by Rahma Krambo
But then, ever since returning from Alexandria, nothing seemed the same and after his disastrous first meeting, all he wanted was a good book in a quiet corner of the library.
But that was the problem. Here he was in his favorite place, and even though it sounded quiet, it didn’t feel quiet. He blamed Cicero.
Marco quit trying to read and went upstairs. The old cat was busy pouring through the stack of books in his chambers and Alaniah was playing around, doing swoops and dives and generally amusing herself. Marco went in, hoping to get an answer to his biggest ‘why’ question, but Cicero kept on reading.
Marco tried to be patient, but the more Cicero ignored him, the more important the question became.
Alaniah swooped and hovered in a holding pattern above Marco. “You ask good questions, fledgling-ing,” she said.
“How do you know my question?”
“I can hear the thoughts of creatures… when I choose. Mostly they are not so interesting as yours.” She looked towards Cicero. “Impossible to get his attention when he’s researching, isn’t it?” She waved several of her wings in dismissal. “You want to know why he didn’t warn them, don’t you?”
“He could have saved so many lives! He could have saved the library,” Marco protested. “Instead, he just let it happen!”
“This is difficult for you, and it is hard for me to see time from your perspective. Worldly creatures, such as you-ou,” she said, her voice rising with a touch of superiority, “observe time as past, present and future. But it is not so simple. Time is such a limiting dimension-ion… but unfortunately you earth creatures are stuck with it.”
Alaniah twirled her ethereal sparkliness upwards and sailed around the room as though even the thought of being tethered by three dimensions was something to be avoided at all costs.
Cicero finally looked up from his books.
“Ah, there he is,” she said. “Now you may explain. I cannot even fathom what it must be like for you, imprisoned in heavy corporeal bodies, plodding along in a time continuum-um.”
“Oh Alaniah, we are who we are,” said Cicero. “To quote a great man, ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on.’” But at least we cats do not face the same limitations as humans. We are able to time travel and see into other dimensions much easier. Well, I have to qualify that. Cats used to have this ability, but even they are losing it, just as they are losing the ability to read.”
He looked at Marco directly. “But to your question, Marco… about why I didn’t save the library or warn Akeel.”
Cicero had been listening after all.
“All I can tell you is when we travel back in time, we are only observers. We cannot affect what has happened in the past. We cannot even be seen by most of the inhabitants.”
“What about Akeel? He saw us.”
“Akeel and Chuluum were different. They were given the gift to see what others could not.”
“But why couldn’t you give him some small hint? What’s the point of going back if you can’t change anything?”
“There is much speculation about time traveling. Humans are fascinated with this subject as well, thinking that they can change something that has already happened in the past to make life better in the present. However, as appealing as the idea is, it is not only not possible, it would be terribly dangerous.”
“Dangerous. Don’t you think the fire was dangerous?”
“As tragic as it was, changing things wouldn’t necessarily make it better.”
Marco did not see how things could have been worse.
“Careless use of time travel leads to rifts, a tear in the fabric of events. Even the slightest alteration would create an enormous wave that would sweep out over every event, before and after. When a pebble is tossed into a pond, ripples spread out into ever-widening circles. If a boulder were thrown in, a tidal wave of events would change everything around it, not just one small thing.
“No, it has not been granted to us mere mortals to have this kind of an effect on things that have already happened.”
Marco was not sure that Cicero had answered his question. For that matter, he couldn’t even remember the question. He had gotten lost at ‘a tear in the fabric’ and ‘tossing of pebbles into a pond.’
He sighed, thinking he would never understand the kinds of things Cicero talked about, but he couldn’t help asking questions. “Cicero, why are they called the ‘dead cats’?”
Chapter 23: First lessons
Marco’s question made Cicero feel as if he had awoken from a dream. He left his theories and complicated matters and went over to sit beside the young cat.
Marco showed promise as a future Guardian, but it was still too soon to be sure. He was young, naïve, impulsive and daring. Those qualities, in time, could develop into bravery and courage. He’d need that. But he’d seen how the same traits could be turned into reckless and untamed ambition.
“I’ve been negligent in instructing you—putting the cart before the horse, I believe is the saying. It’s time you learned something about the Guardian Cats.”
They both settled into sunny spots on the window sill.
“I will start with the Guardian called Adelphos. One of the places Akeel found was a deserted farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Greek fishing village. Adelphos was one of the many Guardian Cats there.
“During the day, he wandered through flower and fish markets, keeping their stalls free of mice. The fish vendors and food merchants all saved him special treats, each one thinking that Adelphos loved him best.
Cicero saw Marco was drowsy from the warm sun, but as usual, Marco’s tummy growled whenever food was mentioned, and Cicero was glad to have his full attention.
“Adelphos began tutoring kittens who gathered every day at the markets, telling them stories of past Guardian Cats and teaching them how to read. It had been Akeel’s inspiration to have the Guardian Cats pass on the stories. The tutoring part was added to teach humility to our prideful natures and Adelphos was the first cat who took up the challenge.
