by Dave Freer
Tom swallowed. Well, she was the Queen of Cats, even if she was human. She would know how a cat thought, and possibly humans too. He did pick up some more of the scurrilous gossip while they ate. Tom wished he’d had time to eat. Her cat had at least had duck breast and milk. All he’d had was a mouthful of bread chewed on the way. But he wanted to know about Estethius’s
brain. And the curse. He didn’t like the idea of Maya being under this curse. It might interfere with clubbing and… other things. The human side of him said that she was a princess, and thus far above a cat. The cat side did not agree.
Eventually, they did get back to the subject of the brain. Tom decided the witch was very skilled at getting men drunk and co-operative. She’d made Old Grumptious laugh quite a few times, and puffed him up a bit in his own importance. It was… interesting to watch and learn from. As a cat he hadn’t really studied humans being human. He watched them for food, opportunity and to avoid possible kicks.
“By the way, that bat-blood cost me a fortune,” she said conversationally as the talk wandered into that exotic magical supplies. “A foolish move on my part. I should just have asked for the brain. But I didn’t know as much about you then.”
Master Hargarthius blinked. “That was you?”
“Some of my hirelings,” she said dismissively. “They were supposed to be the best armed robbers in all Kos. It’s a place where they disarm robbers if they catch them, so they were rather surprised and relieved to escape amputation. Yes, I sent them, and the Demon Prince Hariselden, on the same mission. I assume you dealt with him? Otherwise I’m going to have to summons him and show that I am very, very, displeased.”
The raven looked up from the piece of ham it was shredding and said: “Nevermore,” in very satisfied tone.
“Hmph. In a manner of speaking,” admitted Master Hargarthius. “The boy had better take him another pickle soon. He’s occupying my best chamber… um, pot.”
“Really? He is a fairly powerful demon. Estethius used him extensively. He is exceptionally skilled at passing for human. A suave, handsome and charming man is one his favorites. Enjoys seduction. I gather he was exceptionally talented at it.”
“Nevermore!” said the Raven savagely and clacked its beak.
“Not as good at it as I was of course,” said the witch, languorously uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. “But I never managed to keep a demon in a chamber pot. It’s an interesting idea. I shall have to check the pots I squat over in future. It could be a useful way of getting rid of unwanted houseguests.”
Master Hargarthius shrugged. “I don’t have many. Ordinary folk treat the place with fear, which is… quite useful, I suppose. It made finding suitable famulus’s and household help difficult. And mages do not come to call.” He sighed. “It has a history.”
“Yes. Historically mages don’t mix much anyway, outside of the Court. It was the eating and drinking at someone else’s expense that was the draw, and since King Uther, that’s been nearly absent. Of course there is Kolumnus’s Association, that he’s pressing everyone to join, but I see precious little advantage in it. Mind you, Estethius was a leading court figure, once. You must have spent time there then.”
Master Hargarthius shook his head. “Not really. He… was told to remove himself from the Court about a month after I was taken on. He was… always a rough master. But those were bad months. I thought he was going to kill me a few times.”
Tom had found a stool and sat on it, and somehow the cat had moved onto his lap without him noticing quite how she got there, or how she required him to hold his leg and arm in what had been a mildly-uncomfortable-at-first position and had gradually moved to exhausting-and-excruciating-but-if-you-move-you’ll-disturb-the-purring-cat position. The cat side of him knew he was being used, but the human side knew that, and didn’t mind. Humans, thought the cat side, were odd like that. It took a lot of his concentration to hold the position, but still this statement made him ask, despite the cat, the need to remain un-noticed, and his being hungry: “Well, why did you become his famulus then, Master?”
Master Hargarthius looked at him wryly. “The usual. I thought with magic I would be able to turn the bigger boys who used to beat me up into toads, and the girls who ignored me into being hopelessly in love… or at least in lust with me. And that I’d conjure feasts… or even get to eat regularly. And being a famulus to a magician seemed better than starving, which was what I was doing before that. I was probably wrong. I was certainly wrong about the magic.”
