“Trouble”

 

Trouble purred loudly to tell Dory that he was content and to let her know she was doing well.

She deserved the praise. She also needed it. These humans were sad creatures. They seemed to have so little innate belief in themselves, the most of them, even those of high inner quality and real, strong talent like this kitten of their kind.

Well, that could hardly be counted a fault in his Dory. Those around her had either actively striven to strip her of confidence and stunt her rightful development or else had lacked the courage to do anything very positive in her cause. Her strength of soul had sustained her thus far, keeping her spirit unbroken and her basic fineness intact, but even that would not suffice forever.

The purring stopped. Trouble had realized for some time that this abuse must cease. It was fortunate all this had occurred, disruptive as it was. She had been forced to act at once, without the agonizing and indecision which would have preceded a planned move. That was another area in which humans differed from felines. They did not seem to know their own minds, and even when the correct—the only reasonable—course was plain before them, they had great difficulty in acting upon it if it involved any degree of significant change whatsoever.

Once more, Trouble began to purr, more loudly this time as affection swelled within him. That was not fair to Dory. No kitten left his home readily, however wretched it was. Cat and human alike, all youngsters, needed the care and instruction provided by the adults of their species.

For an instant so fleeting as almost not to have been, he growled. It was little of either that she had enjoyed in her life! Even her body was ignored, and the neglect of such a mind, such a gift, was worse than that which kept her so wan and thin.

The wind whipped up, and the big cat allowed Dory to press him closer to her. He did not require the additional warmth she was striving to give him. It was she who was cold in her threadbare jacket; his thick coat gave no passage at all to the brisk autumn breeze. No matter. She was offering love and care, which were not to be rejected, and, in truth, it felt good to have her arms around him in the midst of all the uncertainty and confusion surrounding their lives at present.

Shouts, the bellowing of many voices sounding together, shattered the early morning stillness.

Trouble yawned and, wriggling free of the girl’s hold, stretched himself. Stupid human herd! Did they imagine she would come to them when they summoned and threatened in the same breath?

The girl, however, was terrified. She leaped to her feet. “Oh, Trouble! They’re sure to find us! They’re on the street, and there’s no other way out of this alley!”

“The fence, foolish one. That is why I brought you to sleep here in the first place.”

She could not hear him, of course. That would not come for another few months, not until the attaining of her physical womanhood opened her inner ears and voice, but for the moment, that was just as well. Humans were trying, all of them, and he sometimes found it difficult to restrain his sarcasm when dealing with them. She did not need that right now, poor kitten.

Dory looked about her in despair. Three-story buildings towered on either side, and a fifteen-foot brick fence walling off some comfortably fixed person’s courtyard was in front of her. Behind was the only exit, and that was blocked by the presence of Jocko and his cronies.

She had to do something. The communal voice of the mob was getting distinctly louder, and those comprising it were indeed searching every possible hiding place for her.

The fence had to be it. Trouble was already sitting upon it, patiently waiting for her.

It was too high for her to reach its top unaided, but there was plenty of debris scattered about including a number of big wooden crates, empty, fortunately, but sturdy enough to support her.

With fear driving her, she soon had the biggest crate, the one in which she had slept, dragged over to the fence and a second, smaller one placed on top of that. By standing on them and stretching herself to the full, she was able to reach over the top.

Voices! Those hunting her would be on her in a moment. She half-scrambled, half-hauled herself up the rough-set bricks and hoisted herself over the narrow top. Without pausing even to look, she dropped down the other side.

* * * *

Dory sat up. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. She had escaped one firepot, temporarily at least, but it was only to leap headfirst into a second. She had landed in a garden, in a bed of alternating yellow and white flowering shrubs, and the gardener was standing not twenty feet from her.

Trouble was sitting regally at the edge of the flower bed, watching her in that silent amusement which only a cat can display. Before she could either ruin everything by screaming or trying to flee, he got up and casually walked over to the man, rubbed against his leg, and raised his head, demanding to have it scratched.

The human complied, but his amazement at having a scrawny girl-child and a superb black-and-white tomcat suddenly and quite literally drop into his sanctuary did not lessen.

