Vixen Visitor, Part 1 of 2

# 1. Audition #

You wake up sprawled on a hill. Grass tickles your nose, smelling vivid green. You snuggle with the fuzzy blanket beside you, sleepily thinking about that crazy dream last night. There was a glowing door, taking you suddenly from being an ordinary guy on Earth into a wizard's trap. A tangle of stairways in space that led only to costumes. Animal costumes, mostly, and there was a sign saying you had to pick one...

Morning light gets in your eyes and something twitches behind you. Your eyes follow the rusty-red fuzzy thing, up to where it connects to your spine, and you yelp at the feel of your hand on your new tail. Your hands are white-furred, clawed and slender, and as you look yourself over you remember that in the dream, you picked a fox costume. Also, you realize why it looked strangely padded around the hips and chest. Beneath the simple blouse and skirt you've never seen before, you're a shapely vixen.

Your heart thumps and you sit again on the grass, trying to catch your breath. Pinching your arm just hurts. Your tail twitches and the morning smells like clouds and flowers and other things overloading the black nose sticking out between your eyes. You whimper, trying to make sense of it all.

Someone is walking uphill. He calls out, "Visiting?" in a language you've never heard yet suddenly understand. It's another fox-person, on two legs and wearing a backpack.

"Help!" you call out. Your voice is soft and an octave too high. It makes you feel sick. Yes, okay, you like animals, but suddenly being one -- and female at that -- is too much of a shock.

The fox-man stops, showing you empty hands. "I won't hurt you. I saw a light and knew our world had another visitor who..." He trails off and his pointed ears flick back. "Lenara."

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says too quickly. "The important thing is to calm you down and -- it's your first round, isn't it? Did you check your pockets?"

He's making no sense but the distraction helps. You fumble unfamiliar hands into pockets on your skirt. There's a note. The fox-man watches you read the odd backwards script:

"Welcome to my game! In short, you're stuck here for three local weeks, and then you can hop to another world. From there you'll get to explore other worlds, gaining magic of your own. You'll be supplied with a local identity and a house (burrow, etc). Enjoy your life here, or become a wandering shapeshifter. Have fun!"

The fox watches your bewildered expression. "My name is Bragho. I saw you arrive because I'm from elsewhere, myself. Don't go blabbing it, okay?" A wide grin splits his muzzle and he offers a black fuzzy hand to help you up. You take it and shudder.

"Why? Who did this to me?" you say.

"A wizard," says Bragho. He points out the back side of the note, where fine print describes the wonderful powers you can get for racking up visits to other worlds and species. "I don't know much more, but he's a thorough bastard. And thinks he's generous. Are you hurt, hungry or anything? I brought supplies."

You shake your head. "Just... confused." It's best to tell him. "I was human, and male."

"Human... Hey, I've been one of those! Mostly kingdoms with sailing ships in your world, right?" His outbreak of a smile fades again as he looks you over. "I'm sorry. But you get used to the changes after a few costumes. And you can be useful in the meantime -- you have a job to keep you busy."

Now he has you curious. "What kind of jobs do foxes do?" You look downhill and realize there's a whole town spread out below, with quiet paved roads between buildings of brick and stone. No skyscrapers, no airplanes. What's this world you've gotten stuck in?

Bragho says, "It's hard to explain. We have more advanced machines than I saw in your world. You're filling in for what we call a 'movie star'."

And for the first time in this world, you laugh.

# 2. Rehearsal #

You open the door of a movie studio hangar, with your guide Bragho beside you. Suddenly you're in a Western town where Napoleon is whapping someone with a director's megaphone. Well, not a French dictator, but a fox with way too many buttons on his vest and too many decibels for his size. The poor stagehand he's berating says, "Boss, wait! She's here!"

The director whirls and peers up at you. "Lenara? It's about time you... Wait. Who are you?"

Bragho steps in. "Lenara is a visitor." He nods meaningfully and the director shudders. You start to explain what's happened to you, but the director recovers and makes up his mind. "Close enough!" He snaps fingers at his assistants, adding, "Script, costume -- attack!"

Five bewildering minutes later, you're wearing some kind of black motion-capture suit and another fox is coaching you on how to drawl a line about paintin' a wagon a'fore the cattle get here. Then you get dragged out to the fake street where a bunch of foxes are rehearsing an argument. But they're almost all in Western costumes. No, not 19th-century American stuff, since the fashions are different, but it's rugged and familiar just the same. "Hey," you say, thinking of your own outfit. "Am I in the wrong show?"

