The weekly card game in the Three Stag’s back room had gone well for Rand. He was up nearly 6 gold sovereigns, not a huge amount for the young burglar, but enough for a night on the town. The other players included Clarissa, a buxom blonde courtesan killing time until the tavern got busy; Terrel, a local tanner, whose rusty doeskin breeches and vest seemed to have been dyed to perfectly match his curly hair and long sideburns; Merken, an iron-haired dwarven trader who came to town every month or two; and Beetle, a weasel-faced man with sharp, narrow features, owner of Beetle’s Second Hand and Salvage Shop, little known fencer of stolen goods, and a long-time friend.
Rand’s slate-gray eyes sparkled with mischief beneath a shock of ebon hair as he drew his final card: a hedge wizard. The card completed a cabal of mystics in his hand – familiar, hedge wizard, necromancer, and abjurer – and all of them earth aspects. With the Engineer as the pole card, another earth aspect, he could cast out the remaining card in his hand, the Magistrate, and play a trumped cabal for the reveal. That would be tough to beat.
Fighting the urge to immediately toss a handful of coins into the pot, Rand slid his cards into a neat little stack and tapped them a few times with his finger, as if unsure of his next action. He let out a barely noticeable sigh and absently played with a small stack of coins until Beetle reminded him it was his bet. Right on time, Rand thought, careful to mask his emotions. He slowly pushed the stack of coins forward, paused, and instead moved two stacks decisively, 10 gold coins in total. He hoped his exaggerated show of confidence would entice the dwarf to raise him.
It worked. Clarissa folded, wondering aloud if she would be luckier at love tonight. Terrel furrowed his brow, but matched the wager. The dwarf doubled the bet, obviously thinking Rand had overplayed his bluff. Beetle dropped out. If he had ciphered out the deception, he didn’t show it. Rand paused and frowned for effect.
“That’s 10 crowns to you,” remarked the dwarf, impatiently, “if’n you got the cards to back it up.”
A sudden fluttering sound at the window cut off Rand’s witty response. The back room had one stained glass window high up on the wall that tilted inward to accept whatever vagrant breeze might come its way. Presently, that breeze came in the form of a rather awkward raven, obviously someone’s pet from the silver band around one of its legs. The glossy black bird teetered on the edge of the window frame for a moment before getting its land legs. It leaned forward, craning its neck in Rand’s direction.
“Pssst!” it hissed, while edging closer along the window frame.
“What in the world?” exclaimed Clarissa. She proceeded to hold a finger up and make little kissing sounds, attempting to coax the bird to her.
“Ignore it,” Rand said. He didn’t want any distractions now, just when he had the dwarf ripe for the picking.
“Pssst!” the bird repeated. “Rand, we need to talk.”
“Hey, what’s this about?” Merken chimed in. “I’ve heard of thieves having fetches before, but not card readers.”
“Now, hold on a minute,” Rand began, even though he could see the whole thing unraveling, “I’ve never seen that bird before in my life.”
“It’s important,” continued the raven, flapping over to Rand’s shoulder. “I’ll explain outside.”
“That’s it,” Merken threw in his cards. “I’m calling a misdeal. Why don’t you take care of your important business with your fine-feathered-friend? I’ve had enough.”
Rand began to protest, but it was no use. Terrel had already begun to pull his coins out of the pot and even Beetle sat shaking his head at Rand.
“Fine,” Rand said, scooping up the few coins he hadn’t already committed to the pot. “Beetle, keep an eye on my share of the pot for me. I’ll collect it when I return.”
With that, Rand tossed his cards on the table, turned, and walked out through the Stags’ common room. Moving to an unoccupied corner of the boardwalk, he held his hand up for the raven to step onto, so he could look the little saboteur in the eye while he spoke to him.
“By the gods, I’ve never eaten crow in my life, but I might just have to make an exception.”
“Wait!” the bird protested, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. “It’s me, Ferric!”
“Oh, ho, very funny, Ferric.” Rand’s voice grew louder as he continued. “This ventriloquist prank of yours just cost me plenty. If you want to get your pet bird back, you better show yourself and be ready to make good on it.”
Rand knew Ferric, a pudgy, freckled wizard’s apprentice. Ferric had once helped him out of a bind with a timely cantrip that deepened the shadows around the young thief right before the city guard rounded the corner looking for him. They’d been friends since, but this was going too far. The thief began looking around for Ferric’s hiding place, but did not immediately see any likely spots.
