Imagine my Horror when I read the illuminated Words writ in red Ink upon those musty Pages! The incautious Man was studying a Spell for changing the Shape. I recognized the Ritual as being similar to one studied at my Alma Mater, and I almost Gasped with Astonishment and Fear. Of all Spells used by Sorcerers and Witches and their Sort, this is the most often subject to Error, to Misuse, and to most uncomfortable Accident.
I turned about in his Lap and thrust my Head beneath his Chin, mewing in my most pitiful and moving Voice. He scratched my Ears (which, though undignified in the extreme, is yet most Gratifying as a Sensation), and turned another Page.
Suffice it to say that he was in no way deterred from his Intention, no matter how I pleaded with him. At last I gave it up and went to suckle my Kits, musing sadly all the while upon the wtrongheadedness of Mankind.
When I returned to the Study, the Sorcerer was assembling the various Elements necessary to the Spell. I watched with growing Unease as he mixed the Chemicals, added the ... organic Parts ... and spoke those terrible Words that I had never before heard uttered by human Lips.
At the end of the chant, he tilted the Vial and sipped its unsavory Contents. There was a hissing Sound, and the fire in the Grate turned blue for a long Moment. The Shape of the Sorcerer who was in my Charge seemed to shiver about the Edges. Biddington groaned deeply, his Voice becoming lighter, higher, more like a Squeaking every Moment.
He shrank rapidly, his Clothing falling into untidy Heaps on the Carpet. For a moment I wondered if he had succeeded in totally Obliterating himself. Yet there was Motion among the displaced Garments. As I watched, Something moved in the Clutter, wriggling its Way out into the Firelight.
It stood on four frail Legs, looking about the Room from its suddenly altered Altitude. The Whiskers twitched frantically, and the long slender Tail jerked in a spasm.
I could feel Pity for the unhappy Sorcerer. He had, according to the Spell he used, been trying to assume the Shape of a Bear, and what he had achieved was the tiny Body of a Mouse.
I could see in those beads of Eyes the desperate Plea for Help that he turned toward me. I sighed and washed my paws, which usually can soothe my Spirits while my Mind wrestles with heavy Problems.
The Situation was a difficult one. He had sent away his Housekeeper for a fortnight Holiday, so as to be alone when his Plan went into Effect. He did not associate with Others of his Kind, for there is none so jealously Solitary as a Sorcerer.
I washed again, Tail to Nose, for this was a Difficulty greater than Any I had encountered before. At last the only Course that I could determine was one involving much Risk and not a little Danger.
I must seek out Tabitha, with whom I had attended my training Institution. Her own Sorcerer lived on a nearby Estate, and though he was an Archrival of my own dear Biddingon, I felt some Hope that he might come to the Aid of a fellow Human, whatever his personal Prejudices. Before leaving upon such a doubtful and desperate Mission, however, I must suckle my Kits again, for they must not be allowed to suffer through the Inattention of their Mother.
And there I made a fatal Error of Judgment.
The Kits had grown hungry while waiting for me to finish my Plan. All three, now moving quite well upon their strong little Legs, sought me out in the Study, as they had done before. Unfortunately, in former Visits, they had found me in the Company of a Human Being of large Size and forbidding Aspect.
I was now attending upon a Mouse.
As with other beings of sensible Nature, my Kind does not censure the Young for their Ignorance and Enthusiasm. I had taught those Kits from their Birth that one of their major Roles in Life would be the Catching and Dispatching of Mice, whenever and wherever found.
My peers, upon Consideration, agreed that Horatio, my only Son of this Litter, was not at Fault for following the teachings of his Mother. I must admit, however, that in my Heart I feel that it was very harsh Treatment for my erstwhile Sorcerer, no matter how wrongheaded his Behavior might have been.
We have, of course, moved away from the Site of the Disaster. A Situation became available upon the untimely Death of another of my fellow Graduates when Hortense ran afoul of a Hansom Cab. We have been placed with her Charge, a most pleasant Gentleman who is interested solely in the Motions of the Stars and Planets.
Though I think often of Harlow Biddington, I feel that the Atmophere here is far more Healthful for my Litter, who now have arrived at the playful Age, during which all too many of our Kind come to Grief. The Arrival of those of demonic Nature in the home is never, I feel, a useful Matter when one is rearing Young.
