The Magic Kingdom of Landover , Volume 1

by Terry Brooks

The cat blinked and answered. “I can when it pleases me.”

  Ben fought to regain his composure. “I see. Well, you might at least have the courtesy to announce the fact instead of playing games with people.”

  “Courtesy has nothing to do with the matter, High Lord Ben Holiday. Playing games is a way of life with cats. We tease, we taunt, and we do exactly as we please, not as others would have us do. Playing games is an integral part of our personae. Those who wish to have any sort of relationship with us must expect as much. They must understand that participation in our games is necessary if they wish communication on any level.”

  Ben stared at the cat. “How do you know who I am?” he asked finally.

  “Who else would you be but who you are?” the cat replied.

  Ben had to stop and think that one through a minute. “Well, no one,” he said finally. “But how is it that you can recognize me when no one else can? Don’t I look like someone else to you?”

  The cat lifted one dainty paw and washed it lovingly. “Who you look like counts for little with me,” the cat said. “Appearances are deceiving, and who you look like might not be who you really are. I never rely on appearances. Cats can appear as they choose. Cats are masters of deception and masters of an art cannot be deceived by anyone. I see you for who you really are, not who you appear to be. I have no idea if how you appear just now is how you really are.”

  “Well, it isn’t.”

  “Whatever you say. I do know that however you might appear, you are in any case Ben Holiday, High Lord of Landover.”

  Ben was silent a moment, trying to decide just what it was he was dealing with here, wondering where on earth this creature had come from.

  “So you know who I am in spite of the magic that disguises me?” he concluded. “The magic doesn’t fool you?”

  The cat studied him a moment, then cocked its head, reflecting. “The magic wouldn’t fool you either, if you didn’t let it.”

  Ben frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Much and little. Deception is mostly a game we play with ourselves.”

  The conversation was turning a bit oblique. Ben sat back wearily. “Who are you, Mr. Cat?” he asked.

  The cat stood up and came forward a few feet, then sat back down again, prim and sleek. “I am a great many things, my dear High Lord. I am what you see and what you don’t. I am real and imagined. I am something from the life you have known and something from dreams of life you have not yet enjoyed. I am quite an anomaly, really.”

  “Very insightful,” Ben grunted. “Could you be a bit more precise, perhaps?”

  The cat blinked. “Certainly. Watch this.”

  The cat shimmered suddenly in the dark, glowing as if radioactive, and the sleek body seemed to alter shape. Ben squinted until his eyes closed, then looked again. The cat had grown. It was four times the size it had been, and it was no longer just a cat. It had assumed a slightly human face beneath cat’s ears, whiskers, nose and fur, and its paws had become fingers. It swished its tail expectantly as it stared at him.

  Ben started half-a-dozen questions and gave up. “You must be a fairy creature,” he said finally.

  The cat grinned—an almost-human grin. “Exactly so! Very well reasoned, High Lord!”

  “Thank you so much. Would you mind awfully telling me what sort of fairy creature you are?”

  “What sort? Well, um … hmmmmm. I am a prism cat.”

  “And what is that?”

  The grin disappeared. “Oh, I don’t think I can explain it—not even if I wanted to, which I really don’t. It wouldn’t help you to know anyway, High Lord. You wouldn’t understand, being human. I will tell you this. I am a very old and very rare sort of cat. I am but one of just a few still remaining. We were always a select breed and did not propagate the species in the manner of common animals. It is that way with fairy creatures—you have been told this, haven’t you? No? Well, it is that way. Prism cats are rare. We must spread ourselves quite thin to accomplish our purposes.”

  “And what purpose is it that you are trying to accomplish here?” Ben asked, still trying to make some sense out of all the verbiage.

  The cat flicked its tail idly. “That depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Oh you. On your … intrinsic self-worth.”

  Ben stared at the cat wordlessly. Things were becoming a bit too muddled for him to stay with this conversation. He had been assaulted in his own home and bounced out like a stranger. He had lost his identity. He had lost his friends. He was cold and he was hungry. He felt as if any intrinsic self-worth he might possess rated just about zero.

