by Tad Williams
On the way back to Ratleaf, Fritti asked again to see Pouncequick. “He has been with me longer than anyone, ‘Shadow,” he pointed out.
She seemed disturbed by his use of the shortened name.
“I never tried to prevent you, Tailchaser,” she said unhappily. “I just suggested what I thought best.... He’s gotten very strange,” she added after a moment.
“Who could blame him, after what he’s been through?” countered Fritti. “Who could blame any of us?”
“I know, Tailchaser. Poor Pouncequick. And Eatbugs, too.” Fritti looked at her, wondering, but Roofshadow was shaking her head sadly. “I haven’t asked yet, but I suppose I know,” she said. “He was ... well, you were too late to help him, weren’t you?”
Fritti balanced his secret and decided to keep it. “By the time I found him ... Eatbugs was gone.”
And that is mostly true, he thought.
“Such sad times,” said Roofshadow. “I suppose I should take you to Pouncequick. Tomorrow, all right?” Fritti bobbed approval. “I didn’t know him,” she continued. “Eatbugs, I mean. Understand, I intend no disrespect, Tailchaser, but you have the oddest friends and acquaintances!”
Fritti laughed. “I’ll race you back,” he said, and they ran like wildfire.
The muted advent of Spreading Light brought Fencewalker and other guests in its train.
Fritti, pulled taut in a walking stretch, spotted the Prince swaggering through the underbrush, moisture gleaming on his shaggy form. At his side stalked the graceful black form of Quiverclaw. A cry of pleasure from Tailchaser was followed by warm greetings all around, and the three cats, two large, one small, sprawled contentedly and conversed.
“I hear that Stretchslow’s confidence in you was amply filled, Tailchaser.”
Quiverclaw’s grave words made Fritti want to wriggle with pleasure, but the demands of maturity won out over indulgence. “I am honored that great hunters like the Prince and yourself think so, Thane. I must admit that most of the time I was in that place I would have settled for a quick, painless death. I truly would have.”
“Ah, but you didn‘t, did you?” crowed Fencewalker. “That’s the nose-biter!”
“And from what I hear, sent for help by squirrel,” smiled Quiverclaw. “Unusual, but effective.”
This time, Tailchaser’s wriggle escaped suppression. “I thank you both,” he said. “The main thing, though, is that you came. I saw it; it was wonderful.” Fritti sobered. “I also saw ... that thing that Hearteater called up. Horrible ... it was horrible.”
Quiverclaw nodded. “Things like that were not meant to be. Already I have trouble remembering what it looked like, so wrong it was. The os given flesh—I suppose that soon I will be thankful I cannot recall its aspect. But it caused grave loss. Squeakerbane, Harar bless his mighty heart, fell before it—he and others beyond my reckoning.”
“Did ... is Hangbelly ... dead?” asked Fritti quietly. Quiverclaw pondered silently for a moment, then lifted his head with a crooked grin.
“Hangbelly? He was grievously injured ... but he will live.” The Thane chuckled. “It will take more than even that terror to kill old Bounce-Gut.”
Fritti was pleased to hear of the fat First-walker’s survival. Fencewalker smiled, but looked uncharac teristically morose.
“Many, many brave Folk fell,” said the Prince. “The world will not see a gathering of the Folk like that for many seasons-more seasons than the forest has tree trunks. Many good fellows never came up from the ground again.... Bah!” Fencewalker’s pink nose twitched in sorrow and disgust. “Snaremouse, and young Furscuff ... Pokesnout ... the Thanes, scrawny old Sourweed and Squeakerbane ... Dayhunter and Nightcatcher, my fine lads-they died protecting me, you know-they are all down in the cold earth, and we sit in the sun.” Visibly upset, the Prince turned away and curried his tail. Fritti and Quiverclaw stared at the ground between their paws. Tailchaser’s nose felt hot and itchy.
“But ... but what did Hearteater mean to do?” Fritti finally blurted out. “Why did it all happen? Meerclar,” he breathed, the thought occurring to him for the first time, “Lord Hearteater is ... gone, isn’t he? Dead?” He looked anxiously at the Thane.