“No, really,” the raven pleaded. “It’s me! When Jubal, my master, left a few days ago, he hinted that my final test as an apprentice was coming up. I need to impress him if I am to be released from service. He left his spellbook in the caw-conjuring room. It was my chance to show him I can work real magic, not just simple caw-cantrips! I just needed a little practice. I tried to caw-cast a spell that I shouldn’t have and this happened.”
He spread his wings and turned around on Rand’s finger. “Jubal, is due to return in the next couple of days. If he catches me like this, he’ll throw me out and that probably only after he clips my wings! You’ve got to help me!”
The foot shifting accelerated to a jig, wings still extended.
“Alright, let’s pretend for a moment that I believe you,” said Rand, who couldn’t even believe he was chatting with a raven. He shot a quick glare at a curious passerby who swiftly looked away. “Can’t you just say the spell backwards or something? What can I do about it? I don’t know any magic.”
“It’s the cat. My master’s familiar is a cat; a big, nasty calico cat with a taste for birds. After the spell went wrong, she was all over me. I barely made it out alive!”
Rand tried very hard, but unsuccessfully, to repress a grin from creeping across his face.
“It’s not funny!” the raven retorted. “Familiars are not like regular animals. They’re intelligent, cunning, devious creatures. She’s laying for me. I need you to be my bodyguard. Get me inside to the conjuring chamber and keep her off of me while I cast the counterspell. I helped you out of a jam before. You owe me.”
The raven drew out the last sentence and it struck Rand like a kick to the stomach. He prided himself on his work ethics, remembering the “rules of never” his old mentor had drilled into him:
“Never betray a trust, turn your back on a friend, or act out of anger.
Your reputation is your greatest asset and all that matters on the street.
Never be too greedy, flaunt your wealth, or break a deal, lest you make
yourself a target. Never steal from royals and never meddle in the affairs
of wizards. The furthest, darkest holes in which you can hide are not
beyond their reach.”
So much for rules, Rand thought to himself.
“What do I have to do?” he asked resignedly.
“I can get us into the tower,” Ferric began, holding up his silver banded leg. “This ring opens almost all of the doors. The problem will be getting you past the doorman.”
“Wait, a doorman? Seriously? Can’t you just say I’m with you?”
“No. You don’t understand. He’s not really a doorman. That’s just what we caw . . . call him, that or Tinker. He’s a caw-clockwork guardian, not too bright or particularly fast, but very strong and he never sleeps. He stands next to the inner door inside the foyer. No one can pass through the door to the other chambers without a ring,” holding up his foot again, “or Jubal’s direct order. Anyone tries and Tinker bars the way, grabs the trespasser, beats him into unconsciousness, and throws him down a trap door to a hidden cell.”
“You must not get many visitors,” Rand mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, frustrated.
“Oh no, we have suppliers and friends drop by from time to time. They just know to sit down in the foyer and mind their manners. The room’s nicely furnished and very comfortable. If they mess with anything, Tinker takes care of them. Otherwise, I caw-come out and – “
“Stop! What do you mean if they mess with anything?”
“Well, there was this one bloke who tried to pocket a small crystal vase from an end table,” the raven Ferric said, cocking his head sideways. “Tinker knows everything in that room and protects it. Why?”
“Never mind. I think I know how we can get past the doorman, but we’ll need to stop by the bazaar on the way.”
Man and bird set off for the wizard’s abode, discussing the layout of the tower. Rand was relieved to learn that, apart from Tinker and the wizard’s cat, no other servants or guardians were in residence. The conjuring chamber occupied the lowest basement level of the tower, below the wizard’s laboratory and study. The ground floor consisted of the foyer, a hallway, cloak room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room. Ferric’s room was on the second floor, along with a guest room, and storage chamber. The wizard’s personal quarters filled the tower’s two uppermost floors. Rand had no intention of going above the ground floor.
They arrived at Jubal’s tower as the sun set over the far mountains. The location of the tower, in a part of town where successful merchants, middle bureaucrats, and other men of some means made their homes, did not surprise Rand, but the fact that the wizard’s tower looked so – ordinary – did. A fieldstone wall pierced by a wrought iron front gate encircled a well-kept lawn with a graveled path leading around the back to . . . what, a courtyard or stable? A spreading hawthorn tree ringed by white stones and several flowering bushes decorated the lawn. The three-story tower itself had a square base with slightly inward leaning walls of dark granite and several narrow, leaded glass windows. Each story of the tower featured crenellations, hardly more than ledges, but they seemed more ornamental than functional. No gargoyles loomed over the tower’s walls. No portcullis guarded its door. Rather than a grim, foreboding exterior, Jubal’s home projected a quiet self-assurance.
