Kingdoms of Light

by Alan Dean Foster

  "There has to be something." Mamakitty wiped a forearm across her face. The advent of perspiration was another new, and unpleasant, consequence of their recent transformation. Wherever her much less flexible neck would permit it, she licked the salty droplets from her bare skin.

  "If I have to look through one more moldy old book, I think I'll throw up." Cocoa took a deep breath. "This room stinks of age. Besides, all this work is making me hungry. The bookshelves are full of wonderful mouse smells."

  "I'm hungry, too." Oskar brightened. "Wait a minute. If I remember right…" Walking back to the Master's desk, he started pawing at the drawers on the right side before he remembered to use his fingers.

  "I've gone through those already." Mamakitty made the comment idly. "There's nothing in there."

  "No? What about this?" Triumphantly, he held up the opaque glass jar of tasty snacks from which their smiling master had so often dispensed special treats. Grinning, he started to bite the top. Remembering how the Master had done it, he carefully unscrewed the lid. "Couldn't do this with just paws." Reaching inside, he grabbed a couple of favorite pieces and popped them in his mouth. As he chewed, his expression faltered.

  "They don't taste the same, somehow."

  "Dogs! Can't think beyond food. Don't hog everything for yourself." Stepping forward, Cezer staked a claim on the jar. As he reached for it, Oskar tried to pull away. Caught between their efforts to establish possession, the jar was pulled loose. Falling to the floor, it bounced once and began rolling across the carpet, spilling treats as it tumbled.

  "Now look what you've done!" Oskar barked.

  Suddenly, Mamakitty was striding forward, but not to recover edibles. Bending, she reached into the jar and pulled out a half-revealed piece of paper. It was neither large nor lengthy, but it was enough. It was what they had been looking for.

  "What better place to leave instructions for one's animals than in their treat jar?" Carefully she unfolded the single sheet, using both fingers and tongue. "What more likely place for spying intruders to ignore?" In the silence that ensued, she read hungrily, her green eyes focusing on the paper's contents as intently as if they were rat tracks.

  Unable to stand the ensuing silence for more than a minute, Cocoa moved to stand alongside the older woman and read with her.

  "What does it say?" Taj asked finally. "I remember seeing that paper, but never thought to look at it." He sniffed. "There are no canary treats in that old jar."

  Mamakitty looked up, her expression solemn and serious as always. "Many things, minstrel. It says many things. But you won't believe what it expects us to do."

  FOUR

  They crowded around Mamakitty and the revelatory note, Rather than try to read it himself, Oskar waited for her to explain. Strange, he mused, how perfectly her human speaking voice mimicked the serious tone of her erstwhile meows.

  " 'If you are reading this,' it says, 'then it means that I am dead, and will not be coming back to you, my closest and dearest companions.'" Mamakitty paused, but no one could think of anything to say—though Oskar thought a small chirp might have escaped Taj's lips, and Cocoa was visibly choked. To cover the naked emotion, she licked the back of her right hand and began wiping at her eyes with it.

  " 'I have always felt there was more truth, honesty, love, and common sense in what are commonly misidentified as the lower orders of animal than in a highly conflicted and combative humanity. That is why I never married, but instead surrounded myself with your kind. But now that I am gone, I regrettably must ask you to don human shape for a while, until you have hopefully accomplished that which I could not.

  "'The Gowdlands that are home to us all have been invaded by a most dreadful menagerie of creatures human and otherwise known collectively as the Totumakk Horde. They are led, I ascertain, by a necromancer I do not know and whose identity I cannot perceive. Such cloaking power signifies a sorcerer of uncommon strength and ability. I believe that when the ultimate moment of confrontation comes (as it must) that I will be able to defeat him. If you are reading this letter, then it means that I was wrong in the most profound manner imaginable. Though I am loath to transform you into that for which I have sympathy but little love, I have no choice. In your original and natural form there is no way you can successfully do that which I must now ask of you.'"

  "And what might that be?" wondered Taj, who despite his slender build seemed more at ease in the room than any of his companions.

