No stars tonight--Bobcat peered up into the empty darkness. The road from Fekadh had taken them back out of the foothills and was now skirting the first mounds of rock that eventually became the Dyhari, the mountains that had cuddled the sun to sleep.
Bobcat remembered Shemka Harr telling him six or seven different stories from around the continent about what happens to the Lord Lion after a long day of letting his mane shine down over the earth, but the one that had stuck in his mind was the Fekadh version: the Lord Lion's various attendants receiving him in a valley atop the Dyhari, fanning him with palm fronds, bathing him in fragrant waters till he was cool enough to rest, and the whole part where the Lady Dolphin carried him fast asleep through streams hidden beneath the earth to the eastern edge of the world so he could rise again, brilliant and fiery, in the morning.
Of course, Shemka Harr had also told Bobcat that the sun was actually a ball of fire many times larger than anything he would ever see on the ground, had given him another explanation of how everything followed natural laws, that the Curials were just characters in a bunch of old stories. "There's nothing wrong with stories," she would say, "but counting on the Curials is a sure way to end up dead, Ghareen."
Bobcat had no reason to think Shemka Harr had lied to him, but how would she have explained that kit fox who warned them what was ahead, then burst into flame and flew away? Or that weird reptilian whatever it was that Bobcat had seen humming its way out of the air twice already? Or that monstrous, fiery jaguar thing?...
The night went on and on, questions turning over in Bobcat's head. He wanted to ask Fisher or Skink about it all but couldn't quite bring himself to break the silence of the night; it lay so deep and thick around him that it clogged his throat whenever he thought about saying anything. Even the two on the road ahead were quiet, their usual conversation never quite starting up. All Bobcat heard was an occasional creak from Fisher's backpack, a lighter shadow jostling along through the darkness in front of him.
It was the longest night yet, the longest and the darkest and the least interesting to be out in. Bobcat's paws ached; his sides throbbed, the straps of his backpack chafing with each step. He was sure it wasn't even midnight, and he was ready to stop and make camp, his fur all frazzled and itchy and on edge, as if waiting for a thunderstorm to break.
More than that, though--and what was even weirder, what kept Bobcat alert and walking that whole long night--was the way another feeling kept pulling at him, a feeling he'd had before, usually after an especially hairy run with the catnip, right about this same time of night, too, when everybody else had gone to bed and left him alone, too wired to sleep. Like a rotted branch in the forest it would slam into him, bash him upside the head, leave him suddenly, terribly sober, the night snapping from warm, sweet and fuzzy to cold, sharp and clear.
And there it would be, this feeling, like thousands of faces turned toward him, faces he couldn't see, faces from every direction under the sun, faces with wide eyes, breath caught in their throats, their paws drawn up beneath their chins and balled into fists. And they were all waiting, waiting in hope or fear or kindness or hatred, waiting for something somewhere to happen.
But what that something was, he just could never figure out. He would lie awake all night, long after the feeling had faded away, his pillow clutched between his paws, the blankets kicked to the floor, and just stare at the wall. It was something important, what all these folks were waiting for, but he had never had a clue; all he could do was lie there and stare till dawn started seeping up over the sky.
Bobcat shivered. Well, at least this time he was pretty sure he knew what everyone was waiting for.
On and on the night went, dark and cold and miserable. Bobcat thought he could smell rain somewhere in the distance. On and on they walked, and after more hours than Bobcat had thought a night could have, a glimmer appeared ahead, a shadowy, guttering flame that had to be torchlight.
"Milestone," he said aloud, not really meaning to.
"Yeah," came Fisher's voice. Then the quiet folded back down, and they walked on some more, the flame growing slowly till they came up beside it, a large chunk of granite with an oily torch crackling in a holder on one side. Words were carved in the rock, words in several different languages. Bobcat recognized the blocky letters of Manx, the ottery rodent dialect that was spoken up and down roads and rivers all over the continent, and the shorter curls Shemka Harr had written her Savannah language in. And the words said: "This stone sitting one mile from the city marks the lands beholden to the caliph of Kazirazif."
Fisher gave a yawn. "Right. We'll leave the road here."
