Traveling by airship is a pretty spectacular experience, and I vastly prefer it to long-distance teleportation. Teleporting always leaves me feeling like I've been squeezed through a garden hose.

But airships...oh my.

About two hundred years ago, around 1780-something, some mad genius came up with the idea of putting levitation charms on stones, attaching them to a schooner, and putting steam-driven propellers on the back for propulsion. Needless to say, the first prototype pretty much fell out of the sky, but he survived the crash and eventually got it to work. Over time the technology has been perfected into something that's half form and function, and half pure aesthetic expression.

Today's airships are artistic masterpieces of wood, steel, brass, steam-driven engines and magic. Many of them are fantastically (often whimsically) beautiful, and even the simplest cargo ships are a sight to behold. I won't claim to understand precisely how they work. If you want to know that, there's books on the subject.

I know that some Vinlanders have made attempts to build non-magical flying machines using bird-like wings and gasoline-driven motors with propellers on them, but they have problems. They're noisy, smelly, expensive to build and even more expensive to maintain...and have an unfortunate tendency to - once again - simply fall out of the sky like a rock if the engine fails. It's pretty understandable why people have thus far preferred to travel by train on land, or by sea and air for longer distances - all of which have redundant magical safety precautions built in.

Still, the Vinlanders claim that their 'aeroplanes' will one day be cheaper and faster than airships. I'll believe that when I see it. (One may note that I failed to mention any claim that they'd ever be safer than airships. They haven't made such a claim to date. Doing so would probably conclusively prove some sort of insanity.)

I had flown on two airships before, both times with Master Tremane as he went back to Albion for conferences that he had me attend with him. Now, I was pleased to have been able to get a berth on the S.S. Icarus (a name which I refused to allow to give me chills...she was surely a well-built ship and there were neither actual feathers nor wax anywhere in sight on her). She was a mixed cargo and passenger vessel, built to look like a three-masted schooner. Her owner was evidently not a whimsical man; although she had the graceful curving lines of her forebears, aside from feathered wings carved into the wood of her flanks, some scroll-work on the beams, and a fairly traditional but uninteresting figurehead she showed no real decoration.

But my berth was comfortable and had a fabulous view of the sky. It was a clear and starry night when we left Dublin, and the sky stayed clear all the way to London. It was, thanks be, a completely uneventful crossing without even the least bit of turbulence to disturb us.

Sunrise over London isn't something to be missed. I'll be honest, as excited as I was about working in London, I didn’t like cities very much. I think they're noisy, smelly, and far too crowded. I grew up surrounded by nature in all its myriad forms, and I have a deep appreciation for the natural world as a result. In my opinion, cities just serve to dull the senses and pollute the lungs and sinuses...but a perfect sunrise can make anything beautiful, even a city, and my opinion would likely change once I’d lived there a while.

Or not. We’d see.

We came in for a landing on the river Thames, just south of London Bridge. I could sense the ship's navigator - no doubt a Hermetic Mage himself - dampening the permanent levitation charms on the ship's engines so that it descended smoothly and came down onto the water with barely a bump. He was good, whoever he was. We got a beautiful view of the Tower of London as we came in, which was said to be one of the most haunted buildings in all of Greater Britannia. I didn't doubt it - a place where so many people had died and where there had been so much pain and suffering would no doubt be a magnet for spirits who hadn't been able to pass on for some reason.

I had managed to get a few hours of sleep on the trip over - as much as I love watching the stars over the ocean, it does get a little boring after a while - so I felt at least relatively fresh as I slung my bag over my shoulder and slid my staff into one of its outside pouches. As Mom had said, the whole staff fit in perfectly, vanishing into a pocket that looked to be the size of my hand.

So cool. This bag was going to be worth its weight in gold and then some.

One of the things Master Tremane had drilled into me over the years was to always be aware of my surroundings. Not to just look, but to see. To pick up on the details and learn to read people by their posture and expressions. It was, he said, a rare person who could master such a skill, but that even someone who merely practiced it inexpertly would have an advantage over most people. I was nowhere near mastering it, but I had gotten very good at determining the emotions of the people around me...and at spotting things that would give me a leg up in conversations.

