disapproval. They were both miserable these days, but it seemed to him she might be coming around, if slowly. At least, since that day when she had knocked his books all over the workroom, she didn't jangle her earrings at him any more.
Ede had a lot of time for contemplation while Ferdon was away. She took to leaving the house as well, sometimes for a week at a time. When she was home, she hunkered in the window or near the fireplace, brooding. Sometimes she threw herself into a mood of play and mischief, batting a toy around and leaving destruction in her wake for Ferdon to clean up when he returned.
On one of these occasions, by accident she knocked a book off the shelf and it opened when it landed on the floor. Flinging herself on the pages, she danced madly, scrabbling at the expensive paper with her paws, delighting in wrinkling the pages as she turned them. The marks on the paper meant little to her and she quickly grew bored with this volume. Leaping to the shelf, she selected another and then a third, and a fourth, according them the same treatment. Methodically, she worked her way along the shelf until she came to a small, leather-bound one, hidden between two larger books. This one contained many pictures and it caught her interest. If Ferdon could have seen her then, he would have observed the cat crouched over the book for all the world like a schoolboy studying his lessons. From time to time she raked at a page, turning it, absorbed in what the pictures were showing her. When she finished looking through the book, she sat very still, tail wrapped around her paws, staring at nothing. Then, with great care and deliberation, she shoved all the rest of the books off the shelf until that particular volume was quite lost in the welter.
A few weeks later, when the summer was beginning to draw to an end and the evenings to grow cool, Doucette came to the magician's house, letting herself in the kitchen door. She wore a new shift of creamy linen and her skirt and bodice were of rich velvet; now she went shod in red leather, all in all looking nothing like the disfigured farmgirl she had once been.
'Ferdon?' she called. 'Are you home? I have something to tell you-Oh.' Ede trotted through the open door. Doucette eyed the cat sourly. 'You. Where's your master? Can't talk, can you? Or won't, is more like it, at least to me. Who knows what little chats the two of you have when you're alone.' Her lips lifted in a smile that didn't touch her eyes. She stifled a sneeze. 'We've never liked each other, but at least I was smart enough to try to hide it. No sense in pretending now, is there? I've got a message for your master.'
She took the slate from over the fireplace and sat down at the table and began to write. Because the art had come late to her-the lessons another present from an admirer-she unconsciously spoke the words aloud as she wrote.
'Fare you welle, trend Ferdon. I am getting wed. To Rikkar, the barron's sonne. Thank you aginne. Your trend Doucette.'
She propped the slate against a bowl on the table. 'There. He ought to see it when he returns.' Ede jumped up onto the table and stared at the woman. 'It's a good thing for both of us that you and I didn't get along. I might have married Ferdon out of sheer gratitude, except for you, and then where would I have been? Not as well off as I'm going to be.' She laughed out loud. Ede walked toward her, miaowing. 'I would have kicked you out of the house the instant the bans were read and no mistake. But that's all past. Might as well be friends now, eh? No harm in that, I suppose.' She sneezed and wiped her watering eyes on a cambric handkerchief.
With a luxuriously sinuous movement, Ede stropped herself against Doucette. The earring on that side fell clattering to the table. The cat turned and stropped back in the other direction and the second earring fell off.
Doucette recoiled from the contact, and then saw the jewels lying on the table. 'How nice!' she exclaimed. 'A wedding present!'
She took the earrings, admiring the gleam of the sapphire and emerald beads, the glitter of the gold, and put them in her own ears…
Ferdon let himself in, wearily unslinging the carry-sack of medicinal and magical supplies from his shoulder. It had begun to rain outside and he was tired and cold. To his surprise and pleasure, the lamps were lit and the good smell of supper cooking filled the air. There was a woman at the fireplace, bending over, but not to tend the cookpot. Rather, the woman appeared to be doing something with the poker-stirring the fire to make it burn brighter, perhaps. The wife of a rich, ailing townsman, come to fetch him and preparing a hot meal while she waited? She was certainly dressed well enough, in velvet and red leather shoes. He dropped the sack beside the door. 'Can I help you?' he said.