“A cat’s only shortcoming,” said Cicero, “is the one of being too proud.” He chuckled at the irony of his own statement. “Community service to the less fortunate was Akeel’s idea as a remedy for curing this weakness of ours. The name ‘dead cats’ was coined by Gaspar, one of Adelphos’ students. If the discussions were getting too serious and he was in the mood for an old Guardian story, he would shout out, ‘Let’s hear a tale about one of those dead cats!’”
Marco’s eyes lit up with delight.
“Some of the others still don’t get the joke,” said Cicero, pleased with his student’s ability to grasp subtle humor.
“But we have more pressing concerns. The raccoons. What will we do about them? I don’t think they will go away peacefully. What do you think Marco?” asked Cicero.
“I don’t think they’ll go away either. In fact, if we don’t take care of them soon, we might become ‘dead cats’.
Cicero couldn’t hide his smile.
Chapter 24: Sting’s Headquarters
From a distance the pickup looked abandoned, but inside were signs of life. The raccoons had taken up residence in the ’52 Dodge. The faded orange truck with an additional camper shell more than suited their needs.
Inside, Sting was fuming mad. “Those dirty, rotten fleabag cats! Thinkin' they can raid our territory and call us intruders?” He paced back and forth in the covered truck bed.
“How is it that a bunch of scrawny alley cats managed to thrash you, Sting? You’re not losing your touch, are you?” Tank asked.
Sting drew his large paw back and sent Tank flying. “Does it feel like I’m losin' my touch?”
“Sorry, boss. My mistake.”
Sting sneered. Tank looked tough, but he was spineless. A chuckle coming from the outside interrupted them. Sting swung around. A small raccoon poked his head into the doorway.
“What’s so funny?” Sting demanded.
“I was wonderin
g how a mangy tomcat beat up a tough guy like you. And he’s only half your size,” replied the stranger.
“We was wondering about that, too,” said Crimmany, boldly first, before he cringed.
Sting ignored him and glared at the intruder. “You callin’ me fat?”
“Absolutely not. In fact, I envy your fine stature. Allow me to introduce myself. They call me Lazer,” he said. “I’ve been spying on the cats for some time now.” He chuckled. “It’s sort of a hobby of mine.”
“Oh yeah?” Sting started to warm up a little. He hadn’t always hated felines, but the ‘dead cats’ made his skin crawl. Up until now he rarely gave cats a second thought. They always scattered when he took over their territory and never caused him any further trouble. Until now.
“The leader, Cicero, he’s got some special kind of power. The others, they’re just plain mean and ornery. But they’re ‘reader cats’,” said Lazer, scrunching his nose, indicating the cats might have some contagious disease. “It makes them peculiar.”
“I noticed that.”
“Perhaps you'd be interested in where they get their power?” Lazer asked.
Sting smiled. Now here was a brother raccoon that actually might be useful to him.
Chapter 25: No Mercy
On his way to the Lost and Embedded Manuscripts conference at the Library of Alexandria, Professor Chin took his planned layover in Greece. He was not there for sightseeing. A silent man nodded to him at the Athens airport and whisked him off to a smaller airport, where they boarded a private plane to the island of Rhodes. From Rhodes, a powerful skiff jetted them to a small remote island. In hardly any more time than it usually took to retrieve his luggage at Heathrow, he was sitting in the living room of Dr. Warner. He declined the offer of a drink.
He knew everyone here. They’d been meeting for five years and they were the closest to a family he would ever have. But by the end of the meeting, Professor Chin knew he wouldn’t be coming back. He wasn’t looking for a family. These men talked too much; they were too soft. And he was looking to do more than world building; their ideas would never be more than a fantasy. His, he knew, could be real. And people would pay the ultimate price for his world.
He needed men attuned to great leaders, like Hitler. Like Himmler. He would be the Grandmaster. Under his breath, he whispered Himmler’s favorite word, ‘gnadelos’, no mercy.
Chapter 26: The Library of Alexandria
The first thing that surprised Professor Chin about Alexandria was how modern it was. It was a bit disconcerting to be surrounded by foreigners—but what did he expect? He was pleased that everyone knew English, surprisingly well.
The second thing he learned was that, in this Mediterranean coastal city, he was overdressed in his tweed coat. He never went anywhere without his coat and umbrella. Reluctantly, he left both in his hotel room and joined the tour group, feeling slightly underdressed.
The third thing he discovered was that the new Library of Alexandria was jarring to his senses. He didn’t bother to browse the stacks. His love for books wasn’t like the love of a bibliophile. That was something he always had to be careful of at work, not letting on that books were only a means to an end.
The architectural lines of the ultramodern library were at odd angles, which threw him off balance. It's open, soaring lines made him small and insignificant. In London, he was always surrounded by a sense of the solidness of it. Here, he was out of his element, out of control.
He rubbed one hand over the other, massaging his fingers and wrist, something he'd done to relieve anxiety since he was a boy.
