Catfantastic II

Treatment day was also market day; but even though Dala was likely to miss getting her favorite spot where she put out her wares for sale, she came to Ferdon's house in answer to his summons. Ferdon habitually left the kitchen door unlatched, so that any who needed his servicer might enter. He heard her when she came in, dropping the bundle of embroidery and the basket of early summer squash just inside before going directly to the magician's workroom which he had left unlocked for her.

Today, however, there was no scent of herbs or goose fat in the air, no concoction of bark or roots simmering over the fire. He had neatly put away all the medicines and heal-craft implements, and in their place on the table had laid out the emblems of magery. Dala's eyes widened. She looked up at Ferdon. She put her fingers to her chapped lips.

'Yes,' he said, answering her unspoken question. 'I can do nothing more for you by ordinary means, so I have decided to work a spell.' He indicated a stool placed in the center of a maze of chalk lines drawn on the floor. 'Sit here. We'll start simply- Ede? Where are you? I need you now.'

'The cat? Is it necessary? She doesn't like me.'

'That's just a misunderstanding. She'll learn better. As I was saying, we'll start with something small, like taking away that wen on your temple.'

Self-consciously, Dala touched the angry swelling. 'And then?' she said.

He smiled. 'All in good time.' He slipped into the robe with the magic symbols painted on it, thinking as he did so how superior a robe' would be if it were embroidered by loving, grateful hands. Then he lit the brazier, and took up the wand of lignum vitae. Dala sneezed. Ede appeared out of nowhere and wound around Ferdon's legs, miaowing plaintively. 'Here you are,' he said, picking her up. 'Let us begin.'

He cast the proper ingredients into the fire. Smoke began filling the air. Unhappy though she was at the process and at Dala's presence, Ede allowed Ferdon to hold her while he followed, counter-sunwise, the inwardly spiraling path of the chalk marks. In a high, nasal tone of voice he began to chant: 'Rignus, sallivus, quantum facterium. Placus, fortunatus-'

The Power throbbed through him, magnified and channeled by the Companion's presence. The very air trembled, crackling with the enormous energy he was tapping into, almost drowning out the occasional sounds of sneezing. With each circuit he made of the seated figure in the center of the maze, the pustular lump at the temple was diminishing under the great forces being directed against it. Ede lay in the crook of his arm, tense and alert, now a part of the thing being done, a willing participant. At just the right instant, as he took the last steps that would bring him face-to-face with the subject of the spell, he threw the pinch of magic dust into the air to drift down upon this subject, and inserted the additional words he had looked up the night before, 'adque, pulque-veritum est!'

A clap of thunder reverberated through the room. Ede, every hair bristling, screamed in outrage, tore herself from Ferdon's arms and vanished. Dala just sat there, stunned and dazed, until Ferdon knelt at her feet. 'Here,' he said, holding out a silver mirror. 'Look at yourself.'

The expense had been worth it. With satisfaction he watched Dala seeing for the first time what he had always known she could become. Hesitantly, she touched the clear, unmarked skin, running her fingers over features that were, and at the same time, were not, those with which she had been born.

Ede 's last-second refusal and rejection had spoiled the spell a little. Dala's hair had been dull red; now it was just a shade short of russet, the highlights not as bright as he had envisioned. Her eyes were the same hazel as before, not the golden brown he had been aiming for. But her skin was flawless, stretching smooth over remodeled, aristocratic bones, all redness gone except for the faintest blush high on her cheeks. Her nose was small and straight, her lips now the color and texture of tea-rose petals. Her teeth were very white, though, alas, still a little crooked. While not the shattering beauty he had planned, the one who could have empires at her feet, she was still a woman who could grace the hall of any noble in the land, even that of the king. If he had not been infatuated before, he certainly was now; wholeheartedly, he fell in love with his own creation.

'Do you like what you see?' he asked, still at her feet. 'If you do, then perhaps you will grant me the favor of-I mean, perhaps you will do me the honor-I mean, I want to-'

'In a minute, Ferdon,' Dala said, still engrossed with her image in the polished silver. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. 'This is so unreal. I-I have to have some time to get used to, to what I look like now.'

