The Sidus Tablet
Prologue
A young man leaned over a chunk of grey-green stone, chisel in hand. He chipped at it slowly, making sure every detail was accomplished, every blemish smoothed out.
He stood back and admired his work; it was a perfect stone tablet. He blew on it softly to rid of the dust and patted it fondly. On it, he carved five letters.
Sidus.
He placed it lovingly on a bed of moss and gave it one last glance. He started to clean up the stone chips when a small, razor thin one cut his hand. He didn't notice.
He stood up and looked at the tablet again. The blood was beginning to pool slightly on the tip of his finger. The surface tension broke, the drop of red falling onto the stone. As if an invisible hand was etching onto it, a few phrases appeared. He stared.
I know your greatest desire. To achieve it, combine earth, wind, water and fire. Let me live, I will reward you. Leave me silent, no more will you dream.
Dear god, he thought. Did it really know his greatest desire? He shuddered. Earth, wind, water and fire, he mused.
The next day, he collected soil and water. Throwing them onto he fire he had built, he waited for the cold winds to blow the flames higher. A sudden burst of red, and the fire went out. He ran back inside and looked at the tablet again. It simply said.
Immortal
*****
Maria Sue
A man in a ratty winter jacket walked alongside the brick wall. He was hunched over with his hands in his pockets. His steps were reckless, unlike the careful steps of those around him; avoiding the slush and cracks on the sidewalk.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that it didn't matter if he sprained an ankle or not. He had all the time in the world.
Time was no longer an enemy. He had defeated time a long, long time ago. It no longer affected him.
He shivered, pulling the jacket closer and stopped in front of an official office building. Laughing silently, he pressed the door open.
"Please show identification." Said a uniformed guard. This time he laughed out loud. It wasn't a pleasant sound. His laugh was harsh, grating and ridiculing. He decided to play along.
"I'm Lysander."
"Last name?"
"Not telling."
"Your age?" asked the guard tolerably. Another troublemaker, he thought.
"That's a deep, dark secret. Let's just say for now I'm much, much older than you."
"Can I see your driver's license?" the guard placed his hand on his walkie-talkie out of instinct.
"Drive? I don't drive. I walk. And why are you nervous about me?"
"Excuse me, nervous? And since you have failed to provide me with any form of identification, I cannot allow you to enter." The guard squirmed uncomfortably. His neck itched. He placed his other hand on his gun. Just in case, he thought. Just in case.
The other man laughed and pushed past the guard. The guard jumped in front of him holding the gun in his hand.
"Freeze." He ordered, waving the gun menacingly. Sweat trickled down his back. He should really ask his boss for a raise.
"Do I have to hurt you?" asked the man.
The guard didn't know how to answer. He took out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Trouble in front entrance. Troublemaker."
"Troublemaker?" asked the man incredulously. "Oh no, I'm much more than that." He pulled back his fist and with surprising strength, punched the guard in the face.
The guard whimpered and clutched his cheek. A nasty gore from the ring the man was wearing had broken the skin. The blood dripped onto his blue uniform. He punched back, though with less vigor, because of the pain.
He took the opportunity to open the door. He walked in side casually. The elevator door opened and he pressed the button for floor five. Another woman looked curiously at him.
"I haven't seen you here before, have I?" she asked.
He winked. "I don't know." He responded. The door opened. He stepped out and looked around.
511.There it was. He opened the door. Inside, behind an oak desk was a blonde woman.
She stood up smiling. The man sucked in his breath.
"Yes?" she asked tapping a french manicured fingernail on the desk. "Can I do anything for you?"
"I'm Lysander," he breathed. "What's your name?"
"Maria Sue. "She smiled, extending a hand. He shook it.
"Ms. Sue, are you familiar with the legend on the Sidus tablet?"
This time he received a most dissimilar reaction. Her blue eyes hardened to a steely glint and she assumed a more stiff and suspicious pose.
"Slightly. Why do you ask?" she said carefully.
"How much do you know about it?" he asked.
Maria spoke carefully again. "I know it's a stone tablet that supposedly gives riddles to the holder in order for him or her to achieve their greatest desire."
"Do you know a dark haired woman named Belladonna?"
Maria shook her head.
"Anyone named Aconite?"
She shook her head again.
"Sorrel?"
"What is this, twenty questions?" she snapped irritably. "Get to the point, Mr.- "
"Calun." He cut in smoothly. "The point is, I need your help."
"It depends."
"Well, I'm trying to find these people. They might have information on the whereabouts of the Sides Tablet and related objects."
"Really?" Maria commented apathetically, shuffling a pile of papers on her desk.
"Really." Lysander Calun stared pointedly at the ceiling in vexation. "Are you willing to help?"
"Fine. When do we start?" she asked with sarcasm. "Do we dress in black leather, wear masks, and sneak around at the dead of night in a deserted alleys?"
"Ms. Sue, I would prefer you have a more serious attitude," he said simply.
"Call me Maria. I'm sorry. I'm having a stressful day."
"Apology accepted. How can I contact you?" Lysander looked rather fidgety, glancing at the door often. Maria silently handed him a business card.
Lysander pocketed it and turned around. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
He walked out the back entrance to avoid the growing throng of onlookers at the front entrance staring at the injured guard and demanding questions on building safety. He caught bits of conversation walking by.
"…who did it…"
"…a man…"
"…crazy…"
So now I'm crazy, he thought bitterly.
*****
Flowers
Belladonna was brushing her hair with a brush.
"Madam, would you like anything?" asked a silver haired, silver-eyed man.