So I must begin a fresh Diary, setting aside this Account of the years of my Youth and my first Sorcerer. Yet before I lift Paw from Pen, I will affirm a new Vow, freshly made in case of Accident.
Never again will I teach my Kits to catch a Mouse and eat it immediately. First they must show their Prey to Me, so that I may determine that it is not Someone I may know.
Signed,
Hermione, The Grange
Oxbridge
1882
HERMIONE AT MOON HOUSE
Moon House
Oxbridge
June, 1884
For the past Years, these Journal Entries have been quiet – even dull, for the Tastes of some. However, following my former Position, with its disastrous Ending, that has come as a welcome Relief. Dullness, when one is a Familiar to Adepts, equates with Peace, and that is desirable to lone Females engaged in doing their Duty and rearing their Young in a conventional Manner.
Sir Athelstan Girby is, by and large, a very pleasant Gentleman. His astronomical Investigations tend to be most convenient, taking place as they do by Night. The Calculations that he performs by Day in his Study are not likely to cause unexpected Consequences of the sort that Sorcerers tend to create.
In addition, he is partial to Kits, which is most gratifying to their proud Mama. My new Litter is at this Moment at Play about his Feet and rolling on his Lap as he absently fondles their furry Ears. The Opportunity this gives me to write in my Journal is advantageous, for in my past Employment it often fell out that my Master kept me so occupied that I became remiss in my monthly Reports to the Coven of Familiars.
Sir Athelstan's Work, I must admit, is not something that I Understand, even after two Years of constant Attention. The Astrolabe, the Mathematical Calculations, the measurings upon Charts of the Heavens, all those are a Mystery to one trained in the more Occult Practices of Magicians.
However, as he does not need my Presence or my Skills in the Practice of his Art, that is of no Consequence. This has become most gratifying, as I was never one to court closer Acquaintance with Demons and suchlike Conjurations. The Stars, the Moon, and the Planets keep their proper Distance, as well they should, leaving our quiet Household to its own Devices.
My Reports to the Coven are, of course, invariably Dull and without Substance. It has occurred to more than One of my Peers that an Astronomer, who is no true Magician, should need no Familiar.
Being one who has always tried industriously to perform her Duty, I have also suggested to my Master that he might easily dispense with the Presence of so many Feline Persons within his Household. But Sir Athelstan became most Disturbed at the Suggestion, rising to his Feet and pacing to and fro in a most unsettled Manner.
"I am a lonely Man," he said to me in Reply. "And while an ordinary Cat, content to keep the Mice in order and to sit by the Fire and Purr, might suffice for Some, I require a more responsive Companion. Perhaps I do not use your special Abilities to their Fullest – indeed, I regret that you may feel somewhat Frustrated at the lack of such Exercise. Yet after enjoying the Company of Hortense, your lamented Predecessor, I could not find it in my Heart to return to more ordinary Domestic Pets."
At that Point he stopped and bent to look into my Eyes (which I must admit are a fetching Shade of Green), and to set his Hand lightly upon my Head. "You are my Friend, Hermione. After that, a mere Pet would just not Do."
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Once, of course, I had thought over his Explanation, I could only agree. The Coven, after being apprised of his Needs, granted an extension of his special Privilege, and so we continue as we were, a Family in every Sense of the Word.
The Kits, of course, adore their large Playmate. Often I feel that they disrupt his Work, but when I call them to Order, Sir Athelstan almost always objects and keeps them Nearby. That pleases me, as a Mother, and yet I could only feel that it might lead to Disaster. However, I felt at the time that might be only a Reflection of the Culmination of my former Position.
Having one's Kit devour a mouse that happens to be one's Charge, however understandable such an Error might be, can only leave Scars upon the Memory of the Familiar involved. It has left me more Cautious than before, you may rest Assured.
Perhaps the Matter that most engages Sir Athelstan's regard is the Literacy of my Kind. He has interested Himself closely in the Education of my new Litter, which has now reached a Point at which all are scribbling away for an Hour each Day, using pinfeather-quill Pen and small Thimbles of Ink. They must prepare for their own Futures, and of course I am Teaching them all that I may.