"Places!" the director bellows, and everyone scatters. A fox-man in a techno-suit like yours grins at you and takes your hand, saying, "Over there, ma'am." He's got this knowing grin like he's been in a hundred movies -- or he knows all about this costume game you've gotten into. And somehow you just know he's playing a cowboy, even without the getup.

So you run through a scene from a story you don't know. The foxes argue about the wagon, and then the other suited fox -- Wylan, he's called -- breaks it up. Then you hear "Cut!" and it's over in one take. You were just getting into the role, wondering whether somebody was going to get shot or what.

"Not bad, ma'am," says the other suited fox to you. The "ma'am"s still distract you, but he makes them sound good.

"You do movies with motion capture?" you say.

"Sure! Whoever wants to play a lead role can watch it from your view or mine, or put somebody else's picture there while they watch it from the couch. Don't care for it myself, but it's the big thing in Fen country."

Wylan looks you over, making you conscious of the tight suit and the way your tail curls inside it. "You're a costumer? A visitor?"

You end up looking nervously aside, scratching your ear. "Yeah."

"'s all right, ma'am." He turns to the director and calls out, "Hey, are we set for lunch yet?"

The director's been badgering everyone in sight about lighting and noise, but he stops and droops ears when the other actor talks to him. "Sorry, Wylan. Our caterer is having trouble."

The actor gives that same cowboy smile. "No loss. Say, Bragho and my co-star have some things to discuss. We're gonna grab a bite off-set, okay?"

"Of course, sir," the director says.

Wylan waves Bragho over. They get you to walk a bit away from the set, and then the two of them fall silent and look at you.

You're not used to seeing foxes that are also people, or really to anything about this life you've been forced into. But you could do worse, and there's the promise of escape in a few weeks, maybe even back home. Something's bothering you though. Where'd this Lenara actress go, and how'd you get to be her stand-in so easily?

He and Bragho walk with you to a restaurant outside the studio. The decor isn't any style you recognize, but there're benches and cushions around a big central firepit. Lots of roast meat spins on spits, and suddenly you realize just how sensitive your nose is to the sizzling roasts and faint charcoal smoke. You're about to start drooling by the time you get a bench and waiters come out with portable tables.

"So," says Wylan, with a strange expression. He glances at Bragho, who's staring at the food and sniffing. "There's something you'd best be telling our new guest."

Bragho says, "You've taken Lenara's place. You found a costume of our species, right? Well, you look like the talented young Lenara Vale, and the real one has vanished."

You boggle. "Does that mean someone's wearing _my_ skin?"

"Maybe -- a costume of whatever you used to be. Close enough that they might pass for you at first glance. We're not sure whether the wizard takes people only through this species-shuffle, or what." He lets this news sink in while he attacks a plate full of cornbread and sizzling meat. "When I showed up here with costume number sixty-eight, a year ago, I took the place of a stagehand at the studio. And the stagehand suddenly vanished."

You tell yourself you're not hungry, but lunch smells and tastes amazing. Maybe it's your new nose helping. "So I'm Lenara?"

Wylan cuts in. "No, ma'am. A fine vix she is, wherever she's gone to."

"She'll be fine," Bragho says. "Off on her own adventure, right?"

Wylan just nods, picking at his cornbread.

Bragho says, "You're a substitute. You're stuck here for a few weeks before you go back to trying on bodies. In the meantime, it looks like you have a house standing where Lenara's was yesterday, and we need someone with her figure on the set. There's a movie to finish."

"Show must go on," mutters Wylan.

"I don't know about all this," you say, looking back and forth between them and your lunch. "I didn't ask to get into this world, or to kick Lenara out of it. I'm not even female." A waiter happens by while you blurt that out, and ends up giving you a long appraising look. You try to ignore it.

Bragho snorts and hides a grin. But Wylan says, "We didn't ask to have our rising starlet, our friend, hauled tail-first out of the universe for some wizard's fun." The cold stare he gives you is one you hope never to see again, especially if he's armed.

Bragho intervenes, waving a greasy black paw between you. "It's not her fault."