“B-a-a-a-a-h-h-h!!” the third party member bleated, its eyes on the tender grass and leaves just off the path.
Rand had purchased a goat at the market. He intended to send it in first with Ferric. It would just be a matter of time before the goat “messed with something.” If Tinker responded as expected, Rand could sprint across the foyer and through the inner door before the clockwork guardian even knew he was there.
“Tinker better be as single-minded as you say,” Rand muttered to Ferric.
“Just be ready to squawck when I tell you,” replied the raven as he preened his feathers. “Oh, no. Caw-caw! We need to be caw-quick. My caw-new form is imprinting itself faster than I’d hoped.”
“Meaning?”
“If I miscawst the caw-counter spell, bad things caw-could happen.” Ferric started his nervous dance again.
“How bad?”
“You don’t want to know.”
They quickened their pace. When they reached the tower’s front door, Rand noticed that it lacked a doorknob or handle. Rand stepped to the side of the door, so as not to be spotted by Tinker. Ferric fluttered off his shoulder and touched the foot of his banded leg to the door, which responded by silently swinging open, revealing a well appointed room with a softly glowing ceiling. Ferric awkwardly flapped inside.
Along the opposite wall to the left of the interior door, Rand spied a vase of scarlet irises and golden daffodils resting on a curve-legged cherry wood table, flanked by pairs of comfortably upholstered chairs. A small portrait also rested on the table, Jubal, presumably. He possessed a full head of black hair, shot through with streaks of silver. Chiseled features, dark, brooding eyes, and a well-groomed goatee projected an air of confidence. Overhanging these, a brilliantly colored tapestry with golden tassels at each corner portrayed fairies dancing and reveling in the woods beneath the moonlight.
“There now, Mabel,” Rand whispered, turning the goat’s head in the direction of the flowers. “Don’t those look tasty?”
Mabel’s unblinking yellow eyes betrayed nothing, but she ran her tongue along her lips, which Rand took as a sign. With a push and a slap to her rump, he sent the goat trotting into the foyer. She stumbled forward, arriving at the table, and with a flick of her tail and a quick turn of her head, Mabel . . . calmly stared back at Rand. It seemed she’d lost her appetite. For an agonizing minute the goat stood stock-still. Rand frantically pantomimed holding food to his mouth, tearing at it with his teeth, and chewing. He could here Ferric quietly urging Mabel on.
“Nice flowers,” the raven croaked. “Eat the caw nice flowers.”
Just as Rand was about to lose hope, Mabel moved. She stepped right past the flowers and, instead, placed her front hooves on the farthest chair.
“No, you cawpid goat!” Ferric’s voice was rising in pitch. “The flowers, floowwwerrsss.”
But Mabel had made up her mind. Flowers couldn’t win her heart. Her head leaned forward and she began munching a gold tassel instead. Within moments, Rand heard a metallic creaking sound, alerting him that Tinker was on the move. The clockwork man came into his view, clinking and clanking toward Mabel. The thief bolted from hiding and sprinted across the room. Fortunately, at the last second, Ferric had managed to tear his eyes away from Mabel and open the interior door. In seconds, Rand and Ferric were through the door. Mabel’s frantic bleats and squeals were muffled with the closing of the door, but Rand still felt a pang of guilt for the beating Mabel was taking in his stead.
The pair hurried toward an iron spiral staircase at the end of the darkly paneled hall. Pairs of identical wooden doors, carved in a dragon motif, adorned the walls. Rand noticed that they also lacked knobs or handles. He shoved one in passing out of curiosity, but it yielded not an inch. The tile floor had an inlaid geometric pattern to it that Rand found disorienting. Wizards, he thought to himself contemptuously. As soon as his foot hit the first stair, he heard it:
“Mm-rrr-o-ll!”
The low, snarling, gutteral sound echoed up the stairway’s shaft. Ferric jumped on Rand’s shoulder, ruffling his feathers fearfully.
“It’s her. Caw! Serena, that evil caw-cat. Don’t let her name fool you. She’s vicious.”
