Catfantastic: Nine Lives and Fifteen Tales Part 24

"I guess so. At first I thought it was silly, but look!" I pointed to the tower as my cat scaled it, climbing steadily higher, using the rungs and bracings to work his way around to the rear of the tower as he climbed. Just as if he'd been instructed. "Clark must be planning something," I said.

"Cats don't plan things," Mike scoffed.

"Not usually," I retorted. "But aliens don't usually fall out of trees on me and UFOs don't usually land in my yard, either."

"What's the cat going to do?" Mike asked Worl, a bit of awe in his deep voice as he spoke to the little alien.

"Try to get the ba k'rah down low, so I can snare it in my tanglefield. Must fly almost to ground. Clairk can do hit."

Mike wiped his forehead. "n.o.body's ever gonna believe this."

"So we won't tell. Right?" I wouldn't mind sharing a secret with the handsome deputy. Besides, this could write up into a great plot for my next novel.

My heart in my throat, I watched Clark climb the rungs leading to the top of the tower. If he fella. Clark wailed a harsh meow, giant wings flapped like thunder, then the bird dived off the tower as if devils were chasing it. There on the bird's back with claws dug into glistening black feathers, perched Clark Kent, supercat himself, driving the ba k'rah within range of Worl's damaged field. Worl aimed just as Clark leaped free, letting the field capture the huge bird. Clark landed on his feet in a pile of weeds and gra.s.s with a soft thump.

I ran to my cat, scooping him into my arms, cooing into his ear and stroking his silky fur. "You did it," I whispered, filled with awed pride.

"What a cat!" rumbled Mike, rushing to my side. "Who'd have thought it?"

Worl squirted a spray into the bird's face and it staggered forward, then fell still. "Thiss mek ba k'rah sleep."

"How will we get the ba k'rah back to my place?" I asked in dismay, realizing we couldn't take at anywhere in my small hatchback.

"Hit stay here. I stay also. The ship come here after dark to take us, the nest, and eggs. Clairk Kendt says many eggs are up there." Worl gestured at the top of the water tower. "Will sell eggs. Make lots of credit. No trouble."

Clark purred, adjusting his head so I could scratch his ears. "Do you really communicate with Clark?" I asked Worl.

"Shess." Worl took off the dark sungla.s.ses to expose his big luminious eyes. "I want to take Clairk home with me to Pra."

Mike just stood staring at Worl, studying the newly revealed eyes. Clark stopped purring. I felt very sad, abandoned, and thought about how empty my house would be without him. "It'sa"it's Clark's decision," I stammered.

Worl took Clark from my arms and spoke to him in clicks, hisses, and what sounded like meows instead of words. Clark meowed several times as if responding. I wished I understood cat language.

"Clairk Kendt will stay with you, Shockie," Worl replied, handing my cat back to me.

Clark pressed his nose against my chin and suddenly I began to laugh to hide a rush of tears filling my eyes. "Maybe I should change my. name to Lois Lane?" I giggled into Clark's fur.

Mike leaned his head back and roared with laughter. We laughed until we both had tears spilling down our cheeks and the alien shook his head in wonderment at us.

"You must go," he said. "If the ship comes, my commander will see I hef break many rules. Big trouble. Go home now, and make Worl happy, too."

I kissed my little alien friend good-bye and Clark let Worl pet him. Then Clark and I got into my car, Mike got in his and we drove home caravan style.

That night, Mike sat on my back porch next to me and Clark curled up on my lap. Together we watched the sky. Spinning bands of colored light hovered in the distance above the water tower, then zoomed off into s.p.a.ce, disappearing among the stars, leaving us with memories and a secret to share forevermore.

"Meow meow," said Clark.

"You're right, we will miss Worl," I replied in agreement.

Clark closed his dark-ringed green-gold eyes and purred with throaty contentment.

"What a super cat!" Mike said with pride.

He slid an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, as I kept stroking my cat and felt like purring myself.

n.o.ble Warrior.

by Andre Norton.

Emmy squinted at the st.i.tch she had just put in the handkerchief. Ivy had curtained almost half of the window, to leave the room in greenish gloom. Too long, she would have to pick it out. On such a grayish day she wanted a candle. Only even to think of that must be a sin. Miss Wyker was very quick to sniff outsins. Emmy squinted harder. It was awfully easy to sin when one was around Miss Wyker.

