Tailchaser’s Song

Later, in the early evening, Roofshadow left, with promises to return. Pouncequick, who had bounded like a bumblebee all afternoon, and Fritti, who was still a bit shaky, returned to the healing-spot to have a rest before their appointment at the Court.

Howlsong came for them, full of suppressed excitement at the solemnity and grandeur of his role. They followed him like sleepwalkers down the twisting corridors of Firsthome.

They slipped through a tight-knit fence of silvery birch trees and down into a small canyon. There, in the reflected light of the single wide beam of Eye-shine that fell down through the tangled forest roof, they saw the forms of many cats crouched around the bottom rim of the tiny canyon, round eyes throwing back the light. A large shape came hurrying up from out of the shadows.

"Here now, is this the pair, then? They'll have their time soon enough." It was Rumblepurr, the massive Chamberlain, his head nodding like a willow in the breeze as he spoke. "Never do to have them just go charging up-there is a procedure, y'know. You, Howlsong, leave them with me-there's a good fellow. You can wait for them at the back."

Howlsong seemed a little disappointed, but shrugged and bade them good luck. They followed the bobbing, mumbling Court Chamberlain, who led them to the base of one of the walls of the canyon-near the front, and the light.

"Just you stay here until I call you. Don't make a squeak till then. There's others here who're before you, and Her Softness' time is very important Just be still, little ones." Rumblepurr hurried off, his wide body rocking from side to side.

Fritti's gaze followed Rumblepurr across the tiny box canyon. The Chamberlain moved into the center of a cluster of shiny, exquisitely groomed cats who were probably-Fritti guessed-the important Folk of the Court. Before them sat several others of diverse appearance. One-a large, proudly-striped fellow-had an easy and confident grace, even at rest, that reminded Fritti of Quiverclaw.

On a raised plateau of grass at the head of the canyon, roofed over by the limbs and leaves of an enormous oak tree, Fencewalker and Dewtreader sat side by side, the former wearing such a look of barely contained boredom and restlessness that Fritti smiled to himself in the dark. How this sort of thing must grate at the Prince's roving soul!

Beside Fencewalker lay the Prince Consort, his serene countenance full of quiet humor, but his eyes troubling and distant as an approaching storm.

In the center of the plateau, in the middle of the shaft of light, sat Queen Mirmirsor Sunback, illuminated like some dream-creature.

As Fritti first glimpsed her he thought of a fountain, a forest spring. She was clear, shining white, and her long, soft fur started out from her body in all directions like the puff of a dandelion. Beside her was a small earthenware bowl, brought somehow from the dwellings of M'an. Before Tailchaser's gaze the scioness of the line of Harar sat with her back curled and her head forward, one leg pointed outward-the paw thrust in the air like the graceful branches of the birch trees surrounding her Court.

She was nipping delicately at her hind end.

CHAPTER 14

To that high capitol…

his pale court in beauty and decay…

–P. B. Shelley

Through the long Hour of Deepest Quiet audience was held in the Court of Harar. Queen Sunback, crouched in the hollow of the great oak-the Vaka' az'me-listened calmly to all who came before her. Tailchaser watched with flagging interest as a procession of claimants presented themselves before the Seat. Matters of territory took up the larger part of the audience, but there were also Naming confirmations, and blessings for expectant felas. Through it all the Queen presided, as remote and unblinkingly bright as a star.

At last all the petitioners had disappeared, pleased or disappointed, into the night. The Queen stretched a long, graceful yawn, and signaled with her tail. Rumblepurr bustled and tumbled up onto the small plateau and leaned over her. The Queen whispered languorously into his piebald ear, and he bobbed his head assiduously.

"Yes, m'lady, that's right, right enough," wheezed the old Chamberlain.

"Well, then, shall we not hear from him?" asked Queen Sunback in a voice like cold, clear stream water.

"Of course, Your Furriness," grunted Rumblepurr, and hurried to the front of the plateau. He squinted his old eyes out into the darkness of the canyon and trumpeted: "Thane Squeakerbane of the First-walkers, you may approach the Vaka'az'me!"

The proud-looking, many-striped hunter whom Fritti had noticed earlier rose, stretched, and calmly approached the leveled mound. He paused for a moment at the edge of the rise, then vaulted effortlessly up into the circle of light.

"A First-walker! Like Quiverclaw and Scuffledig!" piped Pouncequick excitedly. Fritti nodded absently as he examined Squeakerbane. In the Eye-light that surrounded the Oak-seat the Thane's wiry body showed traces of many old, whitened scars beneath his short fur. Stripes and scars gave Squeakerbane the look of weathered wood.

"At your service, as ever, O Queen," said the First-walker, touching his chin respectfully to the ground. Sunback looked down with cool amusement.

"We do not often see the First-walkers here at Court," she said, "even those of you who haunt the Rootwood near Firsthome. This is an unexpected honor."

"With all due respect, Your Exaltedness, the First-walkers do not 'haunt' the Rootwood." Squeakerbane spoke with rough, but quiet, pride. "As you know, however, we do prefer the solitude of the wild. The Court is too… crowded for our tastes." He sang the word "crowded" with a subtly disdainful inflection that brought a look of wintery humor to the face of Dewtreader.

"So we are told, Thane," fluted the Prince Consort, "but I have heard it whispered that a vast meeting of the First-walkers is assembling east of Gentlerun Downs. Will your comrades not find so much society fully as depressing as our Court?"

Squeakerbane glowered and Sunback sneezed delicately and curried her tail. The Thane spoke with obvious restraint.

"The Thane-meet is occasioned by the same matters that bring me here. The Prince Consort, undoubtedly with good reasons known only to His Highness, seeks to open old wounds. I will not be tail-tweaked. There are graver issues at stake here."

Rumblepurr, who had remained standing, now huffed uncomfortably and went to sit near Prince Fencewalker, who was showing an interest in the proceedings for the first time all night.

"I wish you all would stop squabbling for a while," grumped the Prince. "It would be nice to speak of something important for a change."

Queen Sunback regarded her son for a moment, then flicked her ears twice and turned to Squeaker-bane. "Brash and bumptious though he may be, Fencewalker has spoken well. You must forgive our rudeness, Thane. I realize your concerns must weigh heavily on you, and you do not have our taste for badinage." She sent a cold stare in Dewtreader's direction, which the Prince Consort returned imperiously. "Speak on, Squeakerbane, please," the Queen said.

The battle-scarred First-walker stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head low again and held it there for the space of several heartbeats. Then, lifting his gaze, he spoke.

"As Your Regal Softness is aware," he began, "we First-walkers are few in number, and our thanages are widespread. I myself have jurisdiction over much of the Sunsnest Plains and this part of Rootwood- excepting Firsthome, of course," he added, with a sly smile for Dewtreader. "The territories U'ea-ward, north of the Caterwaul, were formerly the protectorate of my cousin, Thane Brushstalker. Now, he is dead." Squeakerbane paused significantly. The Queen leaned forward, curiosity in her bright eyes.