by Andre Norton
Rasson ripped off the end of the cloth on his arm and very gently bound the cat’s paw. “Are you strong enough to travel home tonight?”
Together we can do anything. Prosh butted the boy’s cheek, making Rasson feel important, happy, and needed.
“You’re so remarkable, Prosh,” Rasson said, stroking the feline. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re only a cat.”
Cat Prosh purred and nuzzled against Rasson’s shoulder. Sometimes, boy, it’s hard to believe you’re only a human.
Ede’s Earrings by Sasha Miller
The magician’s house was not a happy place these days. The air fairly quivered with misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and-not the least of it-downright stubbornness on the parts of both the magician and his cat.
“Don’t you clatter those things at me,” Ferdon said. “Not another time! You’re wrong, and there’s an end to it.”
Ede glared at him and shook her head, causing the jeweled rings in her ears to jangle even more defiantly. Then she stalked off, head high, tip of tail twitching in annoyance.
“I’m going to do it anyway,” Ferdon called after Ede. “There’s no reason not to! There’s no harm in it-” But he was talking to the air. With a last clinking of jewels, Ede had leapt to the window sill and vanished. “Right. Go outside and sulk, you ridiculous cat. Who needs your help, let alone your interference? Next time I’ll have a frog or an owl for a Companion, just you mark me well.”
But it was an empty threat, and Ferdon knew it even before the words were out of his mouth. Ede had come to him-as magicians’ Companions always did-of her own will, already versed in Companion lore and already wearing the jewels in her ears. At first, appalled at what he conceived to have been cruelty to the cat, he had tried to remove the earrings only to find that there was no way to take them off, short of destroying them, and that method of removal he was instinctively loath to try. Nor was there a discernible weld in the two thin gold rings. They would have fit loosely on his thumb, and were strung with gold, emerald, and sapphire beads that clinked softly with every movement, and simply were there, as much a part of Ede as her blue-green eyes. She had a most unusual ruddy brown coat, each hair banded and tipped with black; a dark stripe accentuated her back while her belly and the undersides of her legs were creamy in color. Bands of dark tipping circled her throat like necklaces and the capital letter “M” on her forehead-the mark of cats the world over-stood out vividly.
Ferdon was young, as magicians go, and Ede was his first Companion. Only when he had done some research in his extensive and as yet largely unread library had he discovered how lucky he was. He had bought the books complete with the house, from the elderly physician-mage whose practice he had taken over when the old man retired. Magister Grinden had accumulated a number of volumes over the years, and among them was a small book, bound in purple leather, a book he had not encountered at the Academy. The very finest Companions, according to the chapter he read in “Arkane Magick et Jewells et Cartes” were cats from Egypt. This Ede undeniably was, for there were many colored drawings in the book and one, entitled “Aegypttian Catte,” could have been a portrait of her. Furthermore, the best Companions always had rings in their ears. Sometimes the cats even had some magical powers of their own.
Ferdon discovered that Ede was a Companion with a strong sense of what was wrong and what was right. When he seemed on the brink of doing something of which Ede did not approve, she jangled the rings as a warning. She had saved him from several blunders in the past, such as the time one townwife wanted him to wither her neighbor’s flowers. Considering what the neighbor’s lapdog had done to his client’s begonias, he had been ready to oblige her. Ede ‘s even disposition changed; she became terribly agitated, shaking her head and pawing at her earrings to make the beads jingle. He had to delay working the spell until she was in a more cooperative mood. Then he had learned how his client’s son had unmercifully tormented the dog. Another incident, involving a farmer and the size of the litter he wanted from the sow bred to the local baron’s prize boar, would certainly have had serious repercussions had he agreed to the farmer’s wishes. But Ede had shaken her head, jangling her earrings, and he had turned the man away at once. Later, when the baron took reprisal, Ferdon learned that the farmer had bred his sow without prior approval. The farmer lost everything he thought to have gained by the sale of a large number of pigs of choice lineage; his family deserted him, and he wound up in the baron’s prison. With a cold sinking in the pit of his stomach, Ferdon realized that if he had become involved to the least degree, he might have been thrown in prison as well.
