The gravin exchanged a look with his cat. In unison, they turned to stare at Toby. The young tom felt like he must have sprouted fairy wings the way the duo looked at him. The uneasy silence seemed to stretch forever, making Toby want to fidget. He managed to keep all but his tail tip still. He jumped when Gravin Arturo cleared his throat to speak.
“I’m afraid it is we who should apologize, young Toby,” the gravin said. “You see, I suffer from a stomach ailment and the remedy requires certain … potent … ingredients such as a large amount of marigold flowers and a thimble of copper. I would imagine the reason the smell was so strong to you is because I prepare the remedy myself with Chivato’s aid.”
“In other words, little cat,” Chivato said, “You just received a double dose of a particularly strong scent.”
Something in the way the gravin had said the word potent made Toby want to let the subject drop. He had been around Master O’dorn and his mother while they were working often enough to know even the strongest of medicinal magic left little, if any, residual smell on the person preparing it. However, he didn’t know if that were true for a person who prepares and takes his own remedy. Either way there had been something about that smell that made the orange tom decide against asking any questions.
“Ah, yes. I’m sure that explains it,” Toby replied.
He glanced out the window, hoping to discern how much further it was to the academy. Unfortunately, the only thing he could see was blue sky and the top of an occasional maple tree. He thought longingly of the windows over-looking Master O’dorn’s garden, almost wishing he had stayed home instead of chasing a dream that may or may not see fruition. He sighed as he looked back down at his paws.
“There are steps hidden in the wall,” said Chivato.
“Pardon?”
“If you wish to see out the window,” the gray cat explained, as if speaking to someone of little intelligence, “there are steps hidden in the coach’s wall for those lacking height.”
Toby stared blankly at the wall under the window. As far as he could tell it looked like any ordinary wall. The gray tom snorted, uncurling himself with liquid grace and flowing onto the floor. Chivato paced to the wall beneath the window.
“Rev EALTH est EPS,” murmured the gray cat, touching a delicate paw to a knot in one of the boards making up the coach’s wall. With a gentle hiss the board slid downward, revealing a hidden compartment. Chivato took two steps back and sat on his haunches, curling his fluffy gray tail around his paws. Entranced, Toby watched intently as thin wooden steps levered themselves out from the wall and into the shape of a miniature stairway. The steps seemed suspended in air, but Toby was quite sure, if he knew the correct spell, he could make the magic cords binding the stairs together appear.
“May I?”
“Certainly,” replied the gray tom.
Although he wanted to dash up the stairway in his excitement, he managed to climb it at what he hoped would be considered a sedate pace. At the top step he stretched to try to see out the window, but the best he could see was a lot of windowsill and a little beyond. At first he was disappointed. The knot to access the stairway had been just at the edge of a cat’s reach, so whoever had put them there had considered the need of felines to see outside and yet the stairway itself was just short of the height a cat would need. He was about to ask about the difference when it dawned on him that there was likely a way to make the stairway taller.
“May I increase the height a bit?” Toby asked, hoping the other cat’s opinion of him would raise a bit.
“Of course,” the tom. “They would be useless if one couldn’t choose how tall they needed to be.”
“Leng THENTH eSTAIRS,” the orange tom commanded before Chivato could offer the correct incantation.
The step he was sitting on gave a little shudder, then began to rise slowly and smoothly upward. Toby waited patiently as more of the passing scenery came into view. They were traveling through a wooded area, the trees huddling together along the roadway like close friends engaged in one enormous group hug. Sunlight filtered down through the colored leaves, lighting patches of the dry grass in hues of gold and casting other areas into shadow. The cool fall breeze sliding past the moving coach caressed Toby’s sensitive nose and tugged gently at his whiskers. The smell of drying leaves and moist earth tickled his senses.
The young tom closed his eyes to better enjoy the scent of fall. Somewhere nearby a crop of corn was ready to be harvested. He could almost see the dry leaves, torn away by a previous wind, being tossed about above the cornstalks like some fine lady’s scarf set loose upon the breeze. Somewhere else was a small orchard. The scent of ripening apples drifted past, filling him with memories of the cook’s delicious apple tarts. Under it all was a hint of manure, signaling to Toby that far ahead was a stable offering sanctuary to a large number of horses. I wonder if that’s the academy’s stable. I think I remember Master O’dorn mentioning having to borrow one of their horses once.
Something touched the tip of Toby’s ear. Assuming it was a fly, he flicked his ear. The annoying thing became more insistent, pressing down on his ear. The orange tom was about to murmur a spell to repel the irritating insect when he heard a soft clearing of a feline throat behind him. Suddenly it dawned on him that he had forgotten to say the incantation to stop the stairs.
“ENdl ENGthen,” murmured Toby, his skin feeling hot and prickly.
“I think I can smell the academy’s stable from here,” Toby reported, trying to hide his faux pas. “I suppose we’ll be arriving there shortly?”
