"What trickery is this?" the Bison King muttered, sliding farther forward on his cushion.
"Oh, no trickery, Your Majesty. It's simple mathematics. After all, negative two minus positive one, you will agree," and another apple came up from the plate to be placed next to the others, "must equal a negative three." Fisher looked up at the Bison King. "Mathematics, Your Majesty."
"Mathematics," murmured the Bison King. "Where did those other three apples come from?"
Fisher looked shocked. "Your Majesty, there are only three apples here."
The Bison King's eyes shot over to hers. "What? I count six altogether."
"But Your Majesty must remember the three negative apples on the plate. Six positive apples plus three negative apples equals three apples all told." Fisher passed a paw from the apples to the plate. "There can only be three apples here. That's mathematics, is it not?"
The Bison King looked from the apples to the plate and back again for a while without saying a word.
Fisher cleared her throat softly. "Perhaps if I did it in reverse." She picked up one of the apples from the table and held it out for the king to see. "A negative three plus a positive one," she lowered the apple onto the plate, and when her paw came away, the plate was still empty, "equals negative two, you see? And the five apples left here plus the negative two apples now on the plate still equals three apples."
The Bison King had slid so far forward on his cushion, his nose was practically resting on the tabletop. Fisher picked up another apple from beside her. "And negative two plus positive one," the apple went down onto the plate and promptly vanished, "equals negative one." Fisher tapped the plate again with a claw. "The one negative apple still on the plate plus these four positive apples equals the three apples we had originally. Do you see, Your Majesty?"
Bobcat could barely hear the sniffling breath of the Bison King as he hunched his huge head over the table.
Fisher picked up another apple. "Negative one plus positive one will then bring us back." She set the apple on the plate, and again it disappeared; she smiled up at the Bison King. "Back to zero, Your Majesty."
The Bison King slid back a bit, his eyes wide under his bushy brow. Fisher held up a paw. "But, Your Majesty, just to be complete." She picked up the remaining apples and set them one after the other on the plate. "Zero plus one equals one, one plus one equals two, and two plus one equals three. Three red apples, Your Majesty." She patted them each and looked up with a grin. "Three red apples on a plate."
For a while, no one moved, the Bison King staring at the plate of apples for so long that several of his guards began shuffling their hoofs, fear starting to scent up from them and tickle Bobcat's nose.
But the Bison King raised a hoof, and the shuffling stopped. It was another minute, though, before he spoke, and when he did, his eyes stayed on the apples. "Never before," he rumbled, "have I witnessed such expertise. Truly, good fisher, your knowledge of mathematics leaves mine behind. It shall be some time, I fear, before I have such a mastery."
Fisher bowed. "Your Majesty is too kind."
The Bison King leaped forward then, clearing Fisher and the tabletop by a few feet, and clattered to a landing in the center of the hall. "Let this proclamation go out to all corners of my kingdom and to all who travel through it! I, the Bison King, decree that from this day onward, all fishers shall be exempt from the Rules of the Road, all laws and all regulations therewith set up by this administration! And further, any bobcat or any skink who passes through my kingdom need only present me with one red apple in remembrance of those apples that freed this bobcat and this skink! So it is proclaimed, and so it shall be!"
Every buffalo in the hall, all those surrounding Bobcat and Skink and all those that lined the torchlit walls, gave forth with trumpeting blasts that shook the floor and nearly tipped Bobcat over. And one buffalo at the end of the hall who had been writing furiously in big letters on a huge piece of parchment, rolled the thing up and shouted, "The proclamation goes out!" before barreling through the doors and vanishing from sight.
The buffalo surrounding Skink and Bobcat curled themselves back and out of the way, and Fisher, all smiles, jumped down from the table and motioned to them with a paw. Skink scuttled across the floor to her side, and Bobcat followed more slowly, still not exactly sure what had just happened.
The Bison King turned to face them. "I will understand completely," he said, his voice suddenly very quiet, "if you wish to leave at once. However, I do invite you to stay for breakfast. I seldom have the honor of company at my table."