Wylan says, "It's not. I just want her to know where things stand, see?"

The actor's ears droop and his tail curls between his legs. So do yours, another feeling you're not used to. You find yourself starting to reach out a hand toward his shoulder, but you pull it back. What're you doing, touching people like that? "I'm sorry," you say.

"There's a movie to finish," Wylan says. "Shouldn't take more than a couple weeks. It'd be good of you to stick around for that, before you run off to be somebody else."

The three of you eat together and get back to the studio to work. Wylan perks up the moment he's back on set. You're not sure, but Bragho and the other stagehands assault you with new lines to learn. From what you gather, the movie's about a gang stealing cattle-like animals from Wylan's ranch and him going out to kick some tail with a crossbow.

Oh, and he's your husband. Not real-life, someone hastens to tell you, so that your heart can start beating again. It's just that viewers love seeing you -- uh, Lenara -- and Wylan together. You've got "chemistry". It doesn't feel that way to you, though. Wylan looks sad and angry beyond what having his cattle stolen would justify. But you get through a few scenes where he's telling you everything will be okay.

You leave the studio at sunset, find your house, and use the key you found on a chain that tickled your chest. The place looks blank. No art on the plaster walls, no family photos or junk lying on the furniture, nothing in the kitchen, a few never-worn outfits in the closet. There's an envelope of what you assume is money on the kitchen counter. Everything's set up for you to do as you please, replacing Lenara or not.

You sit blankly on the couch, not knowing what to do with the endless possibilities before you. And then there's a knock on the door. "Who is it?" you say.

# 3. Night Scene #

"Bragho," you hear. You open the door and see him in his black vest and shorts. "I was thinking, you might want company."

"How do you mean that?"

He waves a paw. "Not a date. You don't know this world though."

You've spent almost the whole day with him, stuck in a movie studio and pretending to be someone you're not while everyone else resents you for being there. "Then I'd better start figuring it out for myself!" you say. You're still not used to your higher voice and the weird echoes of it through your muzzle. The local language comes naturally to you, probably the wizard's doing.

"All right," he says. "But be careful, okay?"

You wait in your house till he goes away. A few minutes later you've got your hair fixed up and are out the door.

Seems like you can see in the dim light. The town's narrow streets are paved, the buildings made of wooden boards but with an unfamiliar curved shiplike look. A few foxes stroll along or ride bicycles. Electric streetlights stand in a few spots where there're shops still open. You find something that could be a convenience store and peek in.

Three foxes are playing a board game. One notices you and smiles. "Hi, miss! Haven't seen you here before. Interested in a game of skulk?"

"Sure," you say, looking around at the shelves of merchandise. Games and books and magazines, mostly. "Mind if I look around first?"

"We'll be a few minutes finishing this round anyway."

You paw through the reading material. Every article of the fox news is a puzzle. "Gorzam Trade Treaty a Success." "CP Solar Wins Contract." "Carmelita Leads McCloud 5-3." Nothing totally alien but for the photos of dignified foxes giving speeches.

"Ready!" say the game-playing foxes, distracting you from another headline. You head back to their table and get into a game they teach you, something about monster hunting. After a few rounds of that you're looking to do something else, though.

"Say, has anyone got a map?" Maybe you can do some traveling over the next few nights, and see a little more of the world.

Someone fishes out a map and you spread it on a table. A road stretches out from the valley to a city and from there to a shoreline. It's too small-scale though for you to know whether this is Earth geography with different names, or a totally different place. That's something to ask Bragho. You sigh; there's work tomorrow and there's only so far you can go. You thank the foxes for the game and head on out.

You wander through the streets. It's quiet enough that you wonder why, and realize what's missing -- cars. There're a few bicycles and a motorized scooter or two, but that's it. Maybe they don't have gasoline engines? There's a fortune to be made if you can "invent" them here.

You find a glittering electric storefront and deduce that it's a movie theater, with a wonderfully-scented coffee stand. Inside, it's cozier than the megaplex theaters you're used to, maybe because it's a small town. The ticket booth guy smiles at you, saying, "Hey, Lenara! You look a little different tonight. New hair?"

You're not sure how to answer that. The director mistook you for her at first glance. You're not eager to explain that you're actually a visitor from another world who's accidentally booted Lenara into a convoluted magical trap. So you just dodge the question. "Hi. What's playing tonight?" But at some point you're going to have to explain, right?