"No thank you, Aconite." She answered, not taking her eyes off her reflection. "I've got everything I need. Are you checking up on Vervain often? I'm worried about that nasty scratch he's got on one cheek. Did you see it?"
Aconite laughed harshly. "Vervain? He was most likely out playing in the garbage and encountered a cat." His eyes filled with malice. "I don't know why you even bother to keep the fool."
"Now, now." Belladonna set down the brush. "He's got his uses."
"It depends on your description of "uses". Do you mean uses as in messing up all our plans and never being there when you need him?"
"Aconite! You may leave." She stood up gracefully and went to the closet. "Go." She said in a voice muffled by all the jackets. "Bring in Arnica and Vervain. She'll be able to help."
He scampered off sulkily.
A few minutes later, there was a timid knock at the door.
"Come in," Belladonna said. "Who is it?"
"It's me and Arnica." The door opened. In the doorway was a pudgy man with unremarkable brown hair and brown eyes. Next to him stood an annoyed looking woman wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse.
"This better be the last time today you need healing." She said. "I'm sick of this routine." She sighed. "Aconite gets me, I get you, we go to Belladonna, I heal you and you get hurt all over again." She emphasized the last few words.
"Sorry, sorry." He said grumpily not sounding sorry at all.
She sighed impatiently and waved her hands over the scratch. "Do you have any of that salve left?" she asked Belladonna.
"Let me go check." She rummaged through the drawers on the desk and produced a red tube. "Here you go. How much do you need?"
"Not too much. It's not as bad as the time he got attacked by rabid dogs." Arnica said with a straight face. "I'll say, a little of the salve and a little hocus pocus, he'll be perfectly fine in an hour or so. Assuming he doesn't go off and get attacked by a swarm of bees or something." She sighed. "You're very trouble-prone, did you know that?"
"Who doesn't?" he snapped. "I wish you would stop acting that way."
"What way?"
"You know what I'm talking about." he replied in exasperation.
"No I don't. Be quiet, I'm putting the salve on, you know."
He winced slightly as she gently spread it over the injured area. "That hurts." He said. "Is there anyway to heal without any hurt?"
"No pain, no gain." She reminded him absently. She whispered some undistinguishable words over the wound and blew on it. "You all fixed up now. Go run off and keep out of trouble like a good little boy. I have to have a word with Belladonna."
He scowled. "I am not a little boy!" he cried indignantly. "I'm just, just, --"
"Just what?" Arnica smirked. "Just a little boy who happens to get hurt more than any another person in the group?"
"Oh, put a sock in it." He slammed the door after him.
"Now," Arnica said in a more serious tone. "I have to discuss some business with you on the tablet."
"I know already. Aconite told me this morning." she looked grave. "He said he had discovered there indeed was a handful of immortals. Four, to be exact."
"It's not that. What I wanted to say is that I've found a way to turn the tablet's function back on." Her eyes took on a bright gleam. "Imagine, we could have our heart's desires."
"Arnica!" Belladonna scolded. "You know that the Sidus Tablet doesn't always make you happy! Remember the old man who's desire was to start a great commotion and have everyone know who he was?"
"I know. And he ended up being a convict and getting the death sentence. I know." Arnica looked miffed. "I don't see what the big deal is. If you can't solve the riddle it gives you, too bad!"
"I know it's a big temptation, but I can't let you take the risk." Belladonna looked at the clock. "Has Amaranth returned yet?"
"Yeah. She came back with a big, silly grin on her face and a bundle of lurid flowers." She looked disgusted. "But she got the herbs I needed." She added hastily when she saw Belladonna's expression.
" I told that girl to stop bringing in those confounded flowers!" she half-shouted. "She knows I'm allergic!"
Arnica remained silent while Belladonna aired out the windows. " I can't stand flowers." She said to herself.
*****
Voices
"…be a good boy…"
"…don't forget…"
"…never, ever…"
Harry woke up and rubbed his eyes. He had been sleeping in something foul-smelling. He stood up and swore. He could remember nothing from yesterday, only being sleepy and some hazy memory of who he was.
But now he had no time to ponder this. He was too busy trying to get rid of the awful smell, the rot that enveloped him. In front of him was filth, complete and utter filth. Precetal didn't even know had he had managed to sleep in it. There was a great assortment of colours and smells before him- the banana peel, empty milk cartons, bits of leftover broccoli, and someone's leftover dinner. And smells.
The smell was the part he couldn't stand. To have to walk around surrounded by the stench of garbage was his idea of torture. After all, didn't he pride himself in looking presentable?
Who was he again? Trying to focus his swimming head was painful. Who was he? What was he? Where was he?
He looked around again, this time paying attention to the sounds around him. There were people rushing about, there were cars and buses, and there were shops. Where was he? He decided to concentrate first on who exactly he was.
There was a sudden jolt pain on his chest. No, this was all too familiar. His eyes filled with tears but they refused to fall. Voices, they haunted him. Could he live without hearing them?
A teenage girl with bushy brown hair lay on a bed with her eyes wide open.
"Can you hear me, Herm?"
"Harry, be a good boy for me, will you?"
"Of course! I will, I promise."
"Remember, don't forget who you are like I did. Never forget."
"I won't. I promise."
"Don't promise me. Make sure you don't."
"Don't worry, I won't."
"And never, ever-"
"What, Herm? Never ever what?"