The man, with very nearly the first glance, noticed the child was terrified and, submerging his astonishment, gave her a friendly, natural smile.

“Are you all right?” he asked with unmistakably real concern.

“I-I think so,” she stammered.

“Stay where you are, then, and I’ll lift you out. You’ve created enough havoc with your surroundings.”

“I am sorry about that, sir,” Dory told him earnestly.

“Doubtless. You don’t look particularly malicious. Actually, you were quite considerate in your choice of a landing place. Mums are hardy enough to take some abuse. My roses over there would be in a lot sorrier state had you come down on them even though they’re done flowering.” He smiled again. “So would you. I seem to prefer varieties blessed with strong and plentiful thorns to match the quantity and color of their blooms.”

He took one long, carefully placed step into the bed. It brought him close enough to reach his unexpected visitor whom he picked up without apparent effort and carried out onto the walk where he set her on her feet once more.

“There, that’s better. Now, I believe an explanation is rather in order.”

“Over a meal, donkey tail. She is hungry. So am I.”

That was a demand. Trouble knew from Jasmine that this man’s inner ears and voice were both fully open. That fact, and the tabby’s other reports, had induced him to bring Dory here in her need. He should have done it sooner, but, of course, he was a very young cat himself…

“In good time. Kindness coming too fast can frighten as much as brutality,” the human answered in kind, giving no outward indication that anything had passed between them.

He held out his hand to the girl. “I’m Martin.”

She took it gingerly. “Dory.” Bending, she brushed her friend’s head with her fingers. “This is Trouble.”

Martin’s gray eyes sparkled as they rested on the cat. “That, I can well believe.”

Trouble did not reply. It was beneath his dignity to do so. Besides, it was a merited revenge after his donkey tail remark of a few moments before.

“And is he?” the man asked smoothly.

“Oh, no! No cat could be more wonderful! It’s just that he was in a lot of it when we first met.”

All the while, Martin had been studying Dory. Her age was hard to judge. She was painfully thin, and she had a very young-looking little face, now remarkably smudged, but he imagined she would be about twelve. She was pale complexioned, too pale at the moment, with stringy light auburn hair which should have been attractive had it been styled at all. Her eyes were truly lovely, blue-green in color, large, and fringed with long, thick lashes the same color as her hair.

Her clothes were unremarkable, well-faded blue trousers, check shirt, also faded, and a jacket that was nearing the end of its useful life. The nearly universal brógs of the region covered what appeared to be quite small feet.

She looked to be what he expected she was, a badly used little apprentice or servant. The like were common enough, too common, even in this none-too-affluent neighborhood. He normally paid small heed to any of them, but this one he did know, if only by sight.

“I’ve seen you before,” he remarked. “You’re always talking to Jasmine when she’s out in the foregarden.” As he spoke, he pointed to a delicately boned tabby that had glided into the yard and was sniffing curiously and without fear at Trouble, who was not slow to return her attentions.

“Whenever I see her. She’s such a friendly little thing. I think she’s prettier than any flower there!”

The girl stopped herself, embarrassed.

Martin sighed. She had probably learned early in her life not to reveal too much enthusiasm for anything.

“It’s good to meet another full-blown cat lover,” he said casually, then inclined his head toward the big house forming the opposite boundary of the well-planted courtyard. “Why don’t we go inside? It’s just about time for breakfast. You can tell me about yourselves while we’re attending to that.” There was no mistaking her look of interest. Trouble was right. The child was hungry. “Good. I’ll make a quick run in to arrange everything and then come back to show you the way.”

He would arrange things, all right, Trouble thought. A lot of people would be astonished at the means by which the promised meal was produced, but he did not object. Cats are practical beings, not narrow-minded fools. The food would be good to taste, wholesome, and quite real. What more could one ask? “Excellent thought. Do not take too long.”

“I won’t, Sir Trouble. As my little lady has probably already told you, I don’t mistreat my guests.”

* * * *

As promised, Martin returned quickly, and soon all four of them, humans and felines alike, were sitting comfortably in a small, sunlit eating room.