"The equipment's got a flea in the software, so we have to wait for an authorized technician. The regular theaters are up though -- '_Legend of the Chalice: Guardians of Glory_' isn't as awful as it sounds."

"Oh, you mean the bodysuits? I could take a look at them if you'd like."

"I don't want to get you arrested, ma'am! You get your usual ticket discount though."

You fish money out of your pockets. "Sure. The fantasy one, please."

Yes, it is that bad. Awful script-writing seems to carry over between worlds. There are these big-eared ape monsters, see, and they go around ripping the pelts off foxes, and then this one fox gets turned into a were-ape and his girlfriend hates him but then he brings peace to the land. It's not clear where the chalice comes in, but there'll be a sequel.

You stretch your cramped tail and leave the theater, feeling vaguely superior. It's pretty dark now, so you'd better get some sleep. What a long, strange day!

It occurs to you that you're lost, when you turn down a dim empty street and hear footsteps behind you.

# 4. Casting #

"Looking for something?" says a deep voice behind you. There's a metallic click.

You freeze; there's a figure in the shadows. And then, you run and shout.

Something whizzes past your ear and you stumble on a box. He's chasing you. You crash muzzle-first onto dirty pavement and the mugger is right there. With a yelp you flip around, trying to hit him, afraid of what he'll do to you.

Something explodes. There's a roar that lights up the alley and flings you back with your fur on fire. You hit your head and spend the next minute frantically swatting out the flame. Then you're crouched in the alley, clutching your skull while the scent of your own scorched fur hits you. Your attacker is on fire and he's not moving. The smell is terrible. You grab a filthy blanket from the alley and beat the thing against him until he's not burning. Then you run away, hardly able to see through tears in your eyes, until you find what you think is a policeman.

A little while later, you're sitting in an underground room. There's a lady fussing over you, draping a blanket over your shoulders. A man brings you a hot drink and says, "Tell us again. What happened, ma'am?"

You can hardly think straight. It was awful -- and you shudder, knowing it could've been a lot worse. You tell the cops everything that happened since you left the theater.

The two of them exchange a look. "It would explain the burns," the man says.

The woman curses. She covers her muzzle and goes back to reassuring you. "Let's keep the fire part between us, okay?"

"Can't hide it," says the man. "Ma'am, I think I know the answer, but I take it you're not already a known magic user?"

You look up at him. "Magic?"

"Didn't think so. People who've got the talent tend not to find it until they're under a lot of stress. So you hear sometimes about a suspicious fire, or someone getting melted out of an avalanche."

"And then the Fens come," the woman adds.

You shake your head. "I don't know anything about magic!" But then it occurs to you that you've had intimate experience with it, back in the costume place. You're not sure whether to add that detail.

The male cop says, "That puts us in a bind. We're required to report sightings of magical talent so that these people can get trained and employed for the good of society. Supposedly. I take it you've heard of the Fens' mage corps." He sees your blank expression. "No? Let's just say you'd get to help spread the Teachings by force."

What happened to the happy fun harmless world of fox people?

The cop turns to his partner. "Are you with me on this?" She nods and he looks relieved. To you he says, "There was some grease and a fuel can in that alley, and we're going to say we found that idiot robber with a lighter. It's better than having one of our people drafted. For your part, you need to keep quiet about what you did."

You feel dizzy just sitting there. "Did I kill him?" you say. It's a stupid sappy thing to worry about, but still. And you'd like to stop weeping.

"He'll live. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll go with our story."

You nod and let the two of them comfort you for a while. The woman says, "If you'd like, I can send Officer Ren to patrol past your house for the next few nights."

"Me?" says the guy. "I think she'd be more comfortable with you than with some strange man prowling by."

You say, "It's okay. I just want to lock myself in my house for the night and forget about this." Not that you're likely to sleep.

"Okay. We'll take you home then. Oh, wait, my boss has the keys..."

The female officer tosses a keychain at him. "Just fill it up when you're done."

The police have something like a motorcycle. Officer Ren gets you into the sidecar, then speeds off from the underground police station through the quiet streets. It's the closest thing you've seen yet to a car. From the purr of the engine and the subsonic rumble you can feel at the intersections, you don't blame him for taking the scenic route. You end up back at your house with windblown fur and a grin on your muzzle.

