“Ladies and gentlemen, please be sure to be on time when we resume or you may miss the campus tour,” the she-cat looked pointedly at Toby and Terence. A few cats snickered. Toby’s skin heated in embarrassment again. He managed a small nod to the teacher. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a look of satisfaction cross the she-cat’s face.
“You are dismissed.”
“I really don’t want to be late again,” whispered Terence.
“Me either. I say we hurry to the dining room and see if we can get closer to the front of the line this time.”
“I’m with you.”
The two raced to the dining room. By the time they made it they were panting, but the run had been worth it. This time they were half-way to the buffet before the dining room began to fill up. They hurried through the line, gobbled down their food and raced back outside. The doors hadn’t even closed before they said their finder words. So it was the rest of the day.
By the time the duo wearily climbed the steps to their sleeping quarters, Toby was beginning to wonder if being chosen could possibly be worth the amount of running he’d had to do. Not only that, but he had yet to taste any of the food he’d eaten. It seemed to have gone straight from the plate to his stomach without so much as touching his tongue.
“Do you think it gets any easier,” asked Terence.
“I hope so.”
“I haven’t run so much since living behind the fish market. Even the fur between my toes hurts.”
“I know what you mean. Mother told me there would be a lot of going from one building to another, but she never mentioned having to run. Then again, mother has always been an early riser. She was probably already on her way to breakfast before the second years even began their speech.”
“Your mother sounds... sounds...,” Terence began, squeezing his whiskers and scrunching his eyes.
“Driven?”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I was going to say, but yeah.”
“She was. Her family wasn’t noble enough by some cats’ standards, so she had to work hard to stay ahead. She graduated with honors.”
“I think I can understand what she went through.”
Toby suddenly remembered what Terence had said about his own family situation and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. It didn’t seem fair that the little tom would have to work so hard just to be taken seriously. And yet the gray and white tabby seemed more than up to the task. Toby hoped Terence would be among those chosen. At least I’d have one friend already, he thought. If I have to face three years here with just those stuffed noble cats I think I would sooner go back home or petition to be a loner like father. The thought of his father called up a loneliness that never seemed to fade. He wished for the millionth time that he knew what had happened to the big black tom.
“I was thinking,” said Terence, breaking into Toby’s gloomy thoughts, “do you think it would be okay if I switched nests with one of the cats nearest you?”
Toby focused on his little friend. In the lamplight he looked even smaller than he had during the daylight. He wondered if Terence wanted to be close because they were friends or because he was feeling homesick. Maybe a little of both. In the end he figured it didn’t matter. He needed the companionship too.
“I don’t see the harm in asking.”
“Could you... I mean, would you...” Terence began, his voice almost a whisper.
“Actually, I was thinking maybe I should switch with someone near you,” Toby said, pretending not to hear the little tom’s request for help. “Your nest is closer to the door. I think if we’re closer to the door then maybe we can get a head start on tomorrow. What do you think?”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Terence’s tail quivered.
“Great! Why don’t you go ahead and get settled in while I find someone to switch with.”
Switching nests turned out to be easier than he thought it was going to be. The she-cat next to Terence was more than happy to exchange when she discovered Toby was near a handsome oriental short-hair who was apparently among the hopefuls in an attempt to stay in the country. Or so the she-cat had said. Toby thought the tom had more likely spun the tale to gain more female admirers. Either way Toby won since he now had the nest next to his new friend.
By the time Toby had helped the she-cat lug her belongings to his old nest, he had gone from being tired to staying on four legs by willpower alone. He quickly settled into his new nest, hoping the dawn was further off than he suspected.
“Thanks, Toby,” mumbled the little tom. His gentle snores told the orange tom that his friend was fast asleep. Your welcome, thought Toby, curling into a comfortable ball. Before he could think anything else, he was asleep.
When the tuxedo tom arrived to rouse the hopefuls, Toby was already awake. He stretched and yawned, ignoring M’festus’ usual rude comments, and waited to hear whatever instructions the cat counselors had to give for the day.
“Some of you may be anxious about today’s class as you will be demonstrating your abilities to do magic,” said Lilith. “While the Masters will be watching you closely, please understand that they do not expect you to perform each and every spell flawlessly.”
Toby felt the tension in the air ebb ever so slightly. The rest of the instructions were little more than a repeat of the directions they’d been given the last two days: be late and have it affect your final evaluation, do well and earn a bonus that would be applied to the same evaluation. Toby wondered if the second years had been told to repeat themselves or if they honestly believed it was necessary.
The first half of the class Master Meredith, the tortoiseshell queen who had been instructing them from the first day, led the class in basic warm-up spells.
“This is kit stuff,” growled a brown tabby in front of Toby. “I cut my teeth on harder spells than these.”
“You disagree with warming up?” asked the master cat.
