Apprentice Cat: Toby's Tale Book 1 (Master Cat Series)

by Virginia Ripple

  “Oh dear. You’re not in trouble again, are you?” asked Elsabeth, clutching her giant handkerchief to her breast.

  “No, ma’am, I believe the head master has some people he would like us to meet.”

  “Oh how wonderful.” Elsabeth fussed with Lorn’s collar and sleeves and straightened his hair. Toby clamped his teeth on his laughter and did his best to keep his whiskers from betraying him. The young mage shifted from foot to foot.

  “Mother, please,” the young man hissed.

  “Indeed, Elsabeth, let the boy alone. The head master is waiting.”

  “Nonsense. The grand master mage himself can wait for a moment to make sure Lorn is presentable.”

  “There is no grand master mage right now.”

  “Well, even if there were, he could still wait. There. Nobility itself,” she declared.

  Lorn walked away, legs and arms stiff. Toby trotted beside him. When they were surrounded by a crowd, the young man relaxed. He scanned the room and then looked down at the tom.

  “Does Master Jalen need to see us?”

  “No. I thought that was the best excuse to rescue you from your parents.”

  “Good thinking. So now what?”

  Toby gazed around at the sea of legs.

  “Could I get a lift?”

  Lorn bent down so Toby could hop onto his shoulders. The tom wondered if his mother had ever had to ride on Master O’dorn’s shoulders. As if the thought had summoned them, he saw his mother and the master mage sitting at a table across the banquet hall.

  “Over there. The red table with the elderly mage and black queen. That’s Master O’dorn and my mother,” he said, turning to look at the boy carrying him. Lorn chuckled and batted at Toby’s whiskers.

  “That tickles.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Should we go see them?”

  Adele’s sharp gaze zeroed in on them and she beckoned with a tail twitch. Toby sighed.

  “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  Lorn weaved through the groups of mages and cats toward the master partners. The tom could feel the young man’s shoulder muscles tighten the closer they came to the table.

  “I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance,” said Toby’s mother. “I’d hoped you might be locked away in your room studying, but I suppose socializing could be beneficial.”

  Toby bit his tongue.

  “I trust you’ve been on your best behavior.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  Lorn bent toward a stool, allowing Toby to flow from his shoulders. The young mage pulled out a chair and sat on the edge.

  “You must be Lorn Ribaldy,” said Master O’dorn, leaning across the table to shake the young man’s hand.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “A pleasure. I worked with your uncle for many years. He had an unusual way of looking at things.”

  “You’re very kind, sir. Most people would call Uncle Hecktor a crackpot.”

  “A cracked pot can serve well as a watering can in the right situation,” countered the old mage with a wink. Lorn smiled.

  “So tell me, have you decided what you’ll specialize in yet?” asked Master O’dorn.

  “It’s a bit early for that, sir.”

  “Come, now. Surely there’s been something that’s intrigued you.”

  Lorn raised his eyebrows and glanced at Toby. The tom blinked and shook his head, wondering what the old mage meant. When he looked at the human, Master O’dorn’s mouth was quirked in a lop-sided smile. He chuckled.

  “Ah, well, as you said. It is a bit early to plan your entire future, though I do hope you’ve been enjoying your classes.”

  “The ones you make it to, anyway,” said Toby’s mother.

  The young tom stared at her. How did she know they were still getting to classes late? He glanced toward a mirror at the end of the banquet hall, then back at Lorn. The young man’s eyebrows were raised and his eyes were wide. Toby looked back at his mother. She was eying Lorn as if he were a sleeping viper. She turned her gaze on her son.

  “No, I haven’t been spying on you.”

  Master O’dorn shifted forward in his seat, capturing Toby’s attention.

  “What your mother is saying is that you are not known to give up solving a puzzle, especially when there is aid to be found.”

  Toby’s thoughts shattered. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make his mother snarl. His skin felt alternately cold and hot. Adele’s piercing yellow gaze never wavered.

  “Don’t bother trying to lie. You were never good at it anyway.”

  “All right, yes. We’re still trying to find out why father disappeared.”

  “Why can’t you just leave this alone?”

  “Because no one else cares,” said the orange tom, his fur rising. Adele glared at her son. Her tail appeared momentarily above the table as she lashed it to and fro.

  “I care about you. I don’t want to see you expelled. Concentrate on your studies. It’s what your father would have wanted.”

  “We don’t know what father would have wanted, do we, Mother. He’s not here to tell us.”

  The black queen hissed, hunching down as if to spring across the table.

  “Adele, my friend,” said Master O’dorn, “would you be so kind as to fetch me something to drink? This conversation has left me rather parched.”

  She turned her glare on her old friend. Clarence frowned at her and made a small circle in the air with his index finger. The queen turned her head toward the nearby crowd. A few cats and humans were staring at them. Others were giving them furtive glances while pretending to be engrossed in conversation.