“We think so,” Quiverclaw said seriously. “We have talked about it, the Prince and I. If nothing else, we must be able to tell the Queen of the outcome. Yes, we think Hearteater is gone. Nothing could have survived that final Hour.”
Fencewalker, who had straightened up, said, “Oh, aye, that was a real whisker-bender!”
“What happened?” asked Fritti.
“Well,” intoned Quiverclaw, “when the Fikos-thing came up from the pit we tried to fight. It was laying about fiercely, though; we were forced to retreat from the cavern.”
“Retreat?” shouted Fencewalker. “Ran! Tail over whiskers like spooked Squeakers! And who could blame you?”
“Some stayed to fight, my Prince ... like Squeakerbane.” Chastened, Fencewalker waved a paw for the Thane to continue.
“Anyway, we fell back into the outer chambers. There we met the Prince and his Folk, who had breached the minor gate. The Fikos forced its way out of the cavern, but did not seem to have purpose —it was destroying anything in its path, friend or foe. It seemed mindless. Following some urge, it shambled up one of the main corridors—that was all that saved us from complete rout, I think. Everything was chaos, Folk fighting and dying—”
Fencewalker interrupted, “It began to get dark, don’t forget that.”
Quiverclaw nodded gravely. “Indeed. It was as though that huge monstrous thing—or maybe Hearteater himself—was drawing in all the light ... taking a deep breath of light ... I can’t explain. We were fighting in the deepest blackness, then something ... something like sky-fire, but underground ... shot through the chamber, burning and crackling as it went by. Straight through, and into Hearteater’s cavern, as if it had a will. I have never seen the like.”
Fritti felt a strong joy deep inside himself. “I wish I could have seen it.”
“From where we made our stand we could see the light bursting from Hearteater’s chamber as if the sun had rolled down into a hole in the ground. The earth around us began to shake. There were great hissings and boomings, like ... like the sky was tumbling down, or the forest was dancing above our heads. Fencewalker shouted out to run, to get all the Folk out—”
“That’s true,” the Prince inserted.
“—and everyone went racing for the tunnels leading out. Hearteater’s creatures were running in circles like berry-drunk fla-fa‘az, screeching and clawing at one another ... it was a sight that will live before my dream-eyes forever.”
“It was all falling down, then,” said Fencewalker. “Falling down, and scalding mist and waters coming up through the floors ... what a tumble that was for the Firstborn, eh? Who would have dared think of it?”
Tailchaser reflected on all he had heard. So much to think about. Should he try to explain what had happened to him? Was he even sure what had happened?
“Why?” he asked, finally. “What did Hearteater want?”
“We may never know, really,” said the Thane, furrowing his pitchy brow. “Lord Hearteater, we can suppose, wanted revenge on the descendants of Harar. He had been long beneath the earth, and had been brooding since time beyond tail-tips on bringing the Folk under his sway. He must have been wearying of his poor copies of Meerclar’s children, and their bobbing and scuttling ... but he was of the Firstborn, and I do not think his purposes—or madnesses —will be wholly knowable to us. He called on things outside the earth-dance; it seems that a balance was disturbed. The dance is complicated, and a disturbance on the one side creates counterdisturbance.” The Thane laughed. “I can see Fencewalker staring at me as if I had the foaming-mouth sickness. He’s right, you know, Tailchaser—there’s not much point in singing the song if you have to guess at the words.”
Quiverclaw was interrupted again, this time by a high-pitched chattering from the treeto
ps. Fencewalker and the Thane exchanged a glance.
“Teats on a tom!” groaned Fencewalker ruefully. “I’d forgotten.”
“It sounds as if they are aware of that,” said Quiverclaw, as the angry noises resumed. “Please, Lord Pop!” he called. “Forgive us our discourtesy and come down. We have been careless of time.”
A procession of Rikchikchik—Lord Pop in the lead, a disdainful expression on his round, toothy face—shinnied single-file down the trunk of a poplar. Although Pop himself wore a look of insulted dignity, the rest of his train appeared goggle-eyed and nervous in the presence of the three cats.
Lord Pop drew the crowd to a halt. His own nose, however, remained pointing conspicuously skyward until Prince Fencewalker made an embarrassed coughing noise.