  The cat stirred slightly. “I am deciding whether or not I shall be your companion for a time,” the creature announced.

  Ben grinned faintly. “My companion?”

  “Yes. You certainly need one. You don’t see yourself to be who you really are. Neither does anyone else, apparently, save for me. This intrigues me. I may decide to stay with you long enough to see how it all turns out for you.”

  Ben was incredulous. “Well, I’ll say one thing for you. You’re a different sort—whether cat, human, fairy, or whatever. But maybe you’d better think twice about sticking with me. You might be letting yourself in for more than you can handle.”

  “Oh, I rather doubt that,” the cat replied. “I seldom encounter anything that difficult these days.”

  “Is that so?” Ben’s patience slipped a notch. This cat was insufferable! He hunched closer to the prim creature. “Well, try this on for size, Mr. Cat. What if I were to tell you that there is a wizard named Meeks who has stolen my identity, my throne, and my life and consigned me to exile in my own land? What if I were to tell you that I intend to get all of that back from him, but that to do so I need to find a sylph who in turn searches for a black unicorn? And what if I were to tell you that there is every chance that I—and anyone brash enough to offer to help me in this endeavor—will be disposed of most unpleasantly if found out?”

  The cat said nothing. It simply sat there as if considering. Ben leaned back, both satisfied and disgusted with himself. Sure, he could congratulate himself for having laid all of his cards on the table and setting the cat straight. But he had also just destroyed the one chance he might have had of finding someone to help him. You can’t have it both ways, he admonished himself.

  But the cat seemed unperturbed. “Cats are not easily discouraged once they have decided on something, you know. Cats are quite independent in their behavioral patterns and cannot be cajoled or frightened. I fail to see why you bother trying such tactics with me, High Lord.”

  Ben sighed. “I apologize. I just thought you ought to know how matters stand.”

  The cat stood up and arched its back. “I know exactly how matters stand. You are the one who is deceived. But deception needs only to be recognized to be banished. You have that in common with the black unicorn, I think.”

  Once more, Ben was surprised. He frowned. “You know of the black unicorn? There really is such a creature?”

  The cat looked disgusted. “You search for it, don’t you?”

  “For the sylph more than the unicorn,” Ben answered hastily. “She had a dream of the creature and of a bridle of spun gold that would hold it; she left to search for both.” He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “The dream of the unicorn was sent by the wizard. He sent other dreams as well—to me and to Questor Thews, another wizard, his half-brother. I think that in some way the dreams are all tied together. I am afraid that Willow—the sylph—is in danger. If I can reach her before the wizard Meeks …”

  “Certainly, certainly,” the cat interrupted rather rudely. There was a bored look on its face. It sat down again. “It appears I had better come with you. Wizards and black unicorns are nothing to be fooling about with.”

  “I agree,” Ben said. “But you don’t appear to be any better equipped than I to do what needs to be done. Besides, this isn’t your problem. It’s mine. I don’t
think I would feel comfortable risking your life as well as my own.”

  The cat sneezed. “Such a noble expression of concern!” Ben could have sworn he caught a hint of sarcasm, but the cat’s face revealed nothing. The cat circled briefly and sat down again. “What cat is not better equipped than any human to do anything that needs to be done? Besides, why do you persist in thinking of me as simply a cat?”

  Ben shrugged. “Are you something more?”

  The cat looked at him for a long time, then began to wash. It licked and worried its fur until it had groomed itself to its satisfaction. All the while, Ben sat watching. When the cat was at last content, it faced him once more. “You are not listening to me, my dear High Lord. It is no wonder that you have lost yourself or that you have become someone other than who you wish to be. It is no wonder that no one but I can recognize you. I begin to question if you are worth my time.”

  Ben’s ears burned at the rebuke, but he said nothing. The cat blinked. “It is cold here in the woods; there is a chill in the air. I prefer the comfort of a hearth and fire. Would you like a fire, High Lord?”

