Awfully Furmiliar

by Michael J Tresca

  Lycus skidded into the room. He swung a lantern around the room, spraying the room with light.

  I caught sight of the phantom cat's eyes glowing red in the darkest shadow, but when the beams from the lantern reached it, there was nothing there. Just as quickly and mysteriously as it had come, the phantom cat was gone.

  "What was that?" asked Lycus. "I heard something scream…"

  "I don't know," I panted, terrified. My heart was pounding in my little rat chest.

  "Whatever it was," said Lycus. "It shrieked like a woman."

  * * *

  I spent each day on a miniature throne that Ura had crafted for me. It was built into the main throne itself, higher up and visible to the peasants who saw us, but not so high that it made me seem somehow more important than the ogre. I was essentially a decoration, like a songbird in a cage. A songbird covered in fur that spoke all languages.

  It was another grueling day without Ura. I had to make excuses for why he wasn't present.

  I could understand the peasants' frustration. It was clear Ura was much more focused on the "big issues"—the glamorous part of running the fiefdom. But if he wasn't willing to focus on the day-to-day work, why be a Margrave at all?

  I finally requested an audience with Ura. It was a testament to my newly demoted status that it took a day before I could see him.

  Ura strode into the room, removing a silk red cloak that billowed behind him.

  "You've got fifteen minutes. What is it?"

  "Ura, I—"

  Ura flopped into his throne and rubbed the bridge of his bulbous nose with the tips of his fingernails. "How many times do I have to tell you to address me as Margrave?"

  "Fine, Margrave..."

  "Do you know how busy I am?" interrupted the ogre. "The Drakungheists don't want to make a treaty with me. They just want to keep driving bandits southwards. Do you know what the real problem is? Their patrols are TOO good. I know you're proud of your organized militias, but an armed serf is no match for a trained knight."

  "I didn't say that it was, but—"

  "But of course, the Calximus Kingdom requires a census of our lands before they will allow us to be under their protection. A census! The last time I heard of such a thing was under Pan Lo Wei of the Ivory Empire. And he had census takers, thousands of them! None of this census-yourself nonsense—"

  "Ura!" I shouted.

  Ura shot me a glare.

  "Margrave," I began again. "There was a phantom cat in my room last night."

  Ura rolled his eyes. "A pogeyan? Is that we've come to now? You're going to start inventing stories so I give you more troops? This is about the knights, isn't it?"

  I shook my head. "This isn't about knights..."

  "I'm not going to arm the peasants. You've already got them patrolling with their bows. All it takes is one good armed riot and I have an uprising on my hands. Do you know how many peasants’ lives would be at stake? And it would be all your fault."

  "What?" The comment caught me off guard. "But with the loss of the violet lotus flowers..."

  "We now have rumors of phantom cats. Did it ever occur to you that these peasants are making this up so that you give them the arms and armor that they want?"

  "No, but—"

  "Here's what I think. I think the peasants are planning an uprising. Sometimes, I walk around the villages to spy on them."

  I didn't believe him. Ura had long since lost interest in his territories. I couldn't imagine him sullying his paws by walking through the villages and mingling with the people.

  "And they are rumbling. I believe they're becoming frustrated with the status quo. Those ungrateful wretches have it better than ever!" He tapped the throne with one iron-like nail. "So here's my advice to you: fix this problem. And fix it without weapons. Some declaration of a phantom cat appearing in this castle would just lend credence to their claims. Until there's a pogeyan carcass in this castle, there IS no pogeyan, do you understand me?"

  My eyes narrowed. Our relationship had definitely soured.

  "What form do you roam around in?"

  Ura seemed taken aback. "You'll be gratified to know it's a rat." He chuckled. "I actually find your form quite useful."

  I bowed my head. It was clear Ura wasn't going to help me.

  The ogre's features softened. "I've weaved strong protective spells around this place. This mysterious monster can't reach you so long as you stay within the castle confines." He snickered. "If someone did send a pogeyan after you, they're doing me a favor. Consider it incentive to stay put."

