Chapter 11: Dog City, Part 1
The underbelly of the clerisy was shadowy and precarious, littered with debris from above. Holding a torch to light her way, Kefira negotiated the tunnels carefully, weaving her way between twisted beams, chunks of heavy rocks, and wrecked furnishings. The cleric had been checking the wards, ancient symbols and glyphs placed around the ruined building. Now, she was making her way back to the spell-protected sanctuary in the clerisy's bowels, where the survivors of Mumm-Ra's attack now skulked. The cryptic marks prevented anyone from entering the premises; interlopers, the odd deserter, or raiding party still coming through to scavenge whatever was left on the carcass of the destroyed city. The magic remained in place; they were safe.
On the day of the attack, Kefira and a few other clerics took inventory of the order's various provisions beneath the clerisy. They were not the fighting elite, just a sorcerer, a clerk, a healer, and two novices; five clerics out of a couple hundred, and two not even fully trained or assigned to a fellowship. The little group had narrowly escaped death as the floors above came crashing down around them.
In the days following the attack, they'd found others hiding in burnt-out homes and ransacked shops around Thundera. Out of a city of thousands, there were only about fifty left, primarily women, children, and a few elderly or disabled males. While the healer and novices searched beyond the clerisy's former stately grounds, Kefira and Guri carefully probed where they could within the building itself and discovered Aleser, a fellow scholar of magic. He was half-buried in the rubble but miraculously alive. The sorcerer had been badly hurt, but under Cakusola's care, he recovered enough to be helpful with spell work; although, his right side was partially paralyzed. Aleser assisted Kefira in placing the powerful enchantments around the structure while the others made the tunnels as comfortable as possible for a long-term stay. They didn't have a plan, save avoid being discovered, sold into slavery, or killed.
Through astral projection and scrying, Kefira had learned that was the fate of many captives spirited from Thundera, and this was how she'd heard the rumors about the princes. At first, there was nothing to give the cleric hope that Thundera's royal house had survived, then she'd seen the tank with Claudus's look-alike offspring inside. She was both overjoyed and dismayed. Didn't he know his people were suffering and dying? Didn't he understand they needed him, or was he yet the fool of a dreamer with his head in the clouds?
Kefira could scarcely believe it when she saw her old roommate by the boy-king's side. Cheetara! Somehow, the cheetah had survived while all the other guardians had perished. An ember of hope sparked within her. She'd told the other clerics what she'd seen, now she needed to confer with Aleser; between the two of them, they should be able to reach out to Cheetara and, through her, the king.
– o –
The landscape was desolate, seemingly hostile to all forms of life. No trees. No vegetation. No animals. Only endless miles of sand, gravel, and rock in varying shades of amber, ginger, ochre, and a blend of all three hues stretched before them. Bisque-colored clouds of dust rose in the air as the Thundertank passed; the sun's glare danced across the steel beast as it pressed forward to its next destination. Kit and Kat were glued to their seats behind Panthro and Lion-O. Snarf sat wide-eyed in Kit's lap, purring softly; he seemed intrigued by the barren scenery whizzing by the window.
"This is boring," Kat announced, turning his flank over in his hand aimlessly. "Where's Tygra and Cheetara?"
"They're in the back. You know only four of us can sit up front."
"But why do they have to be together? One of them could sit here, and one of us could be in the back."
Kit tilted her head, failing to follow her brother's point. "What's the matter? Why do you want to be in the back?"
"No special reason," he tucked the flank away. "I'm bored. Wonder what they're doing."
"They're probably—" she made smooching noises.
Kat rolled his eyes. "They've been together for months; they should be tired of that by now."
She shrugged. "I don't know; they could be doing something else."
"Like what?"
Kit sucked her teeth; her brother was starting to annoy her. "How should I know?"