  Ben nodded. “I’d love one—but I don’t have the tools.” The cat stood and stretched. “Exactly. But I do, you see. Watch.” The cat began to glow again, just as it had before, and its shape within the glow grew indistinct. Then suddenly there was a crystalline glimmer, and the flesh and blood creature of a moment earlier disappeared completely and was replaced by something that looked as if it were a large glass figurine. The figurine still retained the appearance of a cat with human features, but it moved as if liquid. Emerald eyes blazed out of a clear body in which moonlight reflected and refracted off mirrored surfaces that shifted like tiny plates of glass. Then the light seemed to coalesce in the emerald eyes and thrust outward like a laser. It struck a gathering of deadwood a dozen feet away and ignited it instantly into a blazing fire.

  Ben shielded his eyes, then watched as the fire diminished until it was manageable—the size of a campfire. The emerald eyes dimmed. The cat shimmered and returned to its former shape. It sat back slowly on its haunches and regarded Ben solemnly. “You will recall now, perhaps, what I told you I was?” it said.

  “A prism cat,” Ben responded at once, remembering.

  “Quite right. I can capture light from any source—even so distant a source as the land’s eight moons. I can then transform such light into energy. Basic physics, actually. At any rate, I have abilities somewhat more advanced than your own. You have seen but a small demonstration of those abilities.”

  Ben nodded slowly, feeling a bit uneasy now. “I’ll take your word for it.” The cat moved a bit closer to the fire and sat down again. The night sounds had died into stillness. There was a sudden tension in the air. “I have been places others only dream about and I have seen the things that are hidden there. I know many secrets.” The cat’s voice became a whisper. “Come closer to the fire, High Lord Ben Holiday. Feel the warmth.” Ben did as he was told, the cat watching. The emerald eyes seemed to flare anew. “I know of wizards and missing books of magic. I know of black unicorns and white, some lost, some found. I even know something of the deceptions that make some beings seem other than what they are.” Ben started to interrupt, but the cat hissed in warning. “No, High Lord—just listen! I am not disposed to converse so freely on most occasions, so it would behoove you to let me finish! Cats seldom have anything to say, but we always know much! So it is in this instance. I know much that is hidden from you. Some of what I know might be useful, some not. It is all a matter of sorting out. But sorting out takes time, and time requires commitment. I give commitment to things but rarely. You, however, as I said, intrigue me. I am thinking about making an exception. What do you think?”

  Ben wasn’t sure what he thought. How could this cat know about black unicorns and white? How could he know about missing books of magic? How much of this was just talk in general and how much specific to him? He wanted to ask, but he knew as surely as it was night that the cat was not about to answer him. He felt his questions all jumble together in his throat.

  “Will you come with me, then?” he asked finally.

  The cat blinked. “I am thinking about it.”

  Ben nodded slowly. “Do you have a name?”

  The cat blinked once more. “I have many names, just as I am many things. The name I favor just now is Edgewood Dirk. But you may call me Dirk.”

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Dirk,” Ben said.

  “We shall see,” Edgewood Dirk answered vaguely. He turned and moved a step or two closer to the fire. “The night wearies me; I prefer the day. I think I shall sleep now.” He circled a patch of grass several times and then settled down, curling up into a ball of fur. The glow enveloped him momentarily, and he was fully cat once more. “Good night, High Lord.”

  “Good night,” Ben replied mechanically. He was still taut with the emotions that Dirk had aroused in him. He mulled over what the cat had said, trying to decide how much the creature really knew and how much he was generalizing. The fire crackled and snapped against the darkness, and he moved closer to it for warmth. Whatever the case, Edgewood Dirk might have his uses, he reasoned and stretched his hands toward the flames. If only this strange creature were not so mercurial …

  And suddenly an unexpected possibility occurred to him.

  “Dirk, did you come looking for me?” he asked.

  “Ah!” the cat replied softly.

  “Did you? Did you deliberately seek me out?”

