Tailchaser’s Song

When it was over he lay stu

"Well, Great Master?"

The shape above the pit yawned, showing blackened teeth. A brief flare of light empurpled the scabby gray fur.

"This little bug is nothing. There are suggestions, yes-hints-but no power to speak of. It can do nothing. You say its companions are harmless?"

"This was the only one with even a trace of anything different, Lord, I swear it."

"Well…" There was a bored finality now in the liquid heaviness of the creature's speech. "Take it away. Kill it, or put it to work digging tu

The Claw chieftain dragged Fritti to a standing position, then forced him toward a doorway out of the cavern.

"Clawguard!" called the bloated thing. Scratchnail whirled and bobbed subserviently.

"Yes, Master of All?"

"Next time, do not so lightly disturb the meditations of Lord Hearteater." The milky eyes glinted.

Bobbing and choking, Scratchnail hurried Tail-chaser out of the Cavern of the Pit.

Stumbling and stupefied, Tailchaser was driven through the labyrinthine corridors of Vastnir. His captor dogged his footsteps and did not speak. Although he felt spirit-broken, still Fritti's mind was awhirl with the thought of what he had seen.

Hearteater! Lord Hearteater of the Firstborn! Fritti had seen Grizraz Hearteater, the ancient enemy of the Folk. He had heard him speak! A fit of shivering wracked his weakened body as he thought of the huge, blind thing lolling in the cavern behind them.

He had to get word to Fencewalker and the others… somehow. The Court of Harar must know of the danger… whatever good it might do. How could they defend themselves against such power, such terrible minions? Hundreds of the fierce Clawguard were in the main caverns alone-there was no way of knowing how many more lurked in this insect nest of tu

How can I do anything anyway? he thought bitterly. I'm under sentence of death.

His mind turned finally to Scratchnail, whose hot breath even now feathered his tail. Tailchaser dimly recalled that Scratchnail had been somehow embarrassed before the terrifying Hearteater. Surely the Clawguard leader would not suffer Fritti to live after that?

Limping, pondering, Tailchaser felt a gust of dry air ruffle his face-fur. He looked up. Here the tu

With startling swiftness, Scratchnail reached his hook-taloned paw forward and slammed Tailchaser against the side of the passageway. For a moment he had to strain to catch his breath. As he wheezed helplessly he heard a strange rustling, a creaking as of old tree limbs, and suddenly the tu

Several dark shapes passed by. Tailchaser could faintly see tails and ears, but all seemed shadowy and indistinct. The air was full of choking dust and a cloying, sweet smell. Beside him Scratchnail lowered his head respectfully and averted his gaze. A faint sibilance, as of dry, powdery speech, fluttered in the air; then the strange shapes had passed up the corridor.

As Fritti regained his breath Scratchnail stared up the passageway with burning eyes.

"The Boneguard," whispered the dark beast. "The Master's closest servants."

At the mouth of a cross-tu

"I don't know what your secret is," he growled, heavy brows shadowing his eyes, "but I know there's something there. I will not make the mistake of taking you before the Fat One again without knowing what it is, but I will find out. The Master can make mistakes, and I believe you are one of them." The chief snorted angrily. "Whatever your little secret is, I will force it out of you. In the meantime, you can keep your miserable self occupied. Get in there." Scratchnail extended a malformed paw, indicating the hole near Tailchaser.

Screwing up his courage-apparently he was to live a little while longer!-Fritti asked: "Where are my friends?"

"Filling the bellies of the Toothguard, if I don't return soon. Keep your nose out. You'll have enough to worry about just saving your own wretched pelt. Now, move!" The chief gave Fritti a fierce shove that sent him stumbling into the opening behind him. He lost his footing on the inclined gravel surface and found himself skidding and tumbling down into deeper darkness. As he rolled to a halt he heard Scratchnail's voice scrape down to him: "I'll be back to see you soon enough, never fear." A coughing chuckle bounded down the shaft.

It took some moments for Tailchaser to accustom himself to the almost total absence of light. He was in a chamber of rock: he could see the dark forms of other cats huddled at the extremities of the chamber. The stone cavern walls sweated moisture, and the air was hot and damp.

Scores of emaciated, dead-eyed Folk lay about him. Most, sunk deep in misery, did not even look up at the new arrival. As Tailchaser slunk along the wall- hunting for another exit, or a place to lie down- some of the cats snarled weakly up at him, as if he were intruding on their territory, but it was a perfunctory sort of resistance. The thought of the Folk crammed into this tiny space, forced to live next to and on top of each other in sweltering heat, brought anger to Tailchaser's spirit once more.

As he stepped across the sprawled bodies, Fritti was halted by the tones of a familiar voice. He sca

This one was shrunken, thin as a ferret. His sunken, bleary eyes stared hopelessly up at Fritti. It was this mumbling apparition whose voice had stopped him, and now Tailchaser sucked in a deep breath of surprise as recognition swept him: it was young Jumptall, one of the delegates from the Meeting Wall Clan to the Court. He looked on the verge of death!

"Jumptall!" said Fritti. "It's me, Tailchaser! Do you remember me?" For a moment Jumptall looked on uncomprehendingly; then his eyes slowly focused.

"Tailchaser?" he mumbled. "Tailchaser from… home?" Fritti bobbed his head encouragingly. "Oh." Jumptall closed his eyes, weakened, and was silent for a moment. When he opened them a spark of comprehension was there.

"I don't understand," he said. "But… luckier if you'd died…"

Jumptall's eyes closed again; he refused to say any more.

Roofshadow crouched in the shelter of an overhanging rock, watching the flurrying snow. The chill air made her feel dizzy. She wanted desperately to get up; to run and keep ru

When they had been attacked by night, given only scant warning by the appearance of the crazed woolly cat, she had run with her friends-had run wildly. For all her seasons of hunting, she had been panicked, frenzied. At one point she had almost knocked down little Pouncequick in her overwhelming desire to escape. The shame of that still hurt her more than her wounds.

As they ran, something had seized her, knocking her from her paws-she had grappled with something large, but by scratching and twisting had managed to pull free. Bolting into the deep brush, she had lain hidden for some time, hearing the sound of flight and pursuit carrying on into the night. Not until the first rays of Spreading Light had she forced herself to crawl forth and look for a hiding place out of the cold.

She had been hurt by the thing that had grabbed her: her hind leg was very painful-she could not put her full weight on it, and had limped a long way over frosty ground before locating the windbreak. She had lain for two full nights and days, sick, feverish, too weak to go hunting.