  Mamakitty glanced over at him, then read on. " 'Should I fail, it will mean that this Khaxan Mundurucu and the Horde that he leads will perforce have overrun the Gowdlands and taken from it all color, for such was the terrible consequence the runes predicted would come to pass in the event of my possible defeat. The tint of Truth, the brilliance of Righteousness, the panoply of the spectrum itself: all will be stolen away. To throw back the Horde into the dark depths from which they have come, color must first be restored to the civilized lands. Somehow, you must find the pure light of true coloration, wherever it survives, and bring it back.'"

  Gray-green eyes flashing, expression solemn, Mamakitty carefully folded the letter. She started to put it into her mouth for safekeeping, then realized that her new fingers would do just as well. "That's it, then. That's our obligation."

  "Old dead Master doesn't want much, does he?" Oskar snapped at hovering dust motes, scattering them in the light from above. "Bring back some color, is all. As if we could catch such a thing with our bare hands and stick it in a bottle, like milk. Now, if it was a bone—"

  "Regardless," the dusky woman growled, "it is our departed master's last wish. We have an obligation."

  "Obligation? That's a human word." Sniffing pointedly, Cezer spun around to take a playful slap at Taj, who ducked instinctively and slapped back. "What 'obligation' do we have to humans? None! Don't get me wrong—Evyndd was a good master, as masters go. But remember some of the other humans who came to visit! They would push us away from them, and when the Master wasn't looking, sometimes they kicked and cursed. We all know that there are other humans who do even worse than that to our kind." Spreading his hands wide, he executed a perfect experimental back flip for the sheer joy of trying it on only two feet.

  "Let this Horde keep its grayness! I myself can still see and enjoy all that I need to. So can you," he told Cocoa and Mamakitty, "and you," he added with a nod upward in the direction of silently watching Samm. "And you well enough," he told Oskar. "Believe me, all this business about 'color' is overrated. We can see enough of it to get along. Obligation to help humans? I don't think so!" He threw the powerfully built older woman who had read the letter a challenging glance—while keeping prudently out of reach. Though somewhat reduced, she still had claws. "What about it, Mamakitty? How many of our remaining lives do we owe a dead master?"

  "We owe him the fact that there will no longer be a master over us." All eyes turned to Oskar. Cezer frowned and wrinkled his nose.

  "But you were just saying—"

  The other man cut him off. "I was decrying the difficulty of the task Master Evyndd has set before us—not saying we shouldn't do it. Look at us." He gestured meaningfully.

  "I'd rather not, if you don't mind." Taj gave a slight shiver. "I miss my feathers."

  "We all need human clothing," Mamakitty observed. "Not only for warmth and protection, but simply so we can move about in the world of humans without drawing attention to ourselves. You've all seen how they 'dress.'"

  "Clothes!" Cezer shuddered, and not from the cold that afflicted Taj. "Human things."

  "Like it or not, we are human now. Maybe we'll be human forever," Oskar pointed out. "It all depends on the Master's spell, about which we still know very little. The sooner we get used to the idea, the easier it will be for us. Think of it. No masters anymore."

  "Except for this Khaxan Mundurucu," Mamakitty reminded them.

  Oskar nodded, his thick gray mustache bobbing. "Think of all the bad masters who visited here. Now imagine them mu
ltiplied a thousandfold and set over not only animals such as ourselves, but over all humans as well."

  "Masters above masters?" Cezer muttered. "I admit that's not a very appealing notion."

  Oskar nodded somberly. "If we do what Master Evyndd wishes, maybe we can prevent that from happening. All we have to do is bring color back to the Gowdlands." He eyed each of them in turn. "Myself, I wouldn't think we could do such a thing—except for the fact that Master Evyndd apparently believes that we can. We must at least try." He looked to Taj. "You see color better than any of us, so you know best what is missing and needs to be recovered."

  The songster nodded slowly. "I wish I could make you all understand what the full range of color is like. Then you'd know why it's so important that it be restored to the world."

  Hopping up on a table, Cezer performed a swift pirouette, rendering himself delightfully dizzy in the process. "If you say so. Never having taken anything too seriously, I guess I can't do so even with my own objections. But I warn you now: at the first sign of serioustrouble, i'm taking my leave. for all i care, the Gowdlands can stay forever dark and gray. I can see just fine."

