*Could you tell which spell for rain Cloud Eye and Beaver Tooth wanted to use?* I asked Cat as we came out into the open. There were a handful of spectators, but they removed themselves as soon as they saw me.

"It felt like the invocation for rain to the wind god Enleel," Cat remarked. "I don’t know how much good I can do to help because I spent too much magic to cast the stasis spell."

*I noticed, and I confess I would have done the same thing if I had not been driving the carpet. But I think I can put out the fire with a pre-existing storm. Can I please see the scrying stone?*

Cat got off and pulled it from his pouch, holding it up in its silk wrapping cloth so I could see into it. Dropping into my trance, I found Griselda hiding behind the King's throne. The mini-blizzard was still going strong over her head. It was a strange tableau since the ghost of Queen Eleanor that I created and cast from Kizdangengar circled the room. Griselda was trying to stay out of the fake ghost's sight like a stray cat watching a potentially-dangerous prowling dog. What was odd was the fake ghost stayed inside the throne room. I had designed it to walk through walls and keep moving. It wasn't supposed to stay in one room.

Regardless, it was the Regent's blizzard I wanted to steal. I sorted through all the spells I knew and chose the one to speed up the growth of plants, substituting "storm" for "crop" in the spell's words. I cast it and had enough magic left over to increase the amount of precipitation. Cold moisture filled every room on the first floor and up. Snow and ice began to accumulate on every flat surface.

As I suspected, the storm stayed anchored over Griselda's head. It grew up and outward until it covered the entire Royal Palace, Temple, and neighborhood surrounding them. The fire was out in under five minutes. Then I ended the Queen's own private blizzard. I cast a cold spell to keep the snow and ice as long as possible to prevent smoldering problems. The spell would last at least six hours or until I went to sleep, whichever was later. I was exhausted when I was finished.

Cat sat on the flagstones of the square and leaned against me. I think we both could have fallen asleep there from fatigue had it not been for Wren shaking us awake, "Get up, get up, get up! You can't sleep here, you idiots. Aren't you supposed to keep Cat from overcasting, Fuzzy! You've failed as a good example, mouser mange. Does either of you know how to exorcise a ghost? The ghost of the dead Queen Eleanor is haunting Queen Griselda. It's spooking everyone. People are gathering, and they are blaming the Regent for the hunting lodge fire and the murder of Queen Eleanor's children. There's a mob marching up the rise right now to lynch the Queen.

Cat stirred from leaning against my side, "And this is a problem?"

"Cat, you idiot," Wren flicked a finger at his forehead, not covered by his mask, "it's a mob, and mobs can't be controlled. Worse yet, your stepmother is still legally the Regent, and anyone trying to lynch her will be considered a traitor. The guards, both the Regent's and the city's, are obliged to defend her. Your subjects are in danger because of Fuzzy's spell."

"Not my subjects," Cat made a sour face. "They are subjects of the King."

I looked around and saw the spell-based illusion of Queen Eleanor following the disheveled Griselda around the square. I was astounded because that spell should only have worked on the first floor of the Royal Palace. Something was wrong here. Griselda's guardsmen kept trying to get between her and the ghost, but they ran away in fright every time she got too close.

I saw other things of note in glancing around the square. Duchess Dora and Father Garshom set up a spot where they examined injured people before sending them on their way or directing guardsmen to place victims carefully in the back of a large wagon. The people doing the loading for the two mages were none other than Owl, Blue Fox, Prince Willam, and Storm Eagle. All the elves were in the black cat masks.

Duke Valgard gathering up detached guards. He then dispatched them in squads of ten to search the wreckage of the Royal Palace and Temple. I couldn't spot Duke Sven, Count Henri, or Viscountess Alianora. I guessed they had gone into the city to find the Countess de Teep and to reconnoiter the northwest quarter.

As much as I enjoyed my illusion spell of Queen Eleanor, the obvious thing to do was to end the spell. The Regent needed to be taken into custody and tried in court, not lynched by a mob of enraged subjects. Despite my fatigue, I stood up and trotted across the square to place myself between the Regent and the ghost. I spooked some of the guardsmen by my approach, and one tried to spear me in his panic.

"Hold, soldier," Father Garshom appeared out of nowhere to grab the spear shaft and trip the guardsman. "That is a spirit beast. It would be wise to stay out of her way. I believe she will attempt to exorcise the ghost." He held a hand out to help the guardsman to his feet and returned the spear.

