The Familiars: Animal Wizardry. Adam Epstein

      “Hey, you,” a voice whispered from behind Aldwyn. “You’d better get back in your cage.”

      Aldwyn turned and saw that the warning had come from a large-eyed lemur who was hanging upside down in his cage. On second thoughts, it couldn’t be a lemur, since as far as Aldwyn knew lemurs definitely did not have two tails.

      Aldwyn spotted an empty cage and scurried over towards it. He figured this would be a perfect place to lie low for a little while. Grimslade would never come looking for him in here, and if he did, he wouldn’t be able to find him among this bizarre collection of animal oddities. He was probably still combing the back alleys looking for kitty droppings. Aldwyn tried to pull open the handle with his paw, but lacking a thumb made gripping and turning the metal knob a bit of a challenge. As the shopkeeper crossed through the shop, Aldwyn used his teeth and tail to help unclasp the cage door. With a pop, the gate finally swung open and Aldwyn slid inside just as the curly haired man passed by on his way to the counter. A tiny bell over the door rang as two customers and a gust of air swept in from outside. Aldwyn had a clear view to the front of the shop, where a bald, moustached elderly man, dressed in a black robe decorated with tiny stars, was accompanied by a young boy, whose green eyes peeked out from beneath his dirty blond hair. The shopkeeper put down his cup of cider and walked over to greet them.

      “Ah, Kalstaff, I’ve been expecting you,” he said before turning to the young boy. “And this must be Jack.”

      “It is. And it’s his birthday,” replied Kalstaff. “He turns eleven today.”

      “Then you’ve come to the right place. I have the best selection of familiars east of Split River.”

      Ah, so that explained all the extraordinary creatures in this store: they were familiars, the animal companions to wizards and witches or any spellcaster. It was common knowledge that familiars assisted their humans in tasks both remarkable and mundane, but that they possessed magical powers of their own was known only by those who had had a first-hand encounter with a familiar—a select group that Aldwyn was now a part of. He turned his attention back to the boy, who appeared overwhelmed by the choices before him. He’d begun to wander around the shop, peeking into this cage then that.

      “How do I choose?” asked Jack.

      “That depends on what kind of wizard you wish to become,” replied the shopkeeper. “Say you’re keen on healing magic. Then perhaps your talents would best be complemented by a raven.” He gestured to a black bird sitting on a perch. “Ravens are capable of mending wounds with a stroke of their feathers.”

      “I want to be a Beyonder,” said Jack. “I want to travel to distant lands and fight off enemies. Maybe I’ll be the first one to find the centre of Necro’s Maze.”

      “In that case, we can skip past the elephant snails and ponder toads,” replied the shopkeeper.

      Aldwyn watched Jack head in his direction, with Kalstaff right behind him. As they got closer, he noticed that the stars on Kalstaff’s robe were spinning and what had to be a magic rod was floating at his side. Aldwyn had never seen one in the flesh before, but going by the looks of these enchanted items, it was easy to guess that Kalstaff was a wizard; and the boy had to be one of his pupils.

      Aldwyn, like everyone, knew that spellcasters walked among the non-magical majority of Vastia’s population. Often indistinguishable from regular folk, magicians lived peacefully alongside those that didn’t have the gift, serving as teachers and healers and protectors of the queendom in times of peril. At least that’s what Aldwyn once overheard two town elders discussing while he was hiding under a loose floorboard in an all-you-can-eat sausage parlour. Not that he’d been paying close attention—he’d been rather distracted by a puddle of pork grease that had dripped to the floor beside the buffet table.

      Jack pointed to a snake-like creature with little wings on its back.

      “What’s this?”

      “That’s a pocket dragon. They can breathe fire.”

      Aldwyn watched with a sense of wonder as wisps of flame shot out from the pocket dragon’s nostrils.

      “But they also have a tendency to burn your hair off,” continued the shopkeeper. “I don’t recommend them, unless you want to be as bald as Kalstaff.”

      While burning your hair off might be an unpleasant side effect to a human, it was downright terrifying to a cat. Aldwyn would be keeping his distance from pocket dragons.

      “This is one of my personal favourites,” said the shopkeeper as they passed a brass pot with a small crab sitting in a pool of water. “Chameleon crabs. They specialise in camouflage spells that can make themselves and their loyals blend in with their surroundings.”

      Loyals? Aldwyn had never heard the word used in this way before. But it was clear that the shopkeeper was referring to a familiar’s human companion.

      The shopkeeper dipped his hand into the pot for a demonstration and within seconds his skin began to change colour, starting with his feet turning the same dark brown as the floor. Then his legs and torso transformed into the metallic grey of the cage doors behind him. Before he was entirely camouflaged, he pulled his hand out of the bowl and immediately returned to his normal state.

      The boy stood with a look of awe on his face.

      “I just don’t know,” said Jack, clearly torn between too many options. “They’re all so amazing.”

      “Yes, they are,” said the shopkeeper with great respect. “But count yourself fortunate. There was a time when young wizards-in-training didn’t have so many choices, when they had to go and find their familiar out in the wild. That’s why my great-grandfather opened this store. To make certain that spellcasters would get the best assistance the animal kingdom could offer.”

      “It was at this very shop that I chose Zabulon as a boy,” said Kalstaff. “And the queen found her familiar, Paksahara.”

      Jack turned and spied a six-inch long green lizard wearing a tiny saddle on its back, peering out from between two candlesticks on the counter. The shopkeeper came up behind the boy. “That’s a riding lizard.”

      “For what? Ants?”

      “No, for people,” answered the store owner. “Rub the back of its head.”