Not for the first or not even the hundredth time she puzzled as to why Great-Aunt Amelie had asked Miss Wyker to Hob's Green. Who could be ill without feeling worse to see about that long narrow face with the closed b.u.t.tonhole of a mouth, and mean little eyes on either side of a long, long nose. Elephant nose! Emmy's hands were still while she thought of elephants, big as Jasper's cottage. Father said that they had great seats large enough to hold several men strapped on their backs and one rode them so to go tiger hunting.

She rubbed her hand across her aching forehead as she thought of father. If he were here, he would send old Wyker packing.

Emmy ran a tongue tip over her lips. She was thirsty-but to leave her task to even get a drink of water might get her into trouble. She gave an impatient jerk and her thread broke. Before she could worry about that, sounds from the graveled drive which ran beyond the window brought her up on her knees to look out. Hardly anyone now used the front entrance drive. This was the trap from the inn, with Jeb. Beside him sat a stranger, a small man with a bushy brown beard.

The trap came to a halt and the small man climbed down from the seat. Jeb handed down a big basket to the man who gave him a short nod before disappearing under the overhang of the doorway. Emmy dropped her sewing on the window seat to run across the room as the knocker sounded. She was cautious about edging open the door of the sitting room to give herself just a crack to see through.

The knocker sounded three times before Jennie the housemaid hurried by, patting down her cap ribbons and looking all a-twitter. It had been so long since anyone had been so bold as to use the knocker. n.o.body but Dr. Riggs ever came that way any more, and he only in the morning.

Emmy heard a deep voice, but she could not quite make out the words. Then, as quick as if it were meant as an answer, there sounded a strange cry. Emmy jumped, the door opened a good bit wider than was wise.

At least she could see Jennie show the visitor to the library where Dr. Riggs was always escorted by Miss Wyker to have a ceremonial gla.s.s of claret when his visit to his patient was over. The stranger had taken the covered basket with him.

Jennie went hurrying up the stairs to get Miss Wyker. To speed her along sounded another of those wailing cries.

Emmy pulled the door nearer shut, but her curiosity was fully aroused. Who had come visiting and why? And whatever could be in that basket?

She heard the determined tread of Miss Wyker and saw a stiff back covered with the ugliest of gray dresses also disappear into the parlor. Should she try to cross the hall in hope of seeing more of the visitor? She was so tired of one day being like another-all as gray as Miss Wyker's dress-that this was all very exciting. Before she had quite made up her mind, Jennie came in a hurry, probably called by the bell. She stood just within the library door, then backed out to head for the morning room where Emmy had been isolated for numberless dull hours of the day since Great-Aunt had taken ill.

"You-Miss Emmy," Jennie was breathless as she usually was when Miss Wyker gave orders. "They want to see you-right now- over there-" she jerked a thumb toward the library.

Emmy was across the hall and into the room before Jennie had disappeared back down the hall. As she came in, there sounded once more that startling cry. It had come from the big covered basket which was rocking a little back and forth where it stood on the floor.

"This is the child-" Miss Wyker's sharp voice was plainly disapproving.

The brown-bearded man looked down at Emmy. A big grin split that beard in the middle.

"So-you be th' Cap'n's little maid, be you? Must have grown a sight since he was last a-seein' you. Tol' it as how you was a mite younger."

The Cap'n-that was father. For a moment, forgetting Miss Wyker, Emmy burst out with a question of her own.

"Where is he? Please, did his ship come in? Truly?" There was so much Emmy wanted to say that the words stuck in her throat unable to push out clearly.

"Emmiline-this is Mr. Salbridge-manners, IF you please!"

Emmy swallowed and made a bob of a curtsey, one eye on Miss Wyker, knowing that she would be in for a scold when this visitor left.

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," she parroted the phrase which had been drilled into her.