Bobcat nodded, but Skink stirred at Fisher's shoulder. "Leave the road? Would that be wise?"
"Very," Fisher said.
Skink blinked for a moment. "I fail to understand."
"I can live with that." Fisher headed left over the sand, the torchlight casting her shadow up into the dunes.
Bobcat followed. "It's just that the Meerkat Road leads straight up to the Shasir gate, and we were pretty much told to avoid that one. The Basharah gate's got less traffic 'cause the Coati Road just leads south into the desert down to the Savannah, and not a lot of trade goes that way. Anyway, we've gotta do a little off-roading to get there."
"I see," came Skink's voice after a moment. "But we will arrive before dawn?"
"We should." Bobcat looked around. "Kinda hard to say what time it is with this cloud cover."
Silence fell back over them then. The sand was cold under Bobcat's paws, crunched softly between his toes, made him think of a desert far north of here and a time long past and best forgotten. He shook his head and peered through the darkness; if they were on course, there should be another milestone poking its torch into the night somewhere ahead and to his right.
Around the dunes they wound, and Bobcat began to notice a slight gray sheen in the clouds above. "Maybe we oughtta pick up the pace?" he called to the dark figure in front of him.
"Nah," he heard Fisher say. "There's the stone."
Bobcat saw it now, a pinprick of orange against the slowly graying black. They padded along the sand till they reached it: a stone much smaller than the other but with the same inscriptions carved over its sides and the same oily sort of torch sticking from it. A road much rougher than the Meerkat Road ran into the darkness to the left and right. Bobcat blew out a breath. "I could really use a nap when we get wherever we're going."
"Whatever," Fisher said, scratching an ear. "Just, when we come to the gate, let me do the talking."
"No problem." Bobcat yawned. "I just hope there's a hotel open."
Fisher gave a snort and started down the road toward the black mass of the mountains ahead. Bobcat followed, and it wasn't long before he could make out more orange sparks of torchlight strung along the base of the Dyhari's jagged silhouette. The silhouette grew larger and larger, the washed-out light soaking into the clouds, and Bobcat began to make out the walls of Kazirazif, stretches of stone and spindly towers squatted against the dark of the mountains.
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The walls got taller and taller, the flickering spots separating till only two remained directly ahead, mounted on either side of one of the towers. Soon Bobcat could make out the ridges on the tower, the arch of the gate through it, the smoke stains of the torches. Several thin figures were moving across the road before the gate--meerkats, Bobcat could tell, by their upright posture; four of them, it looked like. He couldn't tell if the meerkats had noticed them approaching yet, but when one of them gave a short yip and pointed its spear, he knew they'd been spotted.
Fisher just kept right on walking, so Bobcat followed her into the range of the torchlight, the wall now high enough to block out all but the peaks of the mountains. The meerkats had formed into a line, three with spears and wide eyes, the fourth in front of them, a cloak of rank around her shoulders.
Bobcat heard Fisher clear her throat. "Good morning!" she called. "Would any of you be the Raj Tevirye?"
"We would not." The one in the cloak stepped forward. "Who are you who asks to know?"
"Travelers," Fisher said, settling onto her haunches. "We've come quite a ways and were told to ask for the Raj Tevirye when we arrived."
"Were you?" The meerkat looked from Fisher to Bobcat and back again. "Well, I am the Raj's lieutenant. You will tell me what you want of her, and I will decide whether to bother the Raj with it."
"Parkash, no!" one of the meerkats squeaked behind her. "You mustn't! Do you not know these three? The Pads of Doom! They must be destroyed at once! At once!"
"Silence in ranks!" The lieutenant whirled. "I'll have none of that superstitious nonsense here!"
The meerkat who had spoken flinched, his claws gripping his spear, but he held his place. The lieutenant glared at the other two, then turned back, her eyes narrow. "Stay where you are," she said after a moment, then, over her shoulder, "Mekjir, fetch the Raj."
One of the meerkats gave a squeak, spun around, and scurried through the gate. The lieutenant remained in place, her arms crossed, but a steadily growing whimper from the two behind her finally made her turn with a growl. The whimpering stopped.