"Good night, ma'am," he says. "Think I could get an autograph sometime?"

You thank him and head inside alone, but you don't manage to sleep much.

# 5. Outside Talent #

The next morning, the alarm clock startles you awake. There's a bad moment when you flash back to being attacked in the alley and somehow creating a burst of magic fire. Your fur's standing on end... which is your first reminder of where and what you are. Roughly another two weeks of being a fox, and female, left before you can escape. Sort of.

You open the curtains to a sunny, peaceful morning. The valley town feels different today. You sense that there's more going on than your tourist visit. You don't want to wear your burned clothes to work, and your leg-fur is still singed, so you end up in the long skirt you had earlier.

At the studio, there's still a movie to shoot. You're not on for a few hours, so Bragho and one of the extras (in bandit getup) take you aside for an acting lesson in a vacant studio.

They're walking along with you when the lights shut off, leaving you in the empty room in darkness. With your foxy eyes you spot the actors as Bragho points and shouts, "Look out!"

You turn and see... nothing. The extra laughs. Bragho pats you on the back, saying, "Nice startle pose. Hey, out there, get the lights!"

The lights come back. "That's one lesson," says Bragho. "You've got to feel the role."

You feel your heart pounding. "Don't do that!" you snap. "You're lucky I didn't..."

"Didn't what?"

"Nothing, nothing." You glance at the extra. "Say, Bragho, who exactly knows about my -- tourism?"

The extra says, "Him, me, half the studio. We're pretty close-knit."

Bragho adds, "When I showed up, nobody much cared about the guy I replaced. But if you tell the world you're a dimension-hopper, I bet there'd be an unpleasant investigation. We can pass you off as Lenara and say you got a makeover. Anyway, we need to work on your emoting for the next few scenes."

You hold up a hand. "There's something I want to know first. Who are the 'Fens'?"

"Why do you care?" says Bragho. The extra's tail flicks nervously.

"I've heard muttering about them."

Bragho says, "They're... in charge. The country got taken over about twenty years back, so we're part of their empire. Let's see. Do you know what a... math machine is? Runs on electricity?"

"You mean a computer?" You cover your muzzle, realizing the word you said is an unfamiliar rasping thing in the natives' language. "The movie equipment uses them, right?"

"Yeah. Only the Fens are allowed to own computers, or even fix the things without a permit. Same with paper-copying machines and some other things."

"Why?"

The extra mutters, "To keep control." Bragho nods.

This situation doesn't sound like something you want to get involved in, not after the incident last night. "Maybe we should get back to the acting."

They have you strutting around the empty set and saying ridiculous things, pretending to argue and carouse with Bragho and the extra. It helps take your mind off the trouble and make you feel like you might even have some acting talent.

Bragho's decently satisfied with you -- "for a first lesson" -- by the time you break for a quick lunch. You get back to the main set a little later, feeling relaxed.

The costume squad mobs you and gets you into the electronic bodysuit. The little director finds out you haven't been given the script for this scene yet and starts cursing people out. "I have a gratuitous bar brawl ahead, and my female lead doesn't know what movie she's in!"

While dressing, you read a script, and blink. "'They kiss passionately'?"

"That they do," says Wylan, suited up already. "Don't worry about it, ma'am. It doesn't mean anything. Just a story."

In a way that makes you feel worse. Wylan sees you drooping and says, "You get used to it."

"Acting?"

Wylan hunches his shoulders and looks off into the fake, painted sunset. "I can pretend to be something I'm not. It's why people think I'm some kind of hero, when I'm just a pretender."

You realize something. "You and the real Lenara..."

"No," he says. "She was a swell lady, and I think she'll find a new place somehow. But the one I really cared for got taken from me, and I did nothing." Wylan gestures to the crossbows over in the prop chest. "Do you know how hard it is to pretend I'm brave enough to rush out and avenge someone, when I couldn't do it in real life?"

"Avenge?"

"My wife was in the war. When the Fens took over, they made an example of her." His ears and tail are held carefully still, but you can smell something clammy and frightening in his scent. "But that doesn't concern you. You're a tourist, if an unwilling one. Now show me how you pretend to be in love."

Wylan has straightened up and smoothed his exposed fur already. You glance at the script and see he's just gotten back from clobbering the bad guys and finding some treasure, which he left behind for your sake. So get in character... do you really have to do this? There's the possibility of hiding under your bed for the next week or two.