“Don’t worry, Ferric. I have something for her,” Rand whispered.
He padded down the stairs with practiced ease. When they reached the landing, Rand reached into his belt pouch and removed a small parcel wrapped in parchment.
“Open the door, Ferric,” he said absent mindedly as he worked the package open, but the bird didn’t respond.
The raven’s little talons dug into Rand’s shoulder and his feathers quivered. At that moment, Ferric was more chicken than raven. He immediately sprang to life as a shattering sound broke the silence from the other side of the door. A clanging sound quickly followed it. The raven hopped forward, touched the door, and flapped back to Rand’s shoulder in the blink of an eye. The door swung inward to reveal a room engulfed in mist.
“I told you she was caw-crafty,” Ferric whispered.
Rand ignored his associate, pulling a small chunk of calf liver from the parchment, which he tossed down a few feet in front of where he stood.
“Here kitty, kitty. Nice kitty,” he sing-songed. “I have a yummy treat for you.”
The thief quietly pulled forth a leather bag he had folded over his belt and waited for Serena to arrive. He had to keep his foot next to the open door to keep it from closing. After a couple of minutes, the cat had not appeared, even though Rand had called out again and added another chunk of the sweet meat to the pile. At any rate, the mist had settled lower, revealing details of the room. Three granite lab tables dominated the center of the room, appearing as shadowy islands in the fog. A complicated set of glass fixtures filled the nearest table, with a brazier heating liquid in an alembic, glowing vapors rising through a curly-cue of glass till they condensed into fluid and dripped into a beaker at the other end of the table. Curiously, the drops seemed to shift between colors of the spectrum. Several bottles on the second table displayed various organs removed from a small, scaly creature on the central tray. The type of creature was not familiar to Rand. The third table had a tarp covering it. Additionally, a counter ran along the length of the wall to the right. Shelves of bottles, flasks, and crockeries protruded from the wall above the counter. There may have been shelves or cupboards beneath the counter and tables, but Rand could not discern them through the mists. A long slate board filled much of the wall to the left, cluttered with strange symbols and formulae, along with various parchments of notes, diagrams, and drawings. Serena remained out of sight.
Tired of waiting for the cat and more than a little chagrined that he was letting Ferric’s paranoia get to him, Rand crossed into the room, heading for the opposite door. A sudden movement in his periphery vision to the right caught his attention and he ducked quickly, tossing the raven into the mist. Splinters of pain lashed his neck and shoulder as the cat, Serena, vaulted off of him in her pursuit of the raven. Rand grabbed his neck reflexively, noting tiny lines of blood across his fingers when he pulled his hand away.
The swirling mist concealed both cat and bird, although a low snarl placed her halfway along the left wall. A moment later, Ferric fluttered from the mist, glided over the second table, and settled back into the fog below. The cat followed a few seconds later, bounding off the second table to the counter.
“Enough!” Rand declared as he strode through the mist toward the door. “Ferric! I am moving to the door. We’re getting out of here. It’s just a cat for – arrgh!”
Rand’s foot blazed with pain. He bent down to discover a scalpel impaled in his foot! That explained the clang he’d heard earlier. That damn cat had dumped the instrument tray on purpose. Just as he plucked the blade from his foot, a shattering sound next to him preceded a blinding flash of light and pain seared through his body, knocking him to the floor. It took him several moments to realize what had happened.
Bottled lightning? That damn cat can read the labels on the bottles? Those frightening thoughts set his hands and feet to moving. Crawling on all fours, half-blind from the lightning flash, Rand scurried away from the cat, setting his back behind the farthest table. His entire body felt like it was on pins and needles. Waves of pain throbbed through him. A cat with an arsenal of potions? Rand grudgingly had to admit that Ferric hadn’t exaggerated how dangerous Serena was. The clinking of bottles from across the room meant Serena was choosing her next grenade. The mists had nearly evaporated. Ferric could no longer remain hidden. They had to get out of here and to the stairway on the other side of that door.
“Ferric? Are you alright?”
“Caw! Caw!”
The noise came from the table closest to the door where Ferric crouched in hiding half under the corner of the tarp. Another clink and a popping sound came from the counter. Rand hazarded a look over the table. Serena had dragged a small vial from the shelf, pulled out the cork with her teeth, and was lapping up the spilling contents of the bottle. Rand threw the scalpel in her general direction. She jumped nimbly to the side and hissed at him, hair and tail all bristly, before returning to the bottle. Maybe it was a trick of the mist, but she hadn’t looked that large the first time Rand saw her.