The two in question might have found some humor in the kittens' conversation if they'd been aware. As it was, they were reminiscing about earlier times. Tygra sat across from Cheetara. His long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, arms folded leisurely over his chest. She had just finished telling him about the time Nana explained coming into heat to her, and how horrified she'd been.
Amusement gleamed in Tygra's dark eyes; being well acquainted with her sensuality, the image of a shocked adolescent tickled him.
"I was only twelve years old!" she giggled.
"I had the biggest crush on you," Tygra admitted. "I had no idea if you ever thought about me." His voice turned smoky. "Awake or asleep, thoughts of you filled my mind. You were even in my dreams, and some of them were a little…racy."
"Racy?" Cheetara twisted a lock of hair around her finger and looked at him through her lashes. "Racy, how?"
"We've re-enacted every dream I've ever had," he laughed shamelessly.
"It was the same for me, you know." He leaned forward, eyes bright with questions, and Cheetara quickly added, "Not the racy dreams, but I spent a lot of time sitting on the garden wall, staring at the palace, and thinking about you. When I finally saw you and our eyes met, I could hardly breathe. My only thought was to run. Of course, I wanted to talk to you, but I was too afraid of making a fool of myself so, I ran."
"I'd never been so disappointed," Tygra recalled. "I'd never wanted to speak to anyone, any girl, as badly as I wanted to speak with you."
Cheetara was curious. "Were there many?" Puzzled, his brow wrinkled. "Girls," she clarified.
"The royal court was full of girls," he said. "Noble families looking to make the most desirable of matches between their daughters and Claudus's sons. I had the odd girlfriend here and there, but nothing serious and all very proper. My heart was already taken."
"Oh, really?" Cheetara's smile was mischievous. "Then how did you become such a talented lover?"
"Under the guidance of an older lady. She was a widowed noblewoman, still young enough to desire male attention but careful of her reputation and position at court. I spent many afternoons in her chamber learning how to please a female. There was the occasional tryst when she moved on, but I couldn't risk being a lady's man, siring cubs indiscriminately." A thought occurred to him, and he paused before asking, "How did you avoid mating?"
Cheetara told him about Jaga's enchanted chain, which she continued to wear since she didn't want to risk going into heat at an inopportune time.
"I didn't want biology to control me; I wanted to decide who and when. You were always my choice, but I never dreamed we could be. I suppose I was willing to wait for my heart to settle on someone else. Fortunately, I didn't have to."
Her pink eyes grew lambent, and she blew him a kiss.
Tygra winked at her flirtatiously. "And I thank the gods for that every day."
The tank rolled to a stop at midday, and the twins barged into the cabin carrying a startled Snarf. Lion-O appeared a moment later.
Tygra straightened up in his seat. "Why are we stopping in the middle of the desert?"
"We need supplies," Lion-O told him. "Panthro says this is the place to stock up."
"Shopping?" Cheetara's eyes sparkled, and Tygra couldn't help smiling; for a moment, she looked like an excited little girl.
The settlement surfaced out of the rocky terrain like mammoth termite mounds, all sharp points, and flat round surfaces, surrounding a vast open-air structure that dwarfed the rises circling it. The tank secured; the cats set off on foot.
The cheetah's jeweled gaze took it all in. "What is this place?"
"Dog City," Panthro replied.
Cats and Dogs had a long and troubled history; lifetimes of prejudice and enmity existed between the two groups. When Thundera was a thriving, prosperous kingdom, rare was the cat who ventured beyond its borders to explore other lands. Few, if any, had knowledge of a place where dogs were comfortably established, living in peace. The handful of dogs residing in Thundera were treated worse than second-class citizens; they were bullied, threatened, and often lived in poverty. Finding their city thriving in the desert was an eye-opening experience.
The entrance to the city was underground, and Cheetara was surprised to see a network of winding corridors leading to open-air markets and community spaces. Shops sold a variety of goods, from tools and weaponry to jewelry, candy, and toys. Roughly carved stairs led to catwalks hanging beneath a pristine sky, overlooking the area below; they crisscrossed midair, allowing citizens to come and go from their homes. Cheetara thought it a curious space that did not seem constructed by the current inhabitants; the cleric immediately liked its feel.