Sherlock Holmes was one of my role models.

Because of that, the very first thing I noticed as I strode down the ship's boarding ramp and onto the dock was that nobody - and I do mean nobody - was really paying attention to what was going on around them. A few people glanced at me - I'm sure I looked very rustic in my leather pants and boots, soft cotton shirt and long leather coat - but nobody paid me much mind. It was as if everyone had intentionally put on blinders and earplugs to minimize their interaction with the people and world around them.

Did I mention that I don't like cities?

Maybe that intentional dulling of the senses and awareness explained why nobody gave the snow leopard dashing down the docks in my general direction more than a passing, disinterested glance. Granted, there were an awful lot of familiars in evidence, everything from birds perched on peoples' shoulders, to wolves padding beside their masters. There were even a few Elevated familiars - human-like figures with a few obvious animal traits (usually tails and ears, or facial features) walking just behind their masters. But still, the sight of a beautiful white feline dotted with black spots and rings sprinting down the dock and glancing around with what looked - to me, at least - like something akin to panic really should have received a bit more attention.

I watched it curiously, noting that it had no collar, which meant that it probably wasn't bound as a familiar. Maybe my attention drew its, or maybe it just happened to glance in my direction at the same moment I was looking at it. However it happened, our eyes met for a moment, then held as it skidded to a halt.

I felt the moment of connection. Clearly this beautiful creature had been primed to be a familiar but was unclaimed, for I quite plainly felt the burst of frantic fear that accompanied the fluttery female voice in my mind. >

It was like hearing a badly tuned and distant wireless broadcast. After all, she wasn't my familiar, and if anyone had claimed her that contact wouldn't have been possible.

She seemed to realize that she'd made contact with someone who might be sympathetic, for she altered her trajectory and made a beeline for me. She skidded to a halt again, this time at my feet, and very delicately grabbed a fold of my coat in her rather impressive fangs. She tugged and pulled, trying to get me to follow her without damaging my coat. >

I've always had a soft spot for animals, especially large cats. Maybe I'm just naturally empathetic towards animals. Whatever it is, I can't stand seeing them in distress.

"All right," I said in as soothing a tone as I could muster with this cat's panic pounding at my senses. "I'll follow you, show me the way."

She released my coat and turned, padding back the way she had come. She glanced over her shoulder until she was sure I was following, then broke into a trot. I jogged along behind her, weaving my way through the crowd. Nobody gave us more than a passing glance.

Cities. If only these people would open their senses and realize what they're missing out on. Or maybe living a life of total sensory overload causes one to shut down like that. Whatever the cause, I can probably trace it unerringly back to city life.

And yet...the Druids of Éire were just as insular and inward-looking in their own way. Perhaps it's simply human nature. More likely I was just being cynical again.

The snow leopard led me about five city blocks down the docks, approaching a river-side market where animals of every imaginable type were being sold. Most of them had, I could sense as we approached, been primed for purchase as familiars. And in front of one open cage, a man was viciously whipping another snow leopard. This one's sister, I guessed.

It was a safe guess under the circumstances.

He was a heavy-set man, balding and dressed in a leather apron over rugged canvas clothing. He was screaming at the cat as his whip raised and came down, over and over again. "...More trouble than you're worth! Always trying to escape, always disobeying, never taking to your training, now you've damaged one of my cages and your sister's gone..."

The poor animal was sprawled on its side, too battered to even move as the blows rained down on it. Her fur was lightly stained with blood, and she made pitiful whimpering sounds that I could hear clearly over the crack of the whip and the man's ranting.

Nobody but me was paying any attention to the scene. Good gods, was this sort of thing so common in London that people had become inured to it?

I sped up, actually passing the snow leopard that had led me there as she slowed, sprinting to catch the man's arm as it raised to rain another blow on the animal. "Stop!"