“No, Master,” the brown tom said, obviously surprised at being heard. “It’s just that my tutor always made me work on spells befitting an apprentice from the beginning of our sessions.”
“I see. And might I inquire as to the name of your fine tutor?”
“Lord Master Derwin Midland,” answered the brown tabby with pride.
“Ah, yes. Derwin Midland. A fine enough student, but not very creative. He was rather too fond of finding fault in other students’ spellwork while neglecting to pursue anything outside his comfort zone. I’m sure he gave you his speech on what constitutes real magic versus... how did he put it?”
“Common street magic,” mumbled the tabby.
“Yes, thank you. Common street magic. I’m afraid poor Derwin was not very adept at making the leap from history to magic or he would have discovered many great Masters have adapted common street magic to the higher magics with fantastic results. Something I hope each of you learn to do.”
The master cat fixed each student with a piercing yellow-eyed gaze. Toby felt bad for the brown tom, who was staring at his own paws. He imagined the tom was as embarrassed at being singled out as Toby had been every time he’d failed to do a spell his mother had told him to do.
“Now, as I’m sure there are others of you who do not understand why we are doing such basic work, let me shed some light on it. I know many of you come from noble households, but have any of you paid close attention to the musicians employed for your master mages’ great feasts? What is the first thing they do after unpacking their instruments?”
“They play the House Song,” answered a yellow she-cat near the front.
“Our master mage has them play His Lady’s favorite melody,” rumbled a large gray long-hair tom.
“In our Noble House,” said Reginald, a white angora, “they play the Hielberg County Anthem.”
As th
e discussion continued, Toby fished through his memories for the evening his little family had listened to a performance given by some traveling minstrels. He remembered the musicians sitting down to play and the most awful cacophony coming from the various instruments. He had covered his ears and mewled. When his father asked what was the matter, Toby had asked why they had come to hear such terrible musicians.
The memory of his father’s deep chuckle and rumbling purr made the young cat stare with drooping whiskers at his paws. Slowly he recalled the black tom’s explanation of why the minstrels didn’t seem to be able to play what sounded like real music to him as a young kitten. Blinking the melancholy away, Toby raised his eyes to the master cat patiently listening to the student’s shouted answers.
“Master Meredith,” called Toby. “I think I understand what you’re teaching us. It’s the same lesson my father taught me when I was a kit.”
The room got quiet. Toby felt the weight of everyone’s gaze, some hostile, some just curious. It was no secret that he was not from a noble house. Master Meredith nodded for Toby to continue.
“After unpacking their instruments, good musicians do a few warm ups before playing anything resembling real music.”
“Good,” said the master cat. “Can you take it one step further and explain why they do warm ups before playing anything else.”
“The warm ups help their fingers remember what to do,” said Toby. The class snickered.
“An interesting way to say it, but you’re correct. Would you care to explain to the rest of the class what you mean in a way they may understand?”
Toby warmed at the implied compliment. He tried not to notice the growing hostility of his peers, but it was difficult not to in the sudden oppressive silence. A quick glance in Reginald’s direction made it quite clear that the white cat thought Toby was becoming more than an annoyance. Toby quickly looked away, refocusing his attention on the master cat.
“Playing music is like working magic in that each lesson builds on previous ones,” Toby explained. “If you warm up with the earliest lessons, then by the time you get to the difficult magic you don’t have to think so hard about the steps you already know how to do. You can concentrate on just learning the new stuff instead.”
“Excellent,” said Master Meredith. “Your father was a great teacher.”
Toby nervously licked his ruff. Having the master cat’s praise felt wonderful, almost as good as impressing his father. As the master cat called the class back to what they had been doing before the brown tom’s interruption, Toby chanced a look around at his classmates. Reginald spared him one last glare before turning his attention back to the lesson.
The brown tom, however, nodded ever so slightly. Toby took it to mean the brown tom was impressed and at least a little grateful for the explanation. Terence beamed with pride, as if he had come up with the explanation himself. The rest seemed content to simply return to the lesson at hand.
The rest of the morning was uneventful. The class broke for lunch with Master Meredith’s reminder to be ready to have their performances evaluated during the second half ringing in their ears. Toby and Terence headed straight for the dining room, discussing differences and similarities of the warm up spells as they went.
“So you think you’re exceptionally smart, don’t you,” growled a voice in front of them. Reginald sat, barring the door to the common, with a pair of massive Russian blue cats.
“I suppose you think you deserve a place in the academy because your Daddy taught you a few tricks.”
“No. I believe I deserve a chance to receive an apprenticeship in the academy because I studied hard.”
“We’ve had the best tutors since kittenhood. What makes you think a simple commoner could possibly have learned enough to even begin to have a chance at an apprenticeship?”
A crowd had begun to gather around them. Some had obviously taken sides already, choosing to sit by the cat they supported. Others hung about on the sidelines. Of those Toby noticed a few were eager just to see a fight.