This disagreement he and Ede had been having lately, however-well, there was no reason for it that Ferdon could see, other than plain jealousy and stubbornness on Ede ‘s part.
He had met someone. How simply it had happened, and how profoundly it had changed his life. On the first market day after he had taken up residence in the town, Ferdon had visited the square, thinking only to acquaint himself with his new neighbors and potential clients as he walked among the stalls and booths. The sight of a woman’s magnificent shape outlined against the sun stopped him in mid stride; a thunderbolt could not have affected him more. Instantly smitten, he hurried over to introduce himself. Then he had seen her face. Her features were pretty enough, but her skin-Pity swept through him and the man stepped aside in favor of the physician.
“I am Ferdon,” he said to her. “Please. Forgive me, but-”
She nodded. “I know. The new mage. You want to know what is wrong with me, why I look the way I do.” Her voice was incredibly rich and deep, full of promise, and he could have lost himself forever in the brownish green of her eyes.
“Mine is not idle curiosity.”
“Very well. It is a tale that has grown worn in the telling. One more time doesn’t matter.”
As long as she could remember, both she and her mother had had red, scaly patches that itched abominably at wrists, ankles and around their hairlines. During the time when she started to change from a girl to a woman, however, something even worse had happened to her skin. Her face, shoulders and back began to be disfigured by pustular eruptions and now she was seldom free of them. Both her parents had died; these days she wove fabric and embroidered fine garments for a living, and occasionally sold vegetables, when she had some to spare, on market day. She had no money to rent a stall but found a spot on the cobblestones where she could spread her wares.
“I am poor because people don’t want to buy from me,” she told him in conclusion. “I think they are afraid they will catch something, the way I caught it from my mother.”
“Has this ever happened?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“And did your father catch it?”
“No. It was very strange. But he was a strong man.” In the current fashion-or as close as she could come to it-she wore a shift serving as underdress and petticoat in one under a tightly laced bodice and had a fold of overskirt tucked up in her waistband. An empty purse dangled from her belt. She sighed, and absently fingered the tie of the threadbare shift. “How I would love to have a few coins to spare. And to be pretty.”
“You are,” he said. He almost stumbled over the words. “Believe me, you are. I think you are very pretty indeed.”
But she remained unconvinced, shaking her head and sighing even more deeply. He found it difficult to concentrate, enthralled by the thought of the warm, soft bosom inside that bodice. And more than that, he found himself wanting to, well, to do things for her, to make life easier for her, to make her smile. With difficulty, he tried to think like a physician once more. “Have you sought medical help?”
“Magister Grinden could do nothing to help me,” she said. “But he was old, and, I fear, somewhat behind the times. Whereas, you-”
She left the thought unspoken, but Ferdon could read the rest of it in her eyes, in the flattering way she looked at him, as if he were the most attractive, virile man in t
he universe, the one for whom she had been searching all her life…
“Ah, er, yes,” he had said. He stopped and cleared his throat. “I will undertake your cure, Mistress-”
“Dala.”
“Dala. I will undertake your cure, but you must realize it will take some time. I have never done anything like this before. I must study. We will be forced to meet often and, and perhaps experiment with several techniques. Methods of treatment.”
“That would be wonderful.” She stood up straight, arching her back and accidentally showing off the proud profile of her breasts through the thin shift she wore. “When shall we begin?”
“Oh, as soon as possible. You understand that it would be preferable if we can work out a cure by natural means, rather than magical. It is much easier on both the patient and the practitioner.”
“You are the master.”