  Adele turned narrowed eyes back on her table mates, then dropped to the floor and disappeared among the crowd. Master O’dorn watched her stalk away. He shook his head and turned to look at the young tom.

  “You really shouldn’t bait your mother, Toby. It’s in poor taste.”

  “I know, Master O’dorn, it’s just she always seems to rub my fur backwards.”

  Closing his eyes he heaved a sigh, letting his fur flatten. He knew the old mage was right. Toby felt Lorn’s hand on his head. He opened his eyes and looked up at his friend. When he turned his attention back to the master mage, the man was smiling again.

  “Given that you’re obviously going to continue searching for more information regarding your father’s disappearance, perhaps I can help.”

  Toby’s ears perked forward.

  “It’s not much, but after our little discussion last time I went back through everything I had received during the time Victor was on his mission. There wasn’t much outside of normal High Council business, but I found a single letter from Victor to your mother. At the time I thought the old cat had decided to pick up penning bad poetry, some romantic fantasy for Adele or something. Now I wonder.”

  “Bad poetry?” asked Toby.

  “Yes. Several parts of it are quatrains that seem to be nothing but nice words put together. I suspect the poetry may hold clues to his disappearance, but I have no way to decipher them.”

  “When did you get the letter?” asked Lorn. “We’re trying to retrace Victor’s steps in order.”

  “I think it was about a week or two before we found out he was missing.”

  Toby kneaded the stool. His focus narrowed to the mage sitting across the table.

  “Is there any way you could get that letter to us?”

  The old man glanced away. Toby followed his gaze, spotting his mother at the punch bowl. She was filling the cup with the frothy pink liquid, her tail straight as a rod. Master O’dorn cleared his throat.

  “I will send it by dragon messenger at the first opportunity.”

 
“Thank you,” said Toby.

  “Oh don’t thank me. I may have just pushed you into the eternal abyss. Your mother thinks I’ve been warning you against further investigations, you know.”

  “She won’t hear otherwise from me.”

  “Nor me,” agreed Lorn.

  “That’s good to hear. Now, you two best be elsewhere before she returns.”

  The partners stood to leave.

  “And, Toby, do be careful. You’re father was a skilled loner, not an apprentice, and he still disappeared.”

  The orange tom nodded to his old friend, then leaped onto Lorn’s shoulder. Together they left.

  Toby trotted toward the building housing the offices of the loner instructors. He felt rather conspicuous with Lorn jogging beside him. Few humans came to this side of the academy, though Toby had never wondered why until now.

  “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” asked Lorn.

  “I don’t remember any rules against humans coming onto the loner campus.”

  “Me either, but I feel like everyone’s staring at me.”

  Toby glanced toward a group of trainees gathered with their books in a sunny spot. They looked up from their studies as the partners passed by, then returned to their books.

  “You’re imagining things. If you want to go back, fine, but I want to know if Master Antwan knows anything about why my father would have started writing bad poetry while he was on this mission.”

  Lorn didn’t say anything more as they entered the building. The walls echoed with the sound of the young mages footsteps. Toby cringed, hoping the sound wouldn’t disturb anyone as they made their way to the office Master Antwan shared with Master Natsumi. Toby scratched at the door.

  “Enter,” said a soft feminine voice.

  The partners squeezed into the small, dimly lit room. A sleek silver tabby she-cat sat on a cushion upon a high shelf with her eyes closed. Nearby a half dozen sticks of incense smoldered in a small pot of sand. Toby lifted his nose, inhaling the smoke. He sneezed. The young tom peeked up at the tabby. The she-cat didn’t move. Toby motioned for Lorn to sit on the floor next to him and wait. The young mage braced himself against the door jamb and scrunched himself into something resembling a seated position, knees touching his nose.

  “What can I do for you?” asked the feline on the shelf as she stretched first her front legs, then her back.

  “We’re here to ask Master Antwan some questions about some information he recently gave us,” answered Toby.

  “What information might that have been?”

  Toby tried to think like his father. He didn’t know this cat. Could he trust her? His paw pads prickled.

  “I would prefer talking to Master Antwan. Would you know where we could find him?”

  “I’m afraid Master Antwan is away on holiday this week,” said the she-cat, jumping from shelf to shelf until she was sitting on a cushion in front of the apprentices. Toby grimaced, flattening his ears to his head. The she-cat cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared at the orange tom.

  “You have your father’s determination, though it seems you also have your mother’s temper,” said the she-cat.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Antwan wasn’t exaggerating your color, either. If you’re ever sent on secret missions you’ll have to be able to use the art of disguise better than anyone I’ve met.”

  “I’m sorry. Have you two met?” asked Lorn, raising his head enough to be heard over his knees.

  “No. Not until now,” said the she-cat.

  “You must be Master Natsumi.”

  The tabby nodded.

  “I’m Toby and this is Lorn.”

  “Yes. I know. I understand young Trainee Terence has been helping you on a special case. I’m a little surprised he’s not with you today.”