Their tiny Copybooks litter the Space about the Master's Table, and he takes Care to place his Feet so as to avoid damaging any Work in Progress. I found him, some Days ago, with Rufous, the most precocious Tom in the Litter, sitting upon his Desk. The Kit was Writing busily, and Sir Athelstan was helping him to form his Letters with the Copperplate Swirls and Curlicues that he uses Himself in his Correspondence with other Astronomers about the Realm.
I was upset at the Time, although I could find no immediate Reason. Was that the Intuition common to my Kind? I can only feel that to be True, for Misfortune came of it, and very soon.
Being young and flexible of Mind, the Kits seem to have absorbed Much of the Esoteric Detail concerning Sir Athelstan's Work. Rufous in particular loved to work the Astrolabe, when it was not in use, and he has also learned, much to my Astonishment, quite a Lot of the Mathematical Calculation necessary for plotting the Orbits of Stars and Planets.
Finding his Copybook filled with this Lore, I felt some Pride at his Accomplishment. Foolish Hermione! I have been taught, as have all my Kind, that Pride goeth before a Fall, and such has proven to be the Case.
That became obvious two Days past, when there came a Knock at the Door. Musgrave, Sir Athelstan's Manservant, upon receiving the Communication handed in by the Servant outside, brought it directly to the Study. I watched my Charge's Face as he read, and I knew at once that something had gone Amiss.
His Cheeks went quite Scarlet, and his white Beard seemed almost to Bristle with Outrage. "What Audacity!" he shouted, ringing for Musgrave with unaccustomed Vigor. "Some Charlatan is endeavoring to sully my spotless Reputation! A Letter must be sent at once, Musgrave (for that Individual had arrived promptly)."
He turned to his Table and his Quills, but when he thrust the first into the Silver Inkwell, so disturbed was he that he broke its Nib against the Bottom. Ink splashed onto the Calculations laid ready for Work, and he looked as if he might burst into Tears.
"If I might be of Service," I told him in the Private Speech used between Familiar and Charge, "I will be Happy to Inscribe the Message for you."
He lifted me onto the Table with much Gratitude and sent Musgrave from the Room on a Pretext. We try never to disturb Servants with our Association, for many of those become Fearful when faced with our Abilities.
My Kit had left his small Pen on a Corner of the Table, and I managed to make my Letters large enough for easy Reading by Humankind. Slowly, my Master dictated his Missive, and as I copied his Words, I felt a Chill in my Heart. This was Mischief, not Conspiracy, and I had a dreadful Intuition as to its Cause.
"Learned Sirs:" the letter began,
"It was with Dismay that I received your Communication of two Hours past. A Comet that threatens to destroy the Terrestrial Globe? I have found no trace of such a Matter, though I have scanned the Sky each clear Night through the best Telescope within my Means.
"The Letter sent to you over my Signature is obviously a Forgery of the rankest Sort. I had not supposed that Jealousy existed among our Fellowship, and I refuse to believe that any of our Trusted Peers are involved in this Conspiracy. I can only suppose that Others, unknown to the Society of Amateur Astronomers, have decided to disrupt our Cooperative Endeavors and misguide our Investigations of the Heavens.
"You have my deepest Apologies for the Unease this unfounded Report must have caused within the Group. I will, rest assured, look into the Matter with all possible Assiduity, and if the Culprit is discovered, I will reveal his Name to the Society, that he may be called to account.
"Your Friend and Servant,
Athelstan Grisby,
Brt."
As Sir Athelstan read the Letter, sprinkled Sand on the ink, and appended his Signature, I was investigating for myself. Beside the Spot on which Rufous's Pen had rested Lay his Copybook. I strolled to sit beside it and washed my Face daintily, managing while so doing to Read what was Inscribed there.
He had, as I suspected, been Writing in Sir Athelstan's distinctive Hand, making the Letters large enough to convince anyone that they had been formed by a Human Being. Additionally, those Letters were intermixed with Calculations resembling Those on my Master's unfinished Pages.
