Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat Read online

  Now the swing of my pole proved that the way before me was a trap. I moved to one side at that first testing, thinking to approach from a different angle. Again the pole proved that could not be done. So I struggled on, trying to find a way in. There must be such, or how could the villagers reach their crop? Which now appeared a carefully guarded secret, one which was not to be shared with me. I leaned on the pole and studied the pool.

  Those branches were planted around its edge. Apparently there was no way of working them out into the middle of that pond. The nearest? I might be able to touch it with the end of my pole if I exerted my strength and extended it so that my grasp was barely on the end. However, the smoothness of the pole was no use in snagging a branch which I was sure had been firmly planted.

  My clothing was that of a wayfarer. And I had no rope such as I had taken with me on my solo. I did wear a belt, though that was heavy with ornamental metal medallions. Now I unlatched that strip of hide and began to pry loose those rounds of copper and gold so that it would not be weighted down. At length, my fingers sore and gashed from the effort, I had a length of oryxen hide which was more supple without its decoration.

  What I faced now was the need for skill. Could I put into service some of the ability which I used with a sling?

  I attached the belt in a loop to the end of my pole, bending two of the gold medallions which had decorated it about the ends, testing what I had done with vigorous jerks.

  Then I cast for the nearest of those branches in the pond. Four times I made that throw, pausing between each to rest my shoulder, trying to control the shaking of my arms.

  This could not continue forever. At the same time I must not allow need to push me into a frantic struggle which would not serve any purpose save to use strength I needed so badly.

  I stood, panting, looking at that branch. It inclined the least fraction in my direction. Once my improvised noose had struck against it, but not encircled it.

  Now I measured distances again and upended the pole, thudding it to my right once again. To my relief it struck a firm surface and I stepped sidewise. It seemed to me that I was indeed closer to that branch. I reversed the pole and made my cast.

  The belt struck against the branch, encircled it, slid down as I dropped the pole little by little. Delicately I moved the staff in a circular direction, twisting, or trying to twist, the belt which had nearly sunk from sight in those side branches which were spaced along these salt catchers.

  Drawing a deep breath, I dared to exert strength to a pull.

  To my joy there was resistance! The belt was securely entangled. Now it remained to be seen whether that hold was enough to withstand a strong enough jerk to loosen the branch.

  I pulled, there was no answer, but at least my belt did not lose hold. There was only one thing left. I had no idea how the salt gatherers plucked these out of the ponds, but they could not be set so deep that they did not come loose easily, for there was too much danger of overbalancing and perhaps ending in one of the crust-closed traps.

  Putting both hands to the pole I dared all in a single sharp jerk. I slipped backward as the branch yielded suddenly. One foot went off the safe spot on which I stood. I fell to my knees, striving to throw my weight forward. With the crystal-beaded branch swinging over my head, I drove the other end of my support rod as deeply as I could into the secure footing and fought to draw myself towards that one hope of safe support.

  For a moment I was afraid that I could never exert strength enough to draw myself to complete safety. Then I huddled at the foot of that planted rod, while over me swung the branch. For the first time I became aware that the day was near done.

  Could I make my way back to the ridge land in twilight? I struggled to my feet, still holding on to the anchorage of my rod. Then I untangled the branch and, with my belt for a sling, slipped it onto my back. I edged around to face the direction from which I had come.

  Those two salt gatherers who had flanked me when I had entered this morass were gone, but I could make out figures on the ridge. My legs trembled, not only with the reaction to the peril I had just escaped, but also from the strain I had known since I entered this place.

  However, the coming night might leave me marooned here and that I could not allow. I would be no more ready to face return then, perhaps even less.

  My rod swung out, prospecting for the next foothold, and I forced myself to the task of moving. Twice I again nearly lost my balance when the crust appeared to hold the rod and then it went through. My whole body ached with the effort I expended. The only small relief was that with the growth of twilight those ever-attacking insects were gone.

  I kept my attention all for the next step, not for anything ahead, and then at last, when I was sure I could not travel farther, my rod thudded home hard enough to jar my whole body. I could not really believe that I had made it back until one of the salt gatherers confronted me and for the first time I saw a trace of emotion on his face.

  He offered me a hand but I drew myself up and did not accept support. Rather I staggered up the rise to the main part of the ridge and there confronted the woman who wore the necklace of teeth and salt. It would appear that here she stood as judge. Swinging off my branch, I dropped it at her feet.

  25

  I was not the only outsider to shelter in the salt-gathering village that night. There was a merchant who had come through the land which I was to transverse the next day. His complaints sounded loudly from the chief’s hut. He had been boldly attacked by rats, two of his yaksens had been brought down, and he had been forced to retreat leaving behind the packs of goods they carried. One of his men was under treatment, having had one arm mauled to the point that he might never recover from the wound.

  However, the merchant had brought with him one of the attackers, dead of a skillful spear cast, in order to prove his point that this was no ordinary foe. Like those I had seen dead after our encounters in the rock isles, this limp carcass which had been dragged along after the merchant’s oryxen was large—in fact larger even than those others I had examined. It could have equaled Murri in size, or even been a fraction the greater.