  I wasn't convinced that Ura's spells were that powerful, or that he would know if they had been breached, but I had tested his patience enough to know better than to contradict him.

  Then he got up and left. A few minutes later, Lycus crept into the room.

  "How did it go?"

  "Not well," I said. "But I have a plan on how to get rid of the cat."

  "Oh?" asked Lycus. "How's that?"

  "First, I need to know Ura's schedule..."

  * * *

  The nightmares continued.

  I heard the piping before I saw Piper. It was beautiful, haunting, powerful. It sang of runs through sun-dappled meadows and sweet candied meats, honey that flowed from waterfalls and endless powdered confections. I had nearly starved to death once, and the song told me my deepest desire.

  Black came out of his hovel, a knife in one hand.

  "So, it's come to this," he snarled.

  Piper was across the street, hopping and dancing. His dance was slow and pained, always with the slightest limp. He took the pipe from his lips.

  "Give me a thousand guilders," he said. "And I shall consider us even."

  "A thousand?" sputtered Black. "Where did you get those pipes?" He took a menacing step into the street.

  Piper played a little trilling tune. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

  "Get 'em, boys," said Black.

  My comrades stood as equally dumbfounded as I.

  Black looked questioningly at us, the whites of his eyes visible in the darkness. "What's wrong with you? You can't be afraid of him?" When none of responded, he turned back to Piper with a feral sneer. "Fine. I'll take care of this myself..."

  Black took another step into the inky blackness of the street. With only the weak street lamps to illuminate intermittent spots, a sea of black filled the gulf between them.

  A cacophony of shrieks assaulted the slums as huge bats swept down onto Black. They dove over and over, clinging to his back and arms, biting and clawing. Black rolled and flailed, swinging wildly with his knife but unable to beat off all his assailants at once. Black was huddled into a ball by the time he rolled into the pool of light where Piper stood.

  With another note on his pipes, the huge bats dispersed. Black was covered in bites and scratches. One of the bats flapped down into the light, dangling a key with its hind legs.

  "And I'll take this, thank you very much."

  "You're dead," said Black, staring up at Piper with murderous rage. "You'll not see the light of morning."

  "Oh, I won't will I?" Piper chuckled. "I thought you might react this way. But I'm afraid you won't be calling in any favors, because you'll be too busy trying to keep yourself alive. I've already got the key," Piper snorted. "But that's not enough. We need to take away the real source of your power." And he played again. The music was enchanting.

  All of Black’s Boys filtered into the street. They came from miles around, some in mid-job, heedless of the consequences. They filled the streets, fixing their eyes on Piper.

  "Come with me, my dear brothers," said Piper with a hint of sarcasm. "And I will take you away to a place where you never have to worry about where your next meal will come from."

  He played another tune, and the boys lined up.

  Black struggled to his feet. "What are you doing?" He asked with rising dread.

  Piper played another tune and half-hopped down the street. The boys marched i
n slow rhythm, some dancing, others shuffling, all following Piper as he went down the street.

  "Stop!" Black reached out with one hand, but more bats swooped down, flapping precariously near his face.

  The children were heedless of any danger. And I followed behind. I ran faster, only to trip, falling to the ground in a puddle of muck and grime. Piper stopped playing for a second.

  "I'm sorry, my friend," he said with a note of sympathy. "But where we are going, you cannot follow."

  I extended my hand, straining to reach for Piper's leg, mimicking the same gesture as Black. But it was hopeless.

  Piper resumed his song and one by one, the boys followed him.

  Then even the bats were gone, and only Black and I were left sopping wet in the filthy street.

  * * *

  The next day I had yet another audience with Boris.

  I formulated a plan that involved Ura leaving for one of his many visits. But first, he needed a reason to visit one of the villages.

  "I have spoken with the Margrave," I said, taking my life into my hands. "And he has taken a special interest in you."

  Boris' eyes widened. "In me? What would the Margrave want with me?"

