"Remember, Deuteronomy, you have to behave!"
The kitten sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Munk."
Munkustrap, Deuteronomy, Mungojerrie, Rumpelteazer, Mistoffelees, and the Rum Tum Tugger were making their way towards the Yalta territories, which were on the outskirts of town. The silver tabby had decided to bring Mistoffelees for his magic powers and the Tugger because he was strong enough to fight. He decided it was better to be safe than sorry.
Old Deuteronomy had been practising his magic with Misto lately, and the tuxedo had discovered that he could make any spell, charm, or curse collapse without effort, but neither cat knew how he was doing it. He had tried his healing powers on a few of his minor cuts and bruises, but wasn't all that good at healing yet.
Currently, the Jellicle leader was trotting to keep up with the larger cats and trying to practise being regal. He tried to hold his tail over his back like Bustopher Jones did, but it just didn't seem to want to stay that way. And the trotting wasn't very dignified, either. He hoped that Munk and the others would slow down once they got to the centre of the Yalta tribe.
Without stopping, Rumpelteazer licked her paw and ran it over Deuteronomy's head in an attempt to make his fur lie flat. It was a losing battle, and she knew it. She had watched as her mother had held the kit down that morning while she groomed him, but his coat was becoming unmanageable. It was getting thicker as well.
"There's no use trying to fix his fur, Teazer," advised Mungojerrie. "It's got a bloody mind of its own. Still, it's better off than that mess of a coat he used to have. He's got a lot more dark grey colours now than he did back then."
"Hey!" he protested. "I did not have a mess of a coat!"
"How do you know? You can't remember seeing it," sighed Munkustrap.
"Oh, yeah," he said slowly. "Well… Your coat's no better! You look like a queen!"
"Better a queen than a dust mop, kiddo," grinned Jerrie. "I swear, you'll lay down for a nap one of these days, and when you wake up, a human will be cleaning the coffee table with you."
"I do not look like a dust mop!"
"Do to."
"Do not."
"Do to."
"Do not!"
Munkustrap sighed. "Do you think whatever causes that is genetic?"
"Possibly," admitted the Rum Tum Tugger. "Everlasting Cat, and everyone thought you were his grandson. I guess you don't know someone until they're reborn and you stick them with their grandkit."
"Jeez, even I'm not that immature," snorted Rumpelteazer. "Jerrie! Quit teasing Granddad! And Granddad, don't you dare bite his tail!"
"You're no fun," they both muttered at the same time before Munkustrap separated them. They glared at each other from either side of the tabby, each mumbling under their breath.
"Yep, either it's genetic, or it's something in the water," said the Rum Tum Tugger matter-of-factly. "My first guess would be catnip."
"Deuteronomy, if you're not going to behave, we'll go straight back to the junkyard, and you'll have your lessons with Jennyanydots," warned Munkustrap.
It was an empty threat, but the kitten did shut up.
The group was silent for a moment, before Mistoffelees leaned over to the silver tabby and said "Do you think the Yaltas are A-N-T-I M-A-G-I-C?" He spelled it out so Deuteronomy wouldn't understand.
"No idea," he admitted. "If they are, act normal. If you get in trouble, M-A-G-I-C back to the J-U-N-K-Y-A-R-D."
"Ya know," said the grey kitten causally. "Jenny's been teaching me how to S-P-E-L-L."
"Oh," said Munkustrap, his ears wilting. There went their main technique to keeping secrets.
"What's anti-magic?" asked Deuteronomy. "Are they a tribe?"
The tuxedo tom shook his head. "Not quite. If a tribe is anti-magic, then they think that all magic is unnatural, and all magical cats are devils. Any kit born with powers is banished from the tribe."
"But that's awful!" he protested. "Magical cats aren't bad!"
"Some are, Old Deuteronomy," the Rum Tum Tugger explained gently. "Remember what I told you about Macavity?"
"Yeah, but you also told me about tons of non-magical cats who are bad," he countered. "What about Bustopher Jones? He hasn't got magic, and he's mean!"
While the St. James Street Cat had said that he believed that Old Deuteronomy had been reborn, it was common knowledge that he didn't truly believe it. He avoided the kitten like the plague, and whenever he was forced to go around him, the fat tom either gave him the cold shoulder, or said things that nearly made the poor kit cry.
"Yeah? Well Bustopher Jones is a jerk," snorted Rumpelteazer. "Next time he comes to the junkyard, we'll tie his tail to the bumper of a car. How about it?"
"Don't you dare," warned Munkustrap. "All we need is rumours going around London that the Jellicle tribe has a savage kitten for a leader. Bustopher Jones has contacts, and most of them are cats I never want to meet."
"Hey, Deuteronomy," grinned the Rum Tum Tugger, trying to change the subject. "Bet you I can beat you to that iron fence."
"