Bobcat settled down to wait, and after a few moments, another meerkat came through the gate, a darker cloak at her shoulders, a sword at her belt. She missed a step, Bobcat saw, her eyes falling on him and Fisher, and he tensed, ready to run in case anyone started throwing spears.
But the meerkat only hesitated for a heartbeat before continuing forward to where the lieutenant stood. "Parkash," she said, her voice quiet. "Some trouble?"
The lieutenant tapped a paw against her chest. "Three storybook characters here to see you, ma'am."
The whimpering started again, but another glance from the lieutenant stifled it. "So it would seem," the other meerkat said. Her eyes on Bobcat, she bowed. "I am the Raj Tevirye. I feel obliged to warn you that four archers stand stationed on the wall behind me, and they have been given their orders." She rubbed her whiskers. "It is odd, though: the story I heard as a kit always had you arriving at the Shasir gate." She gestured to the graying horizon. "That is at the east of the city."
Bobcat shrugged, and he heard Fisher chuckle. "Well, we hate being predictable," she said. "But we were hoping you might be able to take us to the Ramon Sooli."
Again, the two started whimpering, and it took a shout from the lieutenant to quiet them this time. Bobcat thought he could hear a quaver in her voice, though, and she was looking a little pale around the eyes.
"The Ramon." The Raj blinked a few times. "And why should I wish to do that?"
Bobcat swallowed, got himself ready to run again, but Fisher spread her paws. "For all our sakes. We were directed to you by name, Raj Tevirye, as the best way to stop several misfortunes from occurring. We all know the story; all know what our coming to this city means. But we're convinced we can change the ending of that story this time around if we can consult with the Ramon as quickly as possible." Fisher took a breath. "It's in your paws, Raj, all of it."
The Raj continued to stroke her stubby whiskers, and Bobcat couldn't even begin to guess what she might be thinking. When she turned to her lieutenant, fear clutched his gut, but all she said was, "Parkash, I commission you: when the Raj Eshtarif arrives with his squad at dawn, give him my regards and issue him a complete report." Her eyes fluttered back to Bobcat. "Use your discretion concerning our, uhh, visitors here; his ears only, I'd say. He will recognize the need to keep this situation quiet and under control."
The lieutenant tapped her chest again. The Raj laid a paw on her shoulder, then looked over at Bobcat. "If you'll follow me, sirs and madam."
Bobcat heard Fisher blow out a breath. He gestured for her to go ahead and fell in behind, padding past the two whimpering meerkats, then under the arch and into the city. "We will avoid the market squares," the Raj was saying, "and travel to the palace by side streets. The fewer who see you, the better for us all."
The city looked much as Bobcat remembered it, buildings of baked clay, two and three stories tall, their red tile roofs leaning over the narrow streets, shadows deep in the alleyways, the click of their claws on the cobblestones the only sound in the predawn stillness. He'd spent a lot of time stumbling through neighborhoods like this, wandering till the streets opened into a market square, hiring on at whatever odd jobs he could find to raise catnip money...but Bobcat forced that thought away, his stomach growling, his neck tightening, and his knees shaking.
As Tevirye had said, they didn't cross any squares. Very few meerkats were even out on the streets they passed over--vendors loading their pushcarts, mostly--and only a few of them squealed and rushed back into their houses after setting eyes on the little parade. They wound through alleys and foul-smelling walkways till Bobcat's bearings slipped away completely. The palace was on the west side of the city, he knew, but whether they were headed that way or not, he had no idea.
The sky had been growing lighter and lighter, and an overcast dawn was in full swing when Bobcat followed Fisher around one more corner and found himself staring across the Great Square at the caliph's palace. It looked bigger than he remembered it, all gleaming marble and spiral towers glimpsed through a lush garden and a spiked iron fence, guards stationed at the gate. Tevirye had her paw up, Fisher staying behind her, and was craning her neck forward, her head moving to take in the whole square. Finally she beckoned, and Bobcat hurried after Fisher across the paving stones to the gatehouse before the palace.
Tevirye was flashing a badge at the meerkats standing guard. "Important visitors to see the Ramon," she said.
The guards stared from her to Fisher, to Bobcat, then back again several times before one asked, "Raj, have you lost your mind? You must know who these three are!"