The cats milled through packs of dogs going about their business; some bartered for purchases, some were artisans and crafters busy at work, while others gathered in small groups conversing over food and drink. Panthro seemed familiar with the place, if not excited, and took the lead. Cheetara thought he looked grumpier than usual.
"I say we find the supplies and get out of here. I've got some real bad memories of this town."
"You've been uneasy all morning," Lion-O remarked. "What exactly happened here?"
The general's frown deepened. "Forget it, kid. I don't want to give you nightmares."
"He's probably just worried about catching fleas from the locals," Tygra smirked.
The kittens had spent most of their time in the slums of Thundera. They were well acquainted with vagrants and the so-called riffraff; therefore, far less judgmental.
"Come on, guys," Kit entreated. "Dogs aren't so bad."
"We used to hang out with them all the time in the slums of Thundera," Kat informed them. "They made the best bone stew."
His sister agreed, her ponytail bobbing up and down, and the young cat's stomach rumbled on cue. He sniffed the air.
"Mmm, bone stew!" Kit gushed. "Let's find some while we're here."
The kittens tried sprinting off, but Cheetara didn't think splitting from the group was a good idea after their last misadventure.
"Maybe you two should stay close."
Kat skidded to a stop and puffed out his chest. "We can take care of ourselves."
They bolted down a corridor and out of sight before the cleric could object further. Lion-O crouched beside Snarf, acting on Cheetara's concern.
"Make sure they stay out of trouble."
The sweet-tempered creature meowed agreeably then ran after the twins.
"Let's get what we came for," Panthro grumbled.
The male cats moved purposefully through the marketplace, collecting what was required without indecision, but Cheetara fell behind more than once. She lingered at shops of interest, taking her time purchasing the herbs she needed and browsing merchandise that caught her eye. She spent the most time in a shop that sold cloth, hoping to find a suitable fabric for a duplicate outfit.
The shopkeeper was pleasant and helpful, but Cheetara could not find anything that would be both durable and breathable while holding its shape. She suppressed a smile; even if she'd found the perfect cloth, she was not a seamstress. The cheetah thanked the red fox and wandered out of the shop.
Cheetara found her cats loitering at a bar over cups of the local beverage; the purchased supplies neatly bundled and propped against the wooden base at their feet. She slipped into the space between Panthro and Tygra, reached for the latter's cup, took a sip, and coughed. The drink was lukewarm, bitter with a tang that lasted long after it had settled in the stomach. Cheetara's eyes watered instantly.
"What is this?" she gasped, the drink clawing at her throat.
Lion-O swished the liquid around in the cup he held, peering at it dubiously. "Some kind of grog," he replied, adding sympathetically, "my reaction was the same as yours."
Tygra patted her back gently and signaled the barkeep. "Can we get a cup of water?"
The water arrived quickly. It was a definite improvement, cool and refreshing, washing away the last of the grog's bite, but her eyes sparkled wetly, nonetheless.
"Are we done here?" her voice was still a bit strained.
Panthro swallowed the last of his drink, unaffected by its less than pleasant taste. "Yes, but those blasted kittens aren't back."
"Why don't I take this stuff to the tank while the rest of you look for them?"
Tygra's offer was accepted, and the group parted. Not only did the striped cat take the supplies to the tank, but he also put them away before loping back to the main square. Tygra was staring at an advertisement tacked against a wall when the others returned.
He glanced over his shoulder. "No luck?"
"No," Lion-O said, running his hand through his glorious mane. "And we looked everywhere."
Cheetara looked back at the corridor they'd just left. "We can't leave them behind."
"We won't," Lion-O assured her with a quick nod of his head.
Tygra turned his attention back to the poster. "Hey, guys, look at this."
