by Susan Dexter
“Always,” Tristan answered honestly. He’d never thought it was the least bit odd. “Since the first time we met, I mean.” A wizard was expected to be precise. Apprentices needed to practice that. He tipped his head to one side. “You mean you don’t hear him?”
Blais sat down. He began to rub his nose once more. “Wizards can be blind. And all too plainly, deaf as well.”
Tristan went to Thomas and picked the cat up. Thomas began to purr against his chest. “It’s a longish walk to the village. I’ll be back in time to cook supper, sir. I promise I won’t dawdle.”
Blais wasn’t done with him. “When you said the cat promised you he wouldn’t hunt birds—that was true, wasn’t it? Thomas truly did give you his word?”
Tristan nodded uncertainly. Thomas purred like an immense bee in his arms.
“And we can trust that word, though I expect Minstrel will try him sorely. They’ll torment one another, if I judge that bird rightly.” Blais shook his head. “Tristan, have you read what a familiar is?”
“An animal at the command of a wizard,” Tristan recited. “Well, not just any animal. Familiars are smart animals, or powerful ones. Familiars link wizards to earth magics, animal magics.”
How demeaning. Thomas nibbled experimentally on Tristan’s sleeve.
“All that and more,” Blais told him. “Familiars can be of great use and value to a wizard. The sort of familiar a wizard can summon is determined by his powers, his skill. But a familiar that choose the wizard is always the most valuable of all.”
“Chooses me?” Tristan could not take it in. He felt a warmth in his chest, just under the cat. It wasn’t, he thought, only fur.
“I suspect so. Thomas speaks to you. He serves you. You say he protected you, in the bogland.” Blais frowned. “I certainly cannot send a familiar away from his chosen wizard.”
Tristan felt his mouth fall open.
“So, I suppose I’ll have to take his word about not hunting birds,” Blais said. “Just so long as Thomas isn’t offended by a Protection spell or two on Minstrel’s cage.”
I’m sure I won’t be, Thomas said, his eyes blissful green slits. Tristan started to shush him—then remembered that Blais couldn’t hear the cat. But he could. He certainly could. Which was only proper. After all, Thomas was his very own familiar.
The Full Moon
The full moon played hide and seek with the clouds. When it shone clear, the beach was white and smooth as a bedsheet. Tracks stitched across it, as Tristan made a slow search for sea-smoothed pebbles. A full moon did not always bring the same magics an eclipse would, but there were always useful things to be gathered from a moonlit beach.
Tristan looked wistfully at the moon. It was bright enough to make his eyes water. He couldn’t look long enough to see shapes in it. That swelling curve might be the unicorn’s neck, or its arched back. It might be the banner of its silken tail.
His nights in the bog, his whole hasty quest, seemed more like a dream to Tristan with every hour that passed. Each night the moon grew larger. Each night his memories dimmed a little more. Had it not been for Thomas’ witness to the events, Tristan would have doubted that he’d ever left the cottage while Blais was away. It wasn’t as if he had anything to show for the adventure.
Tristan shook his head at himself and went on seeking magic pebbles. These, that looked so pink even in the moonlight were especially choice. Blais used them to craft love charms. The maidens of Dunehollow paid dear for those—all the men of Dunehollow followed the sea, one way and another. Sailors were known to be fickle as the sea they sailed upon. The more pink pebbles Tristan could find, the better off he and Blais would be.
Thomas had been stalking crabs. Now he was playing with something shiny. A fish, stranded by a wave? Tristan strolled over, curious. If it was a big fish, maybe Thomas would share.
The cat backed away, giving him an odd look.
The object wasn’t a fish. Tristan knelt for a better look. It was metal, whatever it was. Silver. Even before he touched it, Tristan knew that.
It looked like a buckle. It was large enough to cover the palm of his hand. Its shape was sleek and flowing, its design a unicorn curved into an endless circle. The tip of the horn touched the last hairs of the silver tail.
Tristan looked up at the silver moon. He still couldn’t see any sort of shape in it—but he knew the moonshine was back where it belonged.
The buckle was by way of a gift. The waves had cast it up to order, for him to find. Their mistress overhead, who ruled the tides of the sea, had so instructed them. The gift was a keepsake of an adventure, the remembrance of a friend.
The silver was warm under Tristan’s fingers. It shone like the moon. Exactly like the moon.
Author’s Note
Moonshine came to be because a well-known children’s publisher told my agent they’d consider a mid-grade book, preferably with a unicorn in it. They had liked Thistledown rather well, but felt it was “too old” for their readers.
I won’t pretend I studied up on just what a mid-grade book was, or set out to write one. I chose to tell an early adventure of Tristan’s, of the time when he and Thomas first met. And the well-known publisher decided the time wasn’t right to add a hardcover fantasy to their line. So Moonlight became an early Print On Demand book from Wildside Press in 2001.
I hope you will agree that it’s a tale readers of all ages will enjoy!
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