predicament. It was unusually bad luck to have been spirited into a little vermin-eater, worse luck to be mastered by such a young, inexperienced Talent in such a whacking mess of danger. My previous master was an old, sedate wizard, and I had lived a very comfortable existence in the body of a bear.
If Jessie died. . . oh Goddess, if she died I’d be trapped in the ferret, mute and practically powerless, for who knew how long. Even worse, the time wouldn’t count toward ending my servitude. I still had sixty years left on my sentence; if Jessie lived, she might be the last master I’d ever need to have before I earned my freedom.
All that sounded a bit selfish, didn’t it? Of course I cared whether she lived or died—I’m not a monster! But I had only known her for a few hours; she was still virtually a stranger. Jessie hadn’t yet had the chance to grow on me, not unlike a winsome fungus.
So: I was determined to summon the cavalry, as Jessie would put it. I braced my back paws on the bottom of the phone and heaved it open. The buttons and screen lit up, and for a moment I could do nothing more than gape dumbly at them, trying to make sense of the device. I’d only seen cellular telephones on television. My previous master lived in the wilderness outside Whitehorse, Canada, and saw no need for modern technology. The old wizard had only grudgingly subscribed to satellite TV to keep his grandchildren entertained; I found myself watching quite a lot of American programming during my master’s afternoon naps.
I had seen Jessie answer the call from the woman she called Mother Karen; perhaps I could get through to her. But how could I possibly communicate? The ferret’s throat could only produce clucks, chuckles, and hisses. What else would she understand? The old telegraph code, maybe? Would she understand the code for “SOS”? It was the best I could think to do.
I found the button I hoped would redial the phone and pushed it with my forepaws. Soon I heard the other phone ringing.
An older woman answered the phone: “Hello, Jessica?”
I started clucking the short-short-short, long-long- long, short-short-short of an SOS.
“Hello, who is this?”
I kept clucking the SOS. A few seconds later the line went dead.
I hissed in frustration, then crawled up under Jessie’s burned, sodden shirt and curled up over her heart. What little magical power I possessed in this wretched wisp of fur and meat I could use to keep her heart beating, but for how long? Her heart couldn’t pump air, and air was all she’d have left in her veins if her arm didn’t stop bleeding. If I’d still been in a bear—or better, an ape or monkey—I could have fashioned a tourniquet. Given my overseer’s dislike of me, though, I suppose I should be glad I hadn’t been put into a snake or toad.
An eternity later, I heard a truck or van pull up close by. Booted feet thudded onto the pavement.
“There she is,” a man said. “Get her legs and we’ll put her in back.”
I peeked out through Jessie’s collar. The vehicle was an ambulance, and the men were dressed as EMTs... but they didn’t have a gurney. And they smelled of machine oil and gunpowder instead of Betadine and bandages. I was, to say the least, suspicious of their true intentions, so I tried to sense them more deeply. The man who’d spoken had a mind that felt cold and hard; the second man vibrated with fear and indecision.
“She’s hurt bad,” said Fear. “Shouldn’t we heal her up or something first?”
“Mr. Jordan said stasis only; he wants to see the damage. He’ll handle the rest,” said Cold. “So get her feet and we’ll get out of here.”
Fear man knelt, reaching for Jessie’s legs. I puffed my fur up as much as possible, hissed, and lunged for his fingers.
“Hey!” Fear snatched his hand away. I was most pleased.
“Ignore it,” Cold said. “Just her familiar, and it can’t do shit.”
I wished more than ever that I had the power of
If Jessie died. . . oh Goddess, if she died I’d be trapped in the ferret, mute and practically powerless, for who knew how long. Even worse, the time wouldn’t count toward ending my servitude. I still had sixty years left on my sentence; if Jessie lived, she might be the last master I’d ever need to have before I earned my freedom.
All that sounded a bit selfish, didn’t it? Of course I cared whether she lived or died—I’m not a monster! But I had only known her for a few hours; she was still virtually a stranger. Jessie hadn’t yet had the chance to grow on me, not unlike a winsome fungus.
So: I was determined to summon the cavalry, as Jessie would put it. I braced my back paws on the bottom of the phone and heaved it open. The buttons and screen lit up, and for a moment I could do nothing more than gape dumbly at them, trying to make sense of the device. I’d only seen cellular telephones on television. My previous master lived in the wilderness outside Whitehorse, Canada, and saw no need for modern technology. The old wizard had only grudgingly subscribed to satellite TV to keep his grandchildren entertained; I found myself watching quite a lot of American programming during my master’s afternoon naps.
I had seen Jessie answer the call from the woman she called Mother Karen; perhaps I could get through to her. But how could I possibly communicate? The ferret’s throat could only produce clucks, chuckles, and hisses. What else would she understand? The old telegraph code, maybe? Would she understand the code for “SOS”? It was the best I could think to do.
I found the button I hoped would redial the phone and pushed it with my forepaws. Soon I heard the other phone ringing.
An older woman answered the phone: “Hello, Jessica?”
I started clucking the short-short-short, long-long- long, short-short-short of an SOS.
“Hello, who is this?”
I kept clucking the SOS. A few seconds later the line went dead.
I hissed in frustration, then crawled up under Jessie’s burned, sodden shirt and curled up over her heart. What little magical power I possessed in this wretched wisp of fur and meat I could use to keep her heart beating, but for how long? Her heart couldn’t pump air, and air was all she’d have left in her veins if her arm didn’t stop bleeding. If I’d still been in a bear—or better, an ape or monkey—I could have fashioned a tourniquet. Given my overseer’s dislike of me, though, I suppose I should be glad I hadn’t been put into a snake or toad.
An eternity later, I heard a truck or van pull up close by. Booted feet thudded onto the pavement.
“There she is,” a man said. “Get her legs and we’ll put her in back.”
I peeked out through Jessie’s collar. The vehicle was an ambulance, and the men were dressed as EMTs... but they didn’t have a gurney. And they smelled of machine oil and gunpowder instead of Betadine and bandages. I was, to say the least, suspicious of their true intentions, so I tried to sense them more deeply. The man who’d spoken had a mind that felt cold and hard; the second man vibrated with fear and indecision.
“She’s hurt bad,” said Fear. “Shouldn’t we heal her up or something first?”
“Mr. Jordan said stasis only; he wants to see the damage. He’ll handle the rest,” said Cold. “So get her feet and we’ll get out of here.”
Fear man knelt, reaching for Jessie’s legs. I puffed my fur up as much as possible, hissed, and lunged for his fingers.
“Hey!” Fear snatched his hand away. I was most pleased.
“Ignore it,” Cold said. “Just her familiar, and it can’t do shit.”
I wished more than ever that I had the power of
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