Mr. Salbridge bowed in return. "Well, now, Miss Emmy, seems like we should be no strangers. Ain't I heard th' Cap'n talk of you by th' hour? Your servant, Miss Emmy. It does a man good to see as how you is doin' well, all shipshape an' tight along the portholes as it were. You probably ain't heard o' me-but I has been a-sailin' with th' Cap'n for a right many years now-would be there on board th' Majestic yet, only I had me a bit o' real luck, which gave me a snug purse, an' was minded to come home along of that there windfall. They's none o' us as young as we once was an' me, I got someone as has been a-waiting for me to come home a longish time.

"Th' Cap'n, he gave me a right hearty good-bye but not afore he asked somethin' o' me an' I'm right proud that he did that. I was to see his little maid an' bring 'er somethin' as was give to him by a princess as heard he had a little daughter to home. He~ was mighty helpful to her paw an' she was grateful to him in return, give him somethin' th' which n.o.body here at home has seen-somethin' as has lived in a palace right a'long of her. Look you here, Miss Emmy, what do you think o' this?"

He knelt awkwardly on one knee to open the basket. For a minute nothing happened. Then there jumped out of that carrier the oddest animal Emmy had ever seen. It looked like a cat, only it was not gray striped. Rather its face, legs, and the lower part of its slender back were of a brown as dark as Mr. Salbridge's beard, while the rest of it was near the color of the thick cream Mrs. Goode skimmed off the milk. And its eyes-its eyes were a bright blue!

It stood by the side of the basket, its head slowly moving as it stared at each of them in turn, Mr. Salbridge, Miss Wyker, who had drawn back a pace or two and was frowning darkly, and the longest at Emmy.

"Miss Emmy, this here's Thragun Neklop, that there means n.o.ble Warrior. He's straight out o' th' king's own palace. They thinks a mighty lot o' those like him thereabouts. No one as is common gets to have these here cats a-livin' in their houses. The Cap'n now, he was favored when they said this one might go to be with his little missy back in his own country. Yes, this here is a very special cat-"

The cat opened its mouth and gave a short, sharp cry which was certainly not like the meow which Emmy expected. Then its head turned so that it looked directly and unblinkingly at Miss Wyker and it hissed, its ears flattening a little. Miss Wyker's frown now knotted all her long face together.

Emmy squatted down so that she was nearly face to face with the furred newcomer.

"Thragun Neklop." She tried to say the strange words carefully. The cat turned its head again, to stare boldly at her. There was no hissing this time.

"That there is a power name, Miss Emmy. His paw was guard o' th' king. Them as lives there, they do not take kindly to dogs-that's their religion like. But cats, them they train to be their guards. An' mighty good they be at that, too, if all th' stories they tell is true."

The cat arose and came to Emmy. She put out her hand, not quite daring to lay a finger on that sleek brown head. The cat sniffed her fingers and then b.u.mped his head against her hand.

"Well, now, that do beat all. Never saw him do that 'ceptin' to the princess when she said good-bye," commented Mr. Salbridge. "Maybe he thinks as how you're the princess now. Good that'll be. Now-servant, Mistress, servant, Miss Emmy." He made a short bow. "I needs must be gitting along. Have to catch th' York stage."

"Oh," Emmy was on her feet, "please-thank you! And father-is he coming home, too?"

Mr. Salbridge shook his head. "He's got the voyage to make and the Majestic warn't due to raise anchor for maybe two months when I left him. He'll be coming through, jus' as soon as he can-"

"It's such a long time to wait-" Emmy said. "But, oh, please, Mr. Salbridge, I do thank you for bringing Thragun Neklop."

"My pleasure, Miss-" The rest of what he might have said was drowned out by another of those strange wails. Emmy hurried behind Mr. Salbridge who strode for the door. Miss Wyker made no attempt to see him away, as she did the doctor when he came calling. Emmy followed with more eager questions which he answered cheerfully. Yes, the Cap'n was feeling well and doin' well for hisself, too. An' he would be home again before long. He was jus' glad to be of service.

While he climbed back into the rig and drove off down the driveway, Emmy waved vigorously. She was startled by a very harsh piercing cry and she ran back to the library.

Miss Wyker, poker in hand, that deep scowl still on her face, was advancing on Thragun. The cat stood his ground; now that scream dropped to a warning growl. His long slender tail was puffed out to twice its usual size and his ears were flattened to his skull.

