"Jellicle Cats are black and white," sang the Jellicles. "Jellicle Cats, as we said, are small…"
Munkustrap looked on, unable to avoid cracking a smile at the antics of Quaxo and the kittens. The tuxedo tom was meant to be leading the little ones in a short Kittens' Routine in honor of their first Ball, only the youngest, Etcetera, had fallen and bumped her nose and taken up a tremendous wail. Quaxo had gone into something of a "clown routine" rather than the planned one, with ridiculous poses and faces. Etcetera had quickly cheered up, and now she and the others were attempting to improvise something completely different. Meanwhile Carbuckety was doing random leaps and skips around the group, shamelessly flaunting the fact that he'd not made it to a single rehearsal.
But at least Carbuckety was here. Since being brought to the Junkyard, he'd been rather a cause of stress for all the adults. He was rarely content simply to play with the other kittens. On more than one occasion he'd seemed to inexplicably disappear for hours at a time. When Munkustrap attempted (as casually as he could) to question him, the kit simply muttered things about "just hiding behind junkpiles." Munkustrap highly doubted that, but feared pressing the matter too much—suppose Carbuckety were driven to run away back to the henchcats? And perhaps whatever he had been through in the warehouse made him naturally inclined to be a bit of a loner. But something had to be done about that kit before he became uncontrollable, Munk reflected. To make matters worse, Demeter had even approached him and confided that she was at a bit of a loss when it came to the kit; she could barely get Bucky to stop and speak to her for a few moments at a time, he was always running off on his own and closed-mouthed about what he did with his time. Munkustrap hadn't had the heart to tell her he had no more idea than she had; instead he'd spouted vague things such as he's just being a typical young and wild tomkit and gave tentative advice (probably unhelpful) based on how Old D had dealt with Munk and his brothers.
What stuck in Munkustrap's mind was the fact that Demeter had confided in him at all. Since returning from the warehouse, the gold queen had been closed off to nearly everyone apart from her sister. Was speaking to him a sign she was at last getting better, or was she simply so concerned for Carbuckety that desperation had driven her to speak to him?—And, come to that, why him? You understand kits so well, she'd said. Well, he didn't know about that, but he was certainly at a loss when it came to this kit.
He'd forced himself not to ask her why she took such an interest in the kit. The obvious answer, of course, was probably the correct one—but only Demeter, and he supposed Bombalurina, knew for certain. He wished one or the both of them would own up to the truth. It sickened him to think what that truth would mean, but at least then he could stop wondering. Besides, it was unfair to Carbuckety…
He shook himself to keep from lapsing into dangerous thoughts. He wasn't involved in the current dance—he was sitting with Old Deuteronomy on the Tire, keeping an eye on the group—but he mustn't get distracted. He still could hardly believe they'd even gone through with the Ball this year. More important than the dance itself was ensuring no one ran off alone and that no suspicious characters were allowed into the Junkyard unchecked. Alonzo and Peter were at the front gates, keeping watch on the streets. Tugger and Skimbleshanks were at the back. (Munkustrap had expected Tugger to object to missing a good bit of the Ball, but he had agreed without a murmur.) And he, Munkustrap, was keeping close to the rest of the Jellicles, making sure all was as it should be. Not having a million eyes, and so of course unable to watch every single cat every single moment, he had Jennyanydots and Jellylorum helping to make sure all the younger cats stayed where they were supposed to. Every so often, Munk cast a scrutinizing—almost suspicious—glance between Quaxo and the twins. They had some plan, he was sure of it. And it involved Mungojerrie and MacVitie, whom he still didn't for a minute believe had truly joined the henches. Jerrie, perhaps, could be enticed back into Griddlebone's minions; Mackey, never. And now Demeter had warned him of…something, she didn't know what, but something was certain to happen tonight. When Munk asked for more details, she only vaguely said it was 'just a feeling.' Much as he wanted to, he didn't press her; but he was determined to be prepared. He sincerely regretted allowing Teazer to persuade him that Quaxo, the twins, MacVitie, and Jerrie ought to be left alone and allowed to pursue their plan with no interference. Only fear of causing harm to MacVitie had kept him from madly rushing on the warehouse and confronting Griddlebone himself.
"Peace, my son," murmured his father, beside him. Munkustrap gave a start; he hadn't realized how clearly he was allowing his tensions and worries to show. "Protect our family, but do not allow dark thoughts to rob you of the joy of living. Bad things may happen at any moment, but to let them envelop you and allow the fear of them to obliterate the good—this will help no one. Take heart."
"Yes, father." Ought he to say something? Give some hint of impending danger? But was there impending danger? Perhaps Old Deuteronomy already knew… "Father…" he began, turning back towards the ancient grey tom. Before he could go on, Rumpelteazer came racing up to the Tire, dodging dancing felines.
