Trouble the Cat Read online

  “I don’t know, sir,” Dory responded.

  “I was already old, ancient even, when the Antimagic League was first formed.”

  She looked at him as if he were mad. “That was over five hundred years ago!”

  “There are some benefits in possessing talent and knowing how to use it,” he replied mildly, his gray eyes turning almost silver with amusement.

  “Then you are—”

  “A sorcerer? Oh yes. I’m head of our Great Circle, as a matter of fact. Have been since my youth.”

  “So the League didn’t get you all like they claim,” she mused. “I’m so glad!” She had little sympathy with any of the organization’s aims considering what she knew of its members.

  Martin laughed without humor. “Those curs couldn’t get their great-grandmothers if the old ladies set their backs against them! They eliminated a lot of charlatans, true, and they made life pretty miserable for minor, unschooled talents until we quietly stepped in and took the pressure off them, but face down a sorcerer of the first water? Hardly! Look what happened when one of them clashed with you, and you’ve had no training at all.

  “We eliminated our own evil members. The League did accomplish that much good. It forced us to police ourselves. Before that, we were lax, lazy and cowardly both, I suppose. An adept can always recognize a fellow sorcerer who walks the dark path, and so we were never threatened. As a result, we contented ourselves with keeping an eye on those of our number who did turn sour, making sure none of them made a grab for too much control over the untalented and did not go too far in other ways, but that was all. The formation of the League pushed us into action. It was a vigilante organization, and we dearly wanted to keep it that, to remove its cause before it could have real laws pushed through against us. We reasoned, rightly as it turned out, that if we did, the movement would soon stagnate into a social organization for bully boys. We succeeded so well that most of its members don’t even believe that magic really exists now.” He smiled faintly. “Except your friend Jocko, of course.”

  He was silent a moment as his thoughts drifted back through time. “It was not an easy fight we waged. A number of us died, and some of us still bear scars. Painful scars—”

  The sorcerer recalled himself to the present. “That’s neither here nor there at the moment.”

  Dory shook her head. “I’m glad you all survived.” She paused. “There must be hundreds, thousands, of you if you all live for centuries.”

  “On the contrary. We are very few. Major talent is rare, and many a century passes without giving us even a single recruit.

  “Of those who are born with the gift, some fall victim to accident or illness or violence, and there are always the few who turn to the dark and so are lost to us.”

  The gray eyes met hers. “That’s why you’re so precious, Dory, and also so dangerous.”

  She stared at him a moment, uncomprehending, then her eyes widened. “You think I have talent?” she gasped half in protest.

  “I believe you are a major talent, possibly one of the strongest I have ever encountered,” he replied seriously.

  “And I’m…dangerous?”

  He nodded. “Yes, unfortunately. Your power is just stirring in you now. It will awaken fully when your body settles down to assume its biological adult role. You will not be able to suppress its manifestations entirely unless you are properly trained to handle it, and the outcome of uncontrolled displays may not always be beneficial to yourself or those around you. What has happened already is proof enough of that.”

  “Where can I get that training?” she demanded. “Who can teach such things? I can’t stay here with you, even if you’d want me. I’m too well known in this area. Someone’d be sure to see me, and Jocko’d get me thrown in jail or something, and maybe you with me.”

  He leaned forward. “I’d be proud to have such an apprentice, and I can protect you so that no one would recognize you, but the price of working with me would be very high. I’ll fully understand if you choose not to pay it and will arrange to send you to another very nearly as knowledgeable as I who will be equally delighted to have both you and Trouble.”

  Dory stiffened. Price? Imelde had warned her that some men… And there were the old stories, too, those about the payment anyone trafficking in sorcery was supposed to have to pay.

  Martin read both thoughts easily enough without recourse to any special abilities of his calling. “Your virtue’s safe enough, girl. I like women as well as any man, but they do have to be adults and neither victims nor purchases. Your soul’s equally secure. That can be won or lost only by your own choices, not by a mere commercial transaction.”

  “What, then?” she asked, puzzled. Surely he realized she had no fortune, nothing valuable to give. If not, she did not want him for a teacher anyway!

  “Patience, Kitten,” Trouble thought wearily. Why must her species always leap to ridiculous conclusions, and in matters of such importance, too? It would be a tragedy if she reared up and ruined her chances with the sorcerer before they had even begun to work together.

  Martin sighed. “Your youth, Little One. What’s left of your childhood and your adolescence. No one will take a grown woman for a twelve-year-old girl.”

  Dory started to ask if he could really do that but bit the question back in time. If he was what he said and proposed this, then he could accomplish it.

  “My childhood hasn’t been very happy,” she said after several minutes’ deep thought.

  “No, but the rest would be. Consider this carefully. I would teach you well and treat you well, but the step’s irrevocable once taken. You will appreciate the loss as an adult, Dory, and regret it. That’s why I’m not pressuring you now, much as I want to have you with me.”

  “What about Trouble?” she asked slowly after a moment. “You can’t make him old, too.”

