Dora stood at the door a moment longer, took a deep breath of the cool air, and walked into the house. She had seen wonders this day. A dragon! A wizard transformed into a huge bird! She paused and looked around the room.
The morning sun had hidden behind a cloud, and the resulting pale light cast a sickly illumination through the front window.
Cobwebs hung from the rafters. The windowsills had a thick layer of grime, and the windows themselves were coated with the residue of many rainstorms and morning dew.
“A bit of magic might not be such a bad idea,” she said. “This house hasn’t been cleaned since the wizard was young.”
She seized the broom from its corner and set about sweeping, clucking her tongue from time to time at the awful mess. Thick clouds of dust rose up as she worked, and she sneezed once, twice, three times.
“The blessings of the archmage upon you,” said a deep, pleasant voice.
Dora spun around. “Who’s there?”
The room was empty.
“I said, bless you.”
“Renno, are you joking with me?”
“I’d forgotten,” said the voice cheerfully. “You can’t see me, can you?”
The sound of ripping fabric filled the room.
A sleek blue-furred felak appeared, curled up on the fat woven cushion of the three-runged bench. It blinked bright orange eyes at her. “My,” it said. “You are rather small for a human, aren’t you?”
“Who taught you to talk?” Dora said. Her voice was high and shrill.
“The wizard, who do you think?” The felak stretched its long neck and began scratching its chin with its middle left paw. Midway through a particularly vigorous stroke, it paused and cocked its head at her. “Why are you using the broom? That’s doing it the hard way, wouldn’t you say? Don’t you know the proper spells for cleaning?”
Dora glared at it, hands on hips. “Of course I don’t.”
“Why not? What kind of apprentice are you?”
“I’m not any kind of apprentice.”
“Nestor is getting old,” the felak said. “He’s starting to forget the kind of basic training an apprentice has to have. Well, no matter. I can help. Here. See that large white and gold sapskin book on the top shelf? Get it.”
Dora craned her neck. “That’s too high. I can’t reach.”
“Well, stand on something, then!” said the felak, with a sharp note of impatience in its tone.
Cautiously, Dora balanced herself upon the arm of a chair, grasped the book, and scrambled down. The cover was soft to the touch and shiny in spots, as though many hands had touched the nappy hide, wearing it down.
“Turn to the third page and read the spell aloud.”
“I can’t read. Most especially I can’t read runish.”
The felak stopped preening and stared at her with a look of unmistakable distaste. “Can’t read? I think I’m beginning not to understand Nestor. Why would he buy an illiterate apprentice? For that matter, why bother to purchase a girl to begin with?”
“He didn’t. Renno bought me.”
“Ah. Well, then.” The felak yawned, showing twin rows of sharp, triangular teeth lining the inside of its green beak. It rose up on its hind legs, leaped onto the arm of Dora’s chair, and perched there, peering over her shoulder at the book in her lap. The faded runes of the spell-book danced across the page in gold ink. “Now, listen closely and watch what happens.”
It said something in a sibilant whisper. Dora couldn’t quite understand the words, try as she might. But as she watched, the red clay baking dish on the hearth floated up into the air, flew across the room, and began to dunk itself in the washtub, splashing water merrily.
The girl stared, goggle-eyed. “How wonderful!”
“All right. Now you try it,” the felak said. “With those tea bowls. Repeat these syllables together: Re. Osum. Emosum. Tem.”
Dora formed the unfamiliar words haltingly, stumbling over the last one. She waited. But the tea bowls on the hearth sat there, immobile. Her feet tingled as though they were falling asleep. She stamped them, looked down, and gasped. A fine coating of purple fur was sprouting like new grass upon her toes and feet.
“What did I do wrong?” she cried.
The felak uttered a sound much like a human cackle. “The last word is Tem. One syllable. Just one. You gave it an extra one. Which happens to be the hirsute spell.” The felak laughed again. “What a lovely shade of purple fur that is,” it crowed. “I like the way it complements your hair.”
“Make it go away,” Dora wailed.
“Don’t you like it?” The felak shook its head. “I think it looks just fine.” The creature nodded in evident satisfaction, prowled around its cushion several times, sat down, and closed its eyes.
Dora stared in horror at her feet.
“Wait. You can’t go to sleep!” she cried. “Help me. Please! I don’t want furry feet!”
The felak snored gently.
Renno opened the front door and walked in carrying a bucket filled with water. He nearly dropped it when he saw the purple fur on Dora’s feet. “Child,” he gasped. “What have you done?”
Tears streamed down Dora’s cheeks. “Not me. It was the felak who did it.”
“What felak?”
“The wizard’s.”
The manservant frowned and scratched his head. “But he has no such beast.”
“It’s asleep on the chair.” Dora pointed at the triple-runged bench. But the cushion was empty, the felak gone.
Renno’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Child, I thought you couldn’t read runish.”
“It’s true. I don’t know anything about this magicking.” Dora stared woefully at her furry toes. “And what I’ve seen I don’t care for. But what will I do now?”
Renno shrugged. “Wait for the wizard to return. Clean the house and wait.”
Dora stared at the bench. There was no help coming from an empty cushion. Nor from Renno.
She was a practical child at heart. She sighed, picked up the broom, and set to work, reminding herself that an empty belly was even worse than a little purple fur.
As the first stars began their icy twinking in the twilight sky, Nestor returned. He was limping, his beard was singed, his eyebrows gone.
“Master!” Renno tucked his shoulder under the mage’s arm and half-carried Nestor to his fireside chair. He gestured at Dora. “Child, bring tea. Quickly.”
Nestor allowed himself to be helped out of his coat, out of his boots, and onto the well-padded chair. “Fool elves,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “First they set the woods ablaze. Then they dry up the riverbed. And while I’m busy quelling the flames, do they give me any help? Not a bit of it. They stand there giggling and pointing, like a flock of silly birds. Even when their own benighted nests were in danger of burning. The fools were too busy setting fires behind me to protect their own homes.” Nestor paused and took a long draught from the steaming tea bowl. “Ah, good. And that’s done. Now we’ll—” He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at Dora’s feet. His forehead creased in a frown. “Girl, what is the meaning of this?”
Dora tucked one leg behind the other in embarrassment. “T’weren’t me, sir. The felak did it.”
“Felak? Don’t be absurd. I haven’t had a felak here since before Renno was born.”
Her eyes locked with his. “If it’s invisible most of the time, how would you know when it’s here and when it isn’t?”
“Eh?” Nestor shook his head and chuckled. “You have a good point, there. Well, perhaps it was a felak. But what were you attempting to do?”
“Use a spell to clean the house.”
Nestor glanced quickly around the room. The cobwebs were gone. The windows sparkled as never before. “It appears you found your own spells. Perhaps one or two too many. I don’t suppose you want to keep that fur, do you?”