But all the herbal remedies he had tried proved incapable of healing her. The scaly red patches, unvanquished, merely retreated into Dala’s hairline along with the eruptions. This wen on her temple was only the latest in a long series of torments she endured. Ferdon was ready to resort to magical means of attempting a cure. The problem was that the ingredients were both rare and costly and he was far from being wealthy himself. Doing everything he wanted to do could ruin him financially.
Privately, Ferdon entertained the picture of Dala in his house, Dala preparing his meals and embroidering fine garments for him alone, Dala in his life and in his bed. He was a fine young mage-none better in his class at the academy. It could be argued that it was his responsibility to settle down while he was young and sire a new generation of magicians. No sense in letting them go unborn, the way too many did, until centuries and virility had passed and his talent died with him.
“Despite the cost, I will remove the wen on Data’s left temple, using magic,” Ferdon said aloud, “and you will help me do it. That is an act you should approve of, my stiff-necked Companion. And we will do it tomorrow morning!” Then he began to smile, thinking of how he would slip in at least one extra spell, the one he knew Dala wanted in her heart of hearts. Not that Dala had ever asked for such a thing. But he could afford it. During their conferences together he had become aware, when she caught sight of her reflection, of the faint sigh of disappointment every time she beheld herself. How much easier her life would be if she had the beautiful, clear skin she dreamed of. If another part of what he wanted to do for her also involved casting a certain aura over the goods she brought to market day, well, what harm was there in it? And how grateful she would be to him…
If only Ede could get over this ridiculous antipathy. The first time Dala had come into the workroom where Ede lay dozing, Dala had begun to sneeze. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled and accidentally brushed the cat from the table. Startled and taken unaware, Ede had landed heavily on the floor. Then she jumped straight up, fur bristling, eyes ablaze, and dashed from the room.
“I’m sorry,” Dala said. “I always sneeze when I’m around a cat. Poor little thing.”
Though Ferdon had tried to coax her back, Ede wouldn’t return to the workroom that day. However, on subsequent occasions when Dala came in, Ede stayed put in her favorite spot on the worktable, refusing to leave and watching with great interest as Dala sneezed with progressively greater violence. Ferdon had been forced to put Ede out of the room each time so he could complete the treatment. At first, Ede stalked back and forth outside, yowling and scratching at the door; later, she simply hid when Dala was due for an appointment. Now, every time anything even remotely connected with Dala came up, Ede jangled her earrings in the most emphatic manner possible. Ferdon could only surmise that dislike had become jealousy over his attentions to Dala when Ede was excluded. He hoped Ede would get over it in time. No, more than that. Ede would learn to endure Data’s presence, and do it politely, or-
No use in dwelling on that subject. It fogged the mind, when clear thinking was required. He went to the window. ” Ede,” he called. “Eeeeeede!”
The cat materialized on the window ledge and rubbed the entire length of her body against him. He gathered her into his arms and she responded with a full-throated purr that made both of them vibrate. Despite everything, they loved each other dearly.
” Ede, Ede, whatever am I going to do with you?” He rubbed her silken chin; she nuzzled his fingers. “Can’t you see that I am only trying to heal someone who is ill? Will you help me? Please?”
Ede tensed in his arms and the purring ceased. He wondered if she could sense his very small, well-intentioned deception. But she didn’t struggle to get down, nor did she jangle her earrings. Instead, she closed her eyes and pushed her head against Ferdon’s chest.
“Thank you, Ede. I knew I could count on you.”
Treatment day was also market day; but even though Dala was likely to miss getting her favorite spot where she put out her wares for sale, she came to Ferdon’s house in answer to his summons. Ferdon habitually left the kitchen door unlatched, so that any who needed his servicer might enter. He heard her when she came in, dropping the bundle of embroidery and the basket of early summer squash just inside before going directly to the magician’s workroom which he had left unlocked for her.
Today, however, there was no scent of herbs or goose fat in the air, no concoction of bark or roots simmering over the fire. He had neatly put away all the medicines and heal-craft implements, and in their place on the table had laid out the emblems of magery. Dala’s eyes widened. She looked up at Ferdon. She put her fingers to her chapped lips.