  "Seeing without color is seeing without joy. I wish I could explain it to you," Taj responded. "There's no joy without color to dance with. Remember the day that orchestra of humans came to play for the Master on his birthday? Each instrument makes a sound like a different color."

  "I would so like to dance to all the colors and not just the ones that we can see," Cocoa murmured dreamily.

  "I can always dance in your eyes, my little mouse." Cezer's twinkled.

  "It's settled, then." Oskar scanned the study. "We need to prepare. First, as Mamakitty has pointed out, we need human clothes to hide our furlessness."

  A rumbling hiss of uncertainty commanded his attention. "What about me?" wondered Samm.

  "We'll put something together for you." Mamakitty contemplated the problem of the man-snake's size with her usual confidence. "All of us are going to have to learn how to adapt." Her tone turned disapproving. "For one thing, we will have to learn how to avoid distractions. Cocoa, stop wasting time at that mousehole."

  Looking abashed, the exquisite young woman rose from where she had been crouching beside a dark spot in the baseboard. "Sorry." She waved a hand. "I just thought that with this longer reach I might finally get my claws on the tricky little blood pouch."

  "Weapons." Oskar's heavy eyebrows furrowed. "We'll need weapons as well as clothes. I've watched humans play-fight. They don't bite each other. At least, the adults don't. I wonder if that means that younger human children are more like cats and dogs."

  Cezer was trying, with little success, to lick the end of his nose. "I'm not flattered. Human infants pee wherever they feel like it. No discipline."

  Ignoring the other man's comment, Oskar indicated a second door set in the rear wall of the study, behind the Master's desk. "Let's have a look in the storeroom. I always liked to lie in there, especially on hot days. Now it seems I'll have to dig through it to find what we need."

  "I'll lend you a paw, Oskar." In a single effortless bound few humans could have equaled, Cezer was off the table and standing alongside his old roughhousing playmate. No one in the room thought the prodigious leap anything remarkable. "Maybe while we're searching for 'clothes' we can find a container that will hold color."

  "I'll settle for one that will hold water." Muttering thoughtfully to himself as he followed in the wake of his companions, a dejected Taj resumed his examination of his new hands. "No feathers, no wings—no flying. Maybe the Master's magic has empowered the rest of you for the better, but I feel downright clipped."

  A mass of muscle nudged him from behind. "And I feel—liberated," Samm told him. "Don't complain until you've lived all your life as a virtual quadriplegic, and then somebody suddenly gifts you with useful hands and feet. For me, just walking and being able to pick things up with something besides my mouth is a miracle that never ends." He gazed down at the songster. "Perspective is better from up here, too."

  "Don't be so sure humanness is such a great present," the songster snapped. "We've only possessed it for a few minutes." He swatted at the pinkish appendage the giant flicked in his direction. "And keep that tongue away from me! Yuck!"

  "Sorry." Samm was apologetic. "Old habits, you know." He looked thoughtful. "Just as I've always thought, though. You do taste good."

  Not that he felt there was really anything to worry about, but a wary Taj nonetheless edged a little farther away from his lowering companion, putting Mamakitty between himself and the giant.

  The storeroom of Susnam Evyndd was no afterthought; no cramped closet space filled up with old books, forgotten furniture, and discarded memories. The spacious, windowless chamber was lined with deep shelves and tall cabinets stuffed with incomprehensible arcana. Cocoa shuddered as she passed uncomfortably close to something gray-green and ichorous floating within a translucent, badly scuffed glass globe. The marks, she noted uneasily, were on the inside of the glass. Even the intrepid Cezer shied away from a tapering cone of dark wood from whose interior faint, insistent scratching sounds could be heard.

  Scattered among the intimidating were more familiar and less frightening shapes and objects. Having spent more time in the cool depths of the storeroom than any of them, Oskar led the way. Radically altered his appearance might be, but he retained his memories intact. Sure enough, in the very back they found racks of clothing: the majority intended to be worn by the wizard, but also some items that had been maintained for guests, or left behind by previous visitors. The women's attire would require some minor modifications, but Cocoa and Mamakitty would be well garbed. As for the rest of them, while Taj found himself lamenting the absence of style, there was enough that would be suitable.