"Dirty animal!" Miss Wyker's voice was as angry as Thragun's war cry. "Get in there, you filthy beast!" She poked with the iron and Thragun went into a crouch.

"Thragun!" Emmy ran forward, standing between the war ready cat and Miss Wyker.

"Get that foul thing into the basket-at once, do you hear me?"

Emmy had witnessed Miss Wyker's anger a good many times, but never had she made such a scene as this before.

"Don't hit him!" Emmy caught at the cat. A paw flashed out and drew a red stripe across her hand. But in spite of that the little girl grabbed him up and put him into the basket. "He wasn't doing any harm!" she cried out, braver as she spoke up for Thragun than she had ever been for herself.

In answer Miss Wyker used the poker to flip the lid down on the basket.

"Fasten it!" she ordered, already heading toward the bell pull on the wall.

Emmy's hands shook. She had always been afraid of loud angry voices, and lately she jumped at every sound, especially when she was never sure when Miss Wyker was going to come up behind her with some punishment already in mind. She had done so many things wrong ever since Great-Aunt Amelie had taken ill. Emmy never even saw her any more. n.o.body seemed to see much of Lady Ashely now. Miss Wyker was always there at the bedroom door, to take the trays cook sent up with the special beef jelly or a new egg done to the way Great-Aunt Amelie always liked them.

Even at night Jennie was not called to sit with her. Miss Wyker had a trundle bed moved into the room and spent her own night hours there. When Jennie or Meggy came to clean, she was always standing there watching them. Meggy said, " 'as 'ow they was goin' to 'urt th' old lady-as iffen anybody ever would!"

"Yes, m'm?" Jennie now stood in the half open door.

"Take this beast out to the stable at once! I do not want to see it about again!"

"No!" Courage which she not been able to summon for herself brought words to Emmy. "Father sent him to me. He's Thragun Neklop an' a prince! The man said so!" She caught the handle of the big basket in both hands and held it as tightly as she could.

Miss Wyker, her long face very red, laid the poker across the seat of the nearest chair before taking long strides to stand directly over Emmy. Her hand swept up, to come down across Emmy's cheek, the blow so sudden and stinging that the child staggered backward, involuntarily losing her hold on the basket. Miss Wyker had scolded her many times since the first hour when she had arrived and doffed her helmet of a bonnet to take over rulership of Hob's Green. But until this moment she had never touched Emmy.

"Take that beast out to the stable," Miss Wyker repeated, "and be quick about it. Animals are filthy, they have no place in a well-run household. And you," she rounded on Emmy who was standing staring at her, one hand pressed to her cheek where those long fingers had left visible marking, "go to your room instantly, you impudent girl! You are wholly selfish, unbiddable, lazy and a handful! Poor Lady Ashely may have been hastened to her bed of illness by your thoughtless impudence! Poor lady, she has had a great deal to burden her these past years but there will be a good many changes made shortly-and your conduct, Miss, will not be the least of those! Go!"

So sharp and loud was that command that it seemed to sweep Emmy out of the room. She hesitated for one moment on the foot of the stairs to watch Jennie's ap.r.o.n strings and the tail of her skirt vanish toward the end of the hall. The maid had taken the basket. What was going to happen to Thragun Neklop? Emmy's tears spilled over the fingers which still nursed the cheek which was beginning to ache as she went up the stairs slowly, one reluctant foot at a time.

There was a strong smell of horses, but there were other scents which were new. Thragun stretched himself belly down in the basket to look through a spread in the wicker weave which had served him for some time now as a window on a very strange and everchanging world. He saw an expanse of stone paved yard and there was a flutter of pigeons about a trough out of which water was being slopped by a young man whose shirt sleeves were rolled clear to the shoulder. Thragun sniffed-water-never before had he been kept shut up to receive food and water only at the pleasure of another. However, if this must be so for some reason he had not yet discovered, then let those who were to minister to him, as was correct, be brought to attention of their duty.

He voiced a call-cry which in his proper home would have brought at least two maids and perhaps a serving slave of the first rank to answer and make proper apologetic submission, letting him out of this strange litter and treating him as Thragun Neklop should be. Was he not second senior of the Princess Suphorn's own household?