“That would be a good assessment,” answered Chivato. “If you perform magic as well as you detect smell, you should find yourself at the top of your class... if you’re chosen to be apprenticed, that is. You do understand that there is a very good chance you may not be chosen?”
Toby turned to descend the stairs, carefully jumping from step to step, careful not to trip and fall on his nose. He could feel both the gravin’s and his companion’s eyes on his fur, waiting for him to respond. He quietly paced to the knot in the wall, said the incantation to shorten and replace the stairs, then pressed the knot with his paw. As the cover clicked into place, he made his decision.
“Yes, sir,” the orange tom answered, turning to face the large gray cat. “My mother made me well aware of the difference in number between the many cat hopefuls and much fewer human initiates. All I can do is my best and leave the rest to the wisdom of the head master mage and head master cat.”
“A good answer,” replied Gravin Arturo, nodding sagely. “I believe Master Chivato is correct. You will most certainly be top among your peers, should you be chosen.”
Toby nodded politely to the gravin in thanks, then silently walked to the seat he had previously occupied and jumped. Chivato resumed his seat as well, though he did not return to his nap. The travelers spent the rest of the ride to the academy talking of mundane things, much to Toby’s relief. The scent of manure continued to grow stronger as time passed, slowly being enhanced by various other smells Toby had never encountered, smells he decided must be attached to the academy.
“Ah, it seems our young friend has indeed a very good sense of smell,” the gravin exclaimed, leaning just a bit for a better view outside the coach. “I can just see the academy tower over the trees. We should be arriving in just a few moments.”
The coach gently shifted as it turned a corner. Maples and oaks gave way to a continuous line of weeping willows. At least, that’s what Toby thought they were. The elongated leaves on the wispy, draping branches looked similar to the willow tree near Master O’dorn’s gazing pond in the herb garden, but the color was wrong. The leaves on the willow at the gazing pond always turned a brilliant yellow during fall. These trees had bright blue leaves. As the breeze stirred the willow branches, Toby could see the underside of the leaves were a paler
shade of blue.
“What unusual trees,” Toby murmured.
“A rare species of willow,” Gravin Arturo said. “They were a gift to the school from my predecessor. Dragon Willows grow thick in our county and are rarely seen anywhere else in the world.”
“I’m familiar with the properties of the common varieties of willow tree. May I ask what differences there are in such a rare tree?”
“Generally speaking, there are very few. Aside from the color of its leaves in fall, the only real difference is in the potency of its various parts used in spelling. An immature tree is three times more potent than the common variety.”
“How interesting,” said Toby. “Your trees must be in high demand, then.”
“Indeed they are. Dragon Willow trees are rarely ever sold; however, we do make a tidy sum on the exporting of their leaves and bark. Of course, import and export taxation does cut into our profits.”
“Unless one skirts the laws and bends a few rules, that is,” added Chivato.
“One could do that, yes,” replied the gravin, scowling at his companion, “but as gravin to Hielberg I will not, under any circumstances, bend the rules and be accused of aiding the practicing of the shadow arts.”
“I never said you should.” The gray tom yawned. “I was merely stating the fact that some might consider doing so.”
“Why would circumventing paying import and export taxes get you accused of aiding a shadow arts practitioner?”
“Besides the obvious illegality of not paying one’s taxes,” answered Gravin Arturo, “Dragon Willow parts are in highest demand among those who practice the shadow arts, due to its potency.”
“Really? I didn’t think willows would be a component of any shadow spell.”
“You will find, young Toby, that there are those among us who can twist the most benign spell into the most vicious curse. All it takes is a little learning and the will to create an outcome which serves only one’s own desires.”
“Sir, may I ask how you learned about the shadow arts?”
“Why might you want to know that?” The gravin’s scowl darkened as he leaned forward and looked at Toby. The orange tom shrunk in on himself. Toby’s mind whirled with explanations for his question, explanations that became more ludicrous with each new one.
“Faust’s bargain, Arturo. Must you see inquisitors at every turn?” growled Chivato. “Young Toby is just another curious hopeful wanting to get a head start.” The big gray tom looked at Toby, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Y-yes,” Toby stuttered. “M-master O’dorn said my curiosity equaled my ability to do magic, that it was a good thing. I apologize if I offended you in some way.”
The man eased back against the wall. The silence pressed down on Toby. For once Toby was grateful for his mother’s explosive temper. At least it had prepared him remaining still and enduring uncomfortable situations like this. The gravin nodded as if he’d made a decision.
“Once again I’m afraid I am the one who should apologize,” he said, placing both hands over the dragon’s head cane. “I find I must be vigilant in what information I give out because of the precarious situation in the council and my county’s highly visible trade in Dragon Willow. As Chivato rightly accused, I have begun to ‘see inquisitors at every turn.’”
“That’s understandable, sir,” replied Toby. He hesitantly sat up straighter, deciding not to ask any more questions. He could hardly wait for the coach to stop at the administration building to let him out.