It was the unfinished sentence that wouldn't let him forget. It was the idea that he would never know what was meant to be spoken after. Never, ever. It was all he heard these days. He would never, ever know what she was going to say. The irony of it all made him laugh. I will never, ever know what she was going to say after never, ever, he always thought. It didn't quite cheer him up. It was just a gruesome way to make fun of the unspoken words, to ridicule them.
"What are you doing here?" the voice jerked him back to his senses. The voices in his head faded like a badly tuned radio.
"I- I dunno." He answered nervously. "I just woke up here." He finally got a good look at the person who was talking to him. It was a man of around 30, probably more, he guessed. But then again, he had always been horrible at guessing ages.
"You just woke up here?" the man's voice was high and disbelieving. "You just fell asleep in a pile of garbage without knowing?"
Harry flinched. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you don't exactly smell like a walking perfume factory, is that's what you mean." he answered matter-of-factly. "What's your name?"
"Harry," he said.
"I'm Lysander. What's your last name and how old are you?"
"I'm nineteen and-" his voice faltered. "I don't know my last name." He finished.
"You sound stupid. First of all, you have no clue on how you fell asleep in a pile of garbage and now you're telling me you can't remember your last name? Do you receive any head injuries last night?"
"If I did, I wouldn't remember, would I?" he answered grumpily. He decided he didn't like the stranger much. He gingerly touched his head. "Nope, my head doesn't hurt." He thought again. "Besides the headache from the smell of the garbage." he added as an afterthought.
"That explains a lot. Come with me." The man started to drag him away from the garbage. Harry was too tired to argue.
"Whatever you say," he mumbled, the dull pounding ache in his head intensifying.
*****
Of cats and courage
Rafusia stared in shock at the person standing in front of her.
"But I swear I didn't ask for 7 cats from the pound!" she said in something more than dismay. "I don't like cats at all!"
He didn't look sympathetic. Perhaps he had heard this line too often. "Sign here." He pushed a clipboard under her nose. "To prove you've got 'em." He added unhelpfully.
In defeat, she signed her loopy signature on the line. "Are you sure you have the right address?" she asked hopefully.
The man glanced at the street sign again. "Yep. 437 Black Cat Drive." He chuckled. "It makes sense."
"It does not!" she declared indignantly. He just shrugged and walked back to the truck waiting by the curb. Rafusia sighed and opened the box.
Inside, there were five cats and two kittens whining piteously. All except the black cat in the corner who was glowering at her. She looked at it in dislike and closed the box.
"Now what am I going to do?" she said out loud. "I'm stick with seven cats which I didn't order, someone sent them to me, one cat doesn't like me, at least I don't think it doesn't because it looked in a mean way at me. I have to feed them, I don't know how, I can't afford to feed seven cats…" she trailed off and sunk against the wall. I going crazy, she thought. I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy…
The doorbell rang and Rafusia groaned inwardly. She got up and opened the door. A delivery man stood there with large bags of cat food piled around him.
"Hullo!" he said quite cheerily. "Are you Rafusia Langley?" he asked. When she nodded, he seemed relieved. "Good. I the cat food for you." He pointed at the massive stacks of bags.
"But- but-" she started. He wasn't paying attention.
"Hey Tim! Could you give me a hand here? We need to get the cat food inside!" he called to the driver.
The delivery man and Tim started to drag the cat food inside.
"But I didn't order any cat food!" she finally managed to spit out. "I never ordered anything at all!"
"Well," replied Tim cheerfully. "You now are the proud owner of 20 free bags of cat food." He looked at the label. "Correction. 20 free bags of Meow Mix Cat Food."
"You don't happen to have any cats, do you?" asked the delivery man.
"That's the thing! I just got seven cats from the pound I didn't ask for!" Rafusia was furious.
He looked understanding. "Well, now you can feed them!" he declared in the same cheerful manner. "Right Rob?" he asked the delivery man.
They both laughed and headed back to delivery truck.
"Bye!" called Tim. "Good luck!" and with that, they were gone.
Rafusia sank against the wall and groaned again. At least she didn't have to worry about feeding the cats now. She got up again and took out a few bowls from the kitchen to pour the cat food in. She opened the box, placed the dishes in front of them and jumped back.
The cats sniffed the bowls and started to eat. Good, that's one thing done now, she thought.
The phone rang that second. The cats, so immersed in their eating, didn't look up. She picked up the telephone.
"Hello?" she said wearily.
"Hello Rafusia." A voice said at the other side. It was well-bred voice, pleasant to listen to.
"Who are you?"
"I sent you the cats and the food." Rafusia nearly dropped the phone.
She bit her tongue to keep from swearing. "Why the he- why did you do that?" she asked.
"I have my reasons. This isn't the reason I'm calling you. I want to tell that the cats aren't ordinary cats. They each have special talents."
"What, kill each other, have babies and get run over by trucks?" she asked in mock seriousness. "What other talents? Let's see, the black one can open its mouth, the ginger one can fleas, and the grey one can kill the WHOLE BLOODY BUNCH!" she shouted.
"Shut up and listen to me. As I was telling you, they aren't ordinary cats." The person paused.
Rafusia gave a short snort of disbelief. "Listen, whoever you are, I don't appreciate having to support seven other critters beside myself. So why don't you come over and pick up the cats and train them yourself."
"I'm sorry, that's not possible." The person sounded regretful. "I would if I could, but I can't. You don't know it, but you have a special gift with animals. Cats specifically."
Rafusia was ready to hang up the phone. "Just make your point."
"Right, all you have to do is to feed the cats each day. Play with them, make sure they trust you. I'll call you again when the time comes."
"When does the time come?" asked Rafusia.