'Of course.' He arose and helped her to her feet. 'Of course you do. Go home. Or go to the marketplace and sell your wares if you like. I think you will find that you have more customers this day than you ever dreamed of.' He closed her hands over the mirror. 'Keep this, the first gift of many, and remember who gave it to you.'

'Thank you,' she said. 'Thank you.' She wandered out of the workroom, still in a daze, unable to tear herself away from the vision she beheld in the silver surface.

Ferdon smiled at her pleasure. Then, remembering, he hurried after her, just in time to see her pick up her bundle of goods and open the kitchen door. 'Will you return to me this evening, after the market?'

'What?'

'This evening. Will you come back?'

'Yes. Perhaps. I-I have to think.'

She went through the door, almost stumbling, trying to balance the packages and still look at herself in the mirror. Ferdon laughed aloud. She would be back. He knew it.

Suddenly and ferociously hungry, he opened a cupboard and began setting out dishes. Some porridge, perhaps. Ede would be hungry as well. Magic-making always did that to one, drained all the reserves of energy, and one had to cast spells on an empty stomach to begin with-

' Ede!' he called, rattling the dishes. Usually this was enough to bring her running; porridge was one of their favorite breakfasts.

But she stayed hidden, still sulking, until he had the porridge cooked and poured, with her bowl all nicely prepared with milk and a dusting of expensive cinnamon-a very special treat. Only then did a faint clink of jeweled earrings tell him that she was in the same room with him. Yet she did not jump up onto the table to eat with him, as was their wont. Stubbornly, she sat at his feet and glared at him out of blue-green eyes; stubbornly, he refused to set her dish on the floor. Only when he had finished his portion and had taken his bowl to the sideboard did she climb, with great dignity, to the tabletop and begin eating the now-cold porridge.

Dala did not return to the magician's house that evening nor the next day, nor the day after that. She almost stopped coming there altogether. Ferdon went calling on her instead, any time his duties took him near the farm where she lived, just beyond the town walls. This happened not nearly as often as he would have liked. As a physician-mage, he needed to be available for anyone who needed him, and in the good-sized country town where he lived, there were many who did, and those sometimes at very odd hours. It interfered with his courting, but there was no help for it. He began to long for a servant, to help him keep track of appointments and messages. He purchased a slate and kept it propped over the kitchen fireplace for those who had missed him, but few in the town knew how to read or write.

Courtship it had become, and no mistake. Every time they met, Ferdon asked Dala to marry him; and every time he did, she turned him aside in such a way that it was no refusal at all. She needed more time. She was just now beginning to enjoy her life. Why did he want her to give it up so soon?

The main trouble was, Ferdon was not alone in his attentions to Dala-or Doucette, as she called herself these days, saying that 'Dala' was an ugly name fit only for the ugly creature she had once been. It seemed that half the eligible young men in town were now paying court to her, including, if rumor was to be believed, the son of the ruling baron.

Doucette only laughed whenever Ferdon objected. 'They mean nothing to me!' she told him, over and over. 'I hated myself for far too long and they make me feel good. Do you think I could forget who I have to thank, the wonderful man who was responsible for all my good fortune?'

At such times, she would take his hand in both of hers, and sometimes press it to the warmth of her breasts. But Ferdon could not help noticing that he was not the only person who gave Doucette presents these days. At least, he knew he hadn't given her the locket hanging from the fine chain around her neck. And surely her new- found success in the marketplace didn't account for the beautiful clothes she now wore every day, nor the various improvements to the farm, the house, and its furnishings. He could have discovered where all these things had come from if Ede had been there to help him, but Ede always knew when his rounds were going to take him to Doucette's house and refused to accompany him then. Ede 's anger had become unhappiness. He grew used to the sight of a brown cat-lump sitting in the window, watching him as he walked away, her blue-green eyes glowing with