No! You're going to do this right! Or at least get this movie done with, so you aren't making things in this world any worse for Lenara's absence. You bristle a bit inside your suit, step closer, and blush as he wraps an arm around you. You look up into his sad eyes, try not to bonk muzzles, and imagine him riding out to save you from a horde of muggers. He'd be good at it if he tried, with those muscles... You feel warm breath on your neck as the two of you touch, nose to nose.

Softly, the director says, "Cut."

# 6. Your Biggest Fan #

You have time off in the afternoon. There's a library in town, so you walk in search of that. You're glad for the broad daylight as you pass the town's alleyways.

The library is styled like some kind of fortress, even though it's only two stories tall. When you step in there's a lot of greenery, lit by sunbeams from the ceiling. They're growing vegetables in here.

A librarian named Jahnbuck greets you and shows you the history section. You're quickly confused, even after you remember that the pages go right-to-left. So why are you here again? Well, you'd heard about this country having been conquered, and there's the too-personal subject of how magic works in this place.

You bask in a pool of light, browsing a stack of dusty books that makes your nose twitch. It looks like these Fen people are from an empire of deserts and jungles, and have some religious "Teachings" too weird to explain. Apparently they're very convincing at swordpoint though. The empire isn't obviously killing people these days, at least not locally, but it's not particularly nice either.

A pair of ears twitches over the book in your hands. "Senorita?" says their owner.

You look up and find a long-eared, sand-colored fox. He's the first you've seen in town, actually; everyone local seems to be the red or grey-and-red kind. His clothes are odd too, with many buttons and pockets on his vest. He says, "The illustrious Lenara Vale, I presume?"

You freeze. First of all, if your sense of the local language is right, he's one of the "Fens" people here resent. Second, _are_ you Lenara for purposes of talking with a strange outsider? "Um, hi?" you squeak.

"Bueno, senorita!" he says. (He's not speaking Spanish. That's just the easiest thing to compare it to.) "I am Eloy Alejandro, visiting town as an admirer of your studio. A 'fan', yes?"

"You came here for a movie tour?" you say.

"Unofficially. But I am here as a repairman. I mend things that are broken. Computers, mainly. A surprise very pleasant to meet you here. It speaks well of your intellect."

You smile a bit. "Just studying history before getting back to work."

"I'm not interrupting you, I hope?" His ears droop in obvious pleading for attention.

Oh, what are you doing letting somebody flatter you like this? "I have a few minutes."

"Well. I want to say, I've noticed the theme of your work, and think it brave of your studio. Do you know Zellon Fabrosi? His 'Chalice' movie is brilliant in its own way. But the interactivity of your productions is something else again. You get to feel the anger, the resistance in the way Wylan moves. Or yourself."

Lenara's been in other movies with Wylan, and they're mostly the kind where someone can hop into first-person mode using the motion-capture data. That means this Eloy guy has probably watched the things, and romanced you from Wylan's perspective. Or him from yours. Either way it's kind of disturbing. And he actually liked that Chalice thing? No taste!

Wait a minute. Evil big-eared things were the villains, and the paranoia plot was about someone getting forcibly turned into one? That's... more political than you'd imagined junky fantasy to be. "Thanks, I think. I'm not trying to interfere with the Fens, though."

"Of course not," he says with a wink and a tailwag. "But it's nice to see some among your people having an influence cultural on the empire. Many young Fens watch films, and over time, who knows where that leads?"

Time. "Oh! I need to get back to the studio," you say. It's strange to think about your having an influence on the world situation here, just by performing.

Eloy bows to you. "Glad to meet you, in any case. I hope to take a studio tour later, if they'll allow it...?"

"I'll try to get you a pass." His eyes light up at the offer. Fanboy fox!

As you get up, the foreigner moves to fetch the books you've pulled out. "I will return these for you, senorita." He glances at the titles. "Oh, planning a magical tale next?"

"Maybe," you say with a nervous smile that you hope gives away nothing.

"Excellente! I shall look forward to it."

You get out of the library, feeling flustered several ways at once by the foreign man with his odd compliments and questions.