"Listen, I've got to go."
"Wait, I-" but the person had already hung up, all she heard was the dial tone. She cursed softly and threw the phone on the ground. The cats looked up in alarm.
"Stop that!" the cat seemed to hiss softly. "It hurts my ears." Rafusia went to bang her head against the wall.
"Great!" she said aloud. "I'm hearing cats talk now. How lovely!"
She waved her hand energetically in front of the grey cat. "Hi!" she said loudly. "I come in peace!"
Again, the cat hissed. "I do not trust you yet. There are not many of your kind but a feline can never be too careful." The other cats seemed to nod.
The black cat just glowered. Rafusia decided she would pretend she could talk to cats. "What do you mean, my kind?"
"I mean humans that have the gift of understanding us." The cat preened itself. "You may refer to me as Grey Cat."
"Gee, that's hard to remember." Rafusia thought. "What are the names of the other cats?"
He extended a paw to each cat he was talking about. He pointed to the ginger cat. "That's Ginger Cat." He turned toward another. "That's Amber Cat." He turned again. "That's Tabby Cat." Another extended paw. "Orange Cat." Turn. "Lemonese Cat." Grey Cat paused. "And that is Black Cat." There was a way he said it, with both fear and respect, suggested that Black Cat had some sort of power.
Ginger Cat padded softly over to Rafusia. "Now what is your name?" she asked plainly.
"Rafusia."
She smiled. "Ah, the mistress of cats. Pleased to meet you." She
laced her paws forward as if stretching and pulled them back again. Rafusia interpreted this as a type of cat bow.
"Mistress of cats?" she asked. Black Cat stood up and padded over to her to. He had a throaty voice.
"Would you like to hear the legend?" he asked. "You may better understand your position.
"Sure." Rafusia replied. Black Cat cleared his throat and began.
*****
Mistress of Cats
"The dark of the wood is a mysterious place. It holds all secrets, yet tells them to all who care to hear. The dark of the wood is often not heard, it's secrets not understood for they are not presented in the ordinary fashion but in riddles.
In the dark of the wood, there is a stone. The stone had been there since the beginning of time. The stone absorbs the secrets and stores them. And in the very middle of the stone, there is a substance so precious, it cannot be described nor spoken of.
This substance had not seen the day of light, it had never been seen by anyone or anything.
The cats were worried about the stone for others wanted to get it. But soon, their attention was diverted when one cat died. Its death was clearly not natural and the cats mourned for seven days and seven nights, as was the custom. Each cat was purified in the lake and they all traveled to the dark of the wood.
They wanted to find and take the stone and hide it, but guarding the entrance was a sphinx, a lion with a woman's face.
"Ah, my first visitor in seven thousand years." She said tiredly. Those who seek the stone are famously unsuccessful. Those who care to protect it are famously cursed."
The cats were frightened. "How so?" asked one.
"There is a oracle who predicted that one day, seven would live, one would die, six would enter and none would leave. I can see you are the six that enter."
The cats were determined to get the stone. "Could you let us in?" asked a cat.
"I will, I must, and I can." And she stepped aside. The cats entered puzzled with the lack of riddle. In the middle was a large stone.
"How do we get the middle out?" wondered a cat. She was answered by a crack of lightening. The stone had split in half. The cats were uneasy. Nothing could be this simple.
They went ahead and removed the core. As they carried it, an image of a young woman blossomed out.
She spoke, "I am the mistress of cats. I watch over you, I see no harm comes to you. I grant you nine lives instead of one. You will not exit the dark of the woods as six, but as spirits. Thus, six will enter but none will leave. The seventh is already a spirit and in my care. He will return to you when the stone is once again active. You will need him then. In time, you will be put in the care of the next mistress of cats. All mistresses are destined to be named Rafusia, after the original mistress of cats, me." She sunk back in the stone.
The cats went through the gate and as she promised, they turned into spirits. The seventh cat watched them through the eyes of the sphinx."
Black Cat sat there expectantly. It took a while for Rafusia to process the information.
"So you're saying I'm the next mistress of cats? That's ridiculous!" she cried.
"Is it?" asked Amber Cat. "You can speak to us, your name is Rafusia as the legend said and you even resemble the mistress of cats." She eyed Rafusia's fiery hair.
"And it appears you resemble the original mistress of cats, too." He commented in an amused voice. "About the same face, hair and eyes, I say."
Rafusia had the sudden, desperate urge to run to a mirror.
"Blucky." She said.
"Excuse me?" asked Black Cat.
"Blucky. It's my own private word I say when I'm especially annoyed. Like now." She added.
Black Cat seemed to grin even wider. "Blucky is the original mistress of cat's annoying distant cousin."
"Let me guess. The other cousins were named Fluffy, Yucky, Ucky, Uh and Ack."
"As of matter of a fact, you're right." Black Cat seemed to be laughing.
"Oh no… Go swipe your little paw at me, or whatever you do, I need to know I'm dreaming." She started to pinch herself. "Ow!" she cried.
Black Cat swiped his paw at her bare ankle and a few lines of red appeared, but instantly, they closed up again and left was just a smooth, whole piece of skin.
"That's odd," Rafusia stared at her ankle. "I was pretty sure you scratched me."
"There was also a special prophecy for you. It stated the second mistress could not be harmed by her kind, could communicate with her kind and could control her kind. It makes sense. I couldn't hurt you." Black Cat jumped up onto the sofa.
"What was the complete prophecy?" Rafusia asked.
Black cat yawned. "I'll tell you the rest later."