There was no talk during the meal. Dory’s attention was fully centered on her plate. Her host watched in good-natured amazement at the speed with which she put its contents away. She might not have eaten for a month the way she was going at it.

“A day! That is long enough.”

“Too long. Someone should have a bit of a talk with her master.”

“More than that. You will hear.”

The girl handled her cutlery well for all her eagerness, and when she at last finished eating, she set the ware aside in the correct manner and politely thanked him.

Trouble, too, did full justice to his meal. After clearing his well-filled dish, he carefully washed himself and rubbed against Martin’s leg, purring loudly. Manners were not demeaning, and good service such as this deserved a reward.

“Well, Dory,” the man said as he settled back in his chair, “tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know, sir?”

“Everything. Where you live would be a good start, I suppose.”

“I don’t live anywhere now,” she responded frankly. “I used to stay at Jocko the Farrier’s three squares north of here. Imelde, his wife, is my mother’s cousin. That makes her mine, too, I suppose.”

“Your parents?”

“They died when I was three. Quick plague. It missed me somehow.”

“And that was the last kindness you knew,” he muttered.

“I don’t know,” she replied seriously. “Imelde made a fuss over Trouble and claimed she loved him even though she really didn’t, just so I could keep him. That was a kindness, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he agreed slowly.

“Also,” Dory added, trying to be fair—and not wanting to entirely blacken her kin before this stranger, “I may not be fat, but I get enough to eat that I’m never sick. And I’ve always had a good dress for church even though I do have to work like this.”

Work hard, he thought, to judge by the state of her hands. That was not right for a child.

Trouble sighed. These humans! They seemed to have no instinct whatsoever for digging out a story properly. Now Martin was going to ask why she left, and by the time she answered and went back to explain how the situation had come about in the first place, they would have spent triple the time needed to tell a simple tale.

“Ask how she met me,” he instructed patiently. “That is the beginning of it.”

“Very well, Sir Trouble. Thank you for the hint.” Martin looked encouragingly at the girl. “At least, you were able to bring Trouble away with you when you did go,” he remarked. “When did you two get together?”

“About a year ago.” She smiled again and began to caress the cat. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Her expression clouded. “There’s a well in back of Jocko’s house. He won’t cover it even though there are some big families in our square. Says it’s up to the parents to watch their brats, and he doesn’t want any of them on his place anyway. He doesn’t worry about garbage falling in since it’s my job to fish it out. It was my job, that is. He’ll have to do it himself now.”

“A considerate neighbor as well as kindly kin, I see,” he muttered dryly. “Your mother’s cousin showed poor taste in her choice of a husband, girl, or her father chose badly for her. But please continue. Trouble managed to get into the well?”

She nodded. “I don’t know where he came from, since he was too tiny to have been away from his mother for long, but there are a lot of dogs around. One of them must’ve scared him into bolting down there.

“Anyway, I was going for water when I heard him crying. I couldn’t see anything at first when I looked in, but then I spotted the white stripe on his nose. He was clinging to this ledge that goes most of the way around the well down almost as far as the water. It used to snag the bucket on me if I wasn’t careful.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get him up, so I took the bucket off and tied the rope around myself.”

Martin frowned. “You lowered yourself down that hole?”

“She hardly flew!—Do you doubt that my kitten has spirit?”

“Your kitten should have had help,” he said sharply. “That was an adult’s job.”

Dory’s eyes darkened. She took his seeming silence for disapproval, and her chin lifted. “What else could I have done? I couldn’t very well have left him down there.”

“No, not and remained human yourself. I was just wishing someone like me had been there to give you a bit of a hand, that’s all.”

“Oh, I mostly have to do everything myself. I’m used to that.”

Martin sighed. “I know. You’re to be admired, but I can’t say I like the idea all the same.”

Dory saw the speculative look her host was bending on her, and her eyes fell. She had done it again, she thought miserably, but she really could not help that she sometimes sounded more forty than twelve as Imelde put it, and like a schooled forty at that. She certainly could not help her thoughts. She had learned to read before that accursed plague had taken her parents, and she had continued to read, everything she could lay her hands on that was worth the effort, thereby rendering her life at least bearable. Unfortunately, she had somehow modeled her speech more after those formal writings than after the example of those around her. Jocko hated that—how he hated it!—and his friends hated it, and she had learned to say very little around any of them, but her tale was long, and already, even before it had rightly begun, she had given herself away.