"Smart fellow," Garshom patted him on the back.

With the guardsman neutralized by the old priest, I turned back to my spell.

*Γενεγ!*

Instead of vanishing, the illusion of Queen Eleanor's ghost stopped and studied me. She smiled, and her face was full of affection. "I only regret that I could not see my children grow up," the ghost said. Her eyes lifted to gaze at Andray as he walked slowly with Wren toward us. "He will be a great King someday." Then the ghost of Queen Eleanor faded into a swirl of golden light that rose into the air and vanished.

I was so confounded that I could only stare at the space where she had disappeared. Something was going on here that was more profound than my illusion spell.

The strange disappearance of Queen Eleanor’s ghost left the Regent's guards as frozen as I was. Then they formed a perimeter around Griselda to protect her from whatever might happen next.

Magus Keleher limped into the square with the help of a Regent’s guard whose sallet had been dented. The dent ended at the broken visor spring, which left the visor hanging down over his eyes at a lopsided angle. The guard looked like he had been caught in part of the collapse from the rips in his tabard and the blood on his sleeve and beard.

The Magus was also a mess. His head was gashed, and his dark green gown and mantle as a court magician were ripped and singed. His skin was so pale, and the dark circles under his eyes were so large that he looked like a dead man walking in the dark. I did not miss that he had a satchel hanging from his shoulder by a strap.

"My Queen, I am relieved that you escaped the fire, "Keleher bowed to her. He looked around and saw Father Garshom standing to one side.

"You!" the Magus pointed at the old priest. "Kill that man! He’s a known criminal and traitor." He spotted Cat Rider, "And you, the imposter Prince. We won't fall for those tricks here, fake Andray with two eyes! We'll...we'll..." He stopped his shouting as he gaped at Cat’s face. Where there should have been an eye behind his mask, there was a deep blackness with pinpricks of starlight shining in the dark.

"Cat," Wren said in a low voice, "the mob is here."

My boy held up his right hand theatrically and said, "Εστε, barrier!" in his clear baritone. Someone, probably Cloud Eye, had cast the projection spell because Cat's voice traveled everywhere. Then he snapped his fingers, and a barrier sprang up, tinted with a slight gold glow. I sensed Beaver Tooth's aura on it, which made sense since Cat had depleted his magic reserves. It formed a wall between us and the mob.

"Stepmother, your time as Regent is now done," Cat said to Griselda in a voice that traveled throughout the city on Cloud Eye's spell. "You will step down. You would be wise to go into voluntary exile in Osterius because I have enough evidence to try you for capital crimes against my family and even your own son. And you, Magus, will be tried and executed for the traitorous correspondence with the King of Osterius where you plotted the death of both the King and Queen and the King's own stolen property in your satchel."

"You will not fool us, elf," Keleher shouted, "by your attempt to imitate the dead Prince Andray. You will die first." He handed the satchel to the guard helping him. Then he raised his hands and began to chant the spell of Helle's claws, a black magic spell forbidden in every human kingdom.

Cat hacked a short cough and then gagged as the spell took effect. Before the spell crushed his throat, Cat's throwing spike was on its way to lodge in Keleher's own throat. An instant later, four more thrown weapons landed on the Magus: a throwing star cutting the carotid artery on the side of the throat, a dagger in his sternum, another throwing spike through his forehead, and a throwing axe in his stomach. I almost felt sorry for him.

Cat started coughing in earnest as he regained his breath.

"Get him!" Griselda shouted to her guards, pointing at Andray. I leaped and landed in front of my boy and Wren. Anyone who wanted a piece of him would need to go through me first.

Duchess Dora threw a fireball spell at Griselda. It dissipated a yard away from her, and Dora fell to her knees in agony from the magic backlash.

Griselda cackled, every inch of her looking like an evil maniac. "You can’t hurt me, Dora de Welk. I have protection against any magic."

"Oh really?" Cat smiled his amusement, "Like the person-sized snowstorm that has followed you for the last several days?"

"You!" she snarled at Cat. "Guards, make sure you kill all of them!" She glared at my boy with unconcealed hate, backlit by the rosy twilight before dawn.

"I think not," Storm Eagle strolled into this war of words. He made a hand gesture, and the ground erupted into a fluid mess around the Queen and her guards. All her men sank into the muddy ground halfway to their knees. Then the ground solidified, trapping them. The guard with the satchel leapt out of his boots and then ran to pick up someone's dropped rapier. He took a protective stance next to Queen Griselda.