*****
Prologue
A young man leaned over a chunk of grey-green stone, chisel in hand. He chipped at it slowly, making sure every detail was accomplished, every blemish smoothed out.
He stood back and admired his work; it was a perfect stone tablet. He blew on it softly to rid of the dust and patted it fondly. On it, he carved five letters.
Sidus.
He placed it lovingly on a bed of moss and gave it one last glance. He started to clean up the stone chips when a small, razor thin one cut his hand. He didn't notice.
He stood up and looked at the tablet again. The blood was beginning to pool slightly on the tip of his finger. The surface tension broke, the drop of red falling onto the stone. As if an invisible hand was etching onto it, a few phrases appeared. He stared.
I know your greatest desire. To achieve it, combine earth, wind, water and fire. Let me live, I will reward you. Leave me silent, no more will you dream.
Dear god, he thought. Did it really know his greatest desire? He shuddered. Earth, wind, water and fire, he mused.
The next day, he collected soil and water. Throwing them onto he fire he had built, he waited for the cold winds to blow the flames higher. A sudden burst of red, and the fire went out. He ran back inside and looked at the tablet again. It simply said.
Immortal
*****
Maria Sue
A man in a ratty winter jacket walked alongside the brick wall. He was hunched over with his hands in his pockets. His steps were reckless, unlike the careful steps of those around him; avoiding the slush and cracks on the sidewalk.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that it didn't matter if he sprained an ankle or not. He had all the time in the world.
Time was no longer an enemy. He had defeated time a long, long time ago. It no longer affected him.
He shivered, pulling the jacket closer and stopped in front of an official office building. Laughing silently, he pressed the door open.
"Please show identification." Said a uniformed guard. This time he laughed out loud. It wasn't a pleasant sound. His laugh was harsh, grating and ridiculing. He decided to play along.
"I'm Lysander."
"Last name?"
"Not telling."
"Your age?" asked the guard tolerably. Another troublemaker, he thought.
"That's a deep, dark secret. Let's just say for now I'm much, much older than you."
"Can I see your driver's license?" the guard placed his hand on his walkie-talkie out of instinct.
"Drive? I don't drive. I walk. And why are you nervous about me?"
"Excuse me, nervous? And since you have failed to provide me with any form of identification, I cannot allow you to enter." The guard squirmed uncomfortably. His neck itched. He placed his other hand on his gun. Just in case, he thought. Just in case.
The other man laughed and pushed past the guard. The guard jumped in front of him holding the gun in his hand.
"Freeze." He ordered, waving the gun menacingly. Sweat trickled down his back. He should really ask his boss for a raise.
"Do I have to hurt you?" asked the man.
The guard didn't know how to answer. He took out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Trouble in front entrance. Troublemaker."
"Troublemaker?" asked the man incredulously. "Oh no, I'm much more than that." He pulled back his fist and with surprising strength, punched the guard in the face.
The guard whimpered and clutched his cheek. A nasty gore from the ring the man was wearing had broken the skin. The blood dripped onto his blue uniform. He punched back, though with less vigor, because of the pain.
He took the opportunity to open the door. He walked in side casually. The elevator door opened and he pressed the button for floor five. Another woman looked curiously at him.
"I haven't seen you here before, have I?" she asked.
He winked. "I don't know." He responded. The door opened. He stepped out and looked around.
511.There it was. He opened the door. Inside, behind an oak desk was a blonde woman.
She stood up smiling. The man sucked in his breath.
"Yes?" she asked tapping a french manicured fingernail on the desk. "Can I do anything for you?"
"I'm Lysander," he breathed. "What's your name?"
"Maria Sue. "She smiled, extending a hand. He shook it.
"Ms. Sue, are you familiar with the legend on the Sidus tablet?"
This time he received a most dissimilar reaction. Her blue eyes hardened to a steely glint and she assumed a more stiff and suspicious pose.
"Slightly. Why do you ask?" she said carefully.
"How much do you know about it?" he asked.
Maria spoke carefully again. "I know it's a stone tablet that supposedly gives riddles to the holder in order for him or her to achieve their greatest desire."
"Do you know a dark haired woman named Belladonna?"
Maria shook her head.
"Anyone named Aconite?"
She shook her head again.
"Sorrel?"
"What is this, twenty questions?" she snapped irritably. "Get to the point, Mr.- "
"Calun." He cut in smoothly. "The point is, I need your help."
"It depends."
"Well, I'm trying to find these people. They might have information on the whereabouts of the Sides Tablet and related objects."
"Really?" Maria commented apathetically, shuffling a pile of papers on her desk.
"Really." Lysander Calun stared pointedly at the ceiling in vexation. "Are you willing to help?"
"Fine. When do we start?" she asked with sarcasm. "Do we dress in black leather, wear masks, and sneak around at the dead of night in a deserted alleys?"
"Ms. Sue, I would prefer you have a more serious attitude," he said simply.
"Call me Maria. I'm sorry. I'm having a stressful day."
"Apology accepted. How can I contact you?" Lysander looked rather fidgety, glancing at the door often. Maria silently handed him a business card.
Lysander pocketed it and turned around. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
He walked out the back entrance to avoid the growing throng of onlookers at the front entrance staring at the injured guard and demanding questions on building safety. He caught bits of conversation walking by.
"…who did it…"
"…a man…"
"…crazy…"
So now I'm crazy, he thought bitterly.
*****
Flowers
Belladonna was brushing her hair with a brush.
"Madam, would you like anything?" asked a silver haired, silver-eyed man.
