Curious, Toby lifted his nose to sniff the air. The scent of smoked salmon, rare cheeses and fruit drifted to his nose. He drew in another breath, opening his mouth to allow the smells to caress his scent glands. The delicate floral aroma of the punch floated over the young cat’s glands. Nothing unusual. He was about to close his mouth and return his attention to what the councilman was saying when a new odor assaulted his nose. Toby felt like he stuck his nose in a garden of overgrown marigolds being watered with blood.
The first sneeze echoed around the banquet hall, throwing Toby to the floor. Sneeze after sneeze wracked the tom’s body. Lorn crouched next to him.
“Punch,” gasped Toby. “Reginald.”
Lorn looked toward the food table. The white tom’s eyes were wide. He whirled around.
“Cea SETH esMOU,” shouted Lorn, throwing his open palm toward the fleeing cat.
Reginald shrunk instantly, still scurrying away. Master Meredith pounced on the mouse-sized tom. Carrying the tiny cat, she strolled toward the councilman and placed the squirming bundle at the man’s feet.
“I believe this is the criminal you are looking for,” said the head master cat.
“An apprentice cat?” asked the councilman. “Surely you’re joking.”
“Did you not, only moments ago, plan to accuse these two apprentices of criminal activities related to a current investigation?”
“I was merely going to ask them a few questions.”
“Indeed. I think you will find, Councilman Damon, that this apprentice is not the snake’s head you are looking for, but he will be able to lead us to it.”
The room was silent. Councilman Damon stared down at the partners. Toby concentrated on the man’s green and orange spider pendant, afraid his heart would freeze if he met the eyes of the cat on the councilman’s shoulder.
“Young man, please explain your actions.”
Lorn looked to Master Meredith, who only nodded, a paw firmly on the squirming mouse-sized tom.
“When Toby fell off my shoulder sneezing, I knew something bad was happening. He managed to warn me that Reginald had done something to the punch, so I immediately threw an incantation at him to freeze him in place.”
The Councilman stared at the young man, then down at the miniaturized tom. He raised an eyebrow when he looked back at Lorn.
“I didn’t mean to shrink him,” mumbled the boy. The man scowled.
“You mean to tell me you hit your classmate with a poorly formed transformation spell because your partner sneezed? Master Meredith, what kind of absurd reasoning are you teaching these students?” bellowed the councilman.
“I assure you, Councilman Damon, that it is not absurd at all given young Toby’s exceptional gift,” replied Master Jalen, stepping around a group of onlookers.
“Oh surely you don’t believe that nonsense about having the ability to smell bad magic. His father used those same lies to manipulate his way onto the High Council.”
“It’s not a lie,” shouted the orange tom, glaring up at the rotund human.
Damon looked at him with unconcealed scorn. The cat’s green eyes continued to bore into him. He felt his fur fluff in fear, his legs stiffened as he tried to wrench his eyes from the dark cat’s gaze.
“Toby,” said Master Meredith, her voice like a rope thrown to a drowning man, “please tell us what happened before you told Lorn about the punch.”
The young tom closed his eyes and tried to relax as he had when he’d explained why he’d slapped the remedy from under his mother’s nose. Slowly the scene replayed itself. He was afraid to tell them why he’d been looking at the food table. He could still feel the master cat’s penetrating gaze.
“I glanced toward the food table when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I saw Reginald creeping toward the punch bowl. He had a silver charm around his neck I’d never seen on him before. He said something over the punch bowl and sparkles fell into the liquid. At first I thought maybe he was playing a joke, spiking the punch, but, when I let the smells go over my scent glands, I smelled blood magic.”
“How do you know you smelled blood magic?”
“I’ve smelled it before. It smells like marigolds and blood. I’m allergic to that smell. It makes me sneeze.”
“And this smell, you’re certain it came from the punch?” asked Master Jalen.
“Yes, sir, it was hidden under the floral scent.”
“I suppose you can prove all this,” said Councilman Damon. Toby’s ears flattened. The crowd waited, saying nothing.
“We could easily prove not only if blood magic potion was put into the punch, but also who is responsible if there is,” said Master Antwan, shouldering his way past several humans toward the table.
The tiny white tom suddenly froze, his eyes wide and whiskers clamped tight. Master Antwan motioned for Master Natsumi to join him. The sleek cat jumped smoothly to the table, glancing in Councilman Damon’s direction.
Each loner studied the liquid. Toby watched as their noses worked, barely above the surface. Master Natsumi shook her head and sat up. The large tom narrowed his eyes at his compatriot, then opened his mouth to let the punch’s aroma filter over his scent glands. Master Antwan sat up, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he gave a single nod to the head masters.
“Ret URNto oRIG inATE,” said the large tom, staring into the punch bowl.
A swirl of sparkles swarmed like bees toward the miniature white tom who squeaked and attempted to pull away from Master Meredith’s paw. He cowered on the floor, staring up at the silver mass churning above him.
“He made me do it.”
“Who?” demanded Master Meredith.
“Chivato. He told me to dump the vial in the punch and activate it. Please, don’t let it touch me!”
