Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [29]
As well you should.
"You don't have to be so conceited about it."
I'm not being conceited, Gamaliel protested. I'm lovable, and you love me. What's wrong with that?
Evaine tried to think of a witty reply, but nothing came to mind. "Here, Gam," she said finally, getting up to stir the contents of the bubbling caldron. "I want you to taste this." She used a wooden spoon to scoop up some of the curious liquid. Flecks of herbs drifted on the surface.
Gamaliel's pink nose wrinkled. Do I have to? I really don't want to be metamorphosed into a toad, you know.
"Don't be such a baby, Gamaliel. Besides, it isn't a magical potion. It's soup. Your favorite kind, even-rabbit, with thyme and fennel."
Why didn't you say so?
Gamaliel lapped the soup off the spoon with his big tongue. Suddenly a faint, shimmering light surrounded the cat. His tawny pelt began to undulate as his form started to change. In a blink, the great cat was gone. In his place was a handsome man, a tall, wild-looking barbarian. He sat cross-legged on the ground, holding the wooden spoon, clad in a buckskin coat and leggings trimmed with beadwork and fringe. A broadsword was belted at his hip, and his long tawny hair was tied back from his angular face by a leather thong. He regarded Evaine with glittering green eyes.
"It's easier to eat soup when you can hold a spoon," he offered by way of explanation. "Otherwise you tend to burn your tongue."
"I wouldn't know," Evaine laughed as she dished up two bowls of the steaming liquid.
Gamaliel was a shapeshifting cat, and as such he could opt for human form any time he wished. Generally, he preferred to be a great cat, but sometimes he liked the option of fingers.
The two friends ate their lunch, then Gamaliel helped Evaine gather her things. She had ventured into the forest that day to find a few herbs for her magical spells. But already the autumn day was drawing toward evening, and the golden beams of sunlight were fading.
"Let's go home, Gam."
Instantly, the barbarian's form blurred. A moment later the great cat bounded ahead through the trees, scouting ahead for danger. Protecting his mistress was Gamaliel's sole concern.
The sun was setting in a sea of bronze clouds as Evaine and Gamaliel stopped before a seemingly impenetrable thicket of brambles and thorny bushes. It looked as if anyone who tried to force their way through the overgrowth would be taking a gamble.
"Gate!" Evaine intoned, lifting one hand in an intricate gesture.
There was a rustling as the brambles parted to either side, forming a walkway. Gamaliel ambled through, and Evaine followed. The thorn bushes immediately closed behind her. Wizards were secretive by nature, and did not generally leave their dwellings undisguised.
Beyond the hedge was a circular clearing in the midst of a grove of tall, majestic ash trees. The far side was bounded by the steep face of a hill. A waterfall tumbled down granite boulders to splash into a small pool of frothy water. Countless droplets caught and refracted the last light of the sun, glistening like diamonds on fire. On the edge of the pool sprawled a long, low, rambling log house. It was a comfortable and inviting place, not at all the usual wizard's domicile. Evaine had never much cared for towers and such. They were stuffy in summer, freezing in winter, and tended to dampness, which meant books often fell prey to mold. Most of the wizards Evaine had encountered in her time lived in towers simply because they thought that was what wizards were supposed to do, not because they cared for tower life.
Despite its rustic appearance, Evaine's home was as well guarded as any wizard's. The rough logs were not hewn from mundane trees. Rather, they were iron-oak trunks, felled by magic,