"No thank you, Aconite." She answered, not taking her eyes off her reflection. "I've got everything I need. Are you checking up on Vervain often? I'm worried about that nasty scratch he's got on one cheek. Did you see it?"
Aconite laughed harshly. "Vervain? He was most likely out playing in the garbage and encountered a cat." His eyes filled with malice. "I don't know why you even bother to keep the fool."
"Now, now." Belladonna set down the brush. "He's got his uses."
"It depends on your description of "uses". Do you mean uses as in messing up all our plans and never being there when you need him?"
"Aconite! You may leave." She stood up gracefully and went to the closet. "Go." She said in a voice muffled by all the jackets. "Bring in Arnica and Vervain. She'll be able to help."
He scampered off sulkily.
A few minutes later, there was a timid knock at the door.
"Come in," Belladonna said. "Who is it?"
"It's me and Arnica." The door opened. In the doorway was a pudgy man with unremarkable brown hair and brown eyes. Next to him stood an annoyed looking woman wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse.
"This better be the last time today you need healing." She said. "I'm sick of this routine." She sighed. "Aconite gets me, I get you, we go to Belladonna, I heal you and you get hurt all over again." She emphasized the last few words.
"Sorry, sorry." He said grumpily not sounding sorry at all.
She sighed impatiently and waved her hands over the scratch. "Do you have any of that salve left?" she asked Belladonna.
"Let me go check." She rummaged through the drawers on the desk and produced a red tube. "Here you go. How much do you need?"
"Not too much. It's not as bad as the time he got attacked by rabid dogs." Arnica said with a straight face. "I'll say, a little of the salve and a little hocus pocus, he'll be perfectly fine in an hour or so. Assuming he doesn't go off and get attacked by a swarm of bees or something." She sighed. "You're very trouble-prone, did you know that?"
"Who doesn't?" he snapped. "I wish you would stop acting that way."
"What way?"
"You know what I'm talking about." he replied in exasperation.
"No I don't. Be quiet, I'm putting the salve on, you know."
He winced slightly as she gently spread it over the injured area. "That hurts." He said. "Is there anyway to heal without any hurt?"
"No pain, no gain." She reminded him absently. She whispered some undistinguishable words over the wound and blew on it. "You all fixed up now. Go run off and keep out of trouble like a good little boy. I have to have a word with Belladonna."
He scowled. "I am not a little boy!" he cried indignantly. "I'm just, just, --"
"Just what?" Arnica smirked. "Just a little boy who happens to get hurt more than any another person in the group?"
"Oh, put a sock in it." He slammed the door after him.
"Now," Arnica said in a more serious tone. "I have to discuss some business with you on the tablet."
"I know already. Aconite told me this morning." she looked grave. "He said he had discovered there indeed was a handful of immortals. Four, to be exact."
"It's not that. What I wanted to say is that I've found a way to turn the tablet's function back on." Her eyes took on a bright gleam. "Imagine, we could have our heart's desires."
"Arnica!" Belladonna scolded. "You know that the Sidus Tablet doesn't always make you happy! Remember the old man who's desire was to start a great commotion and have everyone know who he was?"
"I know. And he ended up being a convict and getting the death sentence. I know." Arnica looked miffed. "I don't see what the big deal is. If you can't solve the riddle it gives you, too bad!"
"I know it's a big temptation, but I can't let you take the risk." Belladonna looked at the clock. "Has Amaranth returned yet?"
"Yeah. She came back with a big, silly grin on her face and a bundle of lurid flowers." She looked disgusted. "But she got the herbs I needed." She added hastily when she saw Belladonna's expression.
" I told that girl to stop bringing in those confounded flowers!" she half-shouted. "She knows I'm allergic!"
Arnica remained silent while Belladonna aired out the windows. " I can't stand flowers." She said to herself.
*****
Voices
"…be a good boy…"
"…don't forget…"
"…never, ever…"
Harry woke up and rubbed his eyes. He had been sleeping in something foul-smelling. He stood up and swore. He could remember nothing from yesterday, only being sleepy and some hazy memory of who he was.
But now he had no time to ponder this. He was too busy trying to get rid of the awful smell, the rot that enveloped him. In front of him was filth, complete and utter filth. Precetal didn't even know had he had managed to sleep in it. There was a great assortment of colours and smells before him- the banana peel, empty milk cartons, bits of leftover broccoli, and someone's leftover dinner. And smells.
The smell was the part he couldn't stand. To have to walk around surrounded by the stench of garbage was his idea of torture. After all, didn't he pride himself in looking presentable?
Who was he again? Trying to focus his swimming head was painful. Who was he? What was he? Where was he?
He looked around again, this time paying attention to the sounds around him. There were people rushing about, there were cars and buses, and there were shops. Where was he? He decided to concentrate first on who exactly he was.
There was a sudden jolt pain on his chest. No, this was all too familiar. His eyes filled with tears but they refused to fall. Voices, they haunted him. Could he live without hearing them?
A teenage girl with bushy brown hair lay on a bed with her eyes wide open.
"Can you hear me, Herm?"
"Harry, be a good boy for me, will you?"
"Of course! I will, I promise."
"Remember, don't forget who you are like I did. Never forget."
"I won't. I promise."
"Don't promise me. Make sure you don't."
"Don't worry, I won't."
"And never, ever-"
"What, Herm? Never ever what?"