  "It's what he doesn't want," I said. "There is a concern regarding your participation in the local militia. He suspects an uprising."

  "What? But I'm loyal!" Boris started sweating. "He increased the size of my pigs..."

  "I know," I said calmly. "And the Margrave knows this too. But we must gather the villagers who are loyal to the Margrave so that we can root out the traitors."

  "Of course!" said Boris. "Of course, anything I can do to help."

  I nodded sagely. "Good. The Margrave knew he could count on you. Gather all the loyal villagers you know and set up a meeting in the local barn. In one week from now, I want you to conduct a review of the villagers who might be traitors. Come back here on the morning before the meeting. You will transport me so that I may secretly witness the meetings to determine who attends."

  "But they will all be loyal?" asked Boris.

  "Trust me, if there's a gathering of loyal villagers, traitors will show up to spy on you."

  Boris thought about that. "You are very wise, m'lord."

  "No," I said quietly, "just paranoid."

  "As you say, m'lord," said Boris, inclining his head.

  "Boris, this cannot be shared with anyone. Tell the villagers nothing. They must not know the purpose of the meeting until they are there. All will be made clear at the meeting."

  "Understood, m'lord."

  As the pig farmer left, I prayed that my plan would work.

  And that Boris would believe it.

  * * *

  The week flew by.

  I hoped Boris would appear on schedule, since it wasn't unusual for him to be late. As a newly appointed reeve, the pig farmer fielded dozens of complaints, usually dealing with other jealous pig farmers over his newly rejuvenated pigs.

  Lycus placed me on the throne in the morning, but earlier in the week I had put in a request to have it refurnished, so he had to put me in a cage instead. The cage I had been gnawing on for weeks.

  "Lycus," I asked, "did Ura receive my request for an audience?"

  Lycus nodded. "Yes." He had a tendency to be curt at times.

  "And?"

  "And he is busy," said Lycus. "He can't meet with you tomorrow because he's busy on an inspection."

  "Again?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Lycus.

  "And where is he inspecting this week?"

  "You know I can't tell you that," said Lycus seriously.

  "Well, I think I deserve to know why he can't meet with me today. It's very urgent."

  Lycus shrugged. "I don't even know. He's very secretive this week."

  I nodded. It was all I needed. If Ura was being secretive, it meant he had caught on to Boris' plan. And he would be there to witness the meeting.

  Lycus left and returned. "The peasants are here with their complaints today," he said. "Boris insisted on going first."

  That would never do. If I escaped, my disappearance would be immediately noticeable. It had to be the end of the day.

  "For his insistence, put him last," I said.

  Lycus looked surprised but he complied with my instructions. I could only imagine Boris' reaction.

  Every time Lycus left I resumed gnawing on the cage's hinged door. Rat teeth are amazing things, capable of biting through nearly anything, given enough time. Ura's insistence on a gilded cage was a mistake, because it made the metal softer.

  The peasants streamed in with the usual complaints: crop disputes, livestock disputes, weather disputes. The last one came about from the mistaken perception that I had control over the weather. Which, as far as I knew, I didn't. In fact, even the magic that Ura performed through me was a mystery. I may have been the source, but I didn't control the outcome. It was all very frustrating.

  The last villager before Boris was old Gethru, a half-mad old man who was paranoid about his goats.

  "What is it today Gethru?"

  "Me goats!" shouted Gethru, who looked a bit like a goat himself with white hair spraying from his ears and a tuft hanging from his chin. "Heinrich done cursed 'em!"

  "Cursed them? Do you have proof?"

  "He's put a hex on 'em. Found them mauled."

  "And you saw evidence of this?" I tried not to get my hopes up.

  "Aye! A great big beast with glowin' red eyes. Heinrich summoned it hisself ‘cause he don't like me goats where his cattle grazes." Mauled goats meant the pogeyan had returned.

  "This is something that will require the Margrave' personal attention."

  Gethru's bushy white eyebrows shot up in surprise. "'Tis an honor!"

