by Dorian Hart
“But of course we have to keep that to ourselves,” said Tor. “So as not to cause a panic.”
Naradawk. That name lanced Grey Wolf’s thoughts like a burning spear. Why? Gods, but his head hurt. He had so many questions, he hardly knew where to begin.
“Remind me why we need the Crosser’s Maze,” he said.
“You really don’t remember?” asked Dranko. “The maze is the magical doohickey that will stop Naradawk.”
Naradawk.
He had seen Naradawk.
“Grey Wolf?” Ernie’s worried look returned. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I just remembered where I was,” he said slowly. “I…Naradawk was there. I—”
His memory shifted away from that place.
He is a boy. He is Ivellios. His mother lies dead. His father is dead, too. They were killed by—
Why? Why were those images returning now? “Please,” he whispered. “I need sleep. Maybe in the morning I’ll remember more, but not…please, I can’t…”
“You saw Naradawk?” exclaimed Tor.
Grey Wolf squeezed his eyes shut tight. He made himself remember, though it burned him.
“Gods, yes, I saw him. I saw him.”
CHAPTER TWO
Something scratched at Aravia’s dreams, trying to get in.
She stood on the edge of a clearing in a rich, dense forest, surrounded by undulating fern fronds and hanging vines. The earthy smell of fungus filled her nostrils. Gnarled, ancient trees wore heavy deep-green coats of shaggy moss, as did a tumble of emerald-sleeved boulders half-buried in the loam.
Aravia’s dreams had brought her here before, many times in fact since the Kivian Arch had opened. How often had she stood in this place, peering through morning mists into that clearing? Five? A dozen? It was nearly as familiar a place as any she knew when awake. The clearing brought a sense of watching and waiting, but whether she was the one watching or being watched, she could not say. Aravia’s dream of the woods brought her a surety that all was right with the world, but also a clear sense of a task unfulfilled. It created in her heart a conflict of peace and anxiety that she could not resolve.
This jade cathedral was always quiet, always calm—but not now. The scratching abraded her serenity, sought to remind her of something important, something she’d forgotten. What was it?
Her eyes snapped open, and she turned her head to the dark window. It was still some hours before sunrise. Her mind grasped at the memory of the forest, but it faded away quickly as dreams were wont to do. She fumbled to light a candle and looked around her room, at the desk, the enchanted water tubs, the wardrobe.
The scratching continued. Aravia blinked her eyes in confusion. The noise came from the street below, something scratching at the door of the Greenhouse. She walked to the window and opened it, then stuck out her head, craning her neck to see what it was. There wasn’t sufficient light.
“Mrow.”
A cat! Its voice reminded her a great deal of Pewter, her beloved pet left behind with Master Serpicore when Abernathy had teleported her, but there wasn’t much to distinguish one cat’s mewling from any other’s. “I’m trying to sleep, stupid cat,” she muttered sleepily.
I can’t use a door handle, said a voice. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid.
Aravia spun around, holding up the candle. Her door was closed, her room empty.
“Who’s there?”
Boss, are you going to let me in? I haven’t had anything decent to drink in weeks.
The voice sounded in her head! Telepathy was extremely advanced, magically speaking, leaving aside the unlikelihood of a cat engaging in its practice.
“Pewter?”
That’s still my name.
“I’ll be right there!”
With her candle wobbling in her hand, Aravia raced down the stairs in her nightgown and opened the Greenhouse front door. Pewter stood at the threshold, whisking his tail to and fro.
Her mind boggled.
“How…?”
Something about your house is keeping me out.
“Oh! Yes, I have to invite you. Pewter, please come in.”
Pewter walked slowly inside, then butted his head against her ankles. Half of Aravia’s mind told the other half that she obviously was still dreaming. Pewter arriving in the middle of the night and talking? Telepathically? It was classic wish fulfillment.
Her cat swished his tail. Nice place. Reminds me a bit of Serpicore’s house, though it smells like burning leaves.