“Ferric, we have to go now!” Rand called even as he dashed to the next table. He couldn’t wait for the feathered klutz to find his way out of the tarp, so he reached in and grabbed the raven. Turning for the door, a sudden blur of orange and black appeared to block his way: Serena, tail lashing, fangs bared, and the size of a cougar!
“Oh, this is not good. Nice kitty. Don’t do anything we’ll all regret.”
“Caw! Caw! Caw!” added Ferric.
Rand backpedaled, keeping the tables between Serena and him. Reaching in his pouch, he drew forth a ball of twine and threw it across the room. The cat didn’t budge, although her eyes darted after it, which only seemed to make her angrier.
“Rraowl”
Serena stalked slowly forward, keeping herself between Rand and the door. He staggered backward, his bleeding foot and aching body complicating his movements. As he steadied himself with his free hand on a table, he brushed up against something smooth and cold. The beaker! He hurled the beaker at Serena in desperation, dousing her face and whiskers. She recoiled in shock, hissing. Completely incensed, the great cat crouched to pounce, but reared up when a small mote of light appeared at the end of a whisker, popped with a loud crack, and flashed into a shower of crimson sparks. A stream of twirling blue streaks screamed across her chin and suddenly the air around her head was spinning and popping with dazzling fireworks of every color. With a wild look in her eyes, Serena swatted at the troublesome motes. She twisted and writhed, trying unsuccessfully to escape the pyrotechnics.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Rand dove across the next table, Ferric in hand, sending dissection trays and pickled organs crashing to the floor. Serena took a wide swipe, claws carving grooves in the tabletop, but the flashing and cracking lights ruined her aim. Somehow Rand managed to land on something other than his head. Thrusting the raven forward like some bizarre passkey, he touched the door and it obediently opened with a puff of air. They rushed headlong down the stairs to the next room.
Rand tapped the door with the raven’s foot to open it and stepped into a small room with a large, ornate desk at its center. The mahogany desk’s claw-foot legs reminded him of Serena and he quickly shut the door behind him. A bookshelf stood along the wall to the left with several compartments devoted to books, scrolls, and loose pages of parchment and vellum. A long, thick, plush carpet with another one of those annoying geometric patterns ran the length of the room to the opposite door. He looked at Ferric and noted a distressed expression. The bird’s beak and talons moved, but no words were forthcoming. A sudden realization hit him and Rand relaxed his grip, allowing Ferric to breathe.
“I’m sorry, Ferric,” he said, placing the bird on the desk. “I didn’t realize I was squeezing you so tightly. Are you alright?”
Ferric ruffled his feathers and shook his head quickly as if to clear it. The bird started to answer with a “caw,” but cut its speech short when the door to the room began to open. Just as quickly, Rand was at the portal, shutting it against Serena, who slammed against the door in mid-lunge. He managed to press it shut and drove his dagger deep into the door jam to hold it. The blade held long enough for Rand to push the massive desk up against the door. Ferric had already flown to the other door to open it and stairs beckoned on the other side.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rand and Ferric opened the door to the conjuring chamber. Inlaid into the floor, a large thaumaturgic triangle set within a magic circle dominated most of the room. A smaller magic circle was nearer to the door. A podium rested inside this circle with a sizable tome open upon it. Ferric flew to the podium immediately.
“Is that what you need to reverse the spell?” Rand asked.
The raven nodded.
“Well, go ahead then. I’ll guard the door.”
The thief placed his foot against the door and drew his short sword, although he honestly didn’t know what he would do if he had to face Serena. Killing a wizard’s familiar could result in nasty repercussions.
“Caw. Coo. Tzssst! Caw.”
The raven was struggling with his vocalizations. It appeared that the spell imprint had taken hold of Ferric. The stress of the fight with Serena must have pushed him over the edge. Although he strained and croaked, he could no longer speak the magic words. Rand soon grasped the gravity of the situation. Sheathing his sword, he put his back to the door and slid down to a sitting position. After another minute of fruitless attempts, Ferric fluttered over to land on his shoulder. The raven stood with his head and wings hanging down, dejected.
“Well, my friend, we did our best,” Rand began, not sure what words, if any, would console Ferric.