  “We, uh, had a disagreement,” said Toby.

  “I see. Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Yeah. So, Master Antwan really isn’t going to be around for the rest of the week?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’s visiting some friends in the Middle District. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Toby, glancing at his friend for some guidance. Lorn gave a minuscule shrug.

  “If it’s about your father’s last mission,” offered Master Natsumi, “I know as much as Master Antwan. We worked several cases together in conjunction with your father.”

  The young tom relaxed.

  “I was hoping Master Antwan could explain something about what my father wrote in a letter to my mother. Maybe you can help?”

  “I can certainly try. Do you have it with you?”

  “Well, no. Master O’dorn is supposed to send it to me.”

  “In that case I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

  “Actually, I was just wondering if father had said anything in his letters to you about taking up writing poetry.”

  “Poetry?” asked the silver tabby, sitting back as if Toby had hissed at her.

  “Is that weird?” asked Lorn.

  “Victor was certainly a romantic, but it would be highly unusual for him to wax poetic in the middle of a mission. What else do you know about this letter?”

  The silver tabby leaned forward. Toby felt like a hunted mouse. He fought the urge to hunch himself into a ball.

  “Nothing, except that it was sent a week or two before we were notified of father’s disappearance.”

  Master Natsumi sat back, licking her ruff. The young tom shivered as he tried to shake the hunted feeling. The silver tabby squinted at Toby, then looked away toward a wall. Toby followed her gaze to a large medallion hanging from a leather thong. It’s triangular shape was at odds with the circular red stone set in its middle.

  “I wonder,” whispered the loner. Toby held his breath. The rustle of fabric as Lorn adjusted his position sounded loud to the young cat.

  “That medallion was the last thing Victor sent us before we lost all communication with him. It and nothing else. When we tested it we found only two magical signatures, your father’s and Master Ribaldy’s, overlaid by a trace of blood magic. It was the only real evidence we had that Master Ribaldy was involved in Victor’s disappearance.”

  Lorn groaned. Toby put a paw on the young man’s knee. Master Natsumi straightened and let her piercing gaze rest on the boy.

  “I’m sorry, young man. To all appearances your uncle master minded the entire thing. If we hadn’t received a tip about his plan to blow up the High Council chambers while it was in session, he might have succeeded in throwing society into chaos.”

  “I know. It’s just…”

  Toby patted Lorn’s knee again. The boy was ashen. The tom looked back at Master Natsumi.

  “You said “I wonder.” What did you mean?”

  “If your letter arrived when you think, then it’s possible there’s something more to this medallion. We wondered why Victor hadn’t sent more information about it. We assumed either he hadn’t had time to write them or they’d been intercepted along the way. Perhaps we never received them because he sent them somewhere he knew they’d be safe — to your mother.”

  Toby waited anxiously for Master O’dorn’s letter to arrive. A week passed and then another. The young tom was about to mirror call the old mage to find out what was keeping him from sending it when it arrived. No sooner had the door closed than Toby and Lorn were hunched over the pages.

  My dearest Toby,

  My apologies for the late arrival of this package. When I promised to send it I did not foresee the outbreak of the disease ravaging the Lower District among those inhabiting the Middle District. I’ve enlisted the aid of the Temple as the disease is spreading rapidly and appears to be si
milar – if not exactly the same. At the current rate of infection, it is all I can do to keep up. There have been few fatalities, thank the One as my Temple friends say, but they assure me more will follow unless we figure out a way to slow the disease’s progress. To that end I am devoting all my time, as is your mother. That being said, I must return to work now.

  I wish I had more pleasant news to pass on, or even an idea of where to begin in solving the riddle of your father’s letter, but I have none.

  Your mother sends her love as well.

  Sincerely,

  Master C. O’dorn

  “Things must be worse than Master O’dorn is letting on,” said Toby.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “My mother would never say that.”

  Lorn slid a piece of paper out from under Master O’dorn’s letter. It was blank. The young mage shuffled the two pieces of paper, then looked inside the packet. Toby checked the floor from the door to the table. Nothing.

  “Why would he send a blank piece of paper instead of your father’s letter?”

  “He did say he was busy. Maybe he was distracted?”

  “Or maybe someone else got this before we did.”

  “But why replace the letter with a blank sheet? Why not just keep everything?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  Lorn got up to fetch the kettle of hot water and saucer of spiced milk he’d left on the hearth to warm. He placed the saucer beside Toby, then poured the hot water from the kettle into a cup he’d borrowed from the kitchen weeks ago.

  “Do you ever plan to return that?” Toby asked, nodding toward the cup.

  “I hate to send it back to the kitchen only to have to borrow another one.”

  Lorn cut a slice of lemon for his tea, held it over his cup and squeezed. A seed flew across the table, bouncing off Toby’s cheek and landing on the blank sheet of paper.

  “Watch it.”