  The notion of donning artificial skin caused them more grief than the finding of it. As she slipped into traveling pants and jerkin, Mamakitty writhed as if being subjected to a soapy bath.

  "This is too tight."

  "It's all too tight." Oskar was having trouble with the belt he had chosen until he thought to think of it as a leash on his pants instead of his collar. That narrow band of leather still encircled his neck. The idea of removing it was still somehow—obscene. "If it was loose enough to be comfortable, it would all fall off." Gingerly, he placed a loose velvet cap on his head, forgetting that there was no longer any need to be concerned about objects pressing down on his ears now that they protruded from the side of his head instead of the top. He found they no longer rotated very well, either.

  "I don't see what you're all so aggravated about." Hunkering ponderously down before a tall antique mirror, Samm admired the cloak and hood he had cleverly improvised from a huge blanket. "I am enjoying this."

  "Why should it aggravate you?" Mamakitty wrestled awkward new body parts into constricting silk. "You're used to shedding old skins in favor of new. We're not."

  "You will find that the habit grows on you. Personally, I feel quite refreshed." Pulling the makeshift hood over his head, the giant resembled a marble sculpture that had somehow broken free from a castle portico.

  "Weapons?" Making a face, Cezer gave one last desultory tug on the bottom of his shirt. Oskar thought the cat-man looked quite fine. He, on the other hand, felt as disheveled as he had in his wiry gray fur. That was just the way things were, he sighed. Some creatures were destined to look sleek and handsome no matter their circumstances. Then there were those like himself to whom the term well-groomed would never apply.

  He put the thought aside. They were not going to a fancy dress ball. "Over this way," he told them.

  An offshoot of the storeroom, the wizard's armory was small, befitting Evyndd's reliance on abilities that did not require the application of muscle. But there was enough gear to outfit them all, albeit not always to their individual tastes. Cezer immediately laid claim to a bejeweled, high-pommeled sword that had been a gift to the sorcerer from a grateful client. Cocoa settled for a sim
ilarly well-decorated rapier and matching stiletto, while Mamakitty was content with a far less flashy sword. Satisfied with the leavings, Oskar struggled to buckle on the remaining blade. He was still having trouble learning how to use fingers.

  They had to cajole Taj to carry any weapon at all. "I'm a singer and a thinker, not a fighter," he kept protesting. In vain, it turned out, as Oskar and Mamakitty outfitted him with a brace of small throwing knives. As for Samm, spears and swords looked like toothpicks in his massive hands, and might have proven as effective.

  "These are too small." He laid them aside. "I will improvise something suitable for my size and appropriate to my nature." But with the tiny armory all but gleaned, there was little left to choose from. "I have an idea," he announced cryptically. Exiting the storeroom, he left them to proceed with the next step in their search.

  Though they examined every corner, even searching behind the tall wooden vessel from which emanated threatening scratching sounds, they found nothing that looked like a suitable vessel for the capturing and holding of color.

  "Would we even know one if we saw it?" A weary Cocoa wiped sweat from her forehead and proceeded to lick the moisture from the back of her hand, lamenting the much reduced reach of her new tongue. "We're nothing but a wizard's pets, and have little of his knowledge."

  "I should have paid more attention to the things he was doing and slept less." Mouth set, Mamakitty rested hands on hips and surveyed the chamber. "We'll just have to find something appropriate to store this color in after we've collected it."

  "Then that's how we'll deal with it. The next thing we have to do is choose a leader." Pausing in the doorway that led back to the rest of the house, Cezer struck an aristocratic pose, head up, one hand on the pommel of his magnificent jeweled sword, ears pointed as far forward as he could force them. "I hereby nominate myself. Who votes for me?" When not one hand or voice was raised in support, his expression changed to an irritated pout. For a moment, he thought about spraying the lot of them, but somehow that no longer seemed an appropriate response. "All right, then—if not me, who? Who is better qualified as a fighter?"