more powerful you appear to them. And power, girl, is everything. Remember that if you remember nothing else.” She begins to add the pollen to the mix, stirring it gently with the wooden spoon.

“Hagar?”

“Yes?”

“What if we use some of this to interrogate the rebels with? Would it work?”

“Perhaps, but I’m not going to waste it on them. A few simple spells combined with some time on the rack will do nicely.”

“But the problem with Marlowe is important. Shouldn’t we be doing something to help?”

“All I’m actually supposed to do is prepare the captured rebels for our spy work. The rest of the situation isn’t our problem until Cossack is teetering on the brink of disaster.”

“But I thought you were working with him. It sounded that way at breakfast.”

“On the surface, child. Only on the surface. Cossack will make all sorts of noises to give the impression that he’s agreeable, but in truth he works to benefit one person only - himself. If things go badly enough, he’ll call on me secretly and then he’ll take full credit for any successes that occur. Lotor lets him get away with it because Cossack is one of the few friends he has. So I don’t feel obliged to help him until he really needs me.”

“It seems like this is one of the situations where he really needs you.”

“Perhaps, but if Lotor thinks Cossack is the better choice to handle things, it’s not my place to intervene. It’s part of the game, after all.” She squints at the bubbling liquid and decides to add another pinch of pollen. “Marlowe is only one of Lotor’s many worries. The slave worlds of the Empire have become more and more defiant as time goes on, and he’s ignored the growing unrest to the point where it’s become a serious problem. Neglecting his duties because of his infatuation with Allura is finally beginning to cost him. Bring me the dried chameleon skin.”

I retrieve the ingredient as asked. She crumbles a pinch of it between her fingers and sprinkles it over the mixture. Then she takes a flask of spring water and adds a small amount at a time to thin the potion down.

“It serves him right,” she grumbles. “I could have helped him stabilize his hold on things a long time ago if I’d been working on some of my more involved spells instead of building the latest monster for Voltron to hack into bits. But robeasts are the only form of attack Lotor places faith in anymore, no matter how many times they get beaten. I’m surprised he actually gave me the go-ahead to try a new approach.” She whispers something softly to herself that I can’t quite hear, stirs the mixture a little more, then she crooks a finger at me. “Come here and get a whiff of this.”

I approach the miniature cauldron and inhale the vapors coming from it. The smell is light and pleasant, like an incense. From the dreamflower pollen, no doubt. I take another whiff. Lotor suddenly enters the room, his face a mask of rage.

“I’m making a change in plans, old witch,” he growls. “I think one sorceress in my employ is enough.” He draws his sword and marches right at me, just like he did in the dining hall.

“Lotor!” Hagar exclaims. “What do you think you’re doing? She’s my assistant, and my responsibility!”

“And she’s molded in your treacherous image,” he snaps as he continues to advance. I grasp my charm and begin to concentrate as I back away from him. Hagar steps in between us, but Lotor shoves her aside roughly. She staggers backward into the table hard enough to knock over some of the bottles sitting on it. One of them rolls off of the table and shatters on the floor.

“Lotor!” She shrieks at him. “Let her be!”

I clench my fist and feel it tingle as power flows into it. “All right, big brother,” I hiss at him. “Prepare to park your backside on a lily pad from this day forward.”

He pauses to gauge his approach, smirks, and advances again. I take another step backward, and immediately lose my footing. The bottle! I’ve stepped right into the puddle of liquid created when it broke. My feet slip out from under me and splinters of glass bite into the backs of my thighs as I hit the floor hard. The shock of pain breaks my concentration and I lose the charge of energy in my hand. Lotor moves to stand over me, his sword poised to strike.

“S’terr, otolo grethe,” I hear Hagar say quietly.

My brother vanishes, along with the pain in my legs and bottom. I’m sitting in the middle of the floor alone, no broken glass, no puddle. Hagar is still standing where she was when she called me over to the table. I blink up at her in surprise. She smiles back at me.

“Lovely little potion, isn’t it?”

I nod vaguely and stumble to my feet, my eyes darting about to make sure it was just a trick of my panicked mind. “Yes, quite.”

Hagar purses her lips. “I take it Lotor’s given you a reason to fear him recently?”

“You could say that.”

She looks disappointed, but not surprised. “I thought as much. Would you care to enlighten me on what happened?”

“It’s personal, Hagar. I know you want to look after me, but I’d rather not have to spend the duration of my stay hiding behind your skirt.”

“Better to hide behind my skirt than to lie beneath your burial shroud,” she replies. “I made him give his word not to do you any harm. If he’s made a threat against you, I’d like to know about it.”

“Please, let me try to deal with it in my own way. If I need any help, rest assured I’ll call for it.”

She chuckles at my words. “No you won’t. Stubbornness runs in your family. You’re every bit as thick-headed as Lotor is.”

“Perhaps, but I’m a lot smarter.” I nod toward the bubbling cauldron. “For one thing, when the time comes for me to use that potion I’ll make certain that I stay upwind of it.”

Hagar chuckles again. “Better, child, to say the phrase I used before you put it to work. Then you’re immune to its effects.”

“Before? But that was the phrase of negation you just used.”

“Yes, it was.” She uses a pair of tongs to lift the cauldron from its holder and pour the potion into a glass beaker. “What I did was apply a special usage for it. I’ll tell you all about it while this cools.” She seals the beaker off with a cork that has the end of a thin, coiled glass tube in it. The other end of the tube is stuck into a another cork and stuffed into a second beaker. Then she resumes her seat and Coba resumes his place on her lap.

“The phrase of negation is a powerful tool, child. It can act as a barrier of protection in anticipation of a spell being cast, or it can undo magic that’s already been set in motion. Even the strongest of spells can be unwoven by it if the speaker is able to muster enough focus. And that’s the interesting little twist to this particular invocation. The words by themselves have very little magic in them. Their impact relies solely on the caster.”

“An application of will versus will, then?”

“Yes. And no.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The first time you encounter a situation where you feel you have to use it, you will.” She smiles to herself and pats Coba on the head. I am about to question her further when a soldier suddenly appears at the lab entrance and salutes us both.

“Witch Hagar, the King has ordered the new prisoners to be taken to your main lab for immediate implementation of his plans. He also wants to meet with you there so he can discuss the current lazon situation.”

Hagar looks mildly surprised. “To my lab? But I thought Cossack was to be conducting his interrogations first…” She puts the cat down and mutters under her breath as she goes to pick up her staff. “I’d better go and supervise so nothing gets broken while they’re securing the prisoners in the lab.”

“Shall I go with you, Hagar?”

“No need, child. Stay here and keep an eye on the potion. I’ll be back in a little while.” She leaves the room with Coba leading and the soldier following. I shrug to myself and pull a chair up to the table to watch the vapor work its way along the glass tube. I certainly hope the rest of the day will be more exciting than this.

To Hagar's Little Helper: Part 2

To Hagar's Little Helper: Part 4