It was the unfinished sentence that wouldn't let him forget. It was the idea that he would never know what was meant to be spoken after. Never, ever. It was all he heard these days. He would never, ever know what she was going to say. The irony of it all made him laugh. I will never, ever know what she was going to say after never, ever, he always thought. It didn't quite cheer him up. It was just a gruesome way to make fun of the unspoken words, to ridicule them.
"What are you doing here?" the voice jerked him back to his senses. The voices in his head faded like a badly tuned radio.
"I- I dunno." He answered nervously. "I just woke up here." He finally got a good look at the person who was talking to him. It was a man of around 30, probably more, he guessed. But then again, he had always been horrible at guessing ages.
"You just woke up here?" the man's voice was high and disbelieving. "You just fell asleep in a pile of garbage without knowing?"
Harry flinched. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you don't exactly smell like a walking perfume factory, is that's what you mean." he answered matter-of-factly. "What's your name?"
"Harry," he said.
"I'm Lysander. What's your last name and how old are you?"
"I'm nineteen and-" his voice faltered. "I don't know my last name." He finished.
"You sound stupid. First of all, you have no clue on how you fell asleep in a pile of garbage and now you're telling me you can't remember your last name? Do you receive any head injuries last night?"
"If I did, I wouldn't remember, would I?" he answered grumpily. He decided he didn't like the stranger much. He gingerly touched his head. "Nope, my head doesn't hurt." He thought again. "Besides the headache from the smell of the garbage." he added as an afterthought.
"That explains a lot. Come with me." The man started to drag him away from the garbage. Harry was too tired to argue.
"Whatever you say," he mumbled, the dull pounding ache in his head intensifying.
*****
Of cats and courage
Rafusia stared in shock at the person standing in front of her.
"But I swear I didn't ask for 7 cats from the pound!" she said in something more than dismay. "I don't like cats at all!"
He didn't look sympathetic. Perhaps he had heard this line too often. "Sign here." He pushed a clipboard under her nose. "To prove you've got 'em." He added unhelpfully.
In defeat, she signed her loopy signature on the line. "Are you sure you have the right address?" she asked hopefully.
The man glanced at the street sign again. "Yep. 437 Black Cat Drive." He chuckled. "It makes sense."
"It does not!" she declared indignantly. He just shrugged and walked back to the truck waiting by the curb. Rafusia sighed and opened the box.
Inside, there were five cats and two kittens whining piteously. All except the black cat in the corner who was glowering at her. She looked at it in dislike and closed the box.
"Now what am I going to do?" she said out loud. "I'm stick with seven cats which I didn't order, someone sent them to me, one cat doesn't like me, at least I don't think it doesn't because it looked in a mean way at me. I have to feed them, I don't know how, I can't afford to feed seven cats…" she trailed off and sunk against the wall. I going crazy, she thought. I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy, I'm going crazy…
The doorbell rang and Rafusia groaned inwardly. She got up and opened the door. A delivery man stood there with large bags of cat food piled around him.
"Hullo!" he said quite cheerily. "Are you Rafusia Langley?" he asked. When she nodded, he seemed relieved. "Good. I the cat food for you." He pointed at the massive stacks of bags.
"But- but-" she started. He wasn't paying attention.
"Hey Tim! Could you give me a hand here? We need to get the cat food inside!" he called to the driver.
The delivery man and Tim started to drag the cat food inside.
"But I didn't order any cat food!" she finally managed to spit out. "I never ordered anything at all!"
"Well," replied Tim cheerfully. "You now are the proud owner of 20 free bags of cat food." He looked at the label. "Correction. 20 free bags of Meow Mix Cat Food."
"You don't happen to have any cats, do you?" asked the delivery man.
"That's the thing! I just got seven cats from the pound I didn't ask for!" Rafusia was furious.
He looked understanding. "Well, now you can feed them!" he declared in the same cheerful manner. "Right Rob?" he asked the delivery man.
They both laughed and headed back to delivery truck.
"Bye!" called Tim. "Good luck!" and with that, they were gone.
Rafusia sank against the wall and groaned again. At least she didn't have to worry about feeding the cats now. She got up again and took out a few bowls from the kitchen to pour the cat food in. She opened the box, placed the dishes in front of them and jumped back.
The cats sniffed the bowls and started to eat. Good, that's one thing done now, she thought.
The phone rang that second. The cats, so immersed in their eating, didn't look up. She picked up the telephone.
"Hello?" she said wearily.
"Hello Rafusia." A voice said at the other side. It was well-bred voice, pleasant to listen to.
"Who are you?"
"I sent you the cats and the food." Rafusia nearly dropped the phone.
She bit her tongue to keep from swearing. "Why the he- why did you do that?" she asked.
"I have my reasons. This isn't the reason I'm calling you. I want to tell that the cats aren't ordinary cats. They each have special talents."
"What, kill each other, have babies and get run over by trucks?" she asked in mock seriousness. "What other talents? Let's see, the black one can open its mouth, the ginger one can fleas, and the grey one can kill the WHOLE BLOODY BUNCH!" she shouted.
"Shut up and listen to me. As I was telling you, they aren't ordinary cats." The person paused.
Rafusia gave a short snort of disbelief. "Listen, whoever you are, I don't appreciate having to support seven other critters beside myself. So why don't you come over and pick up the cats and train them yourself."
"I'm sorry, that's not possible." The person sounded regretful. "I would if I could, but I can't. You don't know it, but you have a special gift with animals. Cats specifically."
Rafusia was ready to hang up the phone. "Just make your point."
"Right, all you have to do is to feed the cats each day. Play with them, make sure they trust you. I'll call you again when the time comes."
"When does the time come?" asked Rafusia.