The hard, sick knot of fear and unhappiness loosened in her stomach when she raised her eyes again. Martin was a different man entirely. She saw no resentment, no rejection, in him, only mild surprise, guarded interest, and, she thought, excitement.

The man’s pulse had quickened, though reason insisted that he check his hope for the moment. A highly intelligent, sensitive child like this could be expected to lose her loneliness in books, assuming she possessed the basic skill to read them, and it certainly was not unknown for some in that situation to develop an astonishingly mature manner of thought and the vocabulary to express it. Dory could be no more than an example of that.

It was also just possible that she was many times more. Verbal and mental precocity almost inevitably accompanied strong talent, and he thrilled with anticipation at the thought of watching and helping such a gift develop again. It had been so long since he had last been privileged to share in that blossoming.

For a moment, he put that dream out of his thoughts. This storm-tossed pebble might indeed be a true diamond, but they did not have the leisure to explore that possibility now. Besides, he believed she had detected his awareness and was frightened, a natural enough reaction in the face of the upbringing she had received. Bullies like this Jocko the Farrier rarely cared for any sign of superiority in the weak little things they terrorized.

He smiled encouragingly. “Go on, Child. I want to hear the rest of this tale. Did you have any problem getting him out?”

“Not from Trouble. He let me pick him up and just snuggled close to me, like I was the only safety in all the world.”

Anger flashed suddenly into her eyes, making her appear both older and stronger. “That was when the rope dropped. Jocko was above and had untied it. He shouted that he’d lower another but that he wasn’t going to lift two loads and that I’d have to leave the cat behind.”

“He what?” Martin hissed.

Both the girl and Trouble looked swiftly at him, startled by the cold, controlled fury in this seemingly mild man.

“It was a false threat,” she told him quickly, not wanting to provoke an outburst of anger, even one not directed at her. She was trying to escape such storms. “It’s a busy square like I said and someone would’ve hauled us out in no time. Jocko knew that, too, and anyway, he didn’t want me dead. I did too much work for him. He just thought I’d panic and not figure all that out.”

Her hands clenched. “I wasn’t scared. I was furious. I’d never been angry like that before in my whole life. He actually tried to make me leave that poor, terrified, trusting little creature to die alone and cold and wet, to make me choose to do it.”

She gripped herself before she could either fly into a rage or burst into tears. “I don’t know what came over me, except that I was so mad and couldn’t do anything else, but I glared at the rope floating in the water below us, and I shouted at it to go back up, tie itself again, and pull us out.” She swallowed hard. “It did. It did just that.”

The man drew a long, sharp breath. He glanced at the cat, who was purring softly, seemingly unmoved by his human’s emotion, then his eyes returned to the girl.

“Had anything like that ever happened to you before?”

“No, of course not! I didn’t even know such things were possible except in books.”

“Trouble, was it you?”

“It was not,” the cat replied half contemptuously. “It was the kitten. Listen to her.”

“A great many things stranger than that are possible, child,” he said softly. “What was Jocko’s reaction?”

“Oh, believe that he was mad, but that came later. Right then, he was raw scared that someone might have seen what had happened.”

“Did anyone?”

She shook her head. “Not as far as I know. He was lucky there. He’d have been in big trouble if they had. He’s in the Antimagic League, you see. President of the local cell, in fact—”

“That bunch! Well, from the sound of it, he fits right in with the rest of them.”

“They’re hard cases, the most of them,” she agreed. “Anyway, he dragged me into the house and started whaling me. I think he’d have half-killed me, but Imelde told him to let me be, that I’d had a fright enough and that I’d brought her the kitten, which she was going to keep.” Her voice softened. “She’d seen, from the way I had been holding him, I suppose, that I loved him. She was sorry for him, too. She said later that he and I were both orphans and should stick together, but we’d have to keep him out of Jocko’s way, which we did between us.

