“And the magic leaves us,” Serazina said. “You’re just a kitten, and I’m just a girl who has to go back into the world.”
Show them miracles and mysteries, and they complain because their underdeveloped hearts can’t retain them. Eager to rejoin her family and say good-bye to Misha before she died, Tara pawed the ground impatiently until she remembered no family awaited Serazina. No one wanted to hear about her adventures. She faced the disasters of a missing father and a probably hysterical mother.
If the girl didn’t get some strength, she’d slither right back into the mass of disconnected humanity. That would be a terrible end to a trying day. Misha, wait for me. I can’t leave my work undone.
“I’ll teach you how to block your thoughts,” Tara said. “Once you’ve learned, no one, not even the Guardian, will be able to read them. You’ll be safe.”
“Do you think I can learn that?”
Tara wasn’t certain at all, but she saw no point in saying that. Blocking her thoughts, she said, “It’s the easiest thing in the world. See if you can read my thoughts.”
“I see only your eyes; they’re like suns. If I tried to look behind them, I’d be burned.”
“That’s the idea. Sometimes I work with waterfalls, but I also like to think my eyes into great blazing suns that shield all my thoughts. Green-eyed cats turn their eyes into dense, tangled greenery, almost like the swamp. Blue-eyed cats imagine their eyes as bottomless seas in which a creature might drown.”
“The sea, I’ve only seen pictures of it.”
“I’ve never seen it at all, but I’ve heard it described as an endless expanse of water that ripples and coils and crashes onto sand. The sea sings, sometimes in a gentle hum, other times in a mighty roar.”
“I can almost see it,” Serazina said in a dreamy voice. “It’s blue . . . and bottomless. At the horizon it runs into the sky, and the moon tides pull the water, and everything changes.”
Though Tara knew this was illusion, she fought a moment of panic as a crashing wave towered over her. “Excellent,” she said.
“Don’t you find it lonely to hide your thoughts?”
“Seeds long for the sun, but they know that they have to hide in the earth until they’re strong enough to bear the light. And now I must go.”
Serazina kissed her nose. “Tell your great-grandmother that Serazina greets her.”
Tara noticed the unconscious dignity in the way the girl held her head. “I will.”
She buried her face in Serazina’s hand and left.
* * *
Serazina continued alone, listening to leaves rustling, nearly understanding them, when human voices broke her trance.
“The Mother weeps!” a voice cried. “She weeps because of those who destroy her, because of humans. Our lives are nothing. We, the Children of Earth, gladly sacrifice them to You.”
Serazina crept closer. Men and women, some wearing the deep green of field workers, others the brown of those who worked in offices, clustered in a small clearing, kneeling on the ground, their arms extended. Her father was among them. She wanted to run to him, but she hesitated.
Janzi Nor’azzi came into the clearing, her small body swathed in skirts and shawls. Her black eyes snapped with ferocity. “Enough of this weeping business. Haven’t you been listening to me? You’re all bound up in spider webs of guilt. You sound like Godlies. It’s not a crime to be ignorant. The crime is to know the truth and not act on it. What are we going to do?”
“We don’t know what to do,” one man said. “We’re waiting for a sign.”
“Don’t wait for signs; look for them.”
Serazina nearly gasped. Behind Janzi, she saw the sunlit Lady, Her fingers trailing rainbows of light, Her green eyes staring at Serazina.
Don’t wait for signs; you’re the sign.
But I don’t know most of these people. Some of them could be spies.
Trust in Me.
But I hardly know You. It’s not reasonable—
I didn’t choose you because you were reasonable. Look at your father; he sees Me.
Tears streamed down Johar’s face. “Dear Lady, Weaver of the World, Healer of all wounded and broken hearts, please guide us. I’ll go wherever you ask.”
Serazina stepped into the clearing, and Johar gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“My rescuer,” Janzi said and opened her arms to embrace her.
“My daughter?” Johar asked, his eyes brightening.
“Serazina helped me escape, and I have the strangest feeling that’s not all she’s been up to. Look at her face. It glows, as if . . . have you seen Her?”