"Listen, I've got to go."
"Wait, I-" but the person had already hung up, all she heard was the dial tone. She cursed softly and threw the phone on the ground. The cats looked up in alarm.
"Stop that!" the cat seemed to hiss softly. "It hurts my ears." Rafusia went to bang her head against the wall.
"Great!" she said aloud. "I'm hearing cats talk now. How lovely!"
She waved her hand energetically in front of the grey cat. "Hi!" she said loudly. "I come in peace!"
Again, the cat hissed. "I do not trust you yet. There are not many of your kind but a feline can never be too careful." The other cats seemed to nod.
The black cat just glowered. Rafusia decided she would pretend she could talk to cats. "What do you mean, my kind?"
"I mean humans that have the gift of understanding us." The cat preened itself. "You may refer to me as Grey Cat."
"Gee, that's hard to remember." Rafusia thought. "What are the names of the other cats?"
He extended a paw to each cat he was talking about. He pointed to the ginger cat. "That's Ginger Cat." He turned toward another. "That's Amber Cat." He turned again. "That's Tabby Cat." Another extended paw. "Orange Cat." Turn. "Lemonese Cat." Grey Cat paused. "And that is Black Cat." There was a way he said it, with both fear and respect, suggested that Black Cat had some sort of power.
Ginger Cat padded softly over to Rafusia. "Now what is your name?" she asked plainly.
"Rafusia."
She smiled. "Ah, the mistress of cats. Pleased to meet you." She
laced her paws forward as if stretching and pulled them back again. Rafusia interpreted this as a type of cat bow.
"Mistress of cats?" she asked. Black Cat stood up and padded over to her to. He had a throaty voice.
"Would you like to hear the legend?" he asked. "You may better understand your position.
"Sure." Rafusia replied. Black Cat cleared his throat and began.
*****
Mistress of Cats
"The dark of the wood is a mysterious place. It holds all secrets, yet tells them to all who care to hear. The dark of the wood is often not heard, it's secrets not understood for they are not presented in the ordinary fashion but in riddles.
In the dark of the wood, there is a stone. The stone had been there since the beginning of time. The stone absorbs the secrets and stores them. And in the very middle of the stone, there is a substance so precious, it cannot be described nor spoken of.
This substance had not seen the day of light, it had never been seen by anyone or anything.
The cats were worried about the stone for others wanted to get it. But soon, their attention was diverted when one cat died. Its death was clearly not natural and the cats mourned for seven days and seven nights, as was the custom. Each cat was purified in the lake and they all traveled to the dark of the wood.
They wanted to find and take the stone and hide it, but guarding the entrance was a sphinx, a lion with a woman's face.
"Ah, my first visitor in seven thousand years." She said tiredly. Those who seek the stone are famously unsuccessful. Those who care to protect it are famously cursed."
The cats were frightened. "How so?" asked one.
"There is a oracle who predicted that one day, seven would live, one would die, six would enter and none would leave. I can see you are the six that enter."
The cats were determined to get the stone. "Could you let us in?" asked a cat.
"I will, I must, and I can." And she stepped aside. The cats entered puzzled with the lack of riddle. In the middle was a large stone.
"How do we get the middle out?" wondered a cat. She was answered by a crack of lightening. The stone had split in half. The cats were uneasy. Nothing could be this simple.
They went ahead and removed the core. As they carried it, an image of a young woman blossomed out.
She spoke, "I am the mistress of cats. I watch over you, I see no harm comes to you. I grant you nine lives instead of one. You will not exit the dark of the woods as six, but as spirits. Thus, six will enter but none will leave. The seventh is already a spirit and in my care. He will return to you when the stone is once again active. You will need him then. In time, you will be put in the care of the next mistress of cats. All mistresses are destined to be named Rafusia, after the original mistress of cats, me." She sunk back in the stone.
The cats went through the gate and as she promised, they turned into spirits. The seventh cat watched them through the eyes of the sphinx."
Black Cat sat there expectantly. It took a while for Rafusia to process the information.
"So you're saying I'm the next mistress of cats? That's ridiculous!" she cried.
"Is it?" asked Amber Cat. "You can speak to us, your name is Rafusia as the legend said and you even resemble the mistress of cats." She eyed Rafusia's fiery hair.
"And it appears you resemble the original mistress of cats, too." He commented in an amused voice. "About the same face, hair and eyes, I say."
Rafusia had the sudden, desperate urge to run to a mirror.
"Blucky." She said.
"Excuse me?" asked Black Cat.
"Blucky. It's my own private word I say when I'm especially annoyed. Like now." She added.
Black Cat seemed to grin even wider. "Blucky is the original mistress of cat's annoying distant cousin."
"Let me guess. The other cousins were named Fluffy, Yucky, Ucky, Uh and Ack."
"As of matter of a fact, you're right." Black Cat seemed to be laughing.
"Oh no… Go swipe your little paw at me, or whatever you do, I need to know I'm dreaming." She started to pinch herself. "Ow!" she cried.
Black Cat swiped his paw at her bare ankle and a few lines of red appeared, but instantly, they closed up again and left was just a smooth, whole piece of skin.
"That's odd," Rafusia stared at her ankle. "I was pretty sure you scratched me."
"There was also a special prophecy for you. It stated the second mistress could not be harmed by her kind, could communicate with her kind and could control her kind. It makes sense. I couldn't hurt you." Black Cat jumped up onto the sofa.
"What was the complete prophecy?" Rafusia asked.
Black cat yawned. "I'll tell you the rest later."
*****