Chapter 10
The ice cold water splashed against Timmy's fur, pulling him out of his state of unconsciousness. His bleary eyes opened in a vain attempt to focus on the interrogator standing in front of him.
"I never took you for the vicious type," Timmy croaked as his feline interrogator tossed the empty bucket aside.
The cat grinned, her cheeks becoming increasingly flushed with each passing minute. "You can never judge a book by its cover," she purred. "Now answer the question."
Timmy moaned painfully. He struggled against the ropes that bound his arms and legs to a rickety chair. "I told you," he muttered. "I don't know why I draw these things. They just pop into my head!"
Her blue pelt glistened under the intense light shining down on the two of them. "That's ridiculous," she hissed.
"Well Rosie, I don't know what to tell you," said Timmy, his voice heavy with defeat.
Rosie's eyes narrowed. She reached out with her paw, unsheathing her claws. With a loud snarl she scratched Timmy's face, leaving behind four jagged red lines on his cheek. "Did I say that you could call me by my name?" she asked angrily.
"I'm sorry!" Timmy began to sob softly. "Why are you doing this? You were always so nice to me in school!"
Rosie smiled sweetly. "This has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I still want to be friends!"
Timmy's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding!"
"I'm serious!" Rosie exclaimed. She leaned forward, pulling Timmy into a hug. He shuddered at the contact and began to squirm. "Now now," Rosie admonished, "there's no need for you take this business personally."
"Then please, let me go," Timmy whispered.
Rosie shook her head. "Not until you tell me why you think the king is going to die in seven days,"
"I don't know!" Timmy cried.
"Well then," Rosie smiled, "I guess we'll just have to stay here until you can give me a good answer." She wandered over to the far wall where several weapons hung. She grabbed a mace and advanced upon Timmy, the weapon held high above her head. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the blow.
"That's enough!" boomed a voice. Timmy opened his eyes. Sable stood in front of him. She had grabbed hold of Rosie's arm, preventing her from striking him with the deadly weapon.
"Queen Sable," Rosie stammered, "what are you doing here?"
Sable held her grip on Rosie. With her free paw she reached out, taking the mace from her. "I'm here to relieve you of your duties. Timmy will be returning to his chambers."
Rosie frowned, "But…but your majesty, I was told to question him until he revealed why he drew what he did. King Nook himself made the order."
Sable raised her chin, gazing down at the small blue cat. "You dare question me? Not that it is any of you concern, but the king asked that I personally remove Timmy from these horrendous conditions." She let go of Rosie's frail arm, somewhat amazed by the fact that the child could hold up such a heavy, blunt instrument. Sable then remembered that Rosie was specifically chosen for the duty of interrogator because of her surprising strength. Also, Rosie seemed to have two completely different personalities. On the one hand she was kind and sweet, always going out of her way to help others. Yet Rosie had a twisted side. One that she did not reveal unless asked to interrogate prisoners for the king. What was perhaps most frightening about Rosie was the fact that she saw nothing wrong with how she treated her prisoners. She saw it as a childish game. One thing was for sure, Sable did not want to see how Rosie would behave ten years from now.
"Please leave us," Sable said quietly. Rosie shrugged her shoulders and retreated from the interrogation room (which was found in the dungeon). The soft clacking of her claws echoed through the chambers causing chills to run down Timmy's spine. "Let's get you the heck out of here," said Sable. She leaned forward and began untying Timmy's ropes, grunting with effort. "There were definitely knotted by a professional," she groaned. After many attempts and a few choice words of anger, Timmy was freed of his confines. He tried to stand, but immediately began to sway on his feet. Sable placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You need to take it slowly," she chided in a motherly tone. "Put your arm around my shoulder…that's right. Now put one foot in front of the other."
With help from Sable, Timmy was soon able to walk to his chambers without having to rely too heavily on the queen. As soon as he saw his soft and inviting bed, he practically jumped into it. Sable chuckled under her breath, helping him get cozy. She fetched him a glass of warm milk and stayed with him for a while. When enough time had passed, Sable finally broached the subject.
"Timmy," she began, "why did you draw those things about your uncle? They made him very upset."
Timmy looked up at her. Sable was like a mother to him, and he wasn't afraid to confide in her. "I can't tell you why, I can only tell you that whatever I've drawn has always come to pass. That's why I'm so scared. Aunt Sable, according to my picture, Uncle Tom is going to die in seven days!"
Sable sighed, patting Timmy's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "I'm sure that's not the case," she said, "besides can you imagine how difficult it would be for someone to get close enough to the king in order to kill him? He has guards surrounding him at all times."
"I guess that's true," Timmy conceded, "but what about the other picture?"
"What other picture?" Sable asked.
"The one where Katrina is about to enter Adam's house to speak with Redd," Timmy replied.
That's strange, thought Sable, I haven't seen that one…Why would they hide it from me…Unless… Sable's eyes widened. She had encountered a hooded figure entering the library a few nights ago. Could that have been Katrina? If so, why had she fled the palace to see Redd? All of these questions and more swirled through Sable's mind at a dizzying pace. She needed to rest and process this new bit of news. Should she seek out Adam and ask that he find out what Katrina wants with Redd? Or should she visit Redd on her own? After bidding Timmy goodnight, she retreated to her own bed chambers to contemplate her next course of action.