“Terribly sorry, Pop. Really am. Didn’t mean any offense against Rikchikchik. We just forgot, you see.” Fritti wondered if the Prince’s discomfiture was due to his mistake, or having to apologize to squirrels.
The Rikchikchik chief eyed the uncomfortable Prince for a moment. “Only came to tell so-brave Tail-chase cat,” he said, a little huffily. The squirrel-lord then turned to Fritti. “Pledge kept, you see-see. Rikchikchik do right. Now, must bring more Rikchikchik back-back. Badness most gone.” Pop performed a jerky head-bob, and Fritti returned it.
“Your folk are very brave, Lord Pop,” he said. “Is that Master Plink? You did well, courageous Plink.” The young Rikchikchik buck fluffed his tail; the other Rikchikchik chittered admiringly. Lord Pop also clucked approval.
“Squirrels ...” mumbled Prince Fencewalker. Pop fixed him with a bright eye.
“Tell Tailchaser what we have declared, Fencewalker,” prompted Quiverclaw.
“Well ...” said the Prince, embarrassed again, “well ... Dewclaws! You say it, Quiverclaws. It was your idea,” he finished peevishly.
“Well,” assented the Thane, “it has been declared by Prince Fencewalker, son of Her Befurred Majesty, Queen Mirmirsor Sunback, that in recognition of their service the Rikchikchik may live unhunted by the Folk within the confines of Ratleaf, and that the First-walkers will enforce this ban to the best of their powers.” Tiny whistles of approval came from Lord Pop’s entourage. “Of course, outside the bounds of Ratleaf you had better look to your tail-plumes,” Quiverclaw added in a not unfriendly way. Lord Pop looked at Quiverclaw appraisingly, and made a satisfied clucking sound.
“So,” chirped the squirrel-lord. “Now all done-done.” He turned back to Fritti. “Nut-gathering luck, so-strange cat.” Lord Pop faced around and led his rump-bobbling procession back into the branches. Within a moment they were gone.
“I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t seem proper,” grumped Fencewalker. “Squirrels ...”
When Smaller Shadows arrived, Roofshadow came to take Fritti to Pouncequick. She led him away from Fencewalker’s camp into a grove of cloud-tall trees. When he saw Pouncequick’s pale, fluffy shape in a patch of sunlight at the center of the stand, Fritti pulled away from her and dashed forward.
“Pounce!” he called. “Little cu‘nre!” Pouncequick looked up at the sound of his voice, and rose—with a grace belying his kittenhood. Tailchaser was on him in a moment, sniffing and head-butting, and Pouncequick’s aloofness gave way briefly to pleased wriggling.
“I’m so pleased to see you finally!” Tailchaser declared as he circled his friend, smelling the familiar Pouncequick scents. “I never dreamed that we could all be together once—”
Fritti broke off, staring gape-jawed in shock.
Pouncequick had no tail! Where his furry plume had once waved there was now only a healing stump, curled tightly against the youngling’s haunches.
“Oh, Pounce!” Fritti breathed. “Oh, Pounce, your poor tail! Harar!”
Roofshadow stepped forward. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Tailchaser. I wanted you to see that Pouncequick was alive and healthy first, or you would have been sick with worry when you yourself were in need of healing.”
Pouncequick pulled a quiet smile. “Please, don’t be so upset, Tailchaser. We all lost things and gained things in that place. When you attacked Scratchnail in the Flume cavern you saved me from worse than this.”
Fritti did not feel comforted. “If only I’d arrived sooner ...”. he groaned. Pouncequick met his eye with a knowing look.
“You couldn’t have,” said the tailless catling. “You know that you could not have. We all played our part. A tail is a small thing to lose so that one can find a tail name.” Pounce’s face took on a distant expression, and Roofshadow gave Fritti a worried look.
“What do you mean, Pounce?” Fritti asked.
“We freed the White Cat,” said Pouncequick dreamily. “I saw him. I saw him in his sorrow, and I saw him in his joy—when the mound fell. He has returned to the dark body of the Allmother.” The kitten shook his head as if to clear it. “We all lost something, but gained something far greater”—he looked pointedly at Roofshadow—“even if we do not yet know it.”