  The villagers gathered around to inspect that trophy and it was very plain that they were shaken out of that impassivity which had welcomed me and my guard. I heard mutters which told me that the like of this creature had been sighted before and that one had slain an experienced salt gatherer, seeming able to follow the man across the salt pans by some uncanny knowledge of its own.

  “There are enough of these vermin out there,” the merchant declaimed as he came forth from the hut, still loud in his complaints. “But these—they are such as could take a whole trade party if they pushed attack. And what if they do?” He turned slowly as if he would catch the eyes of all those ringing him in. “Can any traveler stand up to such a pack? Can your village stand against them? I tell you that there is trouble brewing and you had best be prepared for more of this at your doors.” He kicked at the carcass before he strode off.

  However, at that moment I was more intent upon crawling into the center of my sleeping mat. My stomach still pained me and I had no desire to take my place by the cookfire of my escort. There was only this much in my mind—I had completed three of the five tests—and I realized that inwardly I had never thought that I could do so.

  I was able to eat some breakfast the next morning. There was no explanation for the potion I had been forced to swallow—I could only believe that it had been done deliberately to make my task the more difficult and I felt far from kindly towards the village, very glad to see the last of it.

  The guard rode at alert, a scout sent ahead. They were prepared for some such attack as the merchant had suffered. Still we made the six-day journey across this dreary and forbidding land without having to face any enemy. Twice we stayed in villages and I heard the officer who commanded my escort question the inhabitants closely about such attacks. The news he received was not encouraging.

  That m
erchant who had brought proof of the nature of the enemy was not the first trader along the route who had been attacked. But the other had been far from lucky. A pair of villagers traveling along the ridge way had come across the remains of a small caravan where the stripped bones of both traders and their beasts were all which could be found. Even their packs had been gnawed open and the contents dispersed and befouled or missing.

  It was the latter point which puzzled both villagers and guards the most. For it was plain that, while the rats had feasted on all food stuffs they had managed to find, why would they drag off trade goods? The accepted answer seemed to be that the scene of that battle must have been later visited by outlaws, who had made the most of their discovery. Though that any outlaw would be willing to linger in this land was more than I could understand. The villages certainly had little worth stealing, while their inhabitants, I was sure, had their own deadly methods of defense. Even I, who had little liking for them as a people, could agree to that.

  As we approached the border of Twahihic a scout, sent ahead, reported that an escort was already waiting there and with a successful candidate in their care. We passed into that territory just at nightfall and for once the two parties camped together.

  The attitude of the other escort towards their charge was far different from that I had met. And seeing him I believed I could understand the difference. This was Shank-ji. Instead of wearing drab trail garb he was decked out in the finery of a warrior in full dress. He laughed and talked animately with those who had ridden with him.

  I wondered how he would survive the treacherous paths of the salt pans, the fiery roads of the mountain, and last of all how he would confront the leopard whose mark I would always bear.

  Custom kept us apart. Perhaps it was thought that one might advise the other on the trials ahead, though I believe the rivalry which was strong among candidates would not have led to that. However, we did view each other from a distance. His contempt was plain to read, yet there was a shadow there of something else—perhaps a very angry surprise that such as I had lasted so long.

  He might believe himself favored. The trial offered in Vapala was last, only to be made when all the survivors had assembled within the city. I knew that one other at least had been successful in several of the trials, and that another had failed and was probably dead. Which left three of us to be accounted for.

  The guard feasted that night and Shank-ji was very much a part of the festivities. Several of those who had accompanied him were wagering he would be triumphant and they found no takers against him. I watched from a distance and finally sought my sleeping mat to lie looking up at the stars.

  That I had no well-wisher suddenly seemed to me to be a hard thing. I had ridden from one land to the next with the guard sent by each Queen in turn, yet none of them had shown any friendship, nor given me any wish for fortune, or applause when I had accomplished my task. While Shank-ji, who had faced so far but one of the trials, acted as if he were already victor and also appeared to be accepted as such by his fellows.

  I faced this self-pity, tried to open my mind to the Essence that it might wipe clear this feeling, which was weakening. Then I discovered that it was true what I had always heard of Twahihic. As the camp quieted down the haunting silence of the land closed in.

  There was no whisper of sand—yet ahead were those mountainous dunes which the inhabitants had put to such good use. For the only purpose of this arid waste before me was to provide a play place for those of the other lands who were drawn here for sand-skimming races and the like. There were cities, each cupped within a bowl of green glass, cultivating within some the fruits which were only known elsewhere in Vapala. Each of the cities had its specialty in what it had to offer the visitor. There were contests of musicians, trained troupes of dancers, those who acted out some of the old legends of each land, as well as inns which specialized in fine foods, held gambling sessions in their top rooms. Here were women and men prepared to offer any entertainment which might be dreamed by those who came. Young people who vied with each other in the dangerous sport of dune skimming had their other desires catered to within the domed settlements.

