Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat

by Andre Norton

  She pushed the knee table a little from her and sat with her hands clasped lightly in her lap. Allitta made a quick matter of clearing away the remains of the feast, leaving only three cups of fine design and a flagon of the soothing drink there.

  “Now,” Ravinga said when the girl had at last returned to her own place, two of the kottis immediately pushing each other to establish favored positions in her lap, “now you have questions, as who would not.” She paused again, not looking at me but at the opposite wall as if she saw there something of intent meaning.

  “We are a people who have forgotten much, and some of that I believe was induced—as a punishment, a warning, an escape—who knows which? The most ancient of the bard songs hold hints. Hints that predate the wars before the uniting of the outer queendoms. Most of our lands are harsh ones and the lives we have made for ourselves here have demanded that we become what we are now.

  “The unification has done away with war between nation and nation and that paves the way for something more. If we have fallen from some former estate, perhaps we are now very slowly climbing back, as ones who would find a way up a slickrock island new to them. But at present we are more like travelers trapped in some sand pit, and hiding our eyes against what is before us—or must be before us in the future.

  “We have grown complacent. Oh, some of our customs we have held to—the solo to toughen our young for example.” Now she did glance at me. “Is it not true, Hynkkel, that you are different now?”

  “I believe so—” My hand sought the cat pendant and I saw the scars on my wrist. Different, yes, a whole new dimension of life had been opened to me. I had danced with those who were the fabled enemies of my kind, I had listened to Kynrr’s tales, I had come away from my roots and at the moment I realized that I had indeed broken out of the shell which had once held me.

  “My House,” she seemed to change the subject sharply, “is a strange one. I have only two of blood kin left—and one is not truly of my nature.” Suddenly she stretched forth her own wrist and pushed up a wide bracelet circling that. I saw on her slightly puckered skin scars similar to those Maraya’s teeth had left on me.

  “For many seasons there has been trouble, trouble which was so faint that even the Great Essence could only dimly convey—and then only to some born sensitive to such nuances. Now this trouble is rising faster. The Plain of Desolation has a lord power.”

  I think I was staring at her gape-jawed, trying to make sense of such a wild statement. For there could be no life in the Great Desolation—no House for any lord power to use.

  Behind me I heard a sudden growl, felt Murri stir.

  “Listen—” his throat speech carried. “This is the speech of wisdom.”

  Even the kottis, those on Allitta’s lap and the one which had settled down beside her, opened wide their eyes to regard Ravinga’s with that unblinking stare of their kind.

  “There are the great rats—” Suddenly I thought of those we had slain and how they were different from their fellows. And I had heard tales of how such large ones have come out of the Desolation—though how they could abide there—

  “Yes, the rats—a testing—to see how alert and ready we may be.” She reached within to a pocket of her robe and brought out in the hollow of her hand a round ball of a dead-black substance, a black so intense that it appeared to draw light to it for the quenching and the room became darker as she set it down on the table before her.

  I leaned forward to take a better look but her hand curved over it instantly, shielding it from my sight. “Not so! I do not know the full power of this. You have one shield—” she pointed to my pendant, “but you have had no training. We do not risk you now—”

  “Risk me?”

  “From the day that you were able to find the cursing on my beast I knew that you had that within you which might answer.” Again she changed the subject. “The kottis, the beasts, they sensed it in you, for in many ways their measurements are more accurate than ours.

  “Allitta,” she nodded to her apprentice, “is also one who has inner sight. She has learned a little in her way, you have in yours. We shall need those who can stand up to dangers far different from any that our peoples have known for generations.”

  “I am no warrior!” I protested. Had not all the trouble in my life sprung from the seed that I was not by nature such?

  “There are many kinds of struggle, and a sword, lance, or other weapon in one’s hand may not be the answer to such. We need others than warriors, though it may well follow, and probably will, that we shall see lances readied against what comes.

  “We need more now those who can walk other ways, who are ready to be attuned to the most subtle warnings of the Great Essence. Firstly we are in need of a new Emperor. Vapala has supplied the last two Emperors. There is a candidate very ready here now who would change the source of custom—for it has always been forbidden that the rule should rest in the hands of any one House.

  “Though we now dwell in peace as to nation, there are dark workings between House and House.” Her hand went out and touched that of Allitta which now lay on the table. There was a harsh stiffening of her apprentice’s whole body, an odd sharpening of feature which could be evil memory possessing her for an instant or two. “Yes, there are many darknesses under the surface of our apparent safety. Thus we need no scheming of House against House to add to future danger. Our Emperor must this time have no tie with Vapala.”

  She spoke as if she were issuing an order and now she turned her head and looked straight at me as might a commander look at his troop.

  “No!” the denial burst from me. “I am no Emperor, nor can I be! Nor will I try—”

  The girl leaned forward and her sharpness of feature was matched by her voice as she said:

  “One does what is demanded of one—or one is—nothing!” She smacked her hand, palm down, on her own small table so the cup there nearly toppled to its side. Her eyes were as cold as those my father had often turned on me and there was certainly a measure of disgust in the curl of her lips.