“After that, things sort of went back to normal, except that Jocko started asking me questions. I was always good at guessing things like what the weather would be or that someone would be coming to the house and maybe even why. Now Jocko wanted to know who’d win a race or fight or something like that, and he’d bet on the name I’d pick. Never much, mind you—I’d often be wrong—but there’d be peace around the house when he did win. I’d get a knock when he lost, of course, but not too hard as such go. He did know I couldn’t control that part of it and let me off easy.”

She rubbed her ear, and her eyes brightened momentarily. “He might even have done me some good. I don’t make nearly as many mistakes now as I did at first.”

“The practice did you the good. Knocks do nothing, or they hinder. Talent can’t be forced by abuse.”

“Talent? It’s not much of one, sir.”

He smiled. “Big things often start out small.” Martin’s expression darkened again. “You didn’t have ideal living conditions, but it was nothing worse than you’d always known. What caused the break?”

“Imelde, I guess, though she didn’t mean to,” the girl answered promptly. “You see, she’s the one with the money. Her father thought he had done well in binding her to a tradesman, but when he saw what he’d really gotten for a son-in-law, fair enough to him, he moved to protect her since she didn’t want to leave Jocko.”

“Some people don’t, no matter how bad their partners are,” he explained in response to the lack of comprehension in her tone. “What did he do for her?”

“He set up something called a trust. She gets money out of it every three months, but no one can touch the whole lot as long as she’s alive. Jocko’s the laziest man you could meet, sir. He’s a farrier like I said, but he’d much rather sit in the local and talk bull with his friends than work at it. That’s why she’s always been able to keep some control over what goes on in the house provided she doesn’t try to push him too far. He knows full well that she can manage very nicely without him and that he’d lose a comfortable lifeway if she upped and left.

“He’s always had his fancy ladies, though,” she continued contemptuously, “either stupid little things he can brag to until they see through him or else those who put up with him for pay, but his latest’s something different. She’s young and pretty and too smart not to know she could do a lot better than Jocko. He knows that as well, and he does want to hold onto her. He’s not so young anymore, and he’s not going to attract anyone like her again. Sure, he never could before.

“Well, Imelde’s no fool, either. She saw what was going on—the whole square did—and she belted off to her father. Imelde told him her story and said that she didn’t want to be worth more dead than alive to anyone. By the time she got back two days later, she had it arranged that the money would all go back to her father if she died without a babe, as seems likely now, or be handled by him or her older brother if she went after having a child. Jocko’d have no part of it at all without her.”

She shivered. “I thought he’d gone stark mad when he heard. That’s how bad his rage was. He shouted and cursed and slammed his fist against the wall so hard that I hoped he had busted his knuckles, but Imelde didn’t blanch or blink. I’ve never seen her face him better. She just let him rave on, always keeping out of reach, of course. When he’d tired himself out with yelling, before he could start with his fists, she calmly told him that they could either go on as in the past, or she could return to her father. The choice was his. If he kept on creating, that was her answer right there. She was still packed and would just turn around and leave again, and this time, she would not be coming back.” Dory grinned. “He just shut his mouth like it was a trap, and out he went. That was the night before last.”

She shuddered, and her whole body tensed as if in anticipation of a death blow.

Trouble left off grooming Jasmine and leaped onto the girl’s lap. He licked her hand and looked up into her face. As he had known she would, she smiled tremulously at the rasping caress and almost unconsciously began stroking him.

“He didn’t come back until morning,” she continued in a small voice. “He was drunk. Jocko always gets mean when he drinks, and this was about the worst he ever was.

“I spotted him coming in, and you can lay money down that I stayed up in the attic where I sleep until I thought he’d either gone to bed or dropped off in the kitchen.” Her hand trembled on the black fur. “I guessed wrong. He was waiting for me.”

Jasmine picked up her horror and responded with a soft, inquisitive meow, but the male cat only gave a loud, rumbling purr.

“Go on, Kitten,” he encouraged, although she could not hear him. “You are doing well.”