The woman-girl, really-started, as if caught in the act of doing something questionable. 'You are the physician-mage, Ferdon?' There was a lilting quality to her speech, almost like an accent, hard to identify. 'I have a message from Doucette.'
'What message?' He moved toward the cookpot, sniffing appreciatively. His stomach growled; he had not eaten since that morning. Something flared up, a flash of purple in the depths of the flame, then died away. He caught a whiff of another odor from the fire itself, as if the girl were burning an old shoe. From force of habit he glanced up at the slate, but it was as clean as it had been when he had left that morning-cleaner, even. 'You know Doucette?'
'Oh, yes.' The color rose in the girl's cheeks. 'I know her well. There is news, unpleasant for you, I fear. She- she could not stay to tell you herself.'
Ferdon sighed. 'Well, out with it. It won't grow any better for being postponed.'
'Doucette has gone away, for good. She's never coming back.'
There was silence in the magician's kitchen, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the faint sound of the stew bubbling in the pot. Ferdon sat down heavily at the table. 'Gone.'
The girl stirred the kettle and spooned some of the contents into a bowl. A curl of half-burned paper drifted out onto the hearth and she stepped on it, sweeping it back into the fire. The fingers of one hand moved in a curious gesture as she set the food before him. 'Here, eat,' she said. 'You will feel better for it.'
'Did she say why?' Automatically, he put a spoonful of the stew into his mouth. It was very good.
The girl shook her head. 'I believe she felt this town was unworthy of a woman of her immense beauty. There were larger worlds waiting for her.'
'So she sent you to tell me.'
'Actually, it was my idea to come.' The girl's cheeks grew redder. 'Please, forgive my forwardness. But she never cared for you, not after she got what she wanted from you. And I-' She bit her lip.
Ferdon put down his spoon. Frowning, he studied the girl face, trying to remember where even if-he had seen her before. There was something, though he couldn't put his finger on it. She had a heart-shaped face, brown hair, a slender figure-the velvet dress, laced to its tightest, was loose on her-and, he now noticed, the loveliest blue- green eyes tilted at the corners. 'No,' he said. 'I have never seen you before. If I had, I would have remembered.'
The girl smiled a bit sadly. 'How could you know? You never even looked at anyone but Doucette.'
He had to smile with her. 'That's true. Ede -Where is she? Have you seen anything of an Egyptian cat? She's not been around much lately, but the smell of this stew ought to bring her hurrying back-'
'Doucette said to tell you she'd taken Ede with her.'
Ferdon lurched to his feet, almost upsetting the table. 'She took Ede? That's impossible! Ede detested her!' He paced angrily across the room, calming himself by an act of will. His infatuation with Doucette evaporated as abruptly as it had begun. He bowed his head. 'I never thought she would steal my Companion. She must have done it for spite. I will miss Ede. I-I loved her a great deal.' He drifted off into thought, remembering.
With an effort, Ferdon brought himself back to the moment. The girl stood quite still in the firelight, only her fingers moving in the folds of her skirt. She swallowed hard. 'Though I know you, you don't know me. I am called Edanne.'
Ferdon opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what he wanted to say. At that moment, something thumped against the window. He hurried to open the shutter and see what the trouble was. A ginger-colored cat squirmed through immediately and landed with a heavy thud on the floor. It shook drops of water off its fur, then stood up and snagged its claws in Ferdon's leggings, miaowing loudly and showing its sharp white teeth, as if it wanted to tell the magician something.
'Hello, yourself,' he said. He knelt and picked the cat up in his arms. The lamplight caught points of green and blue fire from the jewels on the rings in its ears. Ferdon stared in disbelief. Then, slowly, he began to laugh.
'What does this mean?' Edanne said.
'It means that I am lucky beyond measure!' Ferdon exclaimed. 'In the space of one hour I have lost a treasured
