The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat (10 page)

“So I says to her. ‘Hey, what's all this then? Fancy a bit of cheese?' I mean a woman is a woman, if ya know what I mean.” He winked and leaned against a nearby rock. “So I tells her I don't have the money and ask her what she's gonna do about it? And she turned me into a rat.”

By now Druciah felt that she had stumbled into something truly awful. Here was a rat that loved to hear himself talk.

The rat kept rolling, “So that's how I became this handsome fellow you see before you now. Don't care all that much really. It's quite a wonderful coat she gave me, don't you think?” He looked at himself. “Bit greasy maybe.

“Every thing's all right though, ‘cept for the snakes . . . I don't like them much at all. Always trying to trick me into becoming their dinner.” He paused long enough to catch his breath.

“I never thought in a million years I would be staring at your face. Of all people in all the possible places, Queen Druciah! Ha, who would have imagined? There were several times I reckoned as to what I might say to you if I had the chance. But now, everything escapes me. This is just brilliant. You and me, together, here in the mouth of this filthy cave, just brilliant.

“And who is that with you? Who else but Warwick Vane Bezel III? Amazing . . . Hello, constable. Shouldn't you be back in Harsizzle plundering, stealing, and causing grievous bodily harm? It is Friday night, you know. I remember just a few years back how you busted down me door, walked right over to the pot of stew I had on the fire, and just took it. I had been working on that stew for hours. Then you bashed me over the head with your cudgel and left me there bleeding . . . you bloody Neanderthal. You two are just right for each other. A couple of heartless animals you are,” he rambled.

The queen stood there aghast, her mouth hanging open. She could not believe what she was hearing from this insolent rodent. He simply would not shut up.

“And another thing . . . How did you expect for me to pay more in taxes than I made? I gotta eat, too. You're not too good at the mathematics are you? You left me destitute while you used my tax dollars to throw all those extravagant parties. Parties I wasn't even invited to. I'm almost glad I am here now so I don't have to hear your name or anguish about big boy here come crashing through me door. I am happy as a rat because that's all I ever was as a human. At least now, I don't have to be pretentious.”

“Well, Edsel,” interjected the queen, hoping to get a chance to speak before the rat resumed his ranting. “If you will give me a moment to retort, I will attempt to do so.

“I've . . . uh . . . recently discovered that there has been a spell on me for many years, and I have finally concluded that the Witch is responsible.” The queen was scrambling to come up with a story quickly. This was not a position she often found herself in. “That is me, all my guards and taxmen, and Warwick Vane Bezel III too. I have traveled here at great expense and endured this wretched forest to see if . . . uh . . . I could get the spell lifted so that I can right all the wrongs that have been committed in my name. Now don't you appreciate my sacrifices?”

“Tell it to someone else, Queenie. You don't expect me to believe that, do you? I may be a rat, but please don't assume that I am daft. The Witch put a spell on you? Tell me some more porky pies. You're not pulling any wool over these eyes, I tell you. That's rich . . . Like somehow it was the Witch who made you the greedy thing that you are. I tell you this. You don't need help being rotten. You practically invented it.”

She was dumbfounded.

“Just go on down . . . you know she's waiting for you. She's got eyes everywhere, she has. She's known you're coming ever since you set foot in Red Moon.” He gestured that she should follow the path as it went deep into the cave.

With their every step, it got darker. Warwick lit a torch, but even by the torchlight, the cave seemed to go on and on. It was the smells they noticed first. They were initially faint, but gained in intensity as they moved along the path.

First, there was a really foul and pungent smell like a stagnant water pool. The walls of the cave were bleeding moisture, and Druciah guessed they must be near an underground stream. Next, the scent was joined by a smell of rotting wood. Tree roots stuck through the wet clay walls in a massive tangle. Some of them were rotten as if they supported trees on the surface that had long ago died off. Mushrooms and other fungi feasted on the decaying wood.

Warwick Vane Bezel III noticed that there seemed to be no animals about.
It is unusual,
he thought. In fact, he couldn't recall seeing even an insect since they'd left Edsel. Soon they came to notice the signs of habitation. The mud walls were gone, and the party found itself surrounded by clean, bare rock. Notches carved out of the walls housed small glass jars, each of which emitted a strange green light. Warwick nodded to the guard to examine one.

The glow was generated by the bodies of luminescent caterpillars gingerly feasting on vine leaves. It really was ingenious. It was a natural adaptation of insect larvae that the Witch had adopted for her purposes. The cave path was now actually well lit, and the party soon came to a door, which was slightly ajar. The queen pushed it slightly, and it opened, revealing a good-sized room. There was a woven grass mat just inside the door, upon which was written the word “Welcome.”

“Wipe your feet,” called a voice from within the room.

The room was lit by torches and candles that flickered in a smoky haze. Still, even squinting, it was difficult to see inside.

“Wipe your feet,” said the voice again. “What, were you raised in a barn? There's a mat there for a reason. Your feet are filthy. I don't like it when people track mud into my home.”

It was difficult to see far into the room, but as they moved further inside, the queen was able to make out the shape of a woman. She was dressed all in black and had long, matted, gray hair. She was sitting on a rickety, old chair. The queen and her party moved deeper into the room, first carefully cleaning the dirt from their shoes.

“Is there a chance that any of you lot plays chess?” she asked.

9

Knight Takes Pawn

“C
hess,” the Witch repeated. “You look like civilized folks, surely you know the game? I would like to play.”

“I play,” answered Druciah.

“Are you any good?” the Witch inquired, tilting her head to the side the way a parrot might. The torchlight emphasized the opaque whiteness of her cataract. “I haven't had a game of chess in a while, but it's been longer still since I played anyone worth his salt.” The Witch rose from her seat and walked over to a shelf and grabbed a wooden box. “Come over here and sit by me. Your men too; tell them to make themselves comfortable.”

