Fur Magic

Fur Magic

“The Changer is impatient this mornin'.”

“The Changer?” Cory asked curiously.

It was Uncle Jasper that answered, his voice serious. “Coyote—he's the Changer. Before the coming of the white men there were my own people here. But before them the Old People, the animals. Only they were not as they are today. No, they lived in tribes, and were the rulers of the world.”

“But the Changer,” Ned cut in, “he never wanted things to be the same. It was in him to change them around.”

“Only he tried a last change,” Uncle Jasper took up the story again, “and it was the Great Spirit who defeated him. When enough time passes and the white man puts an end to the world through his muddlin', then the Changer will return and turn the world over so the People, the animals, will rule again,”

“When,” Cory asked, “is he supposed to turn the world over?”

Uncle Jasper smiled. “Well, you may just be alive to see it, son.”

THE MAGIC BOOKS BY ANDRE NORTON

Available now:

Steel Magic

Octagon Magic

Fur Magic

Coming soon from Starscape:

Dragon Magic

Lavender-Green Magic

Red Hart Magic

T
HE
M
AGIC
B
OOKS

ANDRE NORTON

NOTE:
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

FUR MAGIC

Copyright © 1965 by The Estate of Andre Norton
Reader's Guide copyright © 2006 by Tor Books

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

A Starscape Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010

www.starscapebooks.com

ISBN 0-765-35299-0
EAN 978-0765-35299-6

First Starscape edition: April 2006

Printed in the United States of America

0   9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1

  
1.    WILD COUNTRY

  
2.    STRONG MEDICINE

  
3.    WAR PARTY CAPTIVE

  
4.    BROKEN CLAW

  
5.    BEARERS OF THE PIPE

  
6.    EAGLES' BARGAIN

  
7.    RAVEN'S SING

  
8.    A FOREST OF STONE

  
9.    A SHAPING OF SHAPES

10.    THE CHANGER CHALLENGED

N
orth American Indians, no matter of what tribe, have many legends of the Old Ones, those birds and animals (all greater than their dwarfed descendants we know now) who lived as men before the coming of man himself. Some of the furred or feathered people had strange powers. Foremost among them was the Changer. To the Plains Indians he most often wore the form of a coyote, an animal noted even to this day for its intelligence and cunning above the ordinary. To other tribes he was the Raven, or even had the scales of a reptile.

One of his many names was the Trickster, since he delighted in practical jokes and in outwitting his fellows. The Changer aided as much as he harmed, turning the course of rivers to benefit the Old Ones, altering their lands for their profit. His were the powers of nature. And widely separated Indian nations agreed that he at last created man—some say as an idle fancy, others that he wished to make a new servant. Only it did not work out as he had planned.

The legend that the Changer “turned the world over” is current with the Indians of the far Northwest.

One version of the story states that he at last defied the Great Spirit, and through the Thunderbird (that awesome winged messenger, the greatest of totems) was sent into exile. But a day for his return has also been decreed. Where upon he shall come forth to turn the world back again. Man will then vanish and the Old Ones will once more live to fill the woodlands, the prairies, and the deserts from which man has so long hunted them.

I
t was cold and far too dark outside the window to be really day-time yet. Now if he were back home this morning—Cory sat on the edge of the bunk, holding the boot he was sure was going to be too tight, and thought about home. Right now he would be willing to sit out in the full blaze of Florida sun if only all could be just as it had been before Dad went off with the Air Rescue to Vietnam. Aunt Lucy would be downstairs in the kitchen getting breakfast and all would be—right. Only Dad was gone, to a place Cory could not even pronounce, and Aunt Lucy was nursing Grandma in San Francisco. So Florida was not home any more.

“Cory!” It was not a loud call, nor was the rap on the door which accompanied it a loud rap, but Cory was startled sharply out of his daydream.

“Yes, sir, Uncle Jasper, I'm coming!” he answered as quickly as he could, pulling on first one boot, then the other. With speed, though the buttons did not slip very easily into their proper holes this morning, he fastened his shirt and tucked the tails into his jeans.

He longed to roll back beneath the covers on the bunk, maybe even pull them over his head, and forget all about yesterday. Horses—

Cory winced, rubbing aching bruises. Riding—But at least they were going in the jeep today. Only he did not want to face Uncle Jasper this morning, though there was no hope of avoiding that. He stamped down hard on each foot, the unfamiliar height of the heels making him feel as if he tilted forward, so different from Florida sandals.

Horses—Cory had found out something about himself yesterday which made him drag his booted feet now as he opened the door and went reluctantly down the ranch-house hall. He was afraid, not only of the horse Uncle Jasper had said was old, and tame, and good for a beginner to learn to ride on but of—of the country—and perhaps a little—of Uncle Jasper.

Last night he had lain awake and listened to all kinds of disturbing noises. Of course, he had told himself over and over that there was
nothing
to be afraid of. But he had never lived out in the open before, with not even a paved road, and with all those mountains shooting up to the sky. Here there were just miles and miles of nothing but wild things—tall grass no one ever cut and big trees and—animals—Uncle Jasper had pointed out a coyote track right beside the corral last night.

Corral—Cory's memory switched again to his shameful performance at the corral yesterday afternoon. Maybe it was true, what he had once read in a book, that animals knew when you were afraid of them. Because that tame old horse had bucked him right off. And—and he had not had the real
guts to get back up in the saddle again when Uncle Jasper said to.

Even now, though it was so cold in the very early morning, Cory felt hot all over remembering it. Uncle Jasper had not said a thing. In fact he had talked about something else, brought Cory back here to the ranch-house and showed him all the Indian things in the big room.

Indian things—Cory sighed. All his life he had been so proud of knowing Uncle Jasper, boasting about it at school and in the Scouts, bragging that he had a real live Indian foster uncle, who had served with Dad in Korea and now lived in Idaho and raised Appaloosa horses for rodeos. Then Uncle Jasper had come to Florida just about the time Dad got his orders to ship out and Aunt Lucy was called to Grandma's. And he had offered to take Cory to his ranch for the whole summer! It had been such a wonderful, exciting time, getting ready to go, and reading about the West—all he could read—though it had been tough to say goodbye to Dad, too.

He stood in the doorway looking out into the early morning, shivering, pulling on his sweater. Now he could hear men's voices out by the jeep and the moving of horses in the big corral.

Horses. When you watched the cowboys on TV, riding looked so easy. And when Dad and Uncle Jasper had taken him to the rodeo—well, the riders had taken a lot of spills—but that had been watching, not trying to do it yourself. Now when he thought of horses all he could really see were big hoofs in the air, aiming straight at
him
.

“Cory?”

“Coming, Uncle Jasper!” He shivered again and began to
run to the jeep, resolutely not looking towards the corral. There had been a couple of stories he had read about devil horses and cougars and—

The hills were very dark against the greying sky as he reached the jeep. Uncle Jasper was talking to Mr. Baynes.

“This is Cory Alder,” Uncle Jasper said.

Cory remembered his manners. “How do you do, sir.” He held out his hand as Dad had taught him. Mr. Baynes looked a little surprised, as if he did not expect this.

“Hi, kid,” he answered. “Want to see the herd, eh? Well, hop in.”

Cory scrambled into the back of the jeep where two saddles and other riding gear were already piled, leaving only a sliver of room for him. Two saddles—not three—one for Uncle Jasper, one for Mr. Baynes—He felt a surge of relief. Then Uncle Jasper did not expect him to ride! They would be at the line camp, and maybe he could stay there.