  “I am no Emperor,” I repeated firmly. The thought that these two women could see me a candidate made me suddenly suspicious of all the vague warnings Ravinga had been mouthing. That I should offer myself for such a trial—there would rightfully be mocking laughter and I would be ranked one bereft of wit.

  But Ravinga now did not seem disturbed. Her hand that was over that black ball raised and under her touch the ball rolled towards me.

  “Let us see,” she said.

  As when her mistress had given me the cat mask long ago, Allitta made a disputing gesture with her own right hand but said nothing.

  The ball rolled across Ravinga’s table, passed on to mine. I could not understand how it had crossed the short space between the two tops. Then it was before me. Though Ravinga did not order me—she did not this time refuse my study of the object.

  It had nothing of a crystal about it. There was no gleam or glitter. The sphere repelled the eye as might a ball of some noxious dried algae. I had no desire to touch it. But it was changing before my eyes. The ball outline writhed, it became different shapes. For an instant only I was looking down at the head of a cat—not a kotti, nor of Murri’s lineage, but the sleek one of a leopard—the same leopard which, when blue, was the symbol of rulership.

  Leopard it was, but it went on changing and then I saw a rat—the representation of one of those strange and direful larger beasts.

  Leopard for ruler, that symbolism flashed into my mind—and rat—rat for the end of all good.

  20

  For one used to the relative silences of the outer lands Vapala was a place of clamor—though I could not say that my ears were assaulted by raucous sounds. Those musical mobiles which were a part of the inner city were always a-chime from dawn, when they were released to any wind which might be blowing, to dusk. The streets teemed with life, and during the next few days when more and more travelers and trading caravans came crowding
in, one had to push one’s way through throngs such as an outer dweller certainly never saw gathered together even for a major feasting.

  I had hoped for more enlightenment from Ravinga, yet at the same time I did not want to become involved in any argument over the preposterous idea that I would put myself forward for the Leopard Throne. She had somewhat ensorceled me by all the hints she had made on the first night I was under her roof. But in the morning she did not take up the subject again, nor was I minded to do so either.

  It was a busy time within the shop. Emperor dolls were in demand—even when they were only clay images of the cheapest sort bought for a couple of fruits, or a small bundle of firewood by those too poor to have anything in a purse. To display one of these over one’s doorway, even the doorway of a dilapidated hut, was considered necessary by custom. I saw that Ravinga and Allitta even gave these away to those who looked longingly but had not anything to trade. The Emperor might have been absorbed in the Greater Essence, but it remained that something of his strength might still abide with those who so honored him.

  For the time being there was little trade in her other products and I was able to survey them at my leisure. Men, women, and children from all the queendoms, of every rank from the Queens and their courtiers and guards, to the lowest of servants or slaves, were represented in the collection.

  Whole companies of desert scouts were assembled with their mounts, their equipment complete to even the deadly boot knives which were now worn mostly for show and no longer settled death duels. There was one entire trader’s caravan which marched along a top shelf. The salt gatherers of Azhengir with their crystal-lined branches were there, the guides of the dune sail riders with their light craft from Twahihic. Nor were the miners of Thnossis nor my own people lacking. And in the fore were the lords and ladies, the people of Vapala itself, from the lowest street cleaner to the Queen and her court.

  If Ravinga had fashioned examples of all the two-footed inhabitants of the queendoms, she had done as well for the four-footed. There were kottis engaged in all manner of play and hunt, there were oryxen, their fierce horns not trimmed, patient yaksen, with and without carts, and, in a corner to themselves, Sand Cats.

  In this land where such were considered menaces and the best of prey I was surprised at the detail and lifelike appearance of Ravinga’s collection. Here were free Sand Cats engaged in their own lives as I had seen Myrourr and those who had gathered for the “sing.” These had surely never been fashioned by one who had only seen them from a distance, or stood above dead bodies after a hunt.

  I thought often of the scars on my hostess’s wrist, hidden always by her bracelet. She had not mentioned those, only was sure I had seen them. When had Ravinga entered that other world and why? I had made the point of watching Allitta and she certainly bore no such markings.

  From childhood I had been schooled to patience but sometimes now I wanted to confront Ravinga and demand answers, clear-cut answers. Since the night that she had shown me that black ball and taken it again out of my hand while I still goggled over what I had seen and what might be the meaning of it, she had spent very little time with on me, being occupied with the shop—and her work table.

  I made myself useful on the second day—the first I had gone to the market to inspect the dealers in stones and jewel work. Twice I had seen pieces which undoubtedly were from my sister’s fashioning being resold and at prices which I think would have truly astounded Kura. I began to plan how her work might be brought directly to Vapala so that not only might her fine creations be appreciated by collectors but that she would have the pick of stones and other raw material, the like of which never appeared in our own trading fairs.

  Ravinga not only sold from her shop, she had also a leased market slip and it was there that during this time her servant Mancol took the less of her wares. I helped him transport and set up the stall before I wandered about on my own.