"Munk'tap," gasped the tabby queen, breathless from running, "sommat's t'do! Yew've gotta come quick!"
Munkustrap reached out and grasped Teazer by the shoulders, trying not to let his fear show. "All right, Rumpel. All right. Let's try and keep calm; we don't want to cause an allout panic. Where is there trouble?"
"At the back o'the yahd, where Tuggah'n'Skimble's keepin' watch. I—I know yew said ev'ry'un sh'ld stay'ere t'gethah, Munk, bu'…dunno, I couldn' really much enjoy meself fer thinkin'…well, I dunno wot, but that somefin' awful would'appen, an' now it is, an' oh please'urry!"
Munk's stomach lurched. He was too frightened even to scold the younger queen for wandering off. So they'd made it this far into the Ball and at last Demeter's 'vague feeling of something bad' had proven true. He rose to follow Teazer, then paused. "Someone's got to look after things here…"
"By which you mean 'sit with the old codger and ensure he doesn't sprain something,'" Old Deuteronomy chuckled, having remained oddly calm. "Not to worry, son. Admetus, here, will take care of me, won't you? And together we'll see to it no one panics or runs off alone."
The cream-and-ginger tom, who had attended the Ball only because the adults had insisted everyone stay together, had spent the entire time seated near the Tire on his own, unobserved—well, evidently not unobserved by the Jellicle Leader. Unlike his twin brother Plato, who seemed to be having a grand enough time of it (apart from shooting the occasional worried look in Admetus's direction), Admetus had not participated in a single dance. He looked up, startled, at the sound of his name. After taking a moment to register what was being asked of him, he nodded and climbed up beside Old Deuteronomy. "We'll see to it," he mumbled, though with little real conviction.
Munkustrap groaned inwardly. Another youngish feline who needed some serious emotional help. Not exactly ideal.
"Munk'tap," Teazer pleaded again, "please'urry or some'un'll be kilt!"
Her words re-alerted Munk to the task immediately at paw. "Keep on the alert, Adme; I'm counting on you," he breathed before hurrying to follow after Rumpelteazer.
Quaxo had noticed the silver tabby leaving and immediately sensed something was amiss. Even as he glanced round for the twins, they were already on either side of him, hissing that it was time to go. Fortunately, after helping the kittens complete their improvised…clown dance, or whatever it had been, Quaxo had retired to the edge of the dance floor to take a rest—or, rather, to reach out with his mind as best he could try to discern if Griddlebone were near. He had not sensed her specifically—but then, she apparently had a mystical crony of her own, his exact abilities unknown. The twins, at least, had reached out to the guardian Jellicles at the gates, knowing there would be a change if they saw anything. In any case, now it seemed something had changed and he and the twins discreetly left the dancing felines behind.
"Munkustrap and Teazer—should we follow them?" he asked. He wasn't quite certain—he thought he had sensed something strange, but not necessarily sinister, in the direction they'd headed. Was Teazer perhaps overreacting? Or had something completely new cropped up to cause her such a panic?
"No," Coricopat shook his head, "that is not where the true danger lies. There is trouble, but Munkustrap is capable of handling it himself. No, there's something else…" All at once, he stopped and clutched his head in his paws with a low moan.
"Cori?" Quaxo gasped, looking inquiringly at Tantomile. The queen put her paws over her brother's and scrounged her eyes shut, concentrating.
Quaxo looked on, half in fear, half in some sort of morbid fascination. For the first time he was witnessing the true dangers of the twins' abilities—this gift of one mind contacting another could also be a curse: it left one open to attack.
At last, Coricopat's face relaxed from its expression of pain. He and his sister opened their eyes and exchanged a nod. "We've got to go on," Coricopat whispered. Leaning on one another, the two continued walking, and Quaxo followed, hearing Tantomile's voice in his mind: Gilbert. Gilbert had tried to cripple them; they'd eluded his efforts. For now.
For all the good it might do—at the moment, he didn't even feel he was from the same universe as the twins, let alone in possession of abilities remotely like theirs—Quaxo attempted to share calming images among the three of them: a lovely sunset, a soft bed by a human's fireside. They mustn't give into fear, they had to be ready to face Griddlebone or Gilbert or whoever it was awaited them. Besides, he thought grimly, he had to practice thinking of where to send the hench queen. If he even succeeded. No, mustn't think like that. Must succeed or… He stopped short of listing off the alternatives. He'd imagined them often enough. No, he would simply have to succeed, period. Any other option was unthinkable.
But supposing he did. Would that truly solve everything? For there would still be Gilbert and TB to deal with. Well, then…we'll…deal with them. Even if it meant something dire, like simply letting loose with the blue lightning he still couldn't control, and just see what it would do…
Dark and dangerous thoughts, Quaxo, Tantomile spoke to him again. Would you truly be so ruthless?
To save our friends…yes.