They gathered around, forming a semi-circle, and saw a female cat standing in front of a stadium. Lion-O stared wide-eyed. "A cat! What's she doing here?"
"She must have survived the fall of Thundera," Cheetara guessed, her expression noncommittal.
Lion-O snatched the poster from the wall for a closer look, and Panthro leaned over his shoulder.
"Now, all she has to do is survive the pit."
"The pit?"
"I'll show you."
– o –
Kit, Kat, and Snarf scampered along a corridor called Bowser's Lane, their heads swiveling this way and that until the delicious scent of bone stew tickled their noses. They ordered three bowls of yummy goodness, and dog watched while they waited. The kittens were greatly entertained by the different dogs coming and going. When the stew finally arrived, they dived right in, gobbling greedily and smacking their lips. Kat even licked his paws. Snarf was the most refined of the three of them, lapping his stew delicately at Kit's side.
Kit raised her bowl to her lips, slurping the last of the gravy. "This is so good; kind of reminds me of home."
"In more ways than one." Kat directed her attention to a well-dressed raccoon relieving an unsuspecting patron of his purse. The twins stared in disbelief at the thief's audacity.
"I guess all slums have pickpockets," Kit supposed.
The raccoon noticed his audience and pranced across the room. "Salutations, my young friends," he said in posh, jovial tones. "The name's Tookit. Might you spare the briefest of moments for a poor old soul who has nothing?"
Kat leaned his head against his hand, amused. "Don't even think about it."
"I beg your pardon?" the stylish fellow asked, feigning surprise.
"You can't fool us with that act," Kit informed him with a hint of smugness. "We know everything there is to know about pickpocketing."
Tookit was charming in his denial, moving around them, stepping lightly over Snarf.
"You think I'm a pickpocket?" he laughed. "I'm but a lowly beggar. Terribly sorry to have disturbed you! I'll be on my way now."
His step was quick as he walked away, but before he'd gone too far, he looked back, addressing WilyKit. "And no one can know everything, my dear. Good day!"
Tookit disappeared in the throng of customers gathered around the food counter waiting for their orders.
Kat waved his hand dismissively. "What a weirdo."
"Yeah," Kat agreed, feeling around her waist. "A real—Hey! My flupe's gone."
Snarf jumped to his feet.
"My flank, too!"
"I guess he's better than we thought," she said ruefully. "Come on!"
They pushed away from the table, hurried after the charming thief, and found him pilfering from another oblivious citizen. Before Tookit could run off, Kat grabbed him by the arm, holding him firmly in place.
The kitten frowned. "No wonder they call you Tookit."
"Give me back my flupe," Kit demanded, holding out her hand.
"And my flank, you thief."
Seeing who was detaining him, Tookit laughed. "Thief? You admitted you're no stranger to pickpocketing."
"We stole because we needed to eat," Kat justified. "What's your excuse?"
"This is a tough town. I'm only trying to survive just like you."
"Survive?" Kat scoffed, pointing to the object in the raccoon's hand. "So, why would you steal something worthless like that?"
Tookit looked at the shiny plate he held and admitted, "I haven't the foggiest idea."
"So why take it?"
The raccoon explained himself with dazzling theatrics and gleaming eyes. "I'm a kleptovoyant, and I don't know why I take what I do, but it always has a way of coming in handy later."
He flicked his wrist as he talked; the plate moving back and forth caught the sun's rays, producing a glare that blinded a workman on the catwalk above. The hapless fellow, a bearded collie, lost his footing and fell howling from the bridge. He landed with a meaty thud on a table where a seamstress was busy mending garments. The dog's fall upset the wolfhound's workstation, startling her, and ejected a slew of buttons and assorted baubles into the air. Tookit deftly caught quite a few of them on the plate he'd previously been waving around.
"You see?" he bragged, pocketing the trinkets.
"That's all very interesting," Kat said, unimpressed, "but we want our stuff back. Now!"
