The Night Market

by Rawlins, Zachary

  “How so?”

  “Did your brother, or your own esoteric education, prepare you to encounter an avatar of Chaos?”

  Yael gnawed on her lip, considering.

  “Well, I knew of such things...”

  “That is not the same, as you are well aware,” Snowball said, amused. “Tell me – how does one prepare for Jenny Frost? That will be a concern for all of us in the Nameless City, shortly.”

  Yael attempted to shake and hang her head at the same time and managed something moderately contrite.

  “I did not mean – that is to say, I had no idea whatsoever that Miss Frost would be... herself. I knew that someone would be in position to offer me assistance, given the right motivation, but...”

  “What about the Night Market? What do you know about that?”

  Yael shot a look back at Tobi hopefully, but he was too far behind them to hear anything that was being said.

  “I am afraid that I only came to know of its existence recently...”

  “And what about Kadath? Or the Silver Key?”

  She started doubtfully, faltering under the old cat’s gaze.

  “It was abandoned...”

  “Besides that old yarn about deities abandoning it – they were telling that one when I was a kitten in the street. There was no more truth to it then than there is now. There were never any gods, singular or plural – or if there were, then they needed single bedroom apartments in abundance.”

  Her grimace was an admission of defeat.

  “Don’t worry, Yael. I am not making light of you, or your education,” Snowball said gently, leading them along a boulevard that grew steadily narrower, the buildings on either side older and taller than any she remembered seeing. “I am merely encouraging you to recognize your own capabilities. You have impressed me, child.”

  Yael’s jaw might have, just briefly, hung open.

  “That is kind of you to say...”

  Snowball snorted contemptuously.

  “I have never done a kind thing in my life,” the cat said firmly, glancing at Yael with narrowed eyes. “Life has never allowed me the luxury of kindness.”

  “Then I am at a loss,” Yael said, glancing at an odd display of curios behind a dusty shop window – a bronze figurine depicting a goat-and-squid hybrid, a grotesque wooden mask, a rusted sextant, a collection of monochrome photographs depicting the New England countryside, a bound volume of ‘The Last Testament of William Lee’ with a worn spine. “Why would you intervene on my behalf?”

  “Why indeed?” Snowball chuckled, though Yael failed to see any humor in the situation. “If my actions are not rooted in altruism – which, by the way, is not a quality you will find in felines – then what could my motivation be?”

  Yael realized after a moment that he expected an answer. She considered it while they crossed a cobblestone square, deep in the shadow of a church tower in which every window was broken. It was elevated above the sidewalk and surrounded by an imposing iron fence, in much better repair than the building behind it. Lost in the overgrown weeds that dominated the former church grounds, Yael could see the gentle sloping curves of marble headstones peeking out, worn smooth and unreadable by weather. She wondered why the ancient graveyard and the church, slowly shedding the last of its whitewash, were abandoned by the bustling neighborhood surrounding.

  “Self interest?”

  “Self interest indeed,” Snowball said with approval, taking them across the street to avoid a particularly ancient and ominous old house that teetered on the corner opposite where they walked, looming over the street like a toothless crone. “I am not protecting you, Yael Kaufman. I could not protect you from your enemies, even if I wished to. I do not believe that you require such protection. I am guiding you and offering what assistance I may for one simple reason: you could be a formidable ally, whether you realize it or no. One does not need to be cat, after all, to see it will be advisable to have as many friends as possible.”

  She pinched her lip between her fingers, worrying it while she thought it over.

  “Because of Nyarla –”

  “You forget yourself,” Snowball said angrily. “The name invites the thing.”

  “Of course,” Yael said hurriedly, blushing with embarrassment. “But I must confess, Snowball, that I do not understand your reasoning.”

  “Tell me, Miss Kaufman. Are you familiar with the bodhisattva known as the ‘Buddha of Hell’?”

  “No, I am afraid we didn’t cover that in Hebrew School.”