Fritti stared at his small friend, who was making dreamspeech like a Far-senser. Pouncequick caught his look, and his small mask crinkled with warmth and affection.
“Oh, Tailchaser,” he giggled, “you look so comical! Come, let us go find something to eat.”
As they walked, Pouncequick spoke raptly of Whitewind.
“... There is something, after all, in what Dewtreader said. A fela will sacrifice herself for her kittens ; you were willing to give yourself for us.”
“It wasn’t that simple, Pounce,” said Tailchaser uncomfortably.
“Viror wants us to be whole, I think,” the kitten continued, “but Dewtreader ... well, Prince Dewtreader sees many things, but I think he is too gloomy. Whitewind always loved to run, to feel the wind in his fur—he doesn’t want his children to brood and grow mystical, only to remember that if they are not willing to give back the gift he has given them—at any time—then the gift will do them no good.”
“I’m afraid that all your dreaming and thinking has put you far beyond my ideas, Pounce,” said Tailchaser. Roofshadow was grimacing:
“But you yourself taught me the most, Tailchaser!” said Pouncequick, amused. He stopped to turn over a fallen branch, sending a startled bug scurrying away. With a leap and a bound the catling had imprisoned the scuttling insect; in another moment he had crunched it up.
“Anyway ...” Pouncequick spoke with a full mouth. “I have decided to go back to stay at Firsthome. There are many wise ones there—including the Prince Consort—and I have much to learn.”
Like cautious parents, Roofshadow and Tailchaser paced silently behind the frisking Pouncequick.
31 CHAPTER
The best is like water.
Water is good; it benefits all things and does not compete with them.
It dwells in places that all disdain. That is why it is so near the Tao.
—Lao-tzu
While his body slept, packed snugly between Pouncequick and Roofshadow, Tailchaser met Lord Tangaloor in the darkness of the dream-fields. The legs of the Firstborn smoldered with rosy light, and his voice was music.
“Greetings, little brother,” said Firefoot. “I find you in better spirits than when we last spoke.”
“You do, my lord.”
“Why have you not then set out to finish your quest? I have told you where you may find what you seek. Your troubled ka tells me that you need to discover this resolution.”
In the shadowy spaces of sleep, Fritti heard the truth in Firefoot’s words. “I suppose it is only because of my friends,” he said. “I fear that they will need me.”
A low, pleasant laugh welled up from the Firstborn. “My little brothers and sisters are strong, Tailchaser. Our Folk do not let love bind them that way. The strong meet in strength.” The shadowed form of Tangaloor began to fade away, and Fritti cried out.
“Wait! Forgive me, lord, but I would like to ask you another thing.”
“By my mother!” laughed the Firstborn. “
You have grown passing bold, young Tailchaser. What would you know?”
“The mound. What happened there? Is Hearteater gone?”
The presence of Firefoot was suddenly all around him, comforting and tangible.
“His power is broken, little brother. There was nothing left of him but hatred, anyway. He had festered in darkness too long; he had no other purpose. Blind and immobile, he could never have come up from below the ground—the sun would have burned him away.”
“Do you mean there was no danger, then—to our fields?” Fritti asked, confused.
Firefoot’s singing voice grew serious. “Not that at all, little cat. There was great danger. His creations were all too real. The Fikos itself was a creation of pure hatred, birthed to go where he could not—above the ground, to stalk crookedly beneath the sun.... Oh yes, it was fell indeed, and would have made the daylight fields a horror that Hearteater’s children alone could have trod with impunity. And even if they themselves could not, what did my brother care—so long as no other of Meerclar’s creatures could savor the sweet steps of the earthdance?”
The voice of Firefoot was growing faint now; Fritti had to prick forward his dream-ears to make it out: “Like all ancient, unreasoning hatreds, the Fikos was mindless, all-destroying ... if I had not been brought back from the outer reaches, it would have been beyond the power of the bravest Folk to halt it.”
“Lord Firefoot!” Fritti called after the vanishing dream. “Pouncequick said that your brother was freed!”
“... Lord Viror suffered for eternities .. murmured the fast-dwindling spark of red. ”Now, the balance has been set right.... Look to the skies, little brother.... Good journeying!“