Without any Doubt, I was looking at the Practice Sheet that was the Forerunner of the Forged Letter sent to the Society. How? That was, of course, instantly Apparent. Sir Athelstan's Secretary, who came each Morning to tidy his Correspondence, must have seen this Missive lying on the Table, ready for the Post, and he had Sealed it and placed it with the outgoing Packet.
Musgrave entered the Room, took the new Letter, and left again. With my most beguiling Purr, I settled onto Sir Athelstan's Lap, the Kits at the moment being engaged in being Fed in the Scullery.
I stared up at him, my Eyes pleading. "I know the Culprit," I conveyed to my Charge. "And it is no Enemy of yours, but instead a great Admirer. He meant no Harm, rest assured. I do hope that you will not be Angry with him!"
He stared down, his eyes wide. "But – but how could You possibly know who did this Outrageous thing?"
I sighed and licked one Paw reflectively. Then I rubbed my Chin against his Knee. "Because it was Rufous. Look at his Copybook, there on the farther Side of the Table."
He reached and found the Item in question. When he began Perusing it, I felt his Stomach begin to quiver with Chuckles.
"That little Devil!" he said. Now he was beginning to Laugh aloud. "Would you believe that a mere Kit could comprehend my Discipline well enough to mislead an entire Society of Astronomers, if only for a short While?"
"Rufous is not your ordinary Kit," I responded, feeling great Relief that he was reacting with Amusement rather than Fury.
"But why did he imitate my Style and my Handwriting?" asked Sir Athelstan, rereading the scribbled Page.
"Admiration? Emulation? Who can say what motivates a Child?" I asked. "But you do need to Caution your Secretary, when you find the Opportunity. Unless you have outgoing Letters in a certain Spot, he should never send them out without asking you."
"I will see to it." His Stomach was still joggling gently. He stroked my Head with his free Hand as he read the Page yet a third Time.
As one might suppose, I had Words of my own with my Precocious Kit. Rufous was suitably Subdued when I was done, for not only the Society was misled for a Time. The News had been sent to the Newspapers, before the Recipients of the Letter thought to verify the Information therein. This led to considerable Excitement and Distress among the Readership of the Publications involved.
So respected was Sir Athelstan that his Name (which was admirably forged) was enough to convince the most Skeptical of the Authenticity of the Danger. By the time Corrections were made, the Damage was done.
It was not an easy Matter to correct this Mishap. Some unnamed Villain is still blamed, for not e
ven one so Secure in his own Skill as Sir Athelstan could possibly admit that this sort of Deception could be managed by a Domestic Animal.
However, nowadays when my Charge is busy with his Mathematics, Rufous is usually at his Elbow. The Kit has a Gift for this, and Sir Athelstan plans to Work with him in Future, using his unusual Skills to Augment his own.
As the Child's Mother, I am, of course, extremely Proud and Grateful. But as Sir Athelstan's Familiar, I keep a very close Watch upon them Both. Neither is as Mature as one would Wish, and both tend to be Daring in the Extreme.
I have no Wish to deal with another such near Catastrophe as the last might have become. And though I have Worked extremely hard, I still cannot comprehend the Calculations needed for charting the Courses of the Stars. It is difficult enough to keep an Eye upon my pair of Astronomers.
HERMIONE THE SPY
Upon perusing the Journal that contains the record of my long and, I hope, useful Life as Familiar to numerous prominent Practitioners of the arcane Arts, it is with some Hesitation that I reread this strange Account. Never had I (or, indeed my Instructors at the illustrious School at which I was trained) considered that at any point a respectable Feline of my Profession might become what the commoner Sort call a Spy.
Yet when dealing with Wizards one constantly finds one's Path beset with Strange and Unexpected Hazards and Duties. Such a Task befell me when I was a very young Familiar, as yet immature in my Profession. I had not yet Fathomed the Depths of Perfidy to which my Human Associates could stoop, and, being very young and ignorant, I considered the Assignment given me by my first Master, Aldonious Fury, to be a matter of Interest and excitement.
Fury was my very first Commission, assigned to me by the Dean of the School which was my Alma Mater. He was an irascible Gentleman, much given to Drink; later in life I considered him an inspired Example to set before a Novice, for in dealing with him I encountered my first Taste of Human Follies.
THE TWILIGHT DANCER Page 10