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

by Virginia Ripple

  “Ancient remedies?”

  “Sometimes a cure for a modern illness rests within ancient texts.”

  “So you lied to the head masters to get the medallion?”

  “Not at all. From a certain point of view we are using the medallion to unlock ancient codes in the hopes of finding a cure.”

  “But Master Ribaldy’s documents aren’t ancient.”

  “True, but his use of prophetic-style poetry, symbols and numbers in code form is.”

  “Do all humans think in circles?”

  “Only the brilliant ones,” said Master O’dorn with a wink. Toby splayed his whiskers in a wide cat grin.

  “Is Lorn in the kitchen?” asked the tom.

  “I sent him to fetch Brother Jason and Brother Yannis.”

  Toby’s eyes widened.

  “I thought we weren’t going to tell anyone else about this.”

  “Ordinarily I wouldn’t, but they are experts in understanding ancient prophecies. I believe we’ll need their expertise to unravel this mystery.”

  “You trust them?”

  “The Temple Brothers are prohibited from telling anyone’s secrets when they are told something in confidence. Besides that, I’ve known both of them since before your mother was kitted. They are trustworthy. In the meantime, let’s see how far we get by ourselves.”

  “What about the trace of blood magic? Will it interfere?”

  “A very good question. What do you think?”

  Toby stared at the medallion, it’s gem glittering in the sunlight. Why would Master Ribaldy use blood magic on it if he were truly innocent? A memory tickled his thoughts.

  “Does blood magic carry unique signatures?”

  “Every magic from incantations to potions to those things done in the shadow arts carries the signature of the mage who casts it.”

  “What about transferring someone else’s signature to an item? Can you do that if the someone else uses blood magic and you don’t?”

  “I suppose so, though blood magic carries more than just the mage’s signature. It also carries that of the victim. Why do you ask?”

  “It was something Lorn dug up in our research when we got Father’s letter. Something about putting another mage’s magical signature on an item. What if Master Ribaldy didn’t use blood magic to create the medallion? What if he created the medallion as a key, but wanted to tell us who was responsible for the need of the key?”

  “I see where you’re going with that. Perhaps we should dissect the signatures on this before we try to unlock it.”

  Toby nodded. The master mage set the medallion floating within a dampening field, then said an incantation to reveal the various signatures embedded in the necklace. The gem glowed liked molten metal, then spewed an image that looked like a knotted rope. Master O’dorn pointed his index fingers at it, then pulled his fingers in opposite directions. The image split into three ropes, each with different knots. He pointed to the two on the left.

  “This one is Hecktor’s signature and this one is your father’s.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “It is the combined signatures of the shadow arts mage and his victim.”

  The master mage repeated the pulling apart process on the third rope. It glowed a dull red, its knots throbbing in time to an invisible heart. Toby had to look at the fourth rope from the corner of his eye to see it at all, its pale image nearly invisible.

  “Can you tell who they belong to?”

  “No. I’d have to access the High Council archives to identify either of them, but I can tell you that the victim was immature in his magic, possibly a human hopeful.”

  “And the shadow arts mage?”

  “A master cat.”

  Toby glared at the pulsating rope, wishing that slashing it to ribbons would inflict the same harm on the cat who owned it. Master O’dorn cleared his throat. The young tom looked up at the old human’s piercing gaze. Mirrored there were Toby’s own thoughts. Without looking, the mage waved a hand at the ropes and they disappeared.

  “I believe we should unlock the key now, don’t you?”

  Toby nodded. Master O’dorn said the incantation they had discovered hidden amongst Master Ribaldy’s documents. White light shot from each of the triangle’s points, curving into a large circle. From the luminous circle more rods of light grew, each looking similar to a skeleton key

  “Do you see the pattern?” asked Master O’dorn.

  Toby studied each of the eight keys. At first it seemed simple, each key had one more tooth than the one before, but then the orange tom noticed the number of teeth increased beyond just adding one to the next one. The first was just a straight line. The next two had one tooth each. The fourth had two teeth and the fifth had three. Key number six had five. Number seven had eight and number eight had thirteen. Toby shook his head.

  “If there’s a pattern, I don’t see it.”

  “How familiar are you with mathematics?”

  “Mother drilled me in basic numbers, but she said I was too hopeless to try anything harder. She gave up.”

  “A pity. Perhaps, then, we can approach this problem using history instead. Do you remember reading about Leon the Erabain?”

  “Yes, he helped our kingdom evade starvation during one of the worst winters by showing people how to raise rabbits. What does that have to do with mathematics?”

  “Leon used a pattern of numbers to predict the population growth of the rabbits.”

  “And this is that pattern?”

  “Indeed it is. Can you see it now?”

  Toby studied the keys again. They refused to divulge their secret. The orange tom considered the breeding habits of rabbits and tried to imagine the teeth on each of the keys to be a rabbit. He closed his eyes and watched as the bunnies hopped by in ever increasing numbers. His whiskers splayed as the answer became clear.