He turned on me, but I didn't let go of his arm. Master Tremane taught me to never release leverage once you have it, literally as well as figuratively speaking. I'm also stronger than I look, thanks to Master Tremane's insistence that a healthy body improves a Mage's spellcasting.

"What's it to you, girl?" He glanced down and saw the other snow leopard crouched beside me, ears flattened, fangs bared. But he didn't back down, and I didn't let go of his arm.

I thought fast and furiously. I felt a powerful impulse to save this poor creature and her as-yet unhurt sister who had gone to find help. There had to be some way for me to prevent this tragedy from going any further.

"I want to buy them. Both of them."

The words were out of my mouth before I could think about it. He must have been as surprised as I felt, because his jaw dropped open and his arm went slack in my grip.

"You want to buy them?" He asked incredulously. "Girl, these two are trouble. They've fought me tooth and nail since they were primed."

I released his arm, and he lowered it. "I'm in the market for a couple of familiars," I said firmly, "And I like large cats. This one," I gestured to the unhurt one still crouched by my side, "Connected with me when our eyes met. I'll be a good match for them, and them for me."

"You're mad," he said with something between frustration and amusement in his voice.

I smiled. "Maybe so." As I'd been speaking, I had dug out the pouch of money mom had given me. Now I tossed it to him underhand, and he caught it as it hit his chest lightly. "That should be enough to cover the cost of the two snow leopards, and whatever damage they did."

He bounced the pouch in his hand, then opened it and poked through it for a moment, grimacing. I knew full well that it was probably less than he'd hoped to get for a single female snow leopard, let alone a pair. But he knew that it was more than he was likely to get under the circumstances. Better some money than none and two dead cats.

The unhurt snow leopard had crept from my side to crouch beside her sister, licking her wounds.

Finally, he sighed. "All right, girl. I still think you're crazy, but I'm not likely to be rid of them otherwise without dumping them in the river. I'll throw in collars and leashes so people know they're yours."

"I'll take the collars," I said with a nod, "But I don't need leashes."

He shrugged. "Whatever. Come over here and we'll do the paperwork."

Five minutes later I was the owner of two snow leopards, one badly hurt. I crouched down beside them and stroked the injured one's ears gently. "Don't you worry, we're going to get you taken care of." I looked up into the other's eyes. "I'm going to put these collars on you. That'll mark you as mine, and nobody will try to take you away from me. Okay?"

Her voice was much clearer this time, overflowing with worry for her sister and gratitude to me. > She tipped her chin up to give me room to put it on her.

Before I did, I lightly touched the oval metal tag dangling from the simple leather collar. I used a simple spell to engrave my name on the back of it, and the mark I'd taken as my personal sigil when I reached Journeyman status on the front. Then I carefully buckled the collar around her neck.

Since the name 'Kinnear' means 'to head west,' my sigil is a simplified symbol depicting a sunset over water. An arc radiating rays over a series of ever shorter horizontal lines, meant to evoke a sun setting over the ever-distant ocean. The reflection of the sun on the water makes up the bottom of a curved, stylized 'A.'

Sounds lovely and deep, right? Of course I realize now that to almost everyone else the assumption is that it represents a rising sun because it's impossible to really differentiate between rising and setting with a simple symbol. But it's literally set in stone at this point, and it's unique regardless, so it serves its purpose. And I'm sure there's some positive meaning in a rising sun that I can appreciate.

"Too tight?" I asked, quickly checking the fit of the collar.

She shook her head slightly. >

"No need to thank me. Let's get your sister tended to." I carefully put the matching collar on the injured snow leopard, then examined her injuries. She was in bad shape. I have no idea what kind of man would beat an animal like this, but a glance around had shown me that all of the other animals in his menagerie were healthy and well-groomed. "What did you two do to piss him off so badly?"

> The injured one murmured in a pained voice. > She trailed off, breathing more heavily and whimpering softly.

> Her sister murmured, pressing against my side. >

"Did you?" I asked.