  He waited, but Edgewood Dirk said nothing more. The stillness of a few moments earlier began to fill again with night sounds. The tension within him dissipated. Flames licked against the deadwood and chased the forest shadows. Ben stared over at the sleeping cat and experienced an odd sense of serenity. He no longer felt quite so alone.

  He breathed deeply the night air and sighed. No longer alone? Who did he think he was kidding?

  He was still trying to decide when he finally fell asleep.

  HEALER SPRITE

  Ben Holiday awoke at dawn and could not figure out where he was. His disorientation was so complete that for several moments he could remember nothing of the events of the past thirty-six hours. He lay on grasses damp with morning dew in a clearing in a forest and wondered why he wasn’t in his own bed at Sterling Silver. He glanced down his body and wondered why he was wearing such shabby clothing. He stared off into the misted trees and wondered what in the hell was going on.

  Then he caught sight of Edgewood Dirk perched on a fallen log, sassy and sleek, preening with studied care as he licked himself, all the while studiously ignoring his human company. Ben’s situation came back to him then in a rush of unpleasant memories, and he found himself wishing rather ruefully that he had remained ignorant.

  He rose, brushed himself off, drank a bit of spring water, and ate a stalk from the Bonnie Blues. The fruit taste was sweet and welcome, but his hunger for more substantial fare was to go unassuaged for yet another meal. He glanced once or twice in Dirk’s direction, but the cat went on about the business of washing himself without noticing. Some things obviously took precedence over others.

  When Dirk was finally finished, he rose from his sitting position, stretched, and said, “I have decided to come with you.”

  Ben refrained from saying what he was tempted to say and simply nodded.

  “For a while, at least,” Dirk added pointedly.

  Ben nodded a second time. “Do you know where it is that I intend to go?” he asked.

  Dirk gave him one of those patented “must you be such an idiot?” looks and replied, “Why? Don’t you?”

  They departed the campsite and walked in silence through the early morning hours. The skies were gray and oppressive. A heavily clouded sun lifted sluggishly from out of the tree line, its mist-diffused light sufficiently bright to permit small patches of dull silver to chase the shadows and dot the pathway ahead like stepping stones across a pond. Ben led, Dirk picking hi
s way carefully a yard or two behind. There were no forest sounds to keep them company; the woods seemed empty of life.

  They reached the Irrylyn at midmorning and followed its shoreline south along a narrow footpath that wound through forest trees and deadwood. Like the woods surrounding, the lake seemed lifeless. Clouds hung low across its waters, and there was no wind. Ben’s thoughts drifted. He found himself reliving his first meeting with Willow. He had come to the lake country seeking the support of the River Master in his effort to claim Landover’s throne. Willow and Ben had chanced upon each other bathing naked at night in the warm, spring-fed waters of this lake. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as the sylph. She had given back to him feelings he had thought dead and gone.

  He shook his head. The memory left him oddly sad, as if it were an unpleasant reminder of something forever lost. He stared out across the gray, flat surface of the Irrylyn and tried to recapture the moment. But all he found were ghosts at play in the mists.

  They broke away from the lake at its southern end and moved back into the forest. It was beginning to spit rain. The small patches of gray sunlight disappeared and shadows closed about. The character of the woods underwent a sudden and distinct change. The trees turned gnarled and damp, monstrous sentinels for a surreal world of imaginary wraiths that slipped like smoke through a mist that shrouded everything. Sounds returned, but they were more haunting than comforting, bits and pieces of life that sprinkled the gloom with hints of what lay hidden. Ben slowed, blinking his eyes, wiping the water from his face. He had made the trip down into the lake country on several occasions since that first meeting with Willow, but each time it had been in the company of the sylph or Questor Thews, and one of the fairy people had always met them. He could find his way as far as the Irrylyn by himself, but he could not find his way much farther than that. If he expected to find the River Master and his people, he was going to have to have some help—and he might not get it. The lake country people lived in Elderew, their home city, hidden somewhere in these forests. No one could find Elderew without help. The River Master could either bring you in or he could leave you out—the choice was his.