“Uh. So why didn’t you leave?” asked Tom.
There was a silence. Eventually the witch spoke, “I would assume that Estethius used his craft to put spells of binding on his apprentice. To ensure his loyalty and safety.”
“Well, I don’t think he would have thought of trying being nice to them,” said Tom, and then wished he hadn’t spoken.
“That can be more effective,” said the witch, with a smile, although Master Hargarthius looked somewhat stunned by the conversation.
He rubbed his eyes. “I never thought of that. You could be right, I suppose. I never thought of running away, but it would have been sensible. And, um, what I had done from my previous master. What I should have done… You know, everyone thought I’d betrayed Master Esthetius for the reward. For this tower… It was promised to whoever gave him over to the King’s men, dead or alive… Master Estethius thought that very amusing.”
“He did?” asked the witch.
“Yes. I didn’t betray him. I did exactly what he told me to do, when I let the King’s men in. Well, I did most of what he ordered, anyway. I suppose the compulsion spell wore off once he had… well, been bottled. I was supposed to wait a year… but I took it apart instead.” He stood up, with a wobble. “I think I will go to bed. I am… tired.”
“Er. The brain?” asked Tom, thinking that was what he’d taken apart.
“Oh. In the jars behind my desk,” Master Hargarthius pointed at dark corner. “I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it out. Loyalty spells again, I suppose. I never thought of that. I did release the demon, Hariselden, when I dismantled the apparatus. It promised never to return. They always lie. But I didn’t know that then.”
“I think I will go to bed too,” announced the witch. “And my broom does not have one of these fancy self-fly homing devices.”
“Oh. Um, the boy will find you a chamber…”
“Yours will do,” she said. “I have a reputation to keep up.”
This was dear, dear God-mama’s idea of a joke, Maya thought. Of course, she’d found it much, much more amusing before it came to bed. Still, while the curse was active she really could not take chances. And it would apply as much to cat form as human.
Tom, although he didn’t scent mark like a Tom-cat… still was one. And this was his territory.
“It was frightfully expensive,” said Melania, in the cone of silence.
“We serve the state. Cost is no object,” Chief Wizard Kolumnus declared. “We needed to know what they were up to. It was a pity that so much of what we could hear was distorted, but we need to take action on the matter.” He looked pointedly at her.
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You are probably the lightest of the conclave.”
“We’ll send Benita,” said Melania, firmly.
CHAPTER 15
BRAINS’ TRUST
Tom started to move, but the cat stuck her claws into him, so he sat as still as a statue, while his master and the witch left. At which point the cat got up. Tom went over to the table at least in theory to clear away the bottles and glasses and food, but in practice to eat the rest of the bread and cheese, because he was famished.
The cat went off on a mission of her own, snooping in the dark corners among the bottles.
He ate while she did that and then piled the glasses and bottles and plates onto the tray. He picked it up and the cat stood up against his leg, the points of her claws making sure he knew she was there. “I
can’t carry the tray and you,” said Tom.
The claws came out a quite a bit more. Tom sighed, put down the tray, and bent down.
She moved off, just out of reach. He stepped after her. She moved again… next thing she jumped up on desk and then onto the shelf behind it, piled with bottles — homonuclii, snakes, strange flowers with teeth drifting up and circling, Octopi with baleful eyes. “You’ll break something and it’ll all be my fault,” said Tom, reaching for her, knowing perfectly well that even if the witch’s cat understood him, it would cat-like, not care.
He expected her to dart away. But she’d stopped just behind a large dusty jar… And the raven came down and pecked at the jar, hard.
The jar lid was harder than raven-beak and the cat didn’t flinch — as Tom did. Instead she gave low growl.
That was enough to get Tom to dust the jar with his sleeve. Inside in murky brown fluid was something with the unmistakable folds of a brain. Well, well. She was a witch’s cat after all, he supposed.