"Your magic pendant will only protect you from direct magic attacks, Griselda Oster," Storm Eagle glowered at her. "Indirect attacks can be just as deadly. Besides, you only have about forty soldiers to oppose our seven mages. Those are hardly favorable odds for you, my dear. Do the reasonable thing and take the offer of voluntary exile. It will be easier for you than the trial Prince Andray will hold otherwise."

"I’m afraid, Stepmother, that your stolen rule is now over," Andray said with a mirthless smile.

"You can't! You can't! I challenge you on the grounds of abandonment!" Griselda screeched.

"Sorry, you can’t do that, Stepmother," Cat was the perfect picture of reasonable rebuttal, "because I’m not attempting to be Regent."

"What?" Griselda pulled out her dagger only to have it taken from her grip. The guard with the broken visor then grabbed the chain for the magic pendant and yanked it off the Queen’s neck.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A rumbling bass came from the guard with the broken visor. He could be heard throughout the square even without an amplification spell. "I, Stephano, King of Nordvek, being of clear mind supported by my own strength, declare the regency of Griselda Oster, sometime Queen of Nordvek, to be over. I now order your arrest and confinement until your trial for attempted murder, murder, and accessory to murder."

"You forgot treason, Father," Andray added pleasantly.

"Right," Stephano agreed, "and treason."

"I think not!" Stephano’s bedroom attendant and Princess Aricia appeared out of nowhere. I felt the residual magic of a mage dropping an invisibility spell. He walked briskly into the space between the two opposing groups, one arm dragging Princess Aricia with him. With the other arm, he held a dagger to her throat.

What an oversight! The King's attendant was also a mage, one planted as a secret backup. I glanced at Cat to see how he reacted, but he was missing from my line of sight.

"All of you will drop your arms, now," the secret mage pressed the dagger against Aricia’s throat, causing a drop of blood to appear.

"You see, Aricia?" Griselda spoke in sugary tones, "This is what happens to people who cross me."

"Yes, ma'am," a shy, frightened voice replied promptly.

"I'm so glad you understand," Griselda revealed the most frightening smile I have ever seen.

The secret mage focused on King Stephano and started the chant for the spell of Helle's claws. The King began to choke. With so little magic left in me from putting out the fire, my only move was to pounce, which ran the risk of harming the Princess. Before I could do anything, the secret mage exhaled in surprise and then crumpled to the ground. Aricia ran away from the man and into the arms of Prince Willam, who hugged her tight.

The rapier blade hidden inside Cat's walking stick protruded from the secret mage's chest. Then Cat appeared behind the crumpled body as he dropped his own invisibility spell. Then he stumbled, "Someone? I think I’m going to faint."

An extremely tall elf in a black cat mask sprinted to Cat's side. "I got you, Cat," Motley Owl caught my boy before his head hit the ground.

At the same time, Storm Eagle and Father Garshom approached the King and Queen. "Σλιεπ," Garshom pointed his finger at Griselda. He caught her as she collapsed and placed her flat on the paving stones.

Straightening up, he glared at the Queen’s soldiers, "If you are wise, you will throw your arms on the ground and surrender. Anyone who does not will be killed."

"How does your throat feel?" Storm Eagle asked Stephano. "Is your breathing still difficult?"

Stephano coughed when he tried to speak and then got a hold of himself. In a raspy voice, he remarked, "That hurt. What a terrible spell." He took off the broken sallet and dropped it on the ground. He didn't look like the energetic King I saw four years ago in Herman's Close. He was gaunt, and his cheeks were sunken in. There was now a great deal of white in his red hair. He swayed a bit now that the worst was over. "I think I need to sit down before I fall over."

"I suggest we take over the Bishop's Palace since it escaped the worst of the fire, and its occupant is still in Gorgurak," Garshom said, watching the approach of a column of strangely-dressed soldiers. Duke Sven and Proud Elk were at their head. The soldiers wore black coats, orange pants, and white onion hats. There were at least two hundred of them.

"Brother," Sven ran up and hugged Stephano, "I’m so happy to see you alive." He stepped back and studied the King, "You have lost too much weight, but we can fix that. How are you feeling?"

"Not so good," Stephano grinned back at his brother. "I haven’t walked this far in years. I have no strength left."

"Then let's get you and the Crown Prince to where you can rest," Sven decided. "Uncle Valgard will take care of the Regent's Guard.