“That’s Dranko. He likes to smoke cig—Pewter, you—never mind that! You’re here! Oh, you’re here!” She picked him up and hugged him, burying her face in his fur and listening to his rumbly purr. Her emotions, always so carefully managed and subdued, bubbled up through her like a fountain. Tears started in her eyes.
I missed you too, he said. I’ve never been so happy to see a human being.
Aravia let him hop down. She had so many questions that they crowded one another out of her thoughts, but they could wait a minute more. Her beloved cat was thirsty. “Let’s see about getting you something to drink.”
Sounds great.
Pewter followed her to the kitchen, where she stood over the Icebox and said, “Bowl of milk.”
Nice, said Pewter. Serpicore would kill for something like that.
After her cat—her talking cat!—had lapped up his fill, the two retired to the living room. “Lights on, dim,” she said, and Abernathy’s heatless lights complied.
Did you do that? asked Pewter. I don’t remember your studies having come so far.
“No, that was Abernathy. Do you remember the invitation I received, the one I thought was Serpicore testing my gullibility? It was real! This is the house that the archmage Abernathy gave us.”
An archmage gave you a house? Boss, you really stepped in it.
Aravia had to agree and nearly said as much, but then the absurdity of this whole exchange struck her afresh. Where to start?
“Pewter, let’s start from the beginning. When I last saw you, you were just an ordinary housecat. Now you appear to have human-level intelligence and powers of telepathy. You talk! How did that come about?”
Pewter licked a paw and wiped the fur on his face. Ordinary housecat?
“I didn’t mean—”
When last I saw you, said Pewter, his mental voice carrying a whiff of impudence, you were just an ordinary wizard’s apprentice. Now it sounds as if you’re still an ordinary wizard’s apprentice, only in the service of a higher class of wizard.
Aravia opened her mouth but had no immediate retort. Had her cat always possessed such an attitude?
Pewter chuckled in her head. Boss, I’m just pulling your tail. You were never ordinary. You were always…
“Always what?” asked Aravia, when Pewter didn’t finish his thought.
Always like a cat, I suppose.
Aravia rubbed her eyes. Dream or no dream, this was getting stranger by the moment. “What does that mean? And can you answer my question? What happened to you?”
Pewter hopped up onto the back of the sofa, at eye level with Aravia.
I don’t know, said the cat. It’s hard for me to explain. Whatever happened, it was recent. Maybe…three months ago? No, less, I’ll say two and a half. One day, mid-morning, I found myself curled on your bed, thinking thoughts like I had woken from a dream in which I was, as you would say, an ordinary housecat. I’ve always been intelligent, but this was something different. I was aware in a way I hadn’t been before.
Aravia was riveted. “So what did you do then?”
I scratched at the door until it annoyed Serpicore enough for him to open it. He kept me locked in your room the whole time, except when he came to feed me or change my sandbox, and he only did that when the smell got bad enough to leak out of the room. As if I couldn’t smell it, either! He’d always managed to sneak in while I slept; I think he has some way to magically scry your room. But this time I was ready; the momen
t the door was opened, I escaped into the hallway.
“Good for you!” said Aravia.
Boss, you don’t need to speak out loud for me to hear you. This telepathy thing works both ways with us. Just focus on me and imagine that you’re talking.
The study of telepathy was extremely advanced; Aravia would have said that she was years away from its mastery, even assuming that she chose to focus her energies on it. But she also would have said that it was impossible for a cat, and so she stared into Pewter’s yellow eyes and tried to project her thoughts.
Pewter, can you hear me?
Whoa, boss, too loud, too loud! Yeah, I can hear you, though if my eardrums had been involved, I’d have just gone deaf. Think quieter.
Sorry.
Serpicore could scry into her room? That was a disturbing thought. But more important was Pewter’s estimate of when he had gone from cat- to human-level intelligence.