The raven pecked at the jar again, savagely. It was fond of brain. It had taken the brain out of rats and mice Tom had caught. So far it had made no impression on the bottle but Tom knew it could be singly determined. He’d better put the bottle somewhere else, he decided. In the pantry with the pickles maybe. The raven refused to go in there or into the broom cupboard, but Tom preferred the pantry, and it would be at home with pickle jars. The brain might even enjoy watching them breed. So he picked it up. The cat made no attempt to get picked up too, but followed him, as did the raven, all the way to the pantry.
The raven stayed out of there. The cat did not. However, she kept behind him, peering through his legs, while he gave the cheese some milk, after setting the jar among the pickles.
The raven had flown off to find his own roost somewhere, when they came out. It would probably be an irritable bird in the morning, as it had stolen quite a lot of the master’s wine. That might explain why it had decided to vent such force on the jar, decided Tom, as he carried the debris of the evening back to the kitchen. The skull had emerged from wherever it lurked and instead of yelling at him to wash up, asked the little pussy-wussy if she needed a rug in front of the kitchen fire.
However the ‘pussy-wussy’ left, walking off down the passage, so Tom followed, yawning, to see what she was up to this time. She was scratching at his door, of all things. Well, that worked for Tom, so he opened it, and the cat ran on ahead and jumped onto his pallet, and made herself at home in the middle of his blanket.
There was not much that Tom could do about it, except to use his cloak to cover them both. It was a great pity he could not transform himself into a cat…
It was also a pity she had to sleep in the very middle of the bed, so he had to occupy the bits around the edge. But she did snuggle into him and purr and languorously reach out her chin and rub it against his arm.
With not very much bed left to him and the unusual, if not unpleasant experience of sharing that bed, Tom expected to get fairly little sleep. And in this expectation he was not disappointed, although the reasons were something else entirely. He was a light sleeper, but he was happily locked into a rather vivid and very pleasant dream that involved some intimate clubbing with Maya, and him wondering why there had to be clubbing…when it dawned on him the clubbing was a noise on his door, accompanied by the shrill tones of Mrs Drellson. “Alarums, Alarums, thieves, murderer, mayhem!” And then: “Nevermore!” in hasty and urgent raven tones. And in the background the ominous chime.
Tom stumbled out, wrapped in his cloak, to be confronted by the skull. “Something is on the loose in the master’s study, breaking things! I can’t wake the Master!”
She, like the raven, had problems with some doors, which was why the raven had been knocking. Tom ran up the stairs, thumped the Master’s door, and opened it. It was dark in there, but he yelled: “Master, trouble in the study!”
“What…”
“The study! Mrs Drellson says there’s something loose in there.”
“I’m coming.”
Tom ran toward the noises, nearly tripping over the cat. “Nevermore!” Shrieked the raven, buzzing past him towards the noise of breaking glass.
Tom was not naturally inclined to being brave, but he’d have to clean that up! He flung the door open, to find chaos in the light of a branch of candles he definitely hadn’t left burning on the central table.
Chaos, and someone.
A smallish figure in a hooded deep-violet robe raised an arm and Tom dived aside as a fireball hissed past him and into the stone passage. “Recall!” yelled the figure. “Recall me! Now!”
Tom didn’t think he was likely to forget, although it was possible it wasn’t him that was being addressed. The raven had flown in, low, almost between Tom’s legs, and was pecking, clawing, and flapping at the figure, which did not help the next fireball. Tom wished he had his broom to hit the person with, but he did his best by throwing a heavy grimoire at the burglar, who yelled: “Recall!” and shimmered slightly
The Witch Emerelda collided with Master Hargarthius in the doorway. Neither of them were addressed… or dressed, either. Well, the Master had his staff, and a towering fury, and the witch her wand and a lot of red hair. She didn’t look pleased either.
“Cease! Abbadon alla Whoop yee woenter ear!” shouted Master Hargarthius, or something like that, as the witch was chanting and waving her wand too.
It was not what should happen as one tried to fling a fireball… that exploded, burst into flames and so, with a dreadful shriek, did the invader.