The young man turned his head toward the basket. However, he made no attempt to come and act in the proper fashion. This time Thragun gave a truly angry cry to inform this odd looking servant that his superior wanted full attention to his desires. The young man had filled two buckets with water which sloshed back and forth, wetting the yard stones, as he came. Thragun waited, but the slave made no attempt to approach. Instead, inside this place smelling of horses, he was starting to pa.s.s Thragun's cage when there was a voice from the general gloom behind.

"Asa, you lunkhead, you messin' with th' Knight agin?" The voice was drowned out then by the shrill squeal of an aroused stallion. Then there were whinneys and the sound of horses moving restlessly.

Asa moved out of the cat's sight even though Thragun turned in the basket and tried to see through another small opening in the wicker. That was too narrow, even though he had been working on it with explorative claws for several days.

He heard two voices making odd noises, some of which he recognized. So did the grooms soothe and tend their charges in the royal stable. Apparently even in this strange land horses were properly cared for. If that much was known, why were cats not properly attended?

Heavy footsteps came toward the basket. Thragun waited. There was more than just hunger and thirst to mark the change in his life now-there was a strange unpleasant feeling. The hair along his spine and his tail lifted a little, his ears flattened.

He was Thragun Neklop-n.o.ble Warrior, acknowledged guardian of a princess. It had been his duty and his pleasure to patrol palace gardens at night's coming, to make sure that nothing dark or threatening dared venture there. Had he not in his first year killed one of the serpent ones who had been about to set fang in the princess' hand when she had reached around the rocks to recover her bracelet? Perhaps he had not sprung on a thief to rip open his throat as had Thai Shan, the mightiest of them all, trusted warrior for the king. But he knew what must be "So this 'ere's th' beastie? That there Wyker's got a wicked tongue an' a worse eye, that one! Jennie says that this was brot 'ere special-for Miss Emmy-present from 'er paw. So do we do what that long-nosed witch wants, then what do we say when th' Cap'n comes home an' says where is what 'e sent? An' who, I'm askin', made 'er th' Lady 'ere? M' wage is paid by th' Lady Ashely as 'as been since I was six an' came a-kelpin' for m' paw. I takes 'er Ladyship's orders, an' that's th' tight an' right o' it!"

"She's got 'er a thing 'bout cats. Th' moggy to th' kitchen disappeared. It showed claw to that one first time it saw 'er when she came down givin' orders right an' left to Cook 'erself. Then come two days past and moggy was gone. Saw 'er a-talkin' to Rog out in th' garden-'im 'as no feeling for beasties. But he 'ad 'im a sixpence down to the Arms that week. An' sixpences don't just grow in that there garden he's supposed to be a-planting of."

"So-"

There was a moment of quiet. Thragun's eyes were hardly more than slits, and with his ears so flat he looked almost like one of the big carved stone garden snakes on which he used to sun himself in the old days when all was well with his world.

Something deep in him stirred. Once before he had felt its like and that was when he was shedding the last of his kitten fur to take on the browning of his mask, tail, and four feet. His mother had gathered up her family just at twilight one nighta"there were the three of them, Rannar, his brother, and Su Li, his sister. They had followed their mother into a far part of the largest garden. There, trees and vines and full formed shrubs had grown so closely together there they had formed a wall and such a one as only the most supple of cats could get through. There was something in the heart of that miniature junglea"a gray stone place fashioned as if two of the Naga Serpents had faced one another before a wall, with another piece of wall above which they supported on their heads. They were very old; there was the green of small growth on their weathered scales.

Mother had seated herself before them, her kittens a little behind her. Then she had called. The sound she made was the sort to stiffen one's back fur, made claws ache to be unsheathed. Something appeared between the serpents, under the roof they supported. Mother had sat in silence. Only they were not alone, cat and, kittens. Something had surveyed them with cold eyes, and colder thoughtsa"yet they remained very still and did not run even though they all smelled the fear which was a part of this meeting.

That which had come, and which they had never seen clearly, went. With mother, the kittens scrambled into the freedom of the real garden again. However, from that moment Thragun knew the stench of fear, and that wrongness which is a part of evil to be ever after sensed by those who had met it. Also, he had learned the warning which came before battle to those born to be fighters and protectors.