Trixter by Alethea Kontis Page A

like it. I’ve been called that often enough to answer to it when summoned.” By Mama no less, and everything Mama said was true. “Surely a fine cat such as yourself can appreciate those qualities. You can’t tell me you weren’t an impudent scamp in any of your lives.”
    “In all of them,” the cat rasped proudly. And then he did that thing Lizinia had sworn she’d witnessed under the apple tree: Papa Gatto grinned.
    It was one of the most frightening sights Trix had ever seen.
    “Well then, Trix Woodcutter. Now that the formalities are out of the way, you must prove to me that you are worthy of my goddaughter.”
    “I’m not sure that I can,” said Trix.
    “Then you must be unworthy,” said the grinning cat.
    “I’m worthy of a lot of things, your majesty,” Trix countered. “I just don’t know your goddaughter that well. We’ve only just met. I’d feel uncomfortable speaking on her behalf.”
    “Wise words from a body of so few years.”
    Trix slid his hand down to where the tooth of Wisdom rested in the crude pocket at the bottom of his shirt. Friday had altered a few of his shirts thusly so that he might collect certain herbs and stones and other precious trinkets while on his daily jaunts through the Wood. He was still not sure what use the trinket would be to him, but he was glad of its company all the same. “Thank you, your majesty.”
    Papa Gatto had not yet instructed him to drop the affectation so Trix maintained that overly polite air. He did notice a sound not unlike a gravelly purr coming from the spectral cat, and he took that as a good sign.
    “All right then, Scamp. Let’s measure your suitability, shall we?” Papa Gatto’s face faded away momentarily, but Trix still nodded his readiness at the smoky ball of fur. “You do seem a bit scrawny.”
    “I’m not fully grown,” said Trix, “and I have fey blood. It makes me look younger than I am.”
    The cat regarded him with those haunting green eyes as he faded in and out of sight. “Can you make a fire?” he asked when enough of his mouth returned to form words.
    “Yes, your majesty,” Trix said with confidence.
    “Do you know which plants are poisonous and which are not?” asked the cat.
    “I know of many,” said Trix, “but I have not traveled the world enough to know them all. I trust the animals to let me know when I might be making the wrong decision.”
    Papa Gatto harrumphed his disdain. “Could you survive on your own with no help from animal friends?”
    “I believe I could, but I hope I never have to find out.” Trix narrowed his eyes at the cat. “I hope Lizinia never has to find out either.”
    Papa Gatto preened, a gesture that told Trix that the cat did intend to stay with Lizinia in spirit well beyond the confines of this cottage. “I would have you perform three tasks for me,” the cat said, in between bouts of grooming his soft, smoky locks.
    Trix resisted rolling his eyes at the ridiculous suggestion. What did his performing tasks have to do with Lizinia finally getting away from this comfortable prison the cats had forced upon her? But cats were cats, for better or worse, and as this particular cat seemed determined to stick with his goddaughter as long as possible, it couldn’t hurt for Trix to keep things sailing smoothly for as long as possible. Trix knew enough about cats to know that if one of them wanted to make life difficult for you, you could end up wishing you’d never been born.
    “What would you have of me, your majesty?”
    A golden square of light appeared on the shadowed floor between them. “Take that magic cloth you see before you,” said the cat. “I want you to clean this house from top to bottom.”
    Trix clenched his jaw, stepped forward, and lifted the rag. It was as insubstantial as the cat, its silvered edges fading whenever it lost the light. Trix wouldn’t be cleaning anything with this! He looked around the cottage. The spotless cottage. He imagined Lizinia had