"I have suggested the Bishop's Palace, just two hundred yards away," Garshom took one of Stephano's arms and draped it across his shoulders while he wrapped his other arm around the King's waist. Sven did the same on the other side. The four men started walking to the Bishop's Palace. Owl followed, carrying the fainted Cat Rider in his long arms. I padded after them, listening in on their conversation.

"So, King Storm Eagle," Stephano managed to say while he was half-carried by his brother and Father Garshom, "why are you, your elves, and Zimlakan soldiers inside my capital city?"

Storm Eagle laughed, "That’s a bit of a story, royal cousin. We thought we’d be taking the city in about fifteen days from now, but the explosion underneath the Royal Palace caught us by surprise before we were ready. It’s all because of your son, Prince Andray."

"So tell me the truth," Stephano insisted, "was that really my son Andray?"

"Isn’t he wonderful, brother?" Sven enthused. "He’s grown up to be a talented mage and healer. He’s even taken down two wyverns."

"So that's really my son," Stephano said with awe. "So how is it that he has a left leg and a usable left arm? And by the demon king's horns, why on earth does he talk like an elf?"

By the time we got to the Bishop's Palace on the far side of the Temple, the sun had come up. I wished it was me that Motley Owl was carrying and not my boy. I was beat and had a nasty magic-overuse headache. Still, it was nice to walk with Wren, Cloud Eye, and Blue Fox. I had missed them over the last few days when our parties split apart. Then it sunk in that if Cat was properly restored as the Crown Prince, neither he nor I would see our Elvenhome beds ever again. That felt sad to me. I understood, maybe for the first time, why Cat did not want to be King. It wasn't a kingdom he wanted, it was a family, and the elves gave him one.

"Hey," Wren tugged my ear, "why the droopy face? Didn’t we just gain our objective? King restored, Regent pulled down? You should be happy, Fuzz."

*With the King back on the throne, he will want Cat by his side as his heir, and I’m sad that we won’t be living together anymore.*

"I'm sure something can be arranged," Wren smiled. "Father is very fond of Cat Rider. I was amazed that he gave Cat Rider his chain of leaves. That's a big deal to an elf. I am confident we will be seeing each often, even if Cat has to move back to Tammerhof. You two are family, and elves always take care of their families. So worry less. It will work out, Fuzzy. Silly mountain cat."

The King explained he had stripped the uniform off a dead guard so he could exit the Royal Palace safely without being spotted. Duke Sven then sent one of the elven archers to his Tammerhof residence to get clothes for the King since Stephano had nothing to wear. The two brothers were almost identical in size when Stephano was up to weight. Clothes would be baggy on him for a while.

Storm Eagle, Duke Sven, and Father Garshom walked with the King into the Bishop of Tammerhof’s Palace and put the fear of the mother goddess into the staff. The steward tried to give Garshom some lip about taking over when the good Bishop Geralt de Ramnerberg was out of the city on a diplomatic mission. The look on that man’s face was precious when the old priest informed him of what the goblins had done to the Bishop.

That was just the first mistake the steward made. The second was to protest that it was not fitting to house heathen elves in the Bishop's Palace. In the same breath, the man decreed that no pets were allowed. My ears flattened, and my growl started before I realized it.

"Fuzzy, no!" Storm Eagle's hand fell on my skull and took a good grip. "We're not at home, so try not to eat the help."

King Stephano's head turned, and he studied me, "So, you're Fuzzy. I thought you might be." He looked at the steward, "Lady Fuzzy is our guest. You will provide her with her own room, preferably on the ground floor with a door so she can go outside or into the garden. If you call her a pet again, I will allow her to eat you."

*Thank you for that, King Stephano, but humans don’t taste very good.*

The look on the steward’s face when he heard me mind talk was worth the effort.

"You have been such a help to me," Stephano’s face was solemn. "You restored my wits. I wouldn’t be alive right now if not for you."

*I do not need my own room,* I mind talked, though I was so tired it was difficult. *I sleep with my boy. Put me in the same room as my boy. Make sure the bed can take my weight, please.*

My head was pounding, and I was miserable. *Father Garshom, can you do something with my backlash headache? I hurt more than I want to admit.*

"You idiotic excuse of a spirit beast," Garshom chided, "have you forgotten everything I taught you about mage craft, especially over-use and backlash? What possessed you to put out the fire by yourself? And how did you do it? That should have been impossible! It takes at least four mages to call the downpour spell for something as big as the Royal Palace and Temple."