> they both said.

I shrugged, bemused. "All right. I'm going to lift you up," I said to the injured one. "I'm going to a place just a few blocks from here. I can carry you that far, and we can get you some help there."

Using a simple spell I enhanced my muscles and carefully lifted the injured cat, cradling her against my chest. "Come on," I said to the other, turning away from the river and heading into the city.

The bond between wizard and familiar is not an easy one to describe. Imagine meeting someone for the first time and finding that you understand them as well as you understand yourself. That you know them as if they've been your closest friend all your life, and that they know you just as completely and intimately. Almost as if you suddenly had a twin you'd never known about, who could not only finish your sentences but anticipate them, and vice versa. That's close, but not exact. They're still independent beings, and of course it takes time to really get to know them...but it's a close approximation.

They say if you and your familiar are well suited to one another, you'll never need to give them instructions. They'll simply know what you want them to do and do it.

The uninjured snow leopard stayed close by my side the whole way, never straying more than a foot or two away. Leashes, as I'd said, were unnecessary.

I had been to the establishment of Wizard Hollis Ellister once before. He was a colleague of Master Tremane's from when they had studied at the world-famous College of Hermetic Wizardry in London together. Master Tremane had given me a letter of introduction to give to his old friend, explaining that he hoped Wizard Ellister would be willing to put me up until I could find work in the city, and perhaps help me do so, or even hire me himself if he was in need of an assistant.

I reached the door of his three-story brownstone, crammed in between two similar buildings with narrow lanes between them and without so much as a patch of greenery in sight. I frowned, confronted with a conundrum. There was a bell-pull, but I had no free hands.

Almost instantly, the uninjured snow leopard realized my dilemma and reared up onto her hind paws, placing her fore paws on the wall. Without being told to do so, she caught the bell-pull in her teeth and rang it a few times.

I smiled. "Good girl. We're going to get along just fine."

If cats could blush, I think she would have been. >

A moment later the door was opened by a pretty young maid with pale skin and dark black hair, her eyes a pale gray that showed both intelligence and a quick wit. Evidently, the sight we presented - a young woman in mostly tanned leather clothing carrying an injured snow leopard with an uninjured one by her side - was enough to set her back on her heels. She stared at us incredulously and her mouth dropped open slightly. "Y-yes?" She stammered after a moment. "Can I help you?"

"My name is Alys Kinnear," I said formally, "Licensed Mage and former apprentice to Wizard Jonathan Tremane. I have a letter of introduction to your master, and I am in need of aid. May I enter?"

My formal manner struck precisely the right note, for she immediately pulled herself together and responded with admirable poise under the circumstances. She stepped aside and gestured for me to enter, saying "Come this way," and leading me within.

The house was furnished in an eclectic mix of Victorian and Renaissance styles that suggested wealth and power without being overbearing or pretentious. The man who lived here, the decor said, is stylish and likes to be...but isn't arrogant about it. The colors were warm earth tones, dark greens and rich dark reds, oak paneling on the walls and well-worn hardwood floors. There were paintings on the walls, mostly landscapes interspersed irregularly with portraits of people I guessed were family, and lush plants filled the empty spaces in the corners. It felt homey somehow, in spite of the richness of the furnishings.

The maid guided me into a parlor where there was a fire crackling in the hearth. I carefully laid the injured snow leopard down on the stone tiles in front of it; Mom once told me that warmth was good for keeping blood circulating and easing bruises.

As soon as I was settled and tending to my new familiar's scrapes, cuts and bruises, the maid scurried away to find her master, and a minute or two later he appeared in the doorway.

Where my former Master was a slim man who preferred the sort of rugged clothes we prefer in the "wilder" parts of Éire, Wizard Ellister was a city man and made no attempt to hide it. He carried a few too many pounds around his middle, and was dressed in silks and cottons. His clothes were predominantly purple, blue and black, and he still had the huge, curled handlebar mustache that Master Tremane had said compensated for his growing bald spot.