  “No. He’ll have to spend the next two or three years as an all black cat. After that, we’ll be moving anyway. Those of us who don’t age must change our base periodically to avoid arousing comment. Once we do, it’ll be safe for him to resume his natural coat again. I, for one, will welcome that. He’s beautifully marked.—Do you agree to that course, Trouble?” he concluded in both verbal and inner speech.

  The cat slowly inclined his head. “I prefer my true coloring, but this is necessary.”

  Dory’s eyes widened. “It’s like he really understood and answered you!”

  “For shame, Child! These animals comprehend a great deal. You’ll soon realize how much, whether you accept my offer or not.”

  His offer. Her mouth felt dry. She had to give Martin his answer and give it soon. As matters now stood, she was a danger to all of them. One way or another, she had to escape her enemies and learn how to manage this unwanted but apparently unavoidable power of hers.

  Indecision tore her. Stay, and she must trust herself to this stranger’s magic. Flee… She would have to trust him still, him and some other as well, maybe someone who would use her as hard as Jocko had or harder.

  The girl looked frantically to Trouble, but the cat sat motionless and unblinking on her lap, more warm statue than living being for all the response he gave her. Never had he been so cold to her need…

  “He won’t tell you what to do,” the sorcerer said gently. “He can’t. He knows that only you can make a decision this important to you.”

  There was no contradiction or comment from the cat, just understanding, respect, and the hope that his comrade would choose well.

  “Thank you, friend,” Martin whispered.

  Dory’s head raised. Both courses seemed equal in their potential for good and for ill. Her heart and instinct had to be the deciding factors.

  “I’ve never had a chance at real schooling,” she said. “If I’m going to start now, it might as well be with the best. That seems to be you.”

  “Are you certain, Child?” he asked with a strangely sharp pang of regret. He would not be calling her that again.
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  “I am,” she responded with surprisingly mature firmness. Now that her decision was made, she found she had no qualm about standing by it.

  Trouble gave a half purr, half meow of delight. He rasped his tongue once along her cheek to emphasize his happiness and approval.

  She held him close to her. “I’m not wrong about this. Trouble wants it, too, and he likes you. That’s all I need to tell me it’s right, really right, for all of us.”

  THE NEIGHBOR

  “The sun will be set before we get into the tree, or maybe you were thinking of making the climb like that? I wouldn’t recommend it myself, but sometimes there’s no accounting for the decisions of humans.”

  Dory glared at the black cat sitting on the edge of her bed. “No, I don’t plan on scaling anything in this costume, Master Trouble,” she responded verbally, although she might as easily have answered his thoughts directly with her own mind.

  She lifted her gown over her head and carefully lay it across the back of the chaise before dropping the several petticoats which had imparted the fullness to the skirt.

  Her frown deepened. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what or how I study anyway. Martin seems to have forgotten me completely.”

  Dory flushed and bit her lip. Did she really resent a poor, very sick little boy? “That was unworthy.”

  “It was,” Trouble agreed, “and unnecessary. The little kit needs Martin’s help. You can concentrate on one area over another for a few weeks without hurting either.”

  He looked at the human somberly. She had been a kitten herself only last autumn, a skinny, begrimed twelve-year-old in flight for her very life. She was a mature queen of her species now. The sorcerer advanced her age eight years, so that she could remain here under his instruction in the town where she was so well known in her old form, training it was absolutely essential that she receive before some uncontrolled outpouring of her rapidly budding mage talent caused some real disaster.

  He purred. His heart had ached to see maturity so suddenly thrust upon his kitten, but that sadness had passed quickly. His Dory needed him no less, and her love for him had gained in depth and understanding.

  The tomcat had taken on a new appearance himself, exchanging his magnificent black-and-white markings for a totally ebony coat. He remained a singularly handsome cat, but he would be glad to resume his own coloring when they changed residence, as those who do not age beyond their prime must do every several years in order to avoid raising curiosity about the absence of time’s bite upon them.

  “You’re perfect just the way you are, and you know it full well,” Dory informed him. She kissed him on the top of his head. Puberty had brought the opening of her inner voice and ears. The ability to converse directly with this small, good friend was one of the best of the many things which had come to her these last strange months.

  “Naturally.”

  She made a disgusted face. “I just wish everything else worked as well.” Martin had been right when he had warned her that she would miss the eight years she had advanced without living. Even now, when everything was new and filled with wonder, she was aware of the great void in her experience. A considerable amount of knowledge had accompanied the alteration, enough that she was able to function in her new role and pick up her studies at the appropriate stage. Dory’s scowl deepened. Straight book learning was always there when she needed it. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of other, socially necessary abilities. Most of those worked best when she did not consciously think about them. Let her just become aware of her billowing skirts at the wrong moment...

  “You’d make an interesting sight.— The air’s nice outside,” Trouble reminded her with a great show of tried patience, “We should be taking advantage of it.”

  “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” Even as she spoke, the woman drew on a white linen blouse. A pair of gray trousers followed, Martin’s castoffs, carefully altered to her fit, not by sorcery, but by her own hard-plied needle. The brogs into which she thrust her feet were her own. Her teacher had used his arts to repair them and resize them to accommodate her newly acquired adult proportions.