  “When you add the teeth from one key to the teeth of the previous key, you get the number of teeth on the next key.”

  “Bravo. I think your mother gave up on you too soon. We shall have to speak with her about that,” said the old mage with a wink.

  “Then father’s letter was a simplified version of these documents.”

  “Correct again. And now that we know the sequence we can begin decoding the documents.”

  Several hours later, there was a soft knock on the door. Master O’dorn wrote the final words on their notes as their guests entered the room. Toby watched Lorn’s smile fade as he took in the master mage’s grim face.

  “We came as quickly as we could,” said Brother Jason, squeezing his considerable girth through the work room door. Brother Yannis was perched upon his shoulder.

  “It’s good that you did. It seems our situation is worse than we thought.”

  “What happened?” asked Lorn.

  “We decoded most of your uncle’s documents,” said the orange tom.

  “And?”

  “Before we jump into what we’ve uncovered so far, I would like for the good Brothers to help us unravel the part that mimics ancient prophetic poetry.”

  Master O’dorn motioned for the man and his companion to have a seat at the table, then pushed the last page of Master Ribaldy’s documents toward them. Brother Yannis recited the poem, the sound of his voice raising the hair along Toby’s spine.

  So dark the time of man doth come,

  When Sneak doth death decide to run

  And charge upon the willow’s sun

  That blood be cold and change be done.

  The Spider finds the widow’s peak.

  A cat doth spin his will to seek.

  Should will define, the day be bleak

  And hell upon mankind doth wreak.

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nbsp; The Brother Cat looked at his human friend, whiskers clamped tight. The portly human brought his trembling fist to his lips and kissed the knuckle of his index finger, then touched it to his forehead. Brother Yannis turned his sharp gaze on the master mage.

  “May I ask where you found this?”

  “Can you tell us anything about it?”

  “It’s predictive apocalyptic poetry.”

  “We figured as much. We were hoping, with your expertise in such things, you might be able to give us an idea what its predicting.”

  “Well, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s a warning of coming disaster, but that’s somewhat obvious, given it’s apocalyptic nature.”

  “Yes, but what disaster?”

  “That’s the problem with ancient prophecies, especially those declaring the end of time, there’s no way to know for certain. Some would look at this and say the poet was predicting the current sickness.” Brother Yannis squinted at the old mage. “It all depends on who the poet was.”

  Master O’dorn leaned back on his stool, stroking his chin. Toby looked from the Brother Cat to his friend. Their cool gazes reminded Toby of the strategy games he used to watch his father play with the old mage.

  “The poet was Master Ribaldy,” said Master O’dorn.

  The answer hung in the air. Brother Yannis’ tail twitched. His companion picked up the document, the paper rattling in his trembling hand. Toby watched the overweight Brother mouth the words again as his face paled. Slowly the human returned the paper to the table.

  “We must help them, Brother.”

  The tonsured cat licked his ruff. He turned to nip at his flank. He shook his head, making his ears flap. Finally, he turned toward his human counterpart. Brother Jason returned the old cat’s gaze steadily. Brother Yannis looked over his shoulder at the master mage.

  “If we are to help you, then there must be no more secrets.”

  “Agreed.”

  Brother Jason leaned forward conspiratorially.

  “Let us begin first, as a sign of trust. Master Ribaldy came to us shortly after the High Council decided to investigate the dragon willow trade in Heilberg County. He said he believed someone was manipulating the High Council’s decisions, but he didn’t know who.”

  “Based upon the stone walling we’ve received in gaining aid for those falling ill, I’d say the mage was right,” said Brother Yannis.

  “What did he hope to gain by telling you this?” asked Master O’dorn.

  “He wanted us to gather information through our various smaller temples and traveling Brothers, anything that seemed out of the ordinary.”

  “Did you find anything?” asked Lorn.

  “There were some murmurings about an unknown cat spreading a message of freedom for cat-kind, but we never discovered who or what the message meant.”

  “And you delivered this information to Master Ribaldy?”

  “Actually, we gave it to Master Kiyoshi. He was supposed to convey it to Master Ribaldy. I don’t know if the mage ever received it.”

  “When was this?”

  “Just a few days before Master Ribaldy was discovered setting up explosives under the High Council Chambers.”

  “That means Master Ribaldy may have figured out who was buying all that dragon willow and known what it was going to be used for before he was arrested for treason,” said Toby.

  “What do you mean?” asked Brother Yannis.

  “Look at the dates on these documents. The first were written soon after the investigation began, leading up to when you said you gave Master Kiyoshi that information. Then the one with the poem and father’s letter were written a couple days before the arrest.”