The Master and witch both cast extinguishing spells, which saved the study and the magical tomes therein. The same, however, could not be said of the burglar, whose once-violet and now black robe collapsed into a pile of ash. Presumably the ash had once been a person, too. It made a further mess to clean up, along with the destroyed bottles and jars of the Master’s specimens now on the floor.”
“The brain!” said Emerelda. “Is it still all right?”
Master Hargarthius leaned on his staff, peered at the mess. He shook his head. “No. Everything is broken.”
“Uh, Master…” said Tom, as the cat clawed his leg.
“They must have some other way of spying on you, Hargarthius,” said the witch, arranging her hair into a garment of sorts. It was long enough. “I will have to take steps to remove… ouch.”
The ‘ouch’ was as result of the cat sticking a claw into her.
The witch looked down. And said, “Yes. Well, I think we had better find some clothes. Now!” And she turned and walked out.
The Master sighed. “Well. Most of them were biological specimens. Of no magical value, really. Clean it up, boy. I shall go and set more defensive spells.” He sighed again. “But they got what they wanted. I thought I’d be glad to see it go.”
“Master…uh.” The cat bit his hamstring.
“What, boy?”
“I need to show you something else the invader might have done,” said Tom, pointing to the door.
The witch hadn’t gone very far down the passage, or bothered about the clothes. “Immeldson’s cone of audience,” she said.
Master Hargarthius blinked. “But that’s frighteningly expensive and takes thirteen skilled practitioners.”
“With any luck they’re short one. And they wouldn’t be worrying about expense. It wasn’t their money. They need precise co-ordinates though. Is there anywhere they didn’t go?”
“Er. The garderobe, and the tower-top,” offered Tom.
“Most of the tower is probably safe,” said the master with a scowl. “It moves. But the study does not. The tower moves about it.”
“I think we will all acquire some more clothing and go to the tower-top. It’s a suitable place for me to launch the broom from anyway,” said Emerelda.
So a few minutes later, Tom, the cat, the raven, and witch and, last Master Hargarthius met in the moonlight on the tower-top. It was cold and clear up there.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Do not go downstairs before me,” Master Hargarthius, grimly. “If they decide to come back, they’ll regret it as long as they live. And the skull is on patrol. I have given her some extra powers.”
“We need to move along, anyway,” said Emerelda. “This will not be safe, now. And without the brain…”
“I moved the brain,” Tom interrupted. “It’s… it’s hidden away. Mrs Drellson would have said, if they’d been down there. It… it was the cat’s idea.”
Emerelda snorted with laughter. “She’s a rather clever cat, and doesn’t entirely deserve what I did to her.”
“Mwrwow!” said the cat, rubbed up against Tom.
“It seemed the safest for now, dear. And in terms of the curse… well, never mind. Well done, both of you.”
Master Hargarthius nodded. “But I still want my revenge on the miscreants. I will want those ashes kept separate, boy. I want to know who that was, and who sent them. They’ll pay for this!”
“I am certain that that was the witch Benita,” said Emerelda.
“Kolumus’s assistant?” Master Hargarthius’s eyes narrowed.
“Ex-assistant,” said the Witch. “And I’d guess that Master Kolumus and his cohort are now nursing flaming headaches, from attempting to recall a burning woman.”
“You think that Duke Karst is behind this?” asked Master Hargathius.
“Possibly,” said Emerelda. “But I’d bet on at Kolumus definitely being involved,” she paused. “You know… we could try the ears they left behind. See if we can listen in on them.”
“An excellent idea,” said Master Hargarthius. “And I must apologise for the… intrusion.”
“Oh, nothing to apologise for,” said Emerelda, with a wink. “It happens to me all the time. Now, I think we’ll do it up here. The spell, I mean.”
So Tom was sent to fetch the porcelain, shell-like ear, and certain ingredients from the laboratory and carry them up to the roof, and endure a tut-tutting rebuke from Mrs Drellson’s Skull about the state of old Grumptious’s study.