Bobcat was about to decline the offer in a loud voice, but the growling of his stomach made him stop. Fisher gave a laugh and replied, "I think that's a 'yes, thank you,' Your Majesty."
So the Bison King returned to his throne, clashed his hoofs together, and buffalo appeared all around, balancing tables on their backs and pushing carts along in front of them. Some took panels from the walls, and sunlight streamed in, glowing over the polished wooden floor and setting the king's crown to sparkling. And the food: breads and fruits and cakes and cheeses, mugs of juices, milks and coffees, all there for the taking and more than enough to quiet Bobcat's little doubts about eating breakfast with somebody who had sentenced him to death not ten minutes ago.
They ate in silence for a time; then the Bison King cleared his throat. "I still find myself wondering, though, if they are true, the stories I have heard about fishers, skinks, and bobcats traveling together."
Skink didn't have a mouthful, so he spoke up. "That's difficult to say, Your Majesty. For my part, I have not actually heard any of the stories that are told about us."
"Indeed?" The Bison King wiped at his beard with a green silk cloth. "There are several, none of them very complimentary, I fear. It seems that Death herself travels ahead of you, her claw reaching back along the road you have taken and tearing the land asunder. There are those who say you have entered into a covenant of blood with her, that you travel to Kazirazif to set her plan in motion. Other stories tell of your doomed and hopeless quest to stop this plan of Death's." He shrugged. "I have heard and read many variations."
Fisher nodded. "To tell you the truth, Your Majesty, we're sorta grasping at straws ourselves. I can't find the real story anywhere I've looked, so, I don't know, if you've had any insights, we'd really appreciate the info."
The Bison King drew himself up on his throne. "My conclusions will remain my own. For while I value the insights you have given me, I do not trade information. I gather it, and the fruits of my gathering are for none save myself." His gaze grew softer beneath his shaggy brows. "But this I will tell you." His eyes moved from Fisher to Skink and then settled on Bobcat. "If I had only these stories to judge from, I would have the three of you killed, right here and right now, all rules, laws and regulations be damned. But I do not."
Bobcat blinked back into the Bison King's gaze, and the Bison King rose from his throne. "I must go now and attend to other affairs. You are all three welcome here for as long as you wish." He bowed to them each then and strode from the hall. Most of the buffalo followed, only two remaining at either side of the door.
The sudden silence seemed to snap something inside Bobcat, a cloudy wave rolling back to the stub of his tail, his sides itching, his eyes like cotton balls in his head. The food had settled strangely in his stomach, and all he could think about was lying down someplace for a good long while.
But Fisher was standing up and stretching. "We'd better get ourselves gone. We've wasted enough time around here."
Skink took another mouthful of peach and scuttled over to Fisher's side. "I agree. A place that first threatens death, then offers breakfast is not a place of calm reasoning. There is an air of unreality to this whole affair."
Fisher adjusted her pack and squatted down to let Skink clamber onto her shoulders. "Yeah, but if you'd gotten yourself stomped here, it would've been just as real as anywhere else. The sooner we put Council Bluffs behind us, the better I'
ll feel." She turned to look at Bobcat. "Shall we?"
It took Bobcat a minute before he could reply; the Blood Jaguar's eyes had risen up again, their dark, heatless flames skittering under his fur and licking at his sides. He almost wanted to scratch them, to roll around on the Bison King's inlaid floor, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He made his thoughts turn to Garson, and that brought him enough warmth to stand and even give Fisher a little smile. "Yeah, okay. But only if you'll tell me how you did that."
Fisher cocked her head. "Did what?"
"Oh, c'mon. You know; how'd you make those apples appear from the plate like that?"
Fisher smiled then, turned away with a flick of her tail, and started toward the doors at the end of the hall. "Pure mathematics, my friend. Anyone can do it. You just hafta know where to grab."
Bobcat blinked at her. "What?"
Fisher was laughing now. "Or so the Lord Kit Fox would have me believe. Taught me everything I know about math and science. You coming?"