“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you about Serena. I had no idea a cat could do those things. If only I’d known I –“
You couldn’t have known.
“What?” Rand queried. “What did you say?”
The raven didn’t answer; he simply cocked his head sideways and stared at the man.
I didn’t say anything. I can’t talk. Remember? You’re head’s muddled from the lightning or blood loss from your wound.
Rand jumped to his feet, nearly toppling Ferric once again.
“I heard that! I heard what you said . . . er . . . thought, in my mind!”
You what? You can understand my thoughts? Hear them? Ferric replied, doing a little dance on Rand’s shoulder. Do you realize what this means?
“I can finally win some fat pots at the poker table?” Rand asked, hopefully.
No. It means I’ve imprinted with you! The master-familiar bond has linked our thoughts. There’s still a chance for me. I can’t vocalize the counter spell, but maybe you can.
“Whoa. I’m no wizard, and look what happened to you the last time you tried to cast a spell. I have no desire to eat worms the rest of my life, assuming Serena doesn’t eat us first!”
Not a chance. Well, not much of a chance. Well, it’s not entirely without risk, but . . .
“You’re filling me with confidence.”
I’m sorry. I’m trying to be honest with you. You’ve done what I’ve asked and suffered for it. I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away right now, or at least in an hour or so after Serena’s growth potion wears off, but you’re my last hope. If you – “
“Shut up already.” Rand interrupted.
Shut up? Ferric’s beady eyes fixed on Rand.
“Shut up. I’ll do it.”
You will?
“Yes, I said I will do it, now tell me what I need to do.”
Honestly, Rand thought, sometimes you just don’t know when to stop.
I heard that, Ferric replied in Rand’s head.
Damn.
They immediately set to work. The counterspell consisted of an initial phrase, followed by keywords from the original spell to be reversed, and finished with a final phrase of undoing. It took Rand several tries just to get the first few syllables right, his mouth contorting in any number of unnatural ways.
“Why can’t wizards use plain language to cast their spells?”
They must use the words of power. Think of it like this: Would you want the tavern to spontaneously combust, because you slurred your drink order? Be glad common speech doesn’t shape magic!
“Good point. Wait! Am I going to spontaneously combust if I slur this counterspell?”
No, of course not. The chances of that are next to . . . I mean, you’d have to really – “
“Ferric.”
Yeah?
Shut up.
Right.
And so they proceeded with agonizing slowness, working through each phrase in small chunks and then waiting for the eddies of magic to die down before attempting the next section, so as not to set the enchantment in motion too soon. Finally, Rand swallowed hard and recited the entire spell, flinching just a bit as he finished it.
Nothing exploded. A shimmering in the air formed around Ferric. The raven trembled, flapped around in pain, and flopped to the ground, still as death. Panic crept into Rand’s mind, until Ferric shuddered again, the feathers dropping from his body like a sudden black rain. His skin stretched and bulged, bones popped, and his head drew back in a long, mournful keening. The beak shrunk to a mere nub, then to calloused lips as a nose rose from the spastic flesh above it. The flaps of skin below the wings retracted into tiny arms from which vestigial hands grew. After a minute, a humanoid form, like a homunculus or tiny simulacrum, lay where the bird had been. The changeling grew and stretched, muscles rippling under skin and hair growing at an incredible rate. Soon, Ferric returned to his pudgy, freckled self, albeit without the benefit of clothes.
“Well,” Ferric gasped, sweaty and panting, “I guess it worked. Not perfectly, but not bad for a – “
“Ferric?”
“Yes, Rand.”
“Shut up.”
The two replaced the desk in the wizard’s study and made their way upstairs, still on the lookout for Serena. They entered the main hall and froze. A distinctive clanging sound emanated from the foyer.
“You said Tinker only listened to Jubal’s orders,” Rand spat tersely. “Tell me that Serena can’t command it.”
“No,” Ferric replied with a sour expression. “I can’t command Tinker. How could she? I mean, it’s possible Jubal –“
“Let’s not wait to find out.” Rand pushed against the nearest door to no avail. “Ferric, open this door!”
“What? Oh, yeah.” The young wizard gestured with his ringed hand and the door swung inward.