Serazina closed her eyes, and the glimmer of the Lady filled her. “I’ve seen Her, and She’s so beautiful. I want to help everyone see Her.”
Janzi led Serazina to a stump. “Sit down here, girl, and tell us everything.”
Serazina tried to tell her story, but so much of it was feeling and picture and the Dance.
Tell them about the dragon.
Serazina tried not to shudder. Again, she saw the sea, but now she stood at the edge of a crumbling cliff. All she could do was to jump and hope.
“I’ve met the dragon,” she said. “He is kind and gentle. He weeps to know that humans fear and hate him.”
“I don’t believe any of this. The girl is crazy,” one man growled. “I need some proof.”
Serazina nearly gagged at the acidic hostility in his voice. He couldn’t be an Earther. She was about to tell the others to flee when the Lady appeared again.
All will be well.
How can you be so sure?
Because I am who I am. Show them the scale.
Serazina was uncertain, but whom else could she trust? She pulled it from her pocket, holding it up to the light. “He gave it to me.”
They gathered around her, hands reaching, but Serazina held the scale fast, fearing that it would be crushed. As she touched its smooth surface, she remembered the cries of “Dragonslayer” and the dark malice that that had gleamed in Malvern Frost’s eyes. The dragon’s life suddenly seemed as fragile as his scale.
“I think the dragon is in danger. If you want action, find a way to save him.”
“Wait a minute,” Janzi said. “I fully approve of this idea, but you have to realize the rest of us haven’t met the dragon, and we’ve been trained to hate and fear him. If we’re going to help him, we should at least learn to like him a little.”
“Oh, he’s very likable,” Serazina said. “He’s the Guardian of the swamp. And he doesn’t at all understand why humans are afraid of him. He’s never done anything to hurt them. His mane is so beautiful, like silk.”
“And how did you speak to him?” Janzi asked.
“I don’t know, I can’t explain. It was like walking across a bridge. I couldn’t until I could. Maybe anyone could. The kitten said she’d been trying to communicate with me for weeks, but I wasn’t listening because I didn’t believe she could speak to me.”
“Like I told you, we’ve been learning to listen,” Johar said. “But we need to learn more. Maybe right now the most important thing is to learn what the humans are up to. Those of you who still live in the village must listen and watch.”
“Good plan,” Janzi said. “Our learning has begun.”
* * *
Now that she was free to hurry to Misha, Tara found herself reluctant. Once again the girl and I mirror each other, she thought. I fear this path as much as she fears hers. It’s one thing to Dance in the Mother’s arms, knowing that She’ll place you gently back on the ground. It’s one thing to share the Dance with a mouse or mole and quite another to share the dying of one of my own kind, a cat of my blood. No doubt it’s a lesson the Mother has designed to aid me in the Quest, but I wish these lessons were spaced further apart.
Orion ran to the edge of the clearing to greet her. “Were you successful?”
“I was, and the most astonishing—”
He placed a paw on her
mouth. “I’m eager to hear, but you must go to Misha. She refuses to die without seeing you.”
The elderly cat lay in one of the cool, dark caves in the grove, attended by Emerald. As Tara approached the entrance, she hesitated, repelled by the odor of death. She stood outside, struggling to overcome her fear, and listened to her mother and grandmother.
“Lovely cat,” Misha murmured. “Prettier even than your mother, for she had a hard set to her jaw. You might have looked the same if you’d stayed in the alley. Thank the Long-tailed One that you escaped. My poor daughter would be glad if she knew.”
“She does,” Emerald said softly. “She is free.”
“And so I will be soon, once I’ve seen that flower-faced kitten of yours.”
“I’m here,” Tara said, entering the cave.
“Come close,” Misha whispered. “What a face; even the Mother must smile when She sees it. So sleek and shining, but look at that mud. Emerald taught you better than that.”
“I was in the swamp with the dragon and the girl.”
“Tell me more. What a sweet song to carry me Home.”
She closed her eyes as Tara spoke, and the kitten noticed how Misha’s spirit flew in and out of her body, each time staying longer and longer outside.
