Free The Galactic Mage by John Daulton

the bread in the shadowy, early morning light, he caught a glimpse of movement, a tiny scurrying spot of gray barely darker than the shadows around the bread. He squinted at it and with a word summoned a tiny flame to the candle sitting at the table’s center.
    The light appeared so abruptly that the little mouse froze for a moment, the candle flame glinting in its tiny, black spot eyes. It sniffled in Altin’s direction for a moment and the young wizard could see that it held a portion of his daily bread in its pointy rodent teeth.
    “Why you hairy little thief,” Altin cursed. “That’s mine!” He considered shooting a miniature fireball at it, but recent events stayed his spell. The mouse gave him no time to consider a second option, however, for it was off like a dart, off the table, across the flagstones and into the safety of a dark crack in the wall, not too far from the stairs leading back up to the battlements.
    Altin made a face at it as it vanished into the hole. “That’s all I need. Mice.” He resolved himself to let Nipper know, as such things fell under the old man’s jurisdiction, and allowed the promise of the Liquefying Stone to rinse away any further consideration of the furry pest.
    Near the recently nibbled bread was a stack of books, a thousand pages of fruitless research done yesterday that had garnered him not one word about the Liquefying Stone. He picked them up and headed downstairs. He stopped on the second floor of his tower, his personal library—an extensive collection by any standards for someone of his relative youth—and meticulously re-deposited the works before heading to the kitchen.
    Tytamon was already there when he arrived, and Altin cursed himself for having wasted so much time pacing the battlements in the name of timidity. Nipper was nowhere to be seen, and Kettle was busy looking busy in the presence of her ancient master. Little Pernie was sweeping ineffectually around the hearth, but she looked up and, with no pig butchering to distract her this time, saw that Altin had come in. She grinned excitedly. “Hullo, Master Altin,” she said, beaming at him like a tiny towheaded sun. “I saw a lizard already today, out on the well, but he was still stiff with cold because when I tried to wake him he wouldn’t move at all, no matter how many times I poked him, and I did a lot because he fell into the well and still never moved all the way down. I hope he will be okay, but I don’t know if lizards can swim or not, but he was green, just like sir’s dragon. You should have seen him.”
    Altin rolled his eyes. “That’s nice,” he said and quickly turned towards Tytamon.
    “Pernie, hush,” Kettle admonished the child. “Them’s got business to talk. No time for silliness.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” said Tytamon, furrowing his brow at Altin briefly before leaning to peek round him towards the girl. “Lizards can be serious business too.” He stood and stepped around Altin, fixing Pernie with a grin. With a few words and the wriggling of his thumbs, he created a bright, illusionary lizard on the ground between his feet. “Did it look like this?” he asked. He sent the illusion scurrying across the floor towards Pernie, who screeched with glee and leapt for it, pouncing like a cat. Her hands clutched right through it, at which point it disappeared, causing her to spin round and round like a kitten chasing its tail, searching everywhere, giggling and even lifting Kettle’s skirts to have a look between the woman’s feet. Kettle gasped and pushed the child away, though she couldn’t help but laugh. Giving up, Pernie looked back at the old mage, wonder in her eyes and still giggling for all her worth. His grin grew. Extending his hand, he reproduced the illusion there on his palm, allowing it to rise and float slowly through the air towards her again, dangling as if invisible fingers held it by the tail. Seeing this, she became nearly hysterical with laughter