Pewter, we can start to theorize about what caused your…transformation. Two and a half months ago, a magical archway opened to a land called Kivia, on the far side of the Uncrossable Sea. That can’t be a coincidence.
Pewter flicked his tail. Huh. So the arch caused me to get smarter?
I don’t know. I don’t see how, but I don’t have enough information. It’s more likely that something in Kivia emanates an enchantment that resulted in your mental elevation, and the opening of the arch let it through.
Then why only me? I’ve seen a lot of cats since leaving Serpicore’s house, and none of them seemed any different. It was sad, actually, seeing how simple they were and remembering that I was once like that.
Aravia couldn’t begin to guess. We’ll just have to figure it out. But please, continue your story. You escaped from our room…
Pewter began to purr again. Right. So the first thing I did was get into Serpicore’s lab and knock some breakables off his workbench. I made sure to shatter that antique crystal alembic he’s so proud of.
You broke his alembic? Do you know how much that was worth?
I sure do, and I don’t care, said Pewter. Old bastard had it coming. I thought about shredding his journals or pissing on his reagents, but Serpicore might have actually killed me.
It’s a wonder he didn’t do that the day I left. He hates cats.
I have a theory about that, said Pewter. Remember, he thought you were playing some kind of joke with that invitation from Abernathy until the moment you vanished out of his house. Think about it from his point of view. One of the most powerful wizards in the world sent for you—you, and not him—and backed it up with some kind of teleportation magic Serpicore could only dream of doing. I’m sure he played out the scenario in his head where you came back a week later, only to find he had killed me or turned me out, and that made you angry enough to call in a favor from your new archmage pal. I think he kept me alive out of fear of retribution.
Aravia smiled at the thought.
After I smashed up his stuff, he got so fed up that he shooed me out of the house. That was fine, since I was leaving anyway. I had to find you, after all, and I could tell you were a long way away.
You could? How?
I just have to concentrate on you. I can always know where you are, if I want. I’m sure you could do the same, if you tried it. Say, speaking of that, did you learn how to teleport yourself since I saw you last? Because between the first day I could sense you and the next, you moved about five hundred miles.
Cats should not be capable of that kind of deductive mathematical or spatial reasoning.
Pewter, can you cast spells?
Pewter flicked his tail and let out a plaintive meow. I wish. I’d need human hands and a human voice box for that.
That was too bad. Yes, I learned to teleport. And a good thing, too. I’ve been a great asset to the team.
Team? Pewter nosed the air. I thought I smelled other humans in here, plus something that’s not quite human. Who are they?
Aravia reached out and gave Pewter a scratch under his chin, and he responded with a grateful purr. Gods, how she missed that sound! It’s the middle of the night, so I’ll give you the short version.
Aravia gave an abbreviated account to her cat—about Naradawk, the Kivian Arch, the Crosser’s Maze, all of it. Pewter listened intently, staring at her with his enormous yellow eyes. When she had finished, he flicked his tail.
And we’re leaving tomorrow?
She did not fail to notice that he included himself.
That is our hope. We’ve been champing at the bit for weeks, waiting for Abernathy to tell us we could leave. Tor would already be down on the peninsula trying to hack through the Kivians personally, but Abernathy told us we that had to wait for the archmagi to gather information and formulate a plan.
Pewter stood up and arched his back. Then that was good timing on my part. You could use a cat like me on a dangerous trip. The rest of the world will think I’m just a normal cat, but I can reason and understand human speech. I’m an invaluable asset!
Though her first instinct was securing Pewter’s safety, Aravia had to admit that her cat made sense.
Her cat made sense!
Pewter, this is still hard for me to believe. My childhood pet has developed human intelligence, along with telepathic powers and a perfect sense of my location, and then traveled hundreds of miles to find me. For that matter, how did you cross the sea?
They have these things called boats now.
Aravia chuckled. Human intelligence, telepathic powers, and an attitude.