“I never heard such a story,” Misha said when Tara was done. “Imagine a human brave enough to risk her life for a kitten. Life has been good to me, Tara, and now I’m dying in the Green, safe in the paws of the Shining-furred One.”
A shudder rippled through her thin body, and Tara felt the death tremors as if they were her own. This is what I fear. One minute Misha’s scolding me for muddy fur; the next minute she pops through the veil into that big Catnip Field in the Sky.
“Misha,” she said.
“It’s all right,” the old cat said. “She wants me now, and I’m ready to go.”
She closed her eyes. “Come close, both of you.”
Tara and Emerald placed their paws on Misha’s head. The cave began to spin. Hadn’t Tara had enough visions for one day? This was the most dizzying yet. Three cats floated in a rainbow-colored bubble: Misha, dropping memories and pain like the fur of a winter coat, and Emerald, who bounced between misery and ecstasy.
And Tara, seeing them, but also part of them, young, old, a mother, a kitten, alive
And dead.
Misha broke out of the bubble, scattering rainbows throughout the cave in blinding fragments of color. When the air quieted, she was gone.
Misha’s body lay on the flat stone, where Tara, Emerald, and Orion stood. One by one, the visitors approached. Some were clearly wondering if mice had been killed for the funeral feast, but most managed to purr their greetings and blessings without moving their eyes from the stone.
And even those who looked hungry (and who could blame them? Not one city cat had as much flesh as a garbage-eating village cat) drew closer when Senti said, “Chosen, there’s a lot to talk about.”
“Yes,” others murmured, and some of them, village residents, approached her with un-catlike shyness. They stared at her, some with awe, some with definite second thoughts about her size. She pretended to be indifferent, though she wanted to scream that a cat might stare at a king, but never at another cat.
Four cougars burst into the clearing.
“Hail, cats,” an aged one growled. “I, Tomo, leader of the swamp cats, greet you.” He trotted over to Tara. “I heard you were in the swamp. You should have given me advance notice. I would have arranged a welcoming committee.”
He was telling her politely that she’d broken a rule of feline etiquette, but she shifted the responsibility where it belonged.
“My father, Orion, can explain why he considered it necessary for me to go alone and unannounced. As for the second visit, you try leading a human into the swamp and see if you have time to send out an advance message. Once the ceremonies are over, I’ll return, and I’d like you to introduce the girl to the swamp residents.”
“Let’s hope they don’t run me out of the neighborhood.” His eyes turned to Misha’s body and he lowered his head. “Forgive my anger. Allow me to share your grief and respect.”
The ceremony began. Orion rose. “Misha had faith when there was no reason for it, and she did her best to inspire Emerald with that faith. My mate wouldn’t be here tonight if it hadn’t been for Misha.”
Senti spoke. “I always thought she was a crazy old queen, but I had to respect her. She was one of the few who didn’t let the alley drag her down, and it’s because she was a cat with pride that I’m here.”
Other city cats spoke of Misha’s kindness, her generosity, her willingness to listen to any cat with troubles. When they were finished, Emerald spoke.
“I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Misha. I thought she was crazy, too. Maybe she was, but we’ll all have to be crazy like her to see this thing through. Misha was right about sensing a better place than the alley, and I hope she’s right about the Heavenly Fields of Catnip. I hope she’s there now, getting high. I hope she’s watching over us like she watched over me when I was a kitten.”
Tara wondered what she would say. What could she add? The village cats were looking at her eagerly. They’d be expecting something impressive. That was enough to twist her tongue so that it scratched the bottom of her mouth. She remembered Misha’s parting song.
She meowed for attention. All faces turned towards her; a hundred eyes gleamed in the night. “I never saw any cat die before,” she said. “I was afraid. But when it happened, I wanted to go with her. The Fields are real, Emerald. I saw them in Misha’s eyes. We will all die, maybe some of us soon.”