“Seems to me,” Terence jumped in boldly, “you musta been asleep in class or you would’ve heard what Master Meredith said about one of your so-called best tutors.”
Toby would have liked to chime in with the agreeing growls around him, but thought better of it as he watched Reginald. The white tom’s tail tip tapped steadily as he gazed around at the gathering cats, stretching to see those coming up behind Toby and Terence. It was almost as if he were looking for someone in particular. The orange tom considered the white cat’s words. Hurtful, yes, but nothing more. As more cats joined the crowd, the tom’s whiskers splayed wider.
Toby sat quietly going over his options. He could follow the advice he’d overheard from his father one night: walk away or turn the tables, except neither alternative looked promising. The gathering of cats had almost doubled in size. Reginald now had six cats sitting with him, each determined to block his way to the dining room. The crowd around Toby and Terence seemed set on making sure there was a fight.
“Oh look,” taunted one of Reginald’s group, “It seems our parents were right. Commoners haven’t any more brains than a mouse.”
“Indeed,” joined another, “He can’t answer the question himself so he has his little sparrow parrot the instructor. How amusing.”
“Make it talk again, Reginald,” purred the she-cat Toby had traded nests with. “I do so find it entertaining.”
Terence tensed to spring at the nearest tormentor. Toby gently laid his tail across the young tom’s shoulders. Terence looked at his friend with the question of “why not” burning in his eyes. The orange tom looked pointedly at Reginald. The white cat hadn’t said another word. He was staring at them, his whiskers splayed and eyes narrowed in triumph. Terence relaxed. Toby sighed inwardly. He couldn’t blame the little gray and white cat. If he hadn’t listened to his father’s stories he might have attacked Reginald himself. That, he decided, wasn’t going to happen.
He wouldn’t fight, but walking away didn’t look possible, either. So that leaves what? The only way past those cats was to try pushing them away from the door and that will land me right into a fight. He couldn’t remember his father mentioning being in the same situation. Perhaps someone from history, he thought.
Toby ignored the continued taunts as his mind raced through memories of old texts. In a flash he remembered something from an ancient religious text: a man who didn’t fight, but didn’t surrender either. By the end of the story, the bully’s friends had left him. Toby had no noble ideas that Reginald’s groupies would desert him anytime soon. However, if he stood his ground and made no aggressive moves, he figured he might be able to wait them out. Eventually they would get bored or they would have to give up because class would begin. He knew that, if nothing else, that would end it because every one of them wanted a good evaluation.
“Haven’t you anything to say?” asked the she-cat, her tail lashing.
“Perhaps he thinks he’s the strong, silent type,” taunted another cat.
“More like he’s slow witted. It’s been awhile since you asked your question, Reginald,” said another. “Maybe you should ask him again, but use small words so he can understand.”
“My friends have made some interesting points, Toby,” Reginald said. “You appeared to have some brains about you in class, but now you have nothing to say? Could it be that you agree with me?”
It pained him to stay silent, but he was determined not to react. Terence uttered a soft growl and nothing more. Reginald’s groupies snickered. Several cats, the ones hoping to see a fight, left, muttering that the scene was becoming a bore. Slowly the crowd thinned. Reginald’s group allowed them to filter through to the commons. Eventually the only ones left outside were Toby, Terence and Reginald’s small group.
“Come on, Reginald,” coaxe
d the she-cat. “Why should we stay out here with the riff raff and miss what I’m sure will be an excellent lunch?”
Reginald cast one last disdainful look at the duo, then accompanied the she-cat in. The twins followed close behind. Toby breathed a sigh of relief. He’d managed to keep his cool, but he hadn’t been sure how much longer he could have sat there pretending to ignore the group’s taunting.
“Do you think it’s over?” asked Terence.
“Not a chance.”
“Yeah. Didn’t think so. Looks like bullies come from all classes.”
“Looks like.”
“So what do you want to do about lunch?”
“Good question. By the time we make it through the line it’ll be time for class.”
“I guess we could share what I saved from supper last night.”
Toby scrunched his brows. Leftovers? When did Terence have time to beg the kitchen staff for leftovers? The orange tom thought back through the day. No, they’d been together the whole time. He cocked his head at the little cat. The little tom ducked his head, staring at his paws.
“I know it’s not exactly right to take food from the dining room, but... well... when you grow up bein’ hungry all the time, you learn to take what extras you can.”
Toby blinked. As he considered the little cat’s words. He smiled.
“I was just wondering how you managed to save any with the dampening field on the common buildings.”
Terence looked back at his friend. His shoulders relaxed and he sat straighter, his whiskers splaying in return.
“That was simple. A lot of mages and cats don’t know that you can make magic work inside the field if you’re outside it. I just moved my leftovers from the dish washin’ room to my nest as soon as we left the buildin’.”
Apprentice Cat: Toby's Tale Book 1 (Master Cat Series) Page 5