  Grabbing the carry bag containing her pad, case of pencils, and mirror, she headed for the door. “Time to go, cat. You can sleep your life away as easily up in a tree as in here. Unlike you, I have work to do.”

  “Sleep the day away! Impudent human! I’ve been trying to get you moving—”

  He bounded out of the room after her and raced her down the hall, outpacing her before she reached the stairs.

  Dory only laughed. She skipped down after him, delighting in her freedom from the confining petticoats.

  She hurried out the rear door into the high-walled courtyard, not stopping until she reached the large tree shading the left rear corner.

  Two chairs and a small table were set invitingly in its shadow. A little, round gray cat was curled in the center of the nearer seat. Dory smiled at the sleepy response to her mental greeting. Jasmine was decidedly Martin’s friend and preferred her own company and dreams when separated from that beloved being. Not that sleeping was any chore for a cat.

  The woman scrambled onto the table. From there, it was a simple matter to catch hold of the lowest branch and hoist herself up. She chuckled to herself. She had not lost her old skills with the acquisition of some new ones.

  She ascended one more branch and set her back against the trunk. Her perch was just wide enough that she was able to bring both her legs up in front of her and raise her knees to support the sketching pad she now took from her bag along with the mirror and pencils. Before her lay Ambrose the Scholar’s courtyard. It was somewhat larger than Martin’s, and it was even more carefully manicured, a breathtaking melody of floral and foliage color, texture, form, and variety.

  Dory studied the lovely prospect for a few minutes in sheer pleasure. It was difficult to believe that so much beauty was potentially so deadly and even more difficult to realize that such peril could be turned to benefit in experienced hands. She assumed that must indeed be true of nearly everything down there even if she had found no mention of positive applications for many of the plants she had thus far identified. After all, Martin’s books were general reference works, whereas this was Ambrose’s specialty.

  She had gone to her teacher despite his preoccupation with the ever-worsening illness of his friend’s young son when her studies had revealed that every specimen in their neighbor’s gardens with the exception of the grass in his patch of lawn was toxic to a greater or lesser extent.

  Martin had not been pleased by her suspicions against the botanist scholar, but he had informed her that Ambrose supplemented the income derived from his investments by supplying physicians and nature healers with various medicinal preparations, a response she had received with open relief. It was good to know they were not living next to a mass murderer getting ready to go to work on the neighborhood...

  “Speaking of going to work, you won’t identify many plants by sitting here all afternoon gathering stardust.”

  Trouble had finished paying his respects to Jasmine and now joined his human on the branch.

  “Just putting myself in the mood,” she replied, but the cat was correct. It was time to begin.

  Dory concentrated on the silver-green patch of vegetation abutting the specimens she had studied at the end of her previous session. It was only a blur of color at this distance.

  Slowly, the apprentice sorceress lowered her eyes to the mirror resting against the pad. It was an exceptionally well-ground circle twelve inches in diameter and uncommonly thick for such an object so that she seemed more to be peering into its depths than simply glancing at its surface.

  At first, it appeared perfectly blank although she was bent directly over it, then the scene she had been studying slowly formed there. Dory willed better, closer resolution. The image blurred, and when it cleared again, she was looking, first at several plants, then at a single one. This, she carefully sketched befor
e demanding still more concentrated views, one of a single leaf, others of the minute, massed flowers and of their individual components.

  The day was bright and mild, well suited to her project, and the woman worked steadily for the next two hours.

  Trouble alternated between napping and eyeing the branches above and around for sight of birds or other interesting potential game.

  Suddenly, he stiffened, and his head snapped toward Ambrose’s house. Had something moved on the outskirts of his vision?

  There it was again, at that upper window. He hissed sharply. “Dory, we’ve been spotted!”

  The human quickly altered the direction of her gaze and concentrated on the mirror once more.

  The figure of a man materialized in its depths, blurred by the lace curtain through which he was looking and by the fact that he was standing well back in the shadow of the frame.

  So.

  “Do we run?” the cat demanded.

  “No,” she answered with her mind. “We’re doing nothing wrong.”

  Even as she spoke, she flipped to a fresh page and willed a new picture to form. She could hardly explain how she could produce detailed botanical drawings from this distance. Sorcery was still considered a highly suspicious—and illegal—profession.

  “Do you think he’ll come down to us?” Trouble asked.

  “Probably. I would.—Does he know we’ve seen him?”

  “Not likely. I’m not visible from there, and a cat could scarcely have masked her reaction better than you did just now.”

  She inclined her head to acknowledge the compliment, but her tone remained serious. “That’s good. Keep out of whatever happens. I can defend myself somewhat if I muddle this, but you’ve got to stay free to summon Martin if things start to get beyond me.”

  “If things get beyond you, donkey tail, it’ll be too late to summon Martin or anyone else.”

  “Just do as I say.—Here he comes!”

  The door of the house opened, and a man stepped out into the light. He immediately hailed Dory. She looked up as if surprised, then smiled broadly and waved to him.