*I didn’t use the normal rain spell. I cast a new spell to modify a spell that already existed.*

"Two spells?" Father Garshom looked most unhappy. "Not just one, but two? You’ll destroy your nerves if you keep this up."

*Hey, in case you didn't notice, I put the fire out, so please lighten up a bit. I have a terrible headache.*

Father Garshom and Duke Sven navigated the King into an armchair in the first room inside the Bishop's Palace. Then Father Garshom came back for me. I dropped to all four on the floor. I didn't realize I had dropped my chin, too, until I nicked my tongue with my teeth. Father Garshom put his hand on my head and took the sharp edges off the headache.

"What did you cast?" Garshom asked softly, rubbing one of my sweet spots on my snout, the wretch.

*The base spell was the snowstorm spell Cat invented to tease Roaming Wren. I cast the spell through the scrying crystal on Queen Griselda several days ago. It was a cute miniature blizzard that dropped snowflakes on her continuously. So the spell was already in existence. Instead of the huge draw of power needed for the downpour spell, I only needed to use a farming spell for growing plants. So I cast the plant-growing spell on the pre-existing mini-blizzard over Griselda. I upped the amount of moisture as an afterthought. So instead of four mages casting one spell to create rain from nothing, it took one mage to modify a pre-existing spell. It should probably be two mages to use this approach for firefighting. The spell was anchored on Griselda's head. Whatever the cloud touched and wherever the snow fell, that’s where the fire went out.*

By the time I was done talking, Father Garshom had reduced the pain to the "I might live" level.

"Fuzzy, I think you just invented a new way to fight fires with magic," Garshom stroked my ears while he pondered that thought. "Sorry, I snapped at you. I worry about you two. You and Cat never cease to surprise me."

"So that’s how you modified the spell," Cat’s soft baritone reached my ears. He must have woken up after fainting. Owl was still holding him in his arms. "I bet it works because of the cold. Dropping temperature is easier for a mage than making raindrops. Fuzzy, this has some great potential."

*Cat, what you did to save your sister was dangerous,* I chided him. *Brave, noble, and all that, but also dangerous.*

"I was cautious. I turned the secret mage's dagger into sourdough bread, Fuzz, before I attacked," Cat's soft rebuttal fell into my ears. "That was the easy part. The hard part was stuffing the sword through that guy. I had to cast an augmentation spell on myself to do it, which depleted the last of my magic."

Owl lowered Cat into the armchair next to his father. "Do you think you can walk after this?" Owl asked Cat. "You overexerted yourself again, didn’t you?."

"I'm probably a complete invalid for the next day or so, Owl. I'm sorry. I know I promised you not to do this to myself, but I've completely depleted all my magic reserves. I stopped the collapsing wall of the Royal Palace from falling on Cloud Eye and Beaver Tooth, so it was worth it."

"Then I'll pretend that nothing happened," Owl decided with a judicial nod, "so don't worry about it."

The King struggled to his feet and pushed his brother's hands away. He walked the short distance to Cat's chair in short unambitious steps, got on his knees, and wrapped his son in a hug with his long arms. "I thought you were gone forever," his voice caught on a sob. "I did so many things wrong after the fire. Will you ever forgive me?"

"It would be unkind to blame you for doing what you thought was best," Cat remarked, and he leaned forward and hugged his father back. "I missed you, Dad." There are days when I think my boy is not sixteen but sixty.

They went on like this in a mushy weepy exchange for a while longer. I confess I lack patience with the two-footeds when they get like this, so I had to work at not listening, or I might have gagged from breathing in too much sentimentality.

When Stephano finally recomposed himself, he sat back on his heels and made a face at his son, "Your eye socket when you faced down the Queen was filled with starlight. Now you have two matched green eyes. Is that a glamour? How are you doing that?"

"Merciful Matadee!" Garshom exclaimed, shaking his head, "Not again!"

While we waited for some clothes for the King, Cat did his sleight-of-hand trick with his glass eyes, leaving his poor father gaping. After that, the Black Cat hunting party and Willam found their rooms upstairs. Cat was tired enough to fail at walking. He still had enough energy to be grumpy when Owl carried him up the stairs. It didn't help that Owl teased him about it. That left the five grown-ups sitting around the front sitting room of the Bishop's Palace in relative quiet.