  The turquoise I had brought out of the outlands I was able to sell for some silver shavings which seemed a goodly bargain to me, though I am sure, had I known better the ways of this market, I could have made an even better trade. But there was too much to see and listen to, so much which was distracting.

  Processions wound up and down the streets. There were constant cries from harsh-voiced running servants to clear the way for those of one Great House or another. Youths in their finest were arriving—perhaps not to make the trials—but to mingle and gamble, race their mounts outside the city, drink the wines known nowhere else, generally show their arrogant persons that at times were boorish beyond belief.

  Once I saw Shank-ji with a crowd of followers. He was fair-skinned as any Vapalan—but he did not wear the bush wig of a warrior, though he was armed well enough with superbly forged weapons, gem-hilted. His own white hair was knotted back in as simple a fashion as my own, though the clasp which held it so blazed with diamonds.

  His face was narrow, clean of any hair on cheek or chin, though most of his companions sported narrow threads of mustache or jawline of beard. There was something oddly masklike about his countenance—no expression showed. Heavy lids appeared to hide, by chance or design, most of his eyes. There was certainly that about him which drew the attention—perhaps a certain tension throughout as if he held himself in tight rein against flaming action for which he longed.

  He was young, though there again one could not say he was like the other youths. Rather there was about him some of the authority which my father has always worn as a daunting cloak. Still, Emperor’s son though he might be, he had by custom held no open power in Vapala and ranked lower even than any House lord.

  People made way for his party. I observed that some in the crowd looked at him oddly in question as he rode by. Once I saw a woman’s fingers move quickly in a sign which in my land was used to ward off ill fortune. On the other hand there were a portion of those who called out his name, though he did not look at who so hailed him or make an answering gesture.

  During my prowling of the market Murri had withdrawn to the ruined house in the small court where Ravinga’s shop stood. When I questioned his safety Allitta said, with that stiff impatience she always used for me, that the ruin also belonged to the dollmaker and there would be no one to visit it untimely.

  My desert-born comrade was bored. Had it not been that at night he could come back to Ravinga’s own roof and that the kottis appeared to trot back and forth regularly to his place of refuge, I think he might even have climbed to the housetops again and gone exploring on his own. I took to describing to him in the evening what I had seen. How much human affairs meant to Murri when they did not actively affect his own life I could not tell, but he listened, and once in a while asked a question which surprised me.

  He seemed particularly interested in my sight of Shank-ji, though he growled several times and at last stated flatly:

  “That one kills—kills not to eat—but to—” He seemed to be searching for some way of expressing a thought important to him in the limited vocabulary we could share. “He kills—to wear teeth—to take skin—for the seeing of others.”

  A killer for red sport. Certainly that could be true of more than half those I had watched riding so proudly through the streets. Yet Shank-ji, if he shared that with most, had more. Kynrr had been hostile and forbidding at our first meeting, yet there had been that in him which I could understand. Even my brother I could read after a fashion. However, this would-be Emperor—no, he rode alone.

  “Not one—” Murri broke in upon that thought, “two—”

  “Two what?” I asked.

  The Sand Cat blinked. Again it seemed he struggled to make clear some thought. Then he answered:

  “Here stands that one.” He placed a paw flat on the floor close to my knee. Then he moved his other foot to position several finger lengths behind the first. “Here—other—”

  “Other man?”

  Again Murri blinked. “Other—” I thought I could sense puzzlement as if he could
not truly give a clear answer.

  Someone behind Shank-ji? That suggested that the Vapalan’s bid for the throne of his father might indeed have covert support.

  I had heard enough sidewise comments from time to time since I had reached the city which suggested that there was an unrest under the surface, that all was not as it had once been in the Diamond city, bound by custom into a narrow trail.

  That I could get any more out of my desert-born companion was impossible now. I only hoped that what he might know or learn in the future he would share with me.

  Night’s shadows lay on the city. The shop was closed, and, though the music of the mobiles was still in chime, this pocket of a court which held us was relatively quiet. For the first time since I had entered Vapala I brought out Kynrr’s treasured Kifongg and tuned it, glad to see that the hard trek had not affected it in any way.

  The bowl was worn indeed, polished very smooth by long handling, so polished that only the faintest of designs remained—an intricate twisting of lines of which I had never been able to make anything. They could have once been a running script such as those of Vapala used for their “high” writing of music and sound.

  I moved my fingers back and forth in an exercise to limber them, then dared to strike the chords of one of those songs Kynrr had taught me. Allitta had gone elsewhere in this sprawl of building which I had never fully explored, keeping strictly to the section Ravinga had made free for me. The dollmaker herself came to settle on a pile of mats, sighing as she relaxed, rubbing her back with one hand as if hours spent above her work table had left her aching.

  One of Kynrr’s songs came easier as I reached the proper strings. I kept my voice low. Murri loosed a rumble of purr and the three kottis gathered in about Ravinga, watching me as they rubbed lovingly about the dollmaker. They were as one in their black coloring and always they went together as if invisibly linked. They had paid me the courtesy of notice now and then, but it was plain that in this house only Ravinga and the girl rated their whole attention and devotion.