“Yes,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “I can do nothing more for you by ordinary means, so I have decided to work a spell.” He indicated a stool placed in the center of a maze of chalk lines drawn on the floor. “Sit here. We’ll start simply- Ede? Where are you? I need you now.”
“The cat? Is it necessary? She doesn’t like me.”
“That’s just a misunderstanding. She’ll learn better. As I was saying, we’ll start with something small, like taking away that wen on your temple.”
Self-consciously, Dala touched the angry swelling. “And then?” she said.
He smiled. “All in good time.” He slipped into the robe with the magic symbols painted on it, thinking as he did so how superior a robe’ would be if it were embroidered by loving, grateful hands. Then he lit the brazier, and took up the wand of lignum vitae. Dala sneezed. Ede appeared out of nowhere and wound around Ferdon’s legs, miaowing plaintively. “Here you are,” he said, picking her up. “Let us begin.”
He cast the proper ingredients into the fire. Smoke began filling the air. Unhappy though she was at the process and at Dala’s presence, Ede allowed Ferdon to hold her while he followed, counter-sunwise, the inwardly spiraling path of the chalk marks. In a high, nasal tone of voice he began to chant: “Rignus, sallivus, quantum facterium. Placus, fortunatus-”
The Power throbbed through him, magnified and channeled by the Companion’s presence. The very air trembled, crackling with the enormous energy he was tapping into, almost drowning out the occasional sounds of sneezing. With each circuit he made of the seated figure in the center of the maze, the pustular lump at the temple was diminishing under the great forces being directed against it. Ede lay in the crook of his arm, tense and alert, now a part of the thing being done, a willing participant. At just the right instant, as he took the last steps that would bring him face-to-face with the subject of the spell, he threw the pinch of magic dust into the air to drift down upon this subject, and inserted the additional words he had looked up the night before, “adque, pulque-veritum est!”
A clap of thunder reverberated through the room. Ede, every hair bristling, screamed in outrage, tore herself from Ferdon’s arms and vanished. Dala just sat there, stunned and dazed, until Ferdon knelt at her feet. “Here,” he said, holding out a silver mirror. “Look at yourself.”
The expense had been worth it. With satisfaction he watched Dala seeing for the first time what he
had always known she could become. Hesitantly, she touched the clear, unmarked skin, running her fingers over features that were, and at the same time, were not, those with which she had been born.
Ede ‘s last-second refusal and rejection had spoiled the spell a little. Dala’s hair had been dull red; now it was just a shade short of russet, the highlights not as bright as he had envisioned. Her eyes were the same hazel as before, not the golden brown he had been aiming for. But her skin was flawless, stretching smooth over remodeled, aristocratic bones, all redness gone except for the faintest blush high on her cheeks. Her nose was small and straight, her lips now the color and texture of tea-rose petals. Her teeth were very white, though, alas, still a little crooked. While not the shattering beauty he had planned, the one who could have empires at her feet, she was still a woman who could grace the hall of any noble in the land, even that of the king. If he had not been infatuated before, he certainly was now; wholeheartedly, he fell in love with his own creation.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, still at her feet. “If you do, then perhaps you will grant me the favor of-I mean, perhaps you will do me the honor-I mean, I want to-”
“In a minute, Ferdon,” Dala said, still engrossed with her image in the polished silver. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “This is so unreal. I-I have to have some time to get used to, to what I look like now.”
“Of course.” He arose and helped her to her feet. “Of course you do. Go home. Or go to the marketplace and sell your wares if you like. I think you will find that you have more customers this day than you ever dreamed of.” He closed her hands over the mirror. “Keep this, the first gift of many, and remember who gave it to you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.” She wandered out of the workroom, still in a daze, unable to tear herself away from the vision she beheld in the silver surface.