  "Yes, it is. But you'll need to get the form from Lycus. Please see him on the way out." That would keep Lycus busy.

  Lycus ushered Boris in as Gethru hobbled towards him. The doors closed on the old man's ramblings.

  Boris entered, smiling.

  "It is done then?" I asked.

  "Yes, m'lord. The loyal villagers are assembled." He looked around.

  "Is the Margrave attending?"

  I shook my head. "No, he has asked me to attend on his behalf. But to avoid tipping off the rebels, we must be discreet."

  "Yes, but…" Boris looked uncomfortable. "This seems odd, m'lord, are you sure this is truly necessary?"

  I focused. I had been working on this for a week. "Take the stupid rat, fool, or suffer my wrath!" I bellowed in Boris' mind.

  Boris immediately cowed, looking around him.

  "Hurry," I said, switching to my own voice. "The Margrave doesn't brook laggards."

  Boris darted up to the throne and grabbed the cage. I pushed against the door to the cage and it swung open the wrong way. The hinges were easier to gnaw through than the lock on the door, but Boris was far too distracted to notice.

  "I'm going to hide in your sleeve. Say nothing." I ducked up the man's arm.

  Boris stank. He was, after all, a pig farmer. Worse, my rat senses magnified his stench a hundredfold. I tried to think of pleasant-smelling flowers.

  There was a muffled sound that I recognized as Lycus arguing with Gethru. My plan was working.

  We reached Boris' horse. The pig farmer was doing well for himself thanks to his extra-large pigs, enough that he had bought himself a horse. Which was a good thing, since visiting Ura's castle was a long walk from Boris' village.

  Boris let me out of his sleeve as he mounted the horse. We were in front of the castle. It had been a long time since I'd seen the outside of it. It was decorated with the red banners of Ura's ship-symbol. The ogre had made the place look more militaristic, despite the fact that it had no standing army. He had told me once that the symbol was his name in his native tongue. Not that anyone appreciated or understood it.

  Boris clucked his horse into action and we galloped off. It was a small blessing that the stink streamed off and away from him in the
cool air.

  I clung to the saddle as we rode, enjoying the rush of wind in my whiskers. Although the castle was a nice enough place, now that I was outside the stone walls felt like a prison. There was no going back.

  We rode through a plain that surrounded Ura’s castle that wasn't there when I first entered the place. The trees had been cut down for better defense. We headed on to a copse at the farthest edge. We made our way through of the woods on a well-worn path, a path I suspected Boris had helped create with all his visits. And then the village was in sight.

  The village was much as I had remembered it, but it had expanded thanks in no small part to Boris' pig farm. The giant porkers were everywhere. I smelled them before I saw them, and heard them even before that. They were still huge, as big as a man and several times heavier. I had literally changed Boris' life for the better, although I suppose the same couldn't be said for his pigs.

  As we passed Boris' pigs, they sent up a terrible squealing.

  "They know their master!" he laughed.

  But I knew better. It wasn't Boris they were squealing about. I caught a glimpse of a loping shadow keeping pace with us.

  We made our way to the barn. I crept up the outside of Boris' sleeve as he entered.

  All the villagers were there. It seemed Boris' definition of loyalty was very broad.

  Secretly, I was relieved. If only a handful were there, it would have confirmed Ura's cynical way of thinking.

  Boris made his way to the podium at the center of the barn. It stank of animals, still in their stalls.

  "People! People, let me speak!"

  The crowd settled down. There were a lot of faces...I hoped that my poor brain could handle talking to them with mindspeech all at once.

  I hopped down from Boris’ sleeve, happy to be away from his smell, and centered myself on the podium. I had a huge task ahead of me, and I wasn’t sure I could broadcast to a group again, as I had done with the children when they came out of the portal. I still wasn’t sure how I did it, but I knew I needed to duplicate the experience—fast.

  "People of Carabas!" I blasted to them, perhaps too loudly in my eagerness to be heard.

  They all stopped talking at once, startled by the intrusion of my voice in their minds.