He was so distracted that he almost missed the next exhibit. The tour guide was talking about the historic burning of the original library. They were standing in front of a bronze statue of a young man in a tunic. There were bronze cats climbing all over him. “Nothing remains of the ancient library,” the girl said, “but legends. This is Akeel, the Guardian librarian who, it is said, saved seven powerful mystical books, which were sheltered in secret chambers under the main buildings. He escaped the fire with a handful of books and an armful of library cats. When he found new hiding places for the books, he put the cats in charge of guarding them. As Egyptians, who revere cats, this story holds special charm for us.” She smiled at the group and there were murmurs of appreciation. “The books are shrouded in mystery, but the legend says that whoever finds them and unlocks their secrets will be able to rule the world.”
Professor Chin thought he was going to be sick. He struggled to hear more of what she said about the books, but he was feeling faint.
The thought of having cats crawling over him like the man in the statue made him nauseous. Gypsies believed cats were filthy creatures, if not downright evil. But when he was too small to know better, he had befriended one and always saved scraps of food from his evening meal.
When his stepfather caught him feeding the kitten, he beat him, then forced his mother to drown the cat, making him watch. He still remembered him yelling 'dinili!', stupid, and how the cat scratched his mother's arms and face as she struggled to force the kitten's head into a bucket of water. "You think we have enough to feed a filthy cat when we can barely feed ourselves?" his stepfather had shouted.
He started trembling. He'd had nightmares about his cat coming back to life to punish him. In one dream, there were a dozen cats climbing all over him and he woke up screaming as one tried to suck the breath out of him.
Now he was looking at this statue of his nightmare while the people around him were obviously enjoying it.
He desperately wanted to avoid a panic attack but it was too late. The tour guide, an attractive young Arab girl, asked him if he was ok as the room started to spin and he reached out for something to hold onto.
The last thing he heard was the snickers of school children. When he woke up, he was lying on the floor and a paramedic was taking his blood pressure, a crowd standing over him. He passed out again.
Later, when he woke up the second time, he was in his hotel room, thankful to be away from people. But he wasn't alone.
"What was that all about?" demanded the Whisperer.
"Nevermind."
"Nevermind! What is the matter with you?" demanded the Whisperer. “You’ll never get anywhere falling apart like that!”
“Have a little sympathy,” said Professor Chin. “Maybe it was something I ate.”
“Sympathy! You’re one to ask for sympathy. Am I wasting my time with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine. You heard what she said, didn’t you? You were there?”
“You mean about the books?”
“Of course, I mean about the books.”
“What about them? It’s just a story.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do. These kinds of things exist. You know about the Spear of Destiny, don’t you? It was the tool for Hitler’s power. These books will be my Spear.”
“How badly do you want them?”
“With all my soul.”
“I have my resources,” said the Whisperer, after some considering. “I could have them look for the books. But I must warn you. They expect a steep price for their services.”
“Any price is worth increasing my powers.”
“You would give your soul for a magical book?”
“What need have I of my soul? It causes me only pain. Take what’s left of it. What I need, my soul won’t give me. What I need is power.”
Chapter 27: Polo’s dangerous discovery
“Marco, where have you been?” demanded Polo. Marco was climbing down the wide trunk of the tree next to the ferrets’ home, his usual spot, except for nights when he fell asleep at the library. Cicero had implied that the staff might not want a second library cat, so he always had to scurry out the window when the librarians opened up in the morning.
To be sure, he hadn’t been around much lately, as he was spending more and more time at the library. He hadn’t told Polo about his other life, because… he wasn
’t sure why. It was just a feeling, but he figured Polo would want to tag along with him and he didn’t think the library was ready for the likes of a silly ferret.
Still, Marco felt a little guilty about keeping secrets from his new friend. Polo bounced and leaped and ran circles around Marco. “I’ve been looking all over for you!
“What’s the matter? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I missed you.”
“Oh, Polo! I’m sorry.” Marco felt badly about ignoring him. “I’m not trying to avoid you or anything. It’s just that I have things I need to do.”
This statement from his cat friend stopped the little ferret for a moment. “Oh well,” said Polo, shrugging it off. “You’re here now! I can show you my new treasure!” he cried out. “It’s my most beautiful possession!”
He ran under the house and reappeared with a silver keychain attached to a tube of liquid. “Look! It’s got water inside.”
Marco leaned in closer to the tube. “It doesn’t smell like water, Polo. It’s awful.” Marco jerked his head back and crinkled his nose at the biting odor. The red tube was about half-full of liquid.
“That’s disgusting. What do you want it for?”
“It goes with my red jewelry collection. Look here! See the little wheel?”
Marco did not like Polo’s latest stolen good. Lucy’s father had one almost like it. He recognized it by the smell. It was a flame shooter.
Chapter 28: Finders keepers
Marco escaped back to the tree while Polo loped across the weedy backyard, the cigarette lighter dangling from his mouth, and crawled through a fence hole into the neighbor’s yard.
A tire swing swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the promise of hidden spaces lured the ferret. He dropped the lighter and pulled himself up into the rubbery den, exploring pretty much everything there was to see inside a tire. When he heard voices, he stood straight up and looked out through the wide hole. There were three large animals with black masks sniffing their way around a bunch of kid’s plastic toys. He recognized their bandit faces. Raccoons.