She gulped and hurried on. “But Misha wasn’t afraid. She lived her life with a purpose, and she surrendered to it. Her world was bigger than the alley, and the Mother ruled it. She trusted the journey of her life, and every pawstep took her closer to Home. Pray that we can all follow her example.”
Sekhmet stood on her hind legs, raised her front ones above her, and said, “Our sister Misha is gone. She went gladly; her paws were light as they traced new patterns in the Dance. As the wheel of life and death turns, we will all join her. May each of us bring the Mother the gift of joy when our time comes to go Home.”
She sank to a sitting position. “The body of blessed Misha will not lie, moldering in a dark alleyway, the gift of her life scorned by metal and wood. We will bury her in this sacred earth.”
She scooped out a pawful of dirt. One by one, the cats followed her example until a large hole had been dug. Several big toms placed the body inside.
A deeper tone filled Sekhmet’s voice. It became hypnotic, and—a miracle for the black cat—poetic.
“Her body is one with the earth,” she chanted. “The roots of plants born deep within it caress her and consume her goodness. When a flower opens its petals, Misha sees the sky once again.
“Her flesh becomes tender grains to feed the small creatures of woodland and meadow. Thus, Misha, giver of life, feeds us and is reborn in the flesh of a cat.
“As she is one with the earth, so she is one with the stars.
“In the heavens she shines tonight; her light graces our fur.
“In sky and earth she is one with the Mother.
“Misha, look upon us.
“Show us the Mother’s love in flower and star.
“Give us Her blessings of Life, of Death.”
All the cats closed their eyes and crossed their paws.
Orion trotted over to the hole where Misha’s body lay. “Return to the earth, to the stars, to the One,” he said and kicked earth into the grave.
All the other cats followed suit until the hole was filled in. “This grave is sacred to the memory of Misha,” Bast said. “Let every cat whose heart aches with sorrow and despair come here and be renewed.”
The cats sat in silence for a few minutes, and Sekhmet raised her paws to indicate that the ceremony was over.
Excited mewing broke out. “Tell of
us the Quest.” “Speak, Chosen.”
Orion stopped them. “The Chosen has had a long, tiring day, and must be allowed some time to take in the loss of beloved Misha. Many of you have traveled great distances to come here. I suggest that we all enjoy naps and hear her story with refreshed hearts and spirits and minds clear enough to give the counsel she seeks.”
Late that night the cats gathered to hear Tara’s story. Though many cats, no longer under the spell of the ceremony, looked suspicious and cynical, she wasn’t afraid. She believed in her story about a loving dragon and a girl of great courage who needed the help of as many cats as would open their hearts.
When she’d finished, she saw that she’d won a number of doubters, but not all. Some held back, their tails twitching irritably.
Tara was about to speak when she saw Orion’s golden eyes narrow. He thumped against a tree for attention. “Friends, there is much to celebrate, and I trust that you will take your joyous spirits back to your tribes. Before you leave, though, we must hold open council on certain matters at hand.”
“I want to speak!” Tomo roared. “The small cat speaks truly about the dragon, who is my dear friend, a being of great and loving heart.”
Tara saw that nocat was about to argue with him.
“Now I must speak about the situation in the swamp. Most animals are in despair, and many have renounced the Mother. They’re ready to kill the humans. It will be all Druid and I can do to get them to accept one girl. The swamp is threatened. If the Quest means anything, all creatures must defend us.”
“I have something to add to that,” Senti said. “Today we caught a truck ride into the city in time to hear a meeting of the human council. Last night the Chosen was given a vision that the humans would kill the dragon in order to gain access to the swamp. We’ve received confirmation of this.”
Tomo bared his fangs. “No cat can allow this.”
“No cat will,” Tara said. “If Druid dies, so does the Quest.”
Orion nodded. “Assembled cats, will you agree to defend the life of the dragon as if it were your own, that of your mate, or your beloved kittens?”
A city cat, Kria, growled. “Why should I risk my life for a big reptile? Would he do the same for me?”
“Yes!” Tara spat. “He’s always risking his life for the creatures of the swamp, even for a little mouse you’d have for breakfast. When you meet him, you’ll see.”
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