  “Then, Master Kiyoshi must have told Uncle Ribaldy about the mysterious cat. But that doesn’t explain why he’d want to blow up the High Council during Session. That would’ve been suicide.”

  “I think I can answer that,” said Master O’dorn. “According to what we’ve been able to decipher from this code, your uncle was betrayed. It seems this mysterious cat has a number of associates feeding him information. Although the High Council, in conjunction with the loners, had been able to shut down several shadow arts marketers, they were always small operations, never anything leading to the snake’s head.”

  “Mystery Cat was also able to feed misinformation back into the investigation, laying a trap for your uncle and my father.”

  “After Master Kiyoshi delivered your information, he and Hecktor decided to go undercover in the city to see if they could hear what this cat was saying for themselves.”

  “What did they find out?” asked Lorn.

  “Apparently, they overheard several followers talking about a plan to overthrow the “human-run government,” which I can only assume had something to do with blowing up the High Council.”

  “So Uncle Hecktor was set up.”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “And Master Kiyoshi?”

  “Bait,” growled Toby.

  The room was silent.

  “Who would do such a thing?” asked Brother Jason.

  “That, I hope, is something you can tell us.”

  Brother Jason raised his eyebrows. His feline companion opened his mouth to protest. Master O’dorn held up a hand.

  “We think the answer to the identity of our mysterious cat and his plans lie within this poem, but we need your help to decipher it.”

  The Brothers stared at the poem again. Heaving a sigh, Brother Jason scooted his stool closer to the table to read over the tonsured cat’s head.

  “Deciphering predictive apocalyptic poetry isn’t a precise magic, like you’re used to. It’s a matter of interpreting what the poet’s message may have been word by word and line by line.”

  “Go on,” said Master O’dorn, waving a hand at the piece of paper.

  “Well, take the first line, for example. The word “dark” can mean literal darkness or night.”

  “It can also mean something bad or evil,” added Brother Yannis.

  “Certainly, and in this case I think that’s what Master Ribaldy was saying based on the rest of the line. He was trying to warn the reader that something bad or evil was coming.”

  “What about the rest of the poem? Does he say what that evil might be?”

  Brother Yannis gave the master mage a hard stare.

  “If you’re hoping he specifically says, “Watch out for Master So-and-So because he’s going to blow up the High Council,” you’re hoping in vain. Predictive apocalyptic poetry doesn’t lend itself to specifics like that.”

  “No, but he does hint at a couple names,” said Brother Jason, pointing at the poem. “Look here. He capitalized Sneak and Spider. It’s likely he was using imagery or even name meanings to tell us who we’re looking for.”

  “You’re right. If we had our book of names we could easily find out, but it’s back at the temple.”

  “What about the rest of the poem?”

  “Basically it says these two persons, one of whom seems to be a cat, plan to use death as a weapon to create a change they want and that whatever that change is won’t be good for the rest of us,” said the large human.

  “That’s helpful,” snarled Lorn.

  “Indeed. It seems the poem is a dead end.”

  “There’s nothing in there about what kind of death the Spider and the Sneak will use?” asked Toby.

  “Nothing useful. The closest references are death decide to run and charge upon the willow’s sun.”

  Toby looked around the room at the humans and cat, each in various postures of defeat. Lorn had walked to the fireplace and was leaning with his back against the mantle. The young man’s lips were compressed into a thin line and his eyebrows were dra
wn together in a scowl as he stared across the room at the closed door. Suddenly the human’s gaze snapped back to the papers on the table. He blinked. He smiled.

  “What if Uncle Hecktor is telling us without telling us what the weapon is made from? Master O’dorn, didn’t we charge the willow in the remedy we mixed for Adele?”

  “Yes,” the mage answered hesitantly.

  “Could a master mage charge willow in a way to make it a poison instead of a remedy?”

  “You’re right,” exclaimed Toby. “Gravin Arturo said dragon willow could be used in the shadow arts by twisting something benign into something evil and Master Meredith said it was often used as a poison by assassins.”

  “The sickness is the weapon,” said Master O’dorn.

  “And I think I know who created it,” said Toby. He looked at Lorn.

  “Do you still have that note to Reginald we found?” The young man bolted from the room, returning again a few moments later waving the piece of paper.

  “We bumped into someone on our way back from the library one night. He dropped this.”

  He laid the note on the table next to everything else. Pointing to the poem and to the short note, Lorn grinned.

  “It’s a match. Thank you Uncle Hecktor.”

  Toby batted the air, then turned to look at the curious faces surrounding them.

  “This note was supposed to go to Reginald, a student from Heilberg House. As you can see, he’s supposed to be doing something for someone connected with the House. My guess is spying on us and maybe distracting us.”

  The young tom turned to look into Lorn’s eyes. The young man’s expression hardened.

  “Like with disappearing supplies and exploding homework?”

  “Exactly.”

  Brother Jason leaned forward on his stool, his eyebrows puckered.