Martin, too, read her terror. He reached over and covered her bony hand with his. His grasp was firm, reassuring. Only Trouble, whose back the long fingers also touched, was aware of the strength in them, a power surprising in a scholar who spent his life amongst books, as this human represented himself to be. That could even be true—his mind was that of a seeker—but it was obvious he respected his body as well and knew enough to keep it sound.

“It’s all right, Little One,” the man said gently. “Take your time and tell it in your own way.”

He felt sick inside. Was this Jocko the Farrier monster enough to brutalize her sexually as well as with his hands?

“No. Soon, perhaps, but not yet.”

His head bowed in relief. “Praise the Most High for that.”

Dory had used the brief silence to collect her thoughts. “He wanted revenge, but he’s a coward. He didn’t dare take it directly. He thought Imelde loved Trouble, and he’d often heard her say how beautiful and dignified he is, so he ordered me to-to put a pair of donkey’s ears on him. I told him I couldn’t, that I didn’t know what had happened with the rope and that I didn’t know how to do such things, but he wouldn’t listen. He said that if I refused, he’d beat me until I did do it or until I was a pulp, and he meant it, sir. He meant every word of it.”

“Imelde—”

She shook her head. “She knows better than to come near Jocko when he’s drunk. So does everyone else, and it’s well known that he’d never done permanent hurt before. By the time anyone’d realized this was different and could interfere, it would’ve been too late for me.”

“One thing I don’t understand. If he believed you could do that to Trouble, where did he get the nerve to tangle with you himself? You’ve said the man’s a coward.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was too potted to think of it.”

Trouble growled low in his throat and yawned. “Humans! Who cares what moved the beast, anyway? Bullies never think that what they dish out can happen to them.”

“That’s just as well in this case. He’d have killed her after that rope business if he felt anyway threatened.”

Once more, he squeezed the girl’s hand. “No matter now. What did you do? Run or stall?”

“I couldn’t do much of either. I didn’t have time. The door was shut, and he was between me and the window, so escape was out unless I could get him to move, or forget how fast I could run. I planned to say I’d try and then start jumping around and saying strange things and maybe distracting him enough for me to be able to make a dash for the window, but straight away I knew it wouldn’t work. Trouble was still somewhere inside, you see, and I couldn’t leave him. Jocko’d be sure to kill him outright or do something even worse if I did.

“I was scared, shaking scared, but I was angry, too, when I thought of him. Look at Trouble, sir. He’s a prince, more a prince than any human man wearing a crown, and he’d never done Jocko or anyone else harm. All he did was love me and trust me, and I was supposed to do something like that to him in return?”

“He’d still have been a prince, Dory,” Martin told her. “Nothing can take that from him.”

“I know, but I wasn’t going to hurt him. I wouldn’t even pretend to agree to hurt him. I-I just hoped it wouldn’t hurt for too long, that I’d pass out or something.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them back. Her voice changed as confusion melded with her former fear and anger.

“All of a sudden, I started thinking about those ears, big, hairy, floppy ears. I could really see them there in my mind. I could almost reach out and scratch them. The next thing I knew—”

She began to sob, and this time, she was powerless to check herself.

Even before the cat could do anything, Martin had her in his arms. “Easy, child. Take it easy, Dory. It was only an illusion. Talent can’t be forced to work against the real will of its wielder. Look at Trouble. He’s fine, and he certainly puts no blame on you.”

The tomcat’s green eyes fixed on him. “The ears were real. She did not set them on me.”

Martin’s lips parted. They curved into the beginnings of a smile.

He released the girl. “Dory, just where did you put those ears?” he asked, already knowing what she would say but waiting with delicious pleasure to hear her confirm it.

“On-on Jocko,” she whispered.

The man laughed. He laughed until he fell back in his chair and his cheeks were wet with tears. When he finally regained control over himself again, he caught her hand and kissed it in delight. “Well done, Little Sorceress! That was the finest and most fitting bit of magic I’ve heard about in a long, long time!”

“So you will help her?”

A frown touched the human’s thoughts. “I’d have helped her without this. You knew that, or you wouldn’t have brought her here.”

“Calm down! She is laughing. Do not spoil it.”