  However, now what I felt was a barrenness of spirit. Were there any here who sought out their private places and opened their minds and hearts to the Essence, waiting to be filled with that blessing which can be obtained only by long and diligent search? I felt nothing—it was as if a door had shut firmly between me and that sure knowledge of being one with the land, with all the life upon it.

  We traveled on from that camp. Those of the escort who had been so cordial with Shank-ji kept aloof from me. We exchanged only the formalities necessary for everyday tasks. As I rode, the emptiness I had felt on the first night within the border here continued, wearing on my spirit in spite of all my battles against it.

  I longed for Murri—had he indeed survived his ordeal on the mountain of fire? Was he again on the trail of our party? I began striving to somehow touch him, picturing him firmly in mind and then making the struggle to project my call.

  On the second night I was answered!

  “Brother-one—” It came very faint as if from afar.

  “Murri!” There is a strength in names, perhaps that call of his would bring us closer.

  “I—here—” his reply seemed to form in my mind. But where was “here”? I could not believe he might survive in this barren land of towering dunes, any more than he could have survived among the salt pans.

  “I wait—”

  Though I tried to reach him again there was no more. Wait—where—for what? Nor did I sleep well that night.

  We pushed on until a four-day journey was behind us. Once we halted in one of the bubble villages. I dined as might the Emperor, slept soft, but still I was walled from all about me. Again I speculated whether this was not done with a purpose, that communication with any who might aid me in my set task was forbidden.

  It was the second day after we left that luxurious stop that we were joined by the Chancellor of this queendom. She straightway summoned me, looking me up and down as if I were an oryxen of dubious value being offered her for sale and then she spoke sharply:

  “Beyond those dunes,” she indicated the towering mountains of sand to the left, “lies your task, man of Kahulawe. There is a village in which no one dwells, for an unseen evil lies within, and near all who attempt entrance disappear. Yet in its gardens grow malons.

  “The nature of these fruits is that they must be watched with care for they ripen very suddenly. And they must be plucked when ripe, for otherwise, if left on the vine too long, they are as quickly taken by rot.

  “He who would be judged by our land must enter into that shunned place, find two malons, and bring them forth untouched by any rot. Nor can anyone tell what other fate awaits there, but it is dire.”

  I could believe that she was striving to overawe me. Yet I knew that the peril of death did cling to each of the trials and there was undoubtedly some evil connected with the place.

  She made no more move to direct me to the site of my testing. Nor did my escort. I strove to pass around the side of the dune in the direction she had pointed, wondering if these so feared what might lie within the shunned dome that they did not wish even to come into sight of it. Yet others—at least Shank-ji and the candidate who was of this queendom—had done this thing, and Shank-ji had plainly been successful.

  I twirled my staff and watched the sun glitter on the blades which issued from its sides. Shank-ji might have gone in with better arms, but of what good was a sword to me who had so early proved that I was unhandy with such a weapon?

  Slipping and skidding I won my way to the other side of the dune. There, as the Chancellor had promised, arose the green bubble of a dome. It was of lesser size than I expected. Perhaps its original population had been no more than what my people would reckon a single clan or House. The green glass was opaque, though I knew from my visit to the city that that did not prevent the entrance
of sunlight, only screened it somewhat so that the heat and light of the outer world were tamed.

  “Brother—” Out of the sand which was so close a shade to his own fur Murri arose, shaking himself.

  The golden eyes turned to me were indeed unclouded as far as I could determine. Yes, he was as he had always been, save that he seemed to grow the larger each time we were parted. I dropped my staff, throwing out my arms as he approached, burying them in his ruff, while his harsh tongue rasped against my cheek. All the inner emptiness which had gripped me since I had entered this too-silent land vanished. What need had I for any comrade save the one I was welcoming now?

  He raised a giant paw as he would to one of his own kind and rolled me over on my back, with a mock growl which I endeavored to echo as well as I could. At that moment I longed for the ability to take to the air in one of the great springs which marked the cat dances to prove how light my heart was.

  Murri at last settled back to look at me inquiringly.

  “Where go?”

  I pointed to the green dome. “There.” I explained as best I could in my limited grasp of his own tongue what I must do there.

  “Not hard—” he commented.

  “It must be,” I continued, “or they would not have sent me here to do this thing.”

  “It gets no less, waiting—” I untangled that much from his complicated series of sounds. And he spoke the truth.

  I picked up my staff again. Feeling able to face anything which might lie ahead as Murri paced beside me, I approached the dome.

  The big entrance which had allowed access to the city was absent here. There was a portal no wider than would admit two walking side by side or a single beast with rider or driver. Across it was set in place so wide a metal bar as to suggest that what lay in wait within possessed more than human strength.

  The bar was hard to shift. It had settled well into its hold-hooks and certainly had not been much moved for a space. Perhaps only by those candidates who had been before me here. I allowed it to thud into the sand which had drifted high about the surface of the door and pulled that forward, discovering that I had to exert some strength to open a space wide enough for Murri and then me to slip by.