There were few places to sit, and none of them looked particularly comfortable. Still Warwick Vane Bezel III and the guard sat down.

“My playing partners have been limited of late and no challenge either. The rat can't play at all, I'm afraid. You and I shall have a game, Druciah,” the Witch said.

The queen moved a rickety chair over to a table, and the Witch moved her chair accordingly. She opened the wooden box and revealed an intricately carved set of chess pieces. The carvings were beautiful, the work of a master.

“This game set was given to me long ago by my grandfather,” she said as she began to set the pieces. “I always play black, my dear, so you will go first.”

Druciah picked up the white queen. She gently rubbed her index figure over its contours. “Beautiful,” she whispered. It was the most detailed chess piece she had ever seen. She put the piece down on its appropriate square. “How do you know my name?” she asked.

The Witch chuckled. “I know lots of things. Some of them not so pleasant, and I would prefer not to remember them.” She finished setting the pieces. “My dear, there is nothing that goes on in my forest that I am not aware of.” She smiled slyly. A few of her teeth were no longer there.

“A game then?” she said. “It's your move, white.”

Druciah moved her queen's pawn forward two spaces.

The Witch grinned. “Interesting. You may give me a game after all. You are either very bold or very stupid. We shall see which one it is.” She countered with her own queen's pawn cutting off Druciah's.

White followed by moving her left-hand knight in front of her bishop's pawn. Black countered by moving her right-hand bishop's pawn up two spaces.

Druciah next moved her knight to take the Witch's queen's pawn.

“Aha!” said the Witch. “You are a player.” She took her finger and knocked over her own queen indicating her concession.

“Why did you do that? We'd only just begun playing,” asked the queen.

“I can see very clearly that you have me, my dear. In twelve moves, most likely. You are a very clever player. Not everybody would have the audacity to play a counter-gambit like that with white.”

The Witch picked up the pieces and returned them to the box. “Tell me why you are here, my love. I am open to some arrangement. But know this before we go any further. One of the things that I am going to demand of you is the return of my cat.”

“Your cat?” asked the queen. She was about to lie to the Witch, then thought better on it.

“I suspected that you might have him, and your chess opening betrays you. The opening moves you made are from what we chess aficionados call the Keravian Gambit. It is a bold strategy indeed, and not one that I would expect from anyone but the best of players. It is a strategy used often by my cat. He once beat me in eleven moves with that advance.

“Logic tells me that you have played against my former pet, and he has beaten you with that angle. You observed his play, and now you use it against me. Clever, but I expected it. You are exposed. He must have told you about me and my powers. So tell me, why have you come here?”

By now Druciah's eyes had adjusted to the lights and smoke. She looked around. The Witch's cavern did not look so ominous. It hardly looked “witchy” at all. It's true that there were books. In fact, there were lots and lots of books, and scrolls, and stacks of papers and parchments. But it did not look like the majority of them were magic tomes. In fact, the cavern was overstuffed with all sorts of things that Druciah could only call junk.

There was a wall filled with jars and bottles, which the queen assumed were magical in nature, but right next to that was a counter heaped with the crockery and leftover remains of several meals. The cauldron on the fire seemed to have some kind of vegetable stew cooking in it. This place hardly seemed like the home of a sorceress.

On closer inspection, the old woman hardly looked like a witch at all. In fact Warwick Vane Bezel III thought she appeared more like a sad old woman. Like the kind of sad woman who lived a very lonely life underground, here in this dark cave miles away from anybody else. She could have been anyone's grandmother, if that anyone was the kind to abandon her grandmother to fend for herself here in Red Moon Forest.

The Witch spoke again, “My cat was my only real companion, but this cave was no home for an animal like him. He needed to roam, to explore, and to see more of the world around him. That is why, as much as it pained me to do so, I let him go.”

The queen looked surprised.

“You find this hard to believe, Druciah? That I let my Caterwaul go away from me? Why? He is my only friend. I love him, and I could not bear to see him feeling like a prisoner. So I let him go . . . and now I am miserable.”

The queen smiled. She now felt that in this new game, she had the upper hand. “Well then, I will not dance about the bush,” Druciah said gliding around the room. “You know who I am, no doubt. As it happens, we can help each other. I have something you want, and you possess something I need. Though he appeared to me as a stray, the cat is no doubt yours, so I will return him to you.

“He won't come willingly, so you will have to prepare for me some type of sedative which I can place in his food. In exchange, I need from you only a small thing. In return for your pet, you will consult your catalogue of spells and give me back my youth. I want to be young and beautiful for nine lifetimes.”

She went on, “I want to be as I was years ago, blossoming and beautiful as an apple tree in spring. I want to rule unblemished by time for nine lifetimes. I want to be as fair as the summer flowers and as timeless as the sea. Can you do this for me?” Druciah asked.

“Of course I can, my vain queen,” the Witch grinned. “But let me warn you. If you try to lie or cheat and do not return Caterwaul to me, I will come after you, and I assure you that you will not like it if I do.

“So are we then agreed?” asked the Witch.

“Agreed,” said Druciah happily.

“Well, now that this is settled, we have work to do,” the Witch said as she slid a ladder around the room. She climbed nimbly up to the top right corner of a bookshelf and retrieved an ancient, dog-eared manuscript. Its pages were yellow and stained, and it had no cover. Climbing down, she walked over to the fireplace for more light. Flipping through the pages, she began to smile. “Ah . . . here it is. This is one of the oldest and most dangerous spells I have ever known.” She giggled. “It is a recipe for a pie.”