Bobcat shrugged his pack into place, hurried after her, caught up just as she was giving the buffalo at the door a little bow. Then through the corridors the three went, out into the courtyard, out the main gate, and back onto the road under a bright morning sky.
Chapter Five: Away Over the Prairie
They put as much distance between themselves and Council Bluffs along the Meerkat Road as they could before Bobcat had to stop. It was only about midmorning, but he didn't think he could go another step. "Let's just set up here. I don't know about you, but I didn't get a whole lotta rest last night."
Fisher didn't look like she felt much better, and Skink had already curled up in the fur between her shoulder blades. "Yeah, okay," Fisher breathed out. "We wouldn't've gotten moving till tonight anyway if we'd stuck to our first plan."
So they stumbled off the road and stretched out in the scrub grass. Bobcat could scarcely push his pack off before he was down on the ground and asleep. His dreams when they came were mostly noises: crackling fires, hoofbeats, claws scratching against wood, shouts and purrs and words that he couldn't quite make out. He was able to sleep around them, though, so he didn't really mind them that much.
It was late afternoon when he opened his eyes again. Fisher and Skink were still breathing softly to themselves in the grass next to him, so Bobcat settled back against his pack and watched the patterns of birds flying overhead. He felt odd, tensed up but relaxed at the same time. Escaping from certain death could do that to you, Bobcat knew; he'd made it through some pretty narrow scrapes before. This one, though, this one had been, well, different somehow.
He was just wondering why when Fisher stirred, stretching a yawn from the tip of her nose to the end of her tail. "Ah, nothing like a little excitement to make you sleep. Get the stove out, will you? Might as well stir up some dinner." She gave herself a shake and stretched again.
Bobcat undid his pack and rummaged the various tubes and cans out onto the ground, his mind still brooding. And that was the problem. Like Shemka Harr had always said: "Thinking'll get you answers, Ghareen, but brooding only ties your mind up in knots. You start worrying about 'what ifs' and 'might've beens,' you're not gonna be any good to anyone."
Through all this, he was vaguely aware of Fisher putting the stove together and firing it up, of a sweet, spicy smell rising from the pan, of Skink shaking and blinking and saying with a yawn, "Ah. Lunchtime."
Fisher give a little snort. "Dinnertime."
The lizard stood. "Good heavens. I didn't realize how tired I was."
"Yeah, well, adventure'll do that to you."
Skink blinked a few more times. "Adventure? Why, yes, I suppose this is an adventure, isn't it? It hadn't really occurred to me before; I've never been associated with anything adventuresome, you see."
"You've gotta have the knack for it." Fisher took a sip from her spoon. "Some weeks, I can't turn around without tripping over an adventure; they just seem to creep outta the woodwork." She put a pinch more of something into the pan and stirred it.
Skink nodded and scuttled over. "Yes, I suppose your line of work entails a great deal of adventuring."
Fisher shrugged. "It's a living." She sipped at the stew. "You ready for some of this?"
"Yes, thank you." Skink perched on the lip of a bowl as Fisher ladled a dollop into it. "It smells delicious."
"Thanks. It might be a little hot, though." She poured some into another bowl and pushed it toward Bobcat. "You want some? Hey, Bobcat, you in there?"
Bobcat started back. "What?"
She tapped the bowl with the ladle. "Dinner?"
"Oh. Right. Thanks, Fisher." Bobcat pulled the bowl closer and settled onto the ground.
Fisher was still watching him. "You all right, Bobcat?"
Bobcat felt his ears heat up. "Yeah, I guess. I've just been thinking about some stuff. Sorta useless, I know, but, well, there you go."
"Thinking?" Fisher filled her own bowl. "About anything in particular?"
"Well, that's the problem. I'm not really sure."
Skink looked up from his stew. "Perhaps some of what we discussed the other day has taken root? The various aspects of the Curial powers can take you by surprise that way."