"This is madness," the other guard muttered, his eyes wide. "Utter madness. The Pads of Doom. Here. On my shift. I knew I should've called in sick. My grandmother, she had a dream about--"
"Yes, I know." Tevirye spread her paws. "I've heard all the stories myself, Raj. But if you can think of a better place to bring them than to the Ramon, I would appreciate greatly your sharing it with me."
The first guard glanced at the second, and Bobcat blew out a breath. This could take a while. He turned to look over the square and blinked into the eyes of meerkats looking back, several groups of six or seven gathered murmuring around their pushcarts, more meerkats joining them with each passing second. "Uhh," he said, "excuse me, but we seem to be attracting some attention."
"Oh, my eyes," the second guard groaned. "Jarin?"
"So it seems," the first guard said. "Yes, then, take them to the Ramon. I'd rather have them inside with him than out here causing a riot. The Ramon will know what to do."
Tevirye nodded. "Exactly my thoughts." She gave a worried glance at the growing crowds. "Good luck with them."
The first guard nodded, taking keys from his belt to unlock the gates. "Good luck with them," the second guard said; then Tevirye was scurrying through, Fisher and Bobcat right on her tail. Ahead stretched a wide walkway, marble slabs set end to end and leading through the budding trees to a huge flight of stairs, massive golden doors set into the carved face of the palace's main entrance. Bobcat swallowed: just looking at it made him feel tiny. He couldn't even imagine walking up there.
But Tevirye didn't give the walkway a glance, turning to the left as soon as they'd passed the gate and setting off through the trees into the garden. Flowering hedges rose up, blocking the view of the square, and Bobcat followed Fisher and the Raj over the damp grass, past several small ponds and a topiary garden before he realized that they were circling the palace. Through what seemed to be a kumquat orchard Tevirye led them, the palace looming closer behind the trees until Bobcat found himself beside the marble wall itself.
Following the palace wall around some more topiary, the Raj turned, and Bobcat saw a small flight of stairs leading into a pit dug right up against the wall. A little wooden door sat among the ivy th
ere; Tevirye padded down, stepped up to the door, knocked, and they waited for some minutes with nothing happening.
Tevirye scowled, knocked again, and this time the door came open. A wizened meerkat in a long red coat peered out, and Bobcat saw Tevirye, Fisher, and Skink all bow. The old meerkat stared a moment, then closed his eyes and nodded. "This day I have been dreading," he said, a soft lilt to his voice. "Please, all of you, come in."
The Raj raised a paw. "My thanks, Ramon, but I've stood watch all night." She glanced at Bobcat. "As it is, if what I remember from the old stories is true, there are some friends I would like to see before the end arrives."
Skink moved on Fisher's back. "Thank you for your assistance. And please, be assured that we will do all we can to keep the story from ending its usual way."
"Yeah," Fisher said, a tight smile under her whiskers. "Who knows? We may get lucky."
Tevirye looked over, her eyes settling on Bobcat, and he saw nothing there but doubt. She faced the Ramon and bowed. "Your pardon, sir." And with her cloak swirling behind her, she turned and hurried off through the hedges.
Bobcat watched her go, then looked back at the doorway. The Ramon was staring at him the same way, the same way everyone had been staring at him since he'd arrived in Kazirazif, it seemed.
But the old meerkat shook himself quickly and said, "Forgive me. I am the Ramon Sooli. Come in, please. Have you eaten yet this morning?"
That made Bobcat's stomach grumble, and Fisher laughed. "Lead on, sir, please," she said.
The Ramon's brow wrinkled, but he stepped back into the doorway. "This way, then."
Bobcat had to squeeze through the door, but the corridor on the other side was much roomier. The carpeting felt good under his pads, but the darkness made him blink till his eyes adjusted, the only light coming orange and flickery from oddly shaped lanterns--it took Bobcat a moment to see that they were little iron turtles clinging to the walls. The Ramon led them past door after door after door, all closed, turned left at a crossing corridor, also covered with doors and turtle lanterns, and then a brighter light was shining out from an open door ahead. The Ramon gestured for them to enter, so Bobcat followed Fisher inside.
The Blood Jaguar Page 14