  “Miss Kaufman may not be aware of it,” Mr. Sothoth hissed, standing in the center of the low bridge in front of them, flanked by the hulking form of Mr. Yog. Behind him, there was a veritable legion of the shuffling toads. “But we are. Perhaps you would allow us to finish the story?”

  12. The Mad Tryst

  Waiting in the dark for the sun to rise, for an end to bad dreams and strange lights. Toes clinging to the edge of an exposed girder, wind howling through the rusted carcass of a factory, the unpredictable music of desolation. Her knees tremble at the idea, the pure exhilaration of falling.

  Retreat was impossible. The toads were everywhere. Swarming up from the banks of the canal, naked and glistening with exuded mucus, some edging out of the tangle of alleys behind them, moving unsteadily beneath layers of heavily embroidered cloth. The shadows teemed unpleasantly with them, like cockroaches running from a flashlight.

  Yael felt contact against her ankles, warm and smooth. She almost flinched before she realized that it was a cat. Two cats, rather – Snowball stood in front of her, almost sitting on her feet, casually licking one paw, while Tobi’s back pressed against the rear of her calves. He was hissing, his hackles raised and claws extruded.

  “Miss Kaufman is under the protection of the Cats of Ulthar, should she require it,” Snowball declared mildly, appearing for the entire world to be disinterested in the massive swarm of toads. “Mr. Sothoth and Mr. Yog – am I correct? It has been some time since we last saw you in the Nameless City. Are you here to offer legal advice?”

  “In a sense,” Mr. Sothoth burbled, holding out one hand to stay the mass of toads. “Miss Kaufman is, after all, our client...”

  “Is that all?” Yael said, smiling at the veiled lawyer. “Then you are fired. Are we done?”

  “Unmerited, Miss, unmerited!” Mr. Sothoth cried out indignantly. “We only represent your best interests in this matter.”

  “Of course,” Yael agreed. “And in this case, my best interests would be what, exactly?”

  “Why, to be reunited with your family, who love and miss you, of course,” Mr. Sothoth explained patiently. “What happier ending to your story could you hope for?”

  “My parents have forgotten me by now. You know that. The only family I have that fits that description is my brother, Mr. Sothoth. Do you propose to take me to Avici? Shall I find safety in the company of dread Azazoth?”

  “It sounds very much as if your council is no longer required here, my dear lawyers. I suggest you leave now, before things turn against you further,” Snowball warned, smoothing back his split and bent whiskers. “Friendly advice.”

  “We are not in Ulthar,” Mr. Sothoth observed gleefully. “You are in no position to offer suggestions, I am afraid.”

  “In that case, some unfriendly advice – do keep running your mouth, Mr. Sothoth,” Snowball said, his claws darting briefly out of one mangled paw. “It will make matters all the more enjoyable.”

  “This is your last chance, Yael Kaufman,” Mr. Sothoth said, black eyes glimmering. “Either come with us of your own accord, or we will have no choice but to force you to return. I fear for the safety of your feline companions, should something of that nature transpire.”

  “Do you? I can’t imagine why,” Yael said, pulling her gas mask down over her face. “Cats have nine lives, after all. How many do lawyers have, I wonder?”

  “Too many for my taste,” Snowball remarked crisply. “Tobi? How are we doing?�
�

  “Right on schedule, Lord,” Tobi said tersely. “Ready and waiting for your signal.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Mr. Sothoth inquired jubilantly. “Do you have a surprise for us, Lord of Ulthar?”

  “No surprises,” Snowball said, shaking his head. “It’s really quite obvious. Yael Kaufman – I am afraid we no longer have time for pleasantries. The Cats of Ulthar would offer you their support, in return for an alliance with you and yours, when the time comes. What do you say?”

  “I am alone...”

  “At the moment. You won’t be forever.”

  “...but for myself, I would be glad of your help,” Yael said, as formally as she could manage while wearing a gas mask. “And any help I could afford you in the future, I would be happy to provide.”

  “Not quite the traditional language, but it will do in a pinch, don’t you think, Tobi?”

  “I think so, my lord.”

