The store looked like I had always imagined the inside of a log cabin would, with wood wall paneling, floor, and even furniture. The tables were all low, and when foxy wandered up to the closest one and perused the toys on it, I realized why. It was built as much for the familiars as for their mages.
“I, um, foxy is new. That is, that’s not his name. I mean, he’s a fox. Obviously.” I sighed and hung my head. “He’s a familiar, and I have no idea how to care for him, or what he needs.”
She marched right over to him, rubbing behind his ears and the scruff of his neck. With a glance at the empty spot where a tag would go, she turned back to me. “Well, you’ve got to register him ASAP,” she said, voice serious and concerned. “You don’t want the fine for an unregistered exotic, and they’ll slap you with that if you’ve had him with you more than a week before you register.”
I flinched at the notion. “What, the licensing fee isn’t enough?”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, right? And if you couldn’t afford that to begin with, how are you going to pay an extra fine on top of it? The system is ridiculous.”
Foxy gave a bark, as though he, too, agreed. Then he started wandering around the shop, sniffing everything.
I sidled up next to the woman, who was wearing a name tag that read Sapphire, and inclined my head toward foxy. “I don’t know anything about foxes. I gave him a sandwich. Twice. Is he going to be okay?”
She giggled, the sound high and musical like a bell, and it rippled through me, relaxing every muscle in my body. Maybe I was relieved that she wasn’t concerned for foxy’s life, or maybe she was a social mage. Not only that, but a social mage who used her talents in an ethical way: putting people around her at ease.
It was the sort of effort that would make me pass out. It was also the sort of thing that would never have occurred to my father to try.
“He’ll be fine, promise. He looks like he’s doing great.” She turned and watched him for a moment, nodded, and then looked back at me with the same critical eye. “He knows what he’s doing. Did you not have a familiar before?”
“He, um . . .” I glanced over at foxy, then back at her. “I think he’s lost. But I called the registration office, and they said no familiars have been reported missing, so maybe he’s not even a familiar. Do I have to feed him different if he’s not?”
Next to me, Beez snorted.
Sapphire gave me a sweet, knowing smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
That didn’t seriously address anything I’d said to her, so I wasn’t sure what she meant. What would be fine? It sounded like the kind of thing you’d say to a scared kid to calm them down. Was I acting like a hysterical kid?
Dammit.
Foxy came trotting up to her with something in his mouth, and I had to keep from cringing and offering to pay for anything he broke. It didn’t look like he’d messed anything up, though, just brought her a little clear bag of dog food.
Wait, was he making an order?
She looked the bag over, then up at him. “Oh, you’re going to be fun, aren’t you?” She looked over at me. “Do you have a budget?”
I looked at her, then down at the food.
My shop, I reminded myself.
My father wasn’t paying me minimum wage anymore. I owned the bookstore. Technically, all the shop’s revenue was mine. It wasn’t enough to go buying caviar and a brand-new car, but how expensive could dog food be?
More expensive than my own food, I suspected.
I sighed and shook my head. “As long as it doesn’t cost twice as much as what I’d pay feeding him my own lunch, I’ll figure it out.”
She gave another musical laugh and nodded at foxy. “Excellent choice, friend. Well done.”
Foxy sat down, curling his tail around his feet and lifting his chin in the air like a self-satisfied cat or a pleased monarch surveying his kingdom.
“So he hasn’t given you his name yet?” she asked as she went back behind the counter. “It’s okay, we’ll just put the order under your name until we know.”
I figured the order should go under my name anyway since however expensive it was, I was the one paying. But