A moment later, a gigantic form filled the doorway. And a frightful figure it was! Atop a pair of shoulders massive both in size and brutish slope, like unto the forequarters of a great bear, sat a most villainous head—if villainy can be judged from a predatory beak of a nose, beady black eyes, a crop of kinky hair. Not a vestige of a neck separated the head from the shoulders below.
But our heroes were given little time to examine the newcomer, for two hands the size of platters descended upon them, seizing each by the scruff of the neck. In a trice, wizard and apprentice were lofted from their perch on the steps and deposited within the room beyond. This seemed to have been done without effort, which was perhaps not surprising, given that the arms which connected the hands to the shoulders were of colossal proportions, being not only deinotherian in their circumference but possessed of a length which was altogether monstrous.
Looking about, our heroes found themselves in a cavernous room, the which was revealed to be the domicile of the witch Magrit, combining, as it did, the multichambered functions of a sitting room, library, laboratory, museum and curio shop. Within the room, besides our heroes, rested three persons: the witch Magrit, the giant just recently described, and a third individual. This latter, a red-headed man so small as to border on dwarfdom, sat in a chair to one side, his little legs dangling several inches off the floor. Upon his freckled and pug-nosed face sat an expression which was composed, in strange combination, of equal portions of amusement and dyspepsia.
But our heroes were given little time to examine their surroundings, for the witch spoke again, in an exceedingly discordant tone of voice: “What’s the matter, you old fart? My place too messy for you?”
Zulkeh coughed apologetically. “I meant not to offend, madame, nor—I assure you!—is it the plenitude and disarray of objects which disturbs me, nor even the quaint deordination of chamber functions, for I know quite well—being myself, as you doubtless recall, a practicing thaumaturge of vast experience and plenary powers—”
“Who’s the windbag, Magrit?” interrupted the salamander, in a voice both sharp and unpleasant. “Is he always like this, or is he just having a bad day?”
“His name’s Zulkeh,” responded the witch. “He’s a wizard. And yeah, he’s always been like this. I knew him when he was a little twerp of an apprentice at the University. Even then he was a windbag. I balled him once, just to win a bet, and I swear he was still talking in semi-colons with my legs wrapped around his head.”
All eyes fixed on Zulkeh. His apprentice’s eyes were the size of saucers. Perhaps the gnome found the image just sketched difficult to reconcile with his master’s august person and demeanor.
As for the wizard himself, every fiber of his being, every nuance of his posture, every minute aspect of his expression, not excepting the scarlet color of his cheeks, bespoke with great eloquence his profound indignation.
“These are private matters, madame!” he roared. “I must demand that you respect my dignity!”
He glared at Magrit, then spoke again in a peremptory tone. “Moreover, the event in question occurred long ago, when I was a callow youth subject to occasional japes and escapades. And may I remind you of the unfortunate end of the affair? I should think you—of all persons!—would seek to keep its history hidden.”
“Fuck you,” said the witch. “Would you believe,” she added, spreading her arms and taking in with her gaze the entirety of the room’s occupants, “that no sooner did I screw the little cloddy than he runs—the next morning, mind you!—to the Rector of Novitiates and babbles a confession of the sinfulness of his deeds. ‘Course, he depicted himself as the innocent party, dragged to the coupling couch by a scarlet woman, pleading for mercy all the while, practically chained to the bed and beaten with whips, to hear him tell it. Never did get around to explaining how he got a hard on. Not,” she added unkindly, “that it was much of a hard on to begin with, now that I think about it.”