  “Are you done?” Mr. Sothoth slobbered. “Because I am starting to feel left out.”

  “Dear me,” Snowball said, extending the claws on one paw. “Let us do something about that, shall we?”

  Then, all of a sudden, the night was filled with cats.

  ***

  Toads.

  Cats.

  Yael was starting to realize how relative – how biased – her conception of reality was. For example:

  Toads, while hideous, were not known for their tendency toward homicidal mob violence.

  Nor did cats organize themselves into a rather effective combat formation in Yael’s experience.

  They maintained a defensive line along the river. Elite phalanxes of stray and vicious felines darted in to attack wherever the toads threatened to overrun their ranks, then disappeared back into the general fray. The cats acted in small groups, several distracting the toads while others occupied their gelatinous tentacles. A dozen cats could overwhelm a toad, dragging it down to the cobblestones to be torn apart.

  Actually, that was another thing, Yael thought, dodging around one glistening toad as he went down, shrieking in infrasonic horror as the cats shredded him – cats weren’t known for taking sides in things. Even the non-talking variety.

  She remembered the indifference of a dozen different housecats over the years with a vague sense of puzzlement, before a tentacle almost took her head off, reminding Yael that this was a bad time to reminisce.

  Yael twisted and spun around the next few toads while the cats worried them, then dove between two toads that lurched toward her. The closest lurched and stumbled, blinded by a cat whose claws dug firmly into its headdress and veil, while the other lashed out wildly at anything that came near, buried under a constantly moving layer of ferocious cats. Yael paused to scan the chaos around her for an opening, then sprinted forward, moving as quickly as possible across the cobblestone road toward the bridge were Mr. Yog and Mr. Sothoth waited, as stolid as mountain peaks surrounded by storm heads. The toad nearest her fell under the combined weight of more cats than she could count. Yael took advantage by planting one boot on the back of its amorphous head, using it to springboard over the next flailing monstrosity.

  Yael barely saw the toad that lifted her from the ground. A fluid limb seized her effortlessly and wrapped around her waist. The tentacle around her middle was colorless and slick with mucous. Yael forced herself to wait calmly until the thing drew her to its eyeless face, leaning close to examine her in whatever way the toads were capable, then she pressed the button on the side of her can of mace.

  She would have rather used the sprayer on top – it was her last one, after all – but she had no idea where the toad kept its vulnerable parts, assuming it had any. Yael could only hope as the tentacle around her middle grew taut, cutting into the skin and inhibiting her ability to breathe.

  Nothing is real, she reminded herself, her mouth working like a fish out of water.

  The limb slackened and Yael wriggled her way free, while the toad was wracked with spasms and seizures. She crawled on her hands and knees in the direction of the bridge, sweat condensing on the lenses of her mask and obscuring her vision. Eventually, Yael fought her up into a sort of shuffling crouch, her side aching fiercely from the toad’s grasp.

  Yael lacked the energy to dodge the toad who managed to latch onto her left ankle with one elongated arm, the cold flesh wrapping tight around her leg and pulling her back. She dug into the ground with her fingers and kicked her legs as best she could in an attempt to free herself.

  All she saw of Tobi were eyes and teeth. The arm of the toad was severed, a small part of the wake of carnage the cat left behind. Halfway to her feet, Yael paused, awestruck as Tobi leapt from one toad to another, blinding and distracting them with claws and teeth, always managing to be one step ahead of their counterattacks.

  “Keep going, Yael,” Tobi commanded, effortlessly leaping out of the way of an attack aimed in his direction, the toad that had leapt for him colliding instead with the metal railing behind the cat. “Don’t turn back for anything.”

  There was no time for her to acknowledge his words. Tobi disappeared into the bewildering melee that surrounded her and Yael dashed toward the bridge.

  The cats, she realized, were cutting a path for her, the sound of their wailing almost deafening as they threw themselves recklessly at the surging toads, a blur of reflective eyes and sinuous tails. The toads parted in front of her like the Sea of Reeds, but at a cost – Yael frequently found herself stepping over the broken corpses of fallen cats, mangled by the amorphous limbs of the toads. She kept herself from looking down as she made her way to the bridge, afraid that she would see Tobi there.