That’s me, tail to whiskers.
Pewter stretched out his back and kneaded the back of the sofa with his claws. Aravia rubbed her eyes one more time, still expecting to wake up from what was surely the most remarkable dream that she had ever had. Pewter, I’ve missed you so badly these past few months. I thought I’d never see you again.
Aravia was startled to find herself crying again. She had trained herself to resist emotional responses, as emotions stunted arcane learning. Cool detachment was among her greatest assets. But all of that had broken down in the whiskered face of her stupid gray cat, her loyal friend who had just traveled hundreds of miles over land and sea to be reunited with her.
Pewter, you said earlier that I was like a cat. How, exactly?
Don’t know, said Pewter. You just are. I look at you and think, “There’s someone who would have made a great cat.” Maybe you were born a cat and Serpicore transformed you into a human.
I have memories of human parents, said Aravia.
Maybe they were adoptive parents. Maybe they always wanted a child but couldn’t have one of their own, so they paid Serpicore to turn you human.
Aravia sighed. Serpicore couldn’t do a transformation that complex. I doubt that even an archmage could permanently turn a cat into a human.
So maybe he—
Pewter, enough. I’m tired. It’s the middle of the night, and whatever catlike qualities you think I possess, I am not nocturnal. I need to get back to sleep. Tomorrow morning I’ll introduce you to the others. They’re never going to believe this.
CHAPTER THREE
Dranko woke as dawn was breaking. Still in his nightshirt, and with a minor but needling hangover pricking his temples, he stumbled down the Greenhouse stairs and shambled into the kitchen. He had a craving for hot porridge and a mind to use the Icebox to make it. The others wouldn’t object to his using up one of the magic food box’s three conjurations for the day. Who didn’t love porridge?
A fluffy, silver-gray cat sat primly on the box. It peered at him with startlingly yellow eyes.
“Shoo.” Dranko never liked cats much, and they didn’t like him. They could smell the goblin in him. Someone must have left a window open, and the Greenhouse’s wards evidently didn’t hedge out uninvited animals. He showed the cat his tusks and growled.
“Mrow.” The cat didn’t leave. It lay down atop the Icebox and extended a front paw downward until it touched the handle. The Icebox had a round knob on
its door, and the cat couldn’t apply enough leverage to open it, but it didn’t look as though the cat were trying to open it. The animal gave the impression that it was simply pointing, hoping that Dranko would get the hint and open it himself.
“It’s empty,” said Dranko. “Now scram.” When the stupid cat still didn’t move, Dranko reached for it, intending to pick it up and give it a heave out the door. The animal eluded him, scrambling behind the Icebox and crouching low, its tail swishing.
“Fine. But you’re not getting any porridge.” Dranko concentrated on the Icebox and said, “Large bowl of hot porridge with honey.” He had learned that if he kept his requests simple enough, he could get two or three foods mixed together with a single use. He gave it a couple of seconds to work, then opened the door.
Inside was a dead rat.
“Mrow.”
Dranko looked at the cat. He looked inside the Icebox. He looked at the cat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The gray feline dashed around to the front of the box, hooked a paw inside, and dragged out the rat. Before Dranko could even make a move, it had its meal on the kitchen floor and was gnawing away.
Dranko rubbed his stubble. A cat had not only sneaked into the Greenhouse, it had figured out how to use the Icebox and ordered up a rat for breakfast? That was…not likely. Maybe he was still drunk? Or dreaming?
The cat tore out a hunk of rat and dropped it at Dranko’s feet.
“Mrow?”
Dranko would have sworn the cat had inflected its meow as a question.
“No, thanks. I had rat for dinner last night.”
“Prrrt.” The cat reclaimed the piece of meat and gulped it down.
Dranko heard footsteps behind him; Grey Wolf entered the kitchen.
“Gods, Dranko, you’re feeding a stray cat on our kitchen floor? And is that a rat? What in the hells is the matter with you?”