Martin’s merriment was contagious, and Dory did laugh as memory of that moment returned to her.

“They aren’t proper donkey ears. They’re floppy, just like I pictured them.” She giggled. “They bent down over his eyes. You should’ve seen his face when he saw them hanging there. He gave them a tug, then another, real hard one.—What a yowl he let out! He sure as anything knew they were real after that!”

Her host shared her laughter, but then they both sobered.

“That was when you made your break?” he asked.

“Seconds later. Trouble appeared at that point. It was like he was watching the whole thing and knew just when to show up. He jumped onto Jocko’s back and really gave him reason to scream. He caught hold of those ears and went to work on them with his claws. Trouble kept at it, whatever Jocko did to try to catch hold of him. Even sober, he’s not as good as my cat. Drunk, and with Trouble on his shoulders, he had no chance at all!

“Only when I made it through the window did Trouble let go. He sprang out after me, and the two of us took to our heels.

“We knew we’d be done if we went back, so we just kept going.” She sighed. “I was lucky I’d been going out for water, or I wouldn’t even have this jacket.”

“You didn’t get far.”

“I-I needed time to think, to figure out somewhere to go, or even just a direction, and I was hoping to pick up a little food after the market today. There’re usually a lot of leavings when the farmers go home if one’s not too fussy.

“I came this far to put some distance between me and my old haunts, figuring Jocko’d probably know those and search them out after he bound up his ears. He had to do that first; they were dropping blood all over the place.

“It took time to get here. Everyone knows us, and we didn’t want to be seen, so we had to sneak from spot to spot. Then it was threatening to rain, and I was tired. I wanted to find a place to hole up. Trouble led me to your alley. There was this nice, dry box just big enough for both of us, and we spent the night in it.—See, not a drop touched us, though it poured the whole time.”

She bit her lip. “Everything was fine, apart from being hungry, until we heard the mob a little while ago and knew we were trapped. We had no choice then but to go over the fence.—We wouldn’t have done it otherwise, sir.”

“Forget that, Child. It was fate and the will of the Most High that sent you to me.” And Trouble’s plotting, he added mentally, to the cat’s satisfaction. When credit or partial credit was due him, Trouble liked, and expected, to receive it.

The girl’s fingers twisted together. “I thought we had the time. I truly didn’t believe he’d call in the League, not…” Her voice trailed off.

“He has no choice but to hunt you down and try to force you to undo your magic. Failing that, he’ll at least want the satisfaction of killing you.”

“He’ll kill me anyway now,” she said dully.

“Probably. If he takes you. Cheer up, Little Sorceress. That’s not going to happen, and you’ve had some payment for all he’s put you through. He’ll be a laughingstock from now on, whether he regains his old form or not.”

“That’ll just make it the worse for us,” she said glumly.

Dory took a deep breath. This was the hardest thing she had ever been forced to do, but she could not fail Trouble.

“You like cats, sir. Please keep Trouble with you. I-I’ll be happy just knowing he’s safe and well fed.”

Martin stared at her. Most High, but she had courage! That tomcat was her only friend, the only one who had loved her since the day her parents had died, and yet she was willing to part with him in order to spare him the perils and hardships she knew she faced. But, then, her entire tale was testimony to that strength.

“Of course the kitten has courage.”

The man looked at him. A prince, Dory had called him, and a prince he was, a fitting companion for such a queen.

“Do not worry on that score, Dory,” he said with frigid certainty. “No one in that mob will do a thing to any of us or to my property that I do not choose to permit.”

Her head cocked to one side. “There are so many of them. How—”

Martin raised his hand to silence her. “How old do you think I am?” he asked.

She shook her head. She was still young enough that all adults seemed old to her, but she knew enough and was sensitive enough of others’ feelings not to say that.

Trouble, too, looked at him curiously. His body’s appearance and smell were that of a man in his prime years, but his inner scent did not reflect that, and Jasmine could give him no information or explanation. She was a young cat herself, only a little older than him, and she was timid by nature. She had not learned as much as she might about her companion, as much as he, Trouble, would assuredly have uncovered.

“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.

“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.”