  The bridge itself was like an island in the middle of the combat, empty of both toads and cats. Only the two lawyers remained between her and Kadath beyond, the vacant alleys and abandoned tenements bringing a nostalgic twinge to Yael’s heart, reminding her of the industrial wasteland around Roanoke. Mr. Sothoth waited in front, clutching an exotic brass device that looked like a cross between a weathervane and a musical instrument. Mr. Yog loomed behind him, burdened by sweeping yards of fabric, black eyes glinting malevolently in the insistent light of the grotesque moon.

  “I will cross this bridge,” Yael said firmly, advancing on the two lawyers with her hands clenched behind her back. “Do you intend to stop me?”

  “Dissuade, perhaps?” Mr. Sothoth suggested. “Personally, I abhor violence.”

  “Don’t we all?” Yael asked thoughtfully, continuing her slow advance across the stone bridge. She risked a glance over the side, but the river beneath them hardly seemed to merit the massive concrete canal that it ran through, much less a bridge to cross over it.

  “I’m afraid that Mr. Yog regards it as a regrettable necessity.”

  “A practical point of view.”

  “Should I not be able to dissuade you from your errand...”

  “Why is it that you care? Are you simply here as representatives of the Outer Dark? There is more to it, isn’t there, Mr. Sothoth?”

  The veil rattled to accommodate something that Yael decided generously to call a smile.

  “You always were the bright one, Miss Kaufman,” Mr. Sothoth said, shaking her with the sickening self-assurance in his voice. “Oh, you and your brother were both prodigies, and garnered a great deal of attention from the beginning. Thanks to the potential the two of you represented, the Outer Dark saw to it that you were provided with all the comforts – a stable home, a prosperous family, a loving stepmother...”

  “Thank you for that last one, by the way. Marlene is a real peach.”

  Yael stopped just far enough to be out of reach of Mr. Sothoth’s staff, or whatever it was, should he choose to swing it at her.

  “We selected her carefully, as we selected everything in your life, in an attempt to conform you to an ideal. But you never wanted any part of that, did you, Yael Kaufman? Tell me, what was it that drove you to run off to the ruins and consort with the scum you found there
– did we fail to provide you with something?”

  “Maybe we just have different ideas about what constitutes an ideal life,” Yael said, shrugging. “It’s nothing that you should take personally, Mr. Sothoth.”

  “That is good to hear. As I was saying – none of us ever doubted your brother’s genius. We even convinced Randolph Carter to offer him instruction, no easy thing given the man’s feelings about your peculiar faith. But your brother’s flighty nature and lack of focus, his general acquiescence to the circumstances we arranged – I am afraid the smart money was on you from the beginning.”

  “Why?” Yael asked, puzzled. “My brother always did as he was told, always excelled, while I deliberately broke rules...”

  “That very trait, combined with your own innate gifts, is probably why Nyarlathotep had an eye on you from the beginning,” Mr. Sothoth said, voice dripping with solicitousness. “He is fascinated by curiosity and you represent something of a wildcard. You are quite correct in your assumption that we are not here in our typical professional capacity, Yael Kaufman. We are here at the personal behest of Nyarlathotep, to convey his sincere apologies to you.”

  Yael stared with her mouth open while her mind puzzled over the new information, stunned by revelation.

  “Are you being sarcastic? After what I did to your master, I hardly expect an apology.”

  “If anything, he is all the more enamored of you, Yael Kaufman,” Mr. Sothoth said, with frightening sincerity.

  As if to punctuate that statement, Mr. Yog offered a curt nod.

  “He went as far as to describe himself as being in your debt. Nyarlathotep feels that you did him a great favor by preventing him from casting you into Avici along with your brother. Though your actions rendered him incapable of being here, he bears you no grudge or ill will over any harm you have done to his avatar. In fact,” Mr. Sothoth insinuated wetly, “he is most eager for a reconciliation.”