“Why?” asked Master Antwan as he stalked toward the mouse-sized cat.
“What does it do?” asked Master Meredith.
“It’s the sickness. It brings the sickness.” The little white cat’s eyes never left the glittering orb.
“Liar,” shouted a young voice to Toby’s left. The orange tom turned to see who it was. Terence stood stiff-legged, his eyes burning with anger as he stared at Reginald.
“Terence, look at him,” said Toby. “He’s terrified. Why would he lie?”
“He’d say anything to keep himself out of trouble. He’s always tryin’ to get someone else in trouble. Even you should know that.”
“Yeah, he’s done his best to make us do something to get expelled, but he’s never tried to poison anyone before.”
“How do we know he wasn’t just pullin’ some kind of joke? How do you know it’s poison?”
“You remember when we first met and I told you what we were going to have for breakfast?”
Terence nodded, his eyes narrow slits.
“You asked me if having a strong sense of smell was necessary to be chosen.”
“You told me it wasn’t.”
“Right. Well I found out I can smell blood magic, that I’m allergic to it. That orb is made with blood magic.”
Terence glared at Toby, at the swirling sliver ball and then the mouse-sized white tom.
“That still doesn’t prove Master Chivato made him do it,” he growled. Toby looked helplessly at the head masters. Master Antwan stepped in front of the young toms.
“Terence, did you see how I made the potion retrace its path to Reginald?”
The little gray and white tom stood at attention.
“Yes, sir.”
“Once we put it back in, the person responsible for putting it in the charm in the first place can be found in the same way. I think you should be the one to find out who that person is. Do you agree?”
“Yes, sir,” said the little c
at, his ear twitching.
With a flick of the loner’s tail, the silver charm floated up and away from the white tom still crouched on the floor. The large charcoal gray tom said the incantation to force the potion back in its container. Toby watched in fascination as the sparkling swirling mass was forced into the small container by an unseen hand.
As the vial settled back to the floor, Terence stepped toward it. He glanced at Toby, whiskers clamped tight, ears flattened. The orange tom could smell the anxiety drifting from the young cat.
“Ret URNto oRIG inATE.”
Toby held his breath as the silver charm slowly lifted from the floor. In an eye blink it zipped past the heads of the crowd of humans and cats perched on shoulders. The orange tom perked his ears forward, listening for the sound of the metal vial hitting the floor. He stood, ready to charge between legs to nail whoever was responsible for his mother’s illness and, most likely, his father’s disappearance. Beside him, Lorn stretched as tall as he could, craning his neck to watch as the charm whizzed toward its original owner.
The sound they waited for came an instant later. The partners shot forward, Toby racing low to the ground, Lorn shoving humans aside. They burst into an opening. Humans and cats alike had drawn away from the gray long-haired tom, the vial spinning on the floor in front of his paws. Toby’s thrill of triumph died as he stared at the master cat’s bland expression. He felt Terence skid to a halt beside him. The little tom’s fur bristled.
“This can’t be right. Someone messed with the spell.”
“Your spell was perfectly executed, trainee, though your zeal to disprove my guilt gave it more energy than was necessary.”
“I don’t get it. You… you couldn’t have… killed so many.”
“Death is inevitable in war.”
“What war?”
“The war against humans,” said Lorn. “You’re trying to take control of the kingdom and you’re eliminating anyone who gets in the way. That’s why you killed Master Kiyoshi and framed Uncle Hecktor, isn’t it?”
“Preemptive strike.”
“What about my father? Did you kill him, too?”
The gray tom purred, splaying his whiskers and narrowing his eyes.
“Your father has had a very special role. He’s been most helpful in our cause.”
“Mangefur! What have you done to my father?”
Toby yowled and launched himself at the master cat. The orange tom slammed into an invisible wall a foot in front of the gray tom, making the master cat laugh. Toby swiped his claws across the shield, ears laid back, fangs exposed in a snarl.
“Take it down and fight me you coward,” he hissed.
“It would be my pleasure, but I didn’t put it there.”
Toby glared at the grinning tom. A rustle of cloth near him drew his attention. The young tom turned his glare on the man standing beside him. The head master had his arms crossed, a frown on his lips.
“I put it there.”
The young tom growled and lashed his tail.
“Why?”
“He must be questioned further. We don’t know just how many others may be involved in this so-called war.”
Toby raked his claws down the shield one more time. He stalked away, lashing his tail.
“What about Gravin Arturo?” asked Lorn.
“We’ve already sent several mages to the great house to arrest him.”
The orange tom continued to glare at the gray cat who sat within the shield calmly washing his paws.
“So what happens now?”
“They will stand trial for murder, treason and attempted genocide.”
“And they will be executed,” said Master Meredith.
Torchlight flickered on the walls, casting cross-hatched shadows in the cell. The stench of old urine permeated the stone floor. Chivato tried not to breath. He could hear the guards’ voices from the end of the hall. Laughter. The gray tom’s tail twitched. Footsteps. The jingle of keys. The smell of gruel made the cat’s stomach rumble.