# 7. What's My Motivation? #

The rest of the work day is easy. The director bellows at you to say your lines with "more zest" or "more ennui". Come on, you're talking about cattle! You catch the stagehands smirking about it, and share in making fun of him when he's not looking.

You're comfortable here in a way. You've got a job, a house, and friends. People admire "your" work and think you're having a good effect on the country. On the other hand...

In an idle moment you stare at the white-furred, clawed hands this world gave you, and can't help glancing at your chest. The body's not what you're used to, and it means a different life than you ever expected. Is that so bad? Maybe your attitudes have shifted a bit. Depending on your feelings before you got zapped into the costume place, you might be disturbed to notice that guys like Wylan are actually... attractive, and that it's because of a random costume you put on. Who has the right to mess with your head like this? Then again, would it be any better if you'd hated every second as a half-animal woman and ended up killing yourself? Or if you'd gotten stuck with some kind of fish-monster costume, or replaced the Pretty Pink Princess of Pig World? In this form, you've got a choice about what to be and how to act. And there's always the chance of going back for a different costume, a different life. But you can probably never go home again. You want to meet the wizard behind this game, and have words.

The filming for this movie is almost over, and people seem to like how you're doing. That's your excuse for taking a walk with Bragho in the studio grounds that evening. Besides the two main studio halls, there're some shacks, a cafeteria, and so on. Some of the studio's land is left as natural forest, giving the studio a peaceful scent. This new sense of smell isn't as powerful as you might have expected, but then you've kept your color vision. If the fox-folk were colorblind by human standards, would their screens use only red and blue?

"What're you thinking about?" asks Bragho.

You say, "This costume thing. How long have you been in this world, anyway?"

"A few years. I got tired of the game, and this place is all right."

You look around at the sunset over the valley. "Could've been worse. What were you to start with?"

He scratches his ear with a timid expression. "I had tentacles. You'd have said I was ugly, in more ways than one. But those days're over." Together you walk into a prop warehouse, where in the dim light you spot dozens of ordinary movie costumes. "Since then I've been plenty of things. A human like you, an obscenely busty dragon -- don't give me that look! -- a superpowered cat-centaur race, you name it. Then there was that bird race... long story."

Your ears droop. "Not much chance of finding a human costume, then?"

"There's always a chance." Though you'd end up as someone else.

"So why haven't you kept looking for your own kind?"

"I don't want to!" snaps Bragho. He grabs a sequined cape from a rack. "Listen. You'll probably never see your world again. I saw over a thousand costumes when I was in the maze. Either be Lenara, or run off and be an anonymous vixen, or resign yourself to seeing other worlds. Some of which are terrifying." He looks about to shred the cape he holds. "Is it worth giving up what you have here for whatever is hidden behind the next outfit? Would you pick up a script and commit yourself to that role without reading it?" He puts the cape back, shoulders trembling. "From what you've told me, this is a good gig for you. Famous, gorgeous, and -- ah, never mind."

You blush, thinking again about the "deal" you've gotten here. Bragho's standards must have changed from his tentacled days.

He says, "If you do go world-hopping, there are bonuses. I have some shapeshifting abilities now, among other things. But I'm done currying favor with the master wizard to get magic powers. If I ran that costume-game, it'd be different!"

You nod. "This is a lot to think about. Thanks, Bragho. I'm glad to have somebody that knows what I'm going through."

"Yeah," he says, looking off to one side. "If you need help with fox stuff, or girl stuff, or the local culture, ask. I've been through it."

"What about this empire -- the Fens?"

He shrugs. "Doesn't affect us much. I've seen empires that murder their own people while bragging about their kindness. This one's mild."

You think of your world's Communists and National Socialists, but tell him about Eloy instead. Bragho says, "Sounds like a fop. Fens usually are. Just don't tell him about the costumes, or you might get drafted as a supposed magic-user."

You laugh nervously. "All right."

"How's your house? Looked pretty bare from what I saw."

"I've hardly noticed, but yeah. Didn't come with Lenara's things."

"That's typical. Want to do some shopping? Holy day's tomorrow if you don't know; can't act then. We could go into the city." He pauses from his nonchalant inspection of more costume racks. "Although, it's kind of pointless to buy anything if you're leaving by month's end."

You frown; he's right. "I do have free starting money though."

"Yeah. You could treat it as just a game if you want. And you've got wages coming."

It could be fun to see more of the world.