“It may be understandable, but it is inexcusable. To answer your question, I learned about the shadow arts in school. I’ve learned much more since becoming gravin, mostly to stay ahead of the shadow marketers who buy magical items in bulk at a discounted rate legally, then sell to shadow art practitioners at an inflated price. Every bit of information I’ve gained has been used to stop the marketers from profiting with my county’s goods.”
“Unfortunately,” continued the gray tom, “there are those in the council that believe any knowledge of the shadow arts is dangerous and have begun, if you’ll excuse the phrase, a ‘mage hunt.’”
Toby mulled over what the duo had said. It seemed strange that the council would be trying to eliminate anyone who knew anything about the shadow arts if that knowledge was the only thing keeping the marketers in check. But why would the gravin and his companion lie? He didn’t want to ask any more questions, but curiosity was burning in his mind.
“May I ask a question?”
The gravin gestured that Toby could ask away. The young tom collected his thoughts and tried to choose his words with care.
“Does the academy teach the shadow arts or did you learn about it on your own there?”
“I took an elective course on the history of magic that speculated on how the shadow arts have affected our knowledge and use of magic today. Now, while I detest repeating myself, I find myself compelled to ask you again, why do you want to know that?”
“Well, sir, I was just wondering how the council could be “hunting mages,” as you say, when the academy openly teaches about the shadow arts.”
“That is very astute thinking, my young friend. In fact, that is partly why I am here. Apparently some of the council members are attempting to pressure the head master mage into discontinuing the courses teaching anything about the shadow arts. I–.”
Chivato cleared his throat.
“We, that is,” continued Gravin Arturo, glaring at his companion, “are on our way to the Academic Council to lobby in favor of keeping the courses open.”
The coach slowed to a stop in front of a large red brick building. Toby could see the twin towers rising toward the bright blue sky, their white crowns like grasping claws trying to snatch the occasional puffy cloud. He assumed it was the administration building and breathed a silent sigh of relief when the coach door slid open.
“I see we’ve reached your destination, young Toby. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, too, sir,” replied Toby. “I hope your meeting ends well.”
The orange tom flicked his tail in farewell and lightly jumped to the floor. As his paws hit the cobbles, he took a deep breath. A multitude of new smells danced around his nose. In the distance he could detect several animated conversations taking place. The cobblestone path he stood on led to the double-wide heavy wooden doors of the administration building, its twin towers now clearly evident as mere decoration. Toby flicked his ears back as he heard the coach door sliding shut.
“A very clever cat,” said Gravin Arturo, his voice muffled by the thin door.
“Yes, very clever. We must keep an eye on him.”
The creak of the coach’s wheels as it was pulled away to its next destination startled Toby. He wasn’t sure why, but the conversation he’d overheard didn’t comfort him at all.
The sun had just begun to creep across Toby’s flank when he was jarred awake by the ringing of a hand bell. It sounded as if it had been crafted from second-rate metal and then been beaten about by an exuberant toddler.
“Rise and shine, you vermin,” bellowed someone in the doorway. Toby blinked the dark figure into focus. The owner of the voice was an adolescent tuxedo tom only a few years older than Toby. The tom strode into the room, chin high, tail straight.
“M’festus,” admonished a petite white she-cat, stepping around the tuxedo tom with dainty paws, “just because we are second years it does not give us the right to oppress those who are seeking to be apprenticed.”
“Whatever,” growled the tom, flicking his tail.
The she-cat paid no attention. She sat slightly in front of and to the left of the tom, making it obvious to Toby that she was in charge. The orange tom glanced around at his fellow hopefuls to see if any of them noticed. If they did, not one of the
m gave it away. With the exception of a couple, each cat sat perfectly still, as if they had trained to pose for a master artist rather than to become apprentice cats. Toby tried not to show the worry that began to settle into his fur. His mother had warned him that most of the hopefuls would have had the best tutors money could buy. It looked as if she were right. Shoving the fear aside, Toby concentrated on what the she-cat was saying.
“Good morning, hopefuls. My name is Lilith and this is M’festus. We will be your counselors while you are here. I’m sure you’re all anxious to begin your orientation immediately, but I’m also sure most of you ate very little last evening and will be suffering stomach rumbles before long.”
As if to illustrate her point, someone’s stomach growled. Lilith’s whiskers splayed in amusement. M’festus scowled at the gathered cats. He seemed ready to swat the hopeful whose stomach had growled, but was unable to locate the offender.
“It seems I was right. Well then, let me briefly explain what will be happening from now until your first orientation session. You’ll begin orientation today just after breakfast, which you’ll take each morning in the dining room on the main floor of this building. The stairs at either end of the this hall will take you to the main entryway. The door to the dining room is between these stairs.”
“The other door is obviously the exit and if you go through it you’ll find yourself outside instead of getting in line for food,” M’festus added snidely. The she-cat gave him a look Toby’s mother would have been proud of. Unfortunately the tom was either too dense or too cocky to notice.
Apprentice Cat: Toby's Tale Book 1 (Master Cat Series) Page 3