Bobcat quickly raised a paw. "No, no, nothing like that. It's, well..." He turned back to Fisher. "I mean, I used to have adventures all the time, too, back when I was trav'ling. Brains and eggs, I once got chased halfway from Madison to Cayottle in the dead of winter by this wolverine who thought I'd been making eyes at his daughter! And the time I fell in with these squirrel brigands over past Timberline..." Bobcat stopped to get his thoughts together. "I've had scary stuff happen to me before, but this buffalo thing we just went through, it, I don't know, it's hit me all sideways." He looked from one to the other. "Y'know what I mean?"
Fisher licked the back of her spoon. "Maybe. Everybody changes, Bobcat, and you're not as young as you used to be. I mean, when I think back on some of the things I did years ago, I've gotta thank the Lord Kit Fox that I'm even still around." She shrugged. "Everything's always different."
"Most certainly," Skink piped in, "especially after the Curial experiences you have had recently. I believe I can empathize with your feelings in this matter, Bobcat, for in leaving behind my home, my kiva, my family and friends, my entire world, if you will, I have entered into a world that would have been quite beyond my ken but a few days ago. The conceptual level upon which I have operated heretofore has been diametrically opposed to many of the realities I find here in the exterior world.
"In the same way, you have been recently exposed to a world beyond the habitual, to a Curial world not of your former experience. I would hypothesize that this exposure has had the same effect upon your way of viewing what would normally be the day-to-day realities of your life as my exposure to this world of danger and adventure has had upon mine. You have, if you will, been forced back a step to view your former world from another perspective, much as I have had to do."
Fisher gave a little chuckle. "Yeah, well, that prob'ly set him straight."
Skink looked at her, then back at Bobcat. "Oh, dear. Have I become carried away again?"
Bobcat wasn't sure. "Maybe," he said, "but I think you might've answered some of it for me." He ran a claw through his whiskers. "You said you had to leave your home and your friends and all. I haven't had a lotta places in my life that I've thought of as home, but that old tree stump by the River, all the folks back in Ottersgate..." He thought of Garson and had to smile. "This's the first time I've had something to go back to at the end of an adventure, y'know? The first time I could look forward to anything. I guess things do change."
"Yeah," Fisher said, dishing herself the last bit of stew from the pan, "and speaking of change, I've been thinking about the desert coming up. We might wanna start traveling at night even if we're not sneaking around; it'll be a lot cooler when we get farther southwest. Whadda you two think?"
Bobcat nodded. "I was gonna mention that, actuall
y. I got no problem with it."
Skink stuck his head up over the rim of his bowl. "Normally, I would disagree, I being rather dependent upon the sun to keep my temperature up and my mind alert. But as I am not doing my own walking, I needn't be too energetic. The warmth of Fisher's fur is enough to keep me adequately awake, and I can drowse and meditate through the day while you two sleep. I think the situation will prove most satisfactory."
So Bobcat drank his bowl empty and sloshed a little canteen water into it while Fisher started pulling the stove apart. Skink licked his bowl clean and scuttled out; Bobcat washed it for him, stowed the bowls, waited for Fisher to tuck the stove parts away, then shrugged his pack over his shoulders. Fisher pulled on her pack, Skink climbed up into her fur, and they were off down the road and into the evening.
#
On they went, the night coming down around them. After a while, the stars came out, the whole countryside glowing in the gray of their light. Bobcat had gotten used to seeing them through the leaves of the trees at home, but out here there was nothing between them and him but empty air. They formed patterns he remembered from Shemka Harr's descriptions so long ago, the Old Bear of Winter settling at the western horizon and letting the springtime stars have their chance at the sky.
The shapes made Bobcat think of the black and white swirls of Garson's fur, and he felt a strange, warm loneliness settle over him. It had a sweetness to it he could almost taste, a sighing sweetness that rustled through his whiskers and settled somewhere in his chest, his eyes full of stars and the night filled with her remembered scent.
Midnight came and went, the moon sliding up the sky and shining its half-light over the prairie. Bobcat was lost in his own thoughts, but he did notice, whenever he came up for air, that Fisher and Skink were deep in their own conversation up ahead of him on the road. Bobcat didn't mind, though; he had Garson to think about.
The Blood Jaguar Page 9