Rand’s foot crossed the threshold as the foyer door flew open. Tinker could be seen in the background with a large chest in his hands, but it was a gray cowled man who strode into the hallway – and stopped cold. Not many sights surprised Jubal, but his naked apprentice pushing a stranger into the sitting room was one that did. As if on cue, the dining room door opened to admit Serena into the hallway, the fur around her face scorched with tiny rosettes and still smoldering whiskers. The wizard’s jaw dropped open. His bewildered gaze danced back and forth between Ferric who shouted, “I can explain!” and the cat, who stared intently at the wizard in unspoken conversation. Jubal shook his head in disbelief.
“Enough!” he said. Jubal stepped forward briskly, with Tinker following a respectful distance behind. He waved the hallway doors closed and, in one fluid movement, unclasped his cloak, spun it off of his shoulders, and threw it at Ferric.
“Put that on and stop embarrassing yourself.”
“Mrraowl!” Serena began.
The wizard held up one finger and the cat fell silent. “You’ll get your turn in a minute,” Jubal admonished.
“You,” he said, pointing to Rand. “Who are you and what are you doing in my home?”
Rand tried to think of something clever to say, but came up with nothing. “I am Rand, and I was assisting Ferric out of a small misfortune.”
“Oh, really,” Jubal replied, turning to Ferric with an upraised eyebrow, “and what might that have been?”
The apprentice proceeded to regale Jubal with every detail (and then some) from the experience, punctuated with an occasional growl or meow from Serena. Finally, the wizard turned to his familiar and exchanged thoughts with her, nodding and tsk’ing alternately as she gave her version of the story.
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” he assured the cat. “You fulfilled your responsibility. Yes, it is a technicality. No, you both have to clean up the mess!”
With that, Jubal, waved his hands with a flourish and muttered a few arcane words that sounded strangely familiar to Rand. A flash accompanied a loud popping sound and Serena the cat vanished, only to be replaced by Serena the woman, tall and lithe, with slightly singed auburn hair, pale green eyes, and tiny burns forming a rosette on her left cheek and a streak across her chin. Unlike Ferric, Serena’s clothes, a simple emerald and black dress, survived the transformation.
“I – I don’t understand . . .” stuttered Ferric nervously.
“The final test, Ferric,” Jubal answered. “A wizard channels formidable power through his art. Such ability can impact the world around him in hugely uplifting or severely disastrous ways. The greatest tool at a wizard’s disposal is not a staff or cauldron, no magic ring or bound supernatural creature. No, the greatest tool is understanding not just the limits of your spells, but the limits in yourself. A wizard without self-discipline, without understanding, imperils not only himself, but all those around him. The final test was simple: I leave you alone for a few days. Will you have the wisdom to resist the temptation to overreach yourself? Will you have the resourcefulness to overcome obstacles and undo any harm that might come of your actions? Will you honor the trust I’ve placed in you when it would be so easy to take what you want and walk out the door?”
“So I passed the test?” Ferric asked hopefully.
“Well,” Jubal continued, “technically, you did overstep your abilities by attempting a full transformation, but you showed great resourcefulness in recognizing your own limitations and recruiting aid from your friend here. And, apart from some damage to my laboratory, I don’t believe you’ve betrayed my trust.”
With that last statement, Jubal fixed Rand with an intense stare, as if he could see right through him. After looking him up and down very slowly, the wizard nodded and grunted, apparently satisfied that none of his potions had fallen into Rand’s pockets.
“Two out of three isn’t bad,” Jubal concluded with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “You have completed your apprenticeship, Ferric. You may go out into the world and call yourself a full wizard. May the gods help us all.”
“Had you failed,” Serena added, stretching the last word in what could only be called a purr, “you would have become Jubal’s new familiar and I would go free. So, you see, I could not simply let you pass without challenge.”
“But are you not going free now?” Rand interjected. “You’ve obviously been released from your familiar form.”
“Yes,” Jubal replied. “The conditions of the test are that the bound familiar remains so until a new apprentice assumes the form of familiar. The apprentice fails the test if he is in familiar form upon my return. Ferric took the form and even imprinted, albeit with you, Rand, but he was able to reverse his failure in time to avoid Serena’s fate. Just in time, from the looks of it. It would appear that I will need to summon a familiar the old fashioned way and come up with a different test for my next apprentice, although I think I’ve had enough of apprentices for a good long while.”
“And I of wizards,” Rand responded. “No offense intended, sir. With your leave?”
Jubal inclined his head slightly. Rand brushed past him and continued on out the door, promising himself never to mess in the affairs of wizards again.