“‘Ere we are. A feast for ‘is majesty.”
The guard grinned as he lowered the bowl of lumpy white gruel from the top of the cage. Chivato glared at his gloved hands. The guard laughed and closed the hatch.
“You ‘ave a visitor yer majesty.”
With a bow to whoever was standing just out of sight, the guard sauntered away, whistling tunelessly. A black tom stepped into view. Chivato bowed.
“Your Lordship.”
The black tom stared at him. Chivato returned the stare, his stomach rumbling. He stepped closer to the front of the cage.
“When am I getting out?”
“Eat.”
The gray tom turned to stare at the tasteless paste sitting in the bowl. He looked back at the black tom.
“I did what was asked of me. I cannot be faulted for that halfling’s weakness.”
The black tom stared at him.
“Eat.”
The tom looked back down at the bowl of gruel. The cat wrinkled his nose at the lumpy mass, then bent to sniff it, glancing at the black tom from the corner of his eye.
“Your stomach rumblings are loud enough to wake the dead. Eat.”
Chivato nibbled at the lumpy gruel, surprised to find it sweetened and spiced. Urged on by his hunger, he began to gobble and slurp up the tasty treat. The black tom watched silently as the caged cat licked the last of the gruel from his whiskers.
“Thank you for persuading them to at least make it taste appetizing.” The gray tom began washing his paws. The black cat stared at him.
“Consider it the perfect gift for a noble cat able to complete his task imperfectly.”
The gray cat looked through the cross-hatched wall, his ears swiveled outward.
“Completed imperfectly? I don’t understand.”
“It’s of no concern. Things have a way of working out when you plan ahead.”
The black tom’s whisker’s twitched. Chivato cocked his head, trying to figure out the black cat’s strategy. For every decision he made, there were several alternatives waiting. The gray cat narrowed his eyes, wondering how his master planned to release him. He bent to continue washing his paws.
“So when am I getting out?”
“I’m afraid that is impossible.”
Chivato stopped mid-lick, staring at the black tom. His stomach clenched.
“What about the inquisitors?”
The tom stared at him. Chivato’s stomach constricted again, sending a peculiar burning sensation inching its way up his throat. The room began to waver. The gray tom laid down, limbs feeling weak. He squinted at the black tom watching him.
“That will not be a problem.”
“But you just said—”
He wretched. Bloody vomit spilled to the floor. The gray tom stared in horror. The fire in his stomach burned a path into his paws and tail, racing up his neck and into his ears. He looked at the mess in front of his paws then to the bowl that had held the sweetened paste. He could feel the heat turning his eyes glassy as he blinked at the black cat beyond the cage.
“Arturo,” he gasped. The ringing in his ears nearly drowned out the other tom’s words.
“Ah, yes. I visited him earlier today. The poor man seems to be coming down with something. I do hope it’s not the sickness.”
Chivato whimpered, reaching a feeble paw toward the door.
“As for you, it looks as if you’re not feeling well either. I’ll see to it you are not disturbed until the inquisitors come for you.”
Rolling on his side, the gray tom closed his eyes, listening to the fading pawsteps.
Toby shivered as the cold wind ruffled his fur. At least it wasn’t snowing, though the way the orange tom felt a gra
y sky filled with a blizzard would have been more fitting than the bright sunshine. A heavy snow might have camouflaged the mounds of earth surrounding them, a grim reminder of Chivato’s war. No one knew how far this war had gone, how many others were going to carry on what the heinous cat had begun. Both the gray tom and the gravin were found dead in their cells when the inquisitors had come to fetch them for questioning.
Toby tore at the frozen ground. Aside from the cat’s cryptic words, the young tom had no idea what had happened to his father. He’d heard a rumor that Chivato had used other cats for his experiments, maybe Victor had been one of them. For all Toby knew, his father could still be alive somewhere in a cage awaiting someone else’s version of torture for the war efforts.
“From dust were we fashioned by the One and to dust we return. Blessed be the One.”
Brother Jason pronounced the amen over the open grave, throwing a handful of dirt into it. Toby bowed his head in respect. He glanced to his left to see Terence sitting stiffly, staring straight ahead. Lorn stood to the orange tom’s right, shifting from foot to foot. Toby had lost count of how many graves they’d helped fill in today as part of the academy’s new relief program. They had been the first students to volunteer, though Toby knew the volunteer part was soon to become a requirement for every student entering the school. Part of the new empathy training every mage and cat would have to take. The orange tom wondered if it would do any good.
At least the number of deaths was coming to an end. Thanks to Reginald’s criminal ineptitude, Master O’dorn was able to mix a remedy that worked as quickly as the poison had. Toby’s mother had been the first to recover. If being crippled for life could be called recovering, thought the young tom. The once proud queen was now sway-backed, her hind legs wobbly and prone to making her tip over. But she’s alive. The thought pricked his conscience. He’d made a bargain. He needed to fulfill it.
Apprentice Cat: Toby's Tale Book 1 (Master Cat Series) Page 26