The request was reasonable; Tookit had stolen their belongings and should have simply given them back, but he had another idea.
"You fancy yourselves quite the pocket poachers, don't you?" he opined. "Well, I'll tell you what. Prove you're as quick-fingered as you say, and I'll give you your things back."
Snarf meowed. The raccoon's proposal didn't make any sense to him; he looked from Kat to Kit apprehensively.
Tookit raised the stakes. "Unless, of course, you're scared of getting caught."
Not one to ignore a dare or take an insult to his skill lightly, Kat accepted the challenge. "We never get caught. What's the mark?"
Tookit looked away and grinned; slyness replaced the charming light in his eyes. Unbeknownst to the twins, he was luring them in, and they'd taken the bait. Composing his features, the raccoon faced the twins again, pointing out the targets and telling them what to do.
"If you can take the sheepdog's cane, the blanket from the bulldog's laundry, and a button from the mastiff's coat, I'll happily return your things."
Kit spoke up. "What do you want with that junk?"
"I'm not quite sure, but they always have a way of—"
"Yeah, yeah," Kat interrupted, "you're kleptovoyant. But none of it will do you any good because we're giving it all back after."
The twins traipsed off to do the cheerful thief's bidding. They gathered the requested items with cunning and speed; Kat swiped both the blanket and button while Kit made off with the sheepdog's cane, replacing it with a forked stick. They presented the stolen items to the raccoon.
Kit tapped her foot. "Happy? Now, let's return this stuff before we get in trouble."
"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Tookit surmised, seeing the three dupes behind the twins growling angrily. "Run!"
Thanks to Tookit's clever use of the cane, the button, and the blanket, the thieves managed to escape. The kittens did not deny the thrill of the chase or their delight in the getaway; even Snarf's green eyes beamed with excitement. Still, Kat couldn't believe they had gotten away.
"Of course, we did!" the raccoon crowed. "Now, I must be on my way. Pleasure was all mine, I'm sure. Ta ta!" He hurried off, leaving the twins staring after him.
"He wasn't such a bad guy after all," Kat allowed.
"Yeah. I actually…wait a second!" Kit realized the raccoon hadn't kept his word.
"He's still got our stuff!" the kittens cried in unison.
Exasperated, they set off after Tookit again. Snarf shook his furry head; there was something unsavory about the raccoon, but he scampered after the kittens because he'd been tasked with keeping them out of trouble. So far, he wasn't having much luck, but he was determined to keep an eye on them.
– o –
Kefira found Aleser sitting around a fire; he seemed comfortable, chatting with a few women and sipping a cup of tea. She knew the females thought her rude when she begged their pardon for the intrusion and pulled him off to the side. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, pinning her with a glacial stare, his lips pressed together. He wasn't an old cat, but his injury had physically aged him; his temperament had soured as well.
"What is it?" he snapped.
Kefira cut to the chase. "Aleser, I've been thinking. We need to reach out to the king, let him know there are people, clerics, hiding in Thundera. The only way to contact the king is through the guardian cleric traveling with him. Have you ever dream walked or cast the spell for someone?"
His tone was cold, detached. "I am aware of the spell. I have never used it."
"Can we try?"
He raised a perfect brow. "We?"
Kefira swallowed hard, meeting his cold stare with a hard one of her own. "You know very well my magical skill hasn't evolved to the level of yours; I haven't practiced long enough or had the years of experience that you have. I need your help."
Aleser relented. "The spell is dangerous. It must be cast precisely, and you cannot tarry in the subject's mind lest you be trapped there."
The Cheetara Kefira knew when they were roommates was an honest, forthright cat; her integrity was unquestionable. But she had no wish to be trapped inside anyone's mind.
"I understand. What do we need, and when can we do it?"
"I'm afraid the most important ingredient may be unattainable."
"What's that?"
"An object belonging to the dreamer."
Kefira bit her lip; her eyes darted past Aleser to stare blankly into space. "Oh."