He stared at me, then nodded. "Yes, I remember you. Good grief, girl, how long have you been in town?" He headed towards me, and I saw he was carrying a satchel in one hand.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe an hour at most."

He shook his head and knelt down beside me where I was crouched over the injured snow leopard. Her sister was sitting in a tense, hunched crouch a few feet away. He looked at her approvingly for a moment - she was staying out of the way - before opening his bag and starting to take out jars and rolls of cotton batting. "An hour and you're already a handful. Well, I suppose I should expect nothing less from Jonathan's apprentice. He was always getting me into trouble. Already got yourself a couple of familiars, eh?"

"Yes, sir," I said quietly. "If we can save this one."

He nodded and we went to work. Between the salves my mother had given me and the ones he had on hand, we had soon cleaned and tended to the injured cat's wounds. She lay on her side before the fire, breathing slowly and a bit more shallowly than I liked. Once we stepped back, her sister crept over and laid down beside her.

Wizard Ellister sighed and watched them for a moment before turning to me. "Elsie said you have a letter for me?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, digging in my bag to find it and hand it to him.

"Take off your coat and sit down, girl. You'll make me look like a bad host," he said with gentle amusement. He settled in a chair and unfolded the letter to read it.

I slid out of my coat and draped it over the back of another chair, moving my bag over beside it before sitting down on the floor where I could gently pet the injured cat. She licked my fingers while I was petting her ears.

After a couple of minutes, Wizard Ellister looked up from the letter and examined me. "Yes...yes, you can stay with me for a while if you'd like. I'll ask you to help me with some of my experiments, since I'm between apprentices at the moment and Elsie is hopeless for that sort of thing. But by the gods, she can cook. And I'll see if I can help you find work. There's always plenty to be had in the city. If you’re halfway decent, I might even hire you myself. We’ll see."

"Thank you, sir."

"Lord, save me from sirs and masters," he said gravely, but with a smile in his voice. "Call me Hollis, or if that's too familiar for you call me Ellister. I'm not your master, girl. If you're going to make your way in the world, you need to break out of that mindset."

He sighed and his eyes shifted to the cats. "But before we do any of that, we need to take care of that poor animal. You know she has internal injuries...I saw you casting the diagnostic spells. And you know that they're too severe for regular healing magic to do more than prolong her life for a little while."

I winced and heard the uninjured cat whimper. "Yes, sir. I know."

"You know what you have to do if she's ever going to fully recover," he said. "The full familiar Elevation ritual will transfigure her body...the act of doing so will repair those injuries as her body is rebuilt. But it'll bind her to you forever." He smiled a little, "Not that those cats aren't already permanently attached to you."

As he spoke, the uninjured snow leopard crept around to press against my side and under my free hand, seeking comforting. I stroked her ears and neck gently. "I understand, sir."

"Don't call me sir. You'll do it, then?" He asked.

"Yes, s..." I caught myself. "Yes, Ellister."

He nodded. "Good. You took responsibility for these cats when you saved them, and I'm pleased to see you take your responsibilities seriously. I have a spellcasting lab in the basement, we'll do it there where nothing can interfere." He paused for a moment. "You really ought to name them. We can't go around calling them 'cat 1' and 'cat 2.'"

I could hear the teasing amusement in his voice, and was reassured by it. I turned my attention to the uninjured cat and examined her. She was sleek and lithe, and had the air of a hunter about her. She looked like she would be playful when she wasn't so worried. "Artemis," I said, touching the tag on her collar. Her name appeared there beneath my sigil, and she purred happily.

> she said. >

I smiled and turned my attention to her sister, who was watching me with tired eyes. But there was a knowing intelligence there nonetheless, and I sensed a deeper wisdom than her sister bore. Perhaps she was the older sister. "Athena," I said after a moment, touching her tag to put her name there.

She closed her eyes with a weak but contented purr. >

"Good," Ellister said, rubbing his hands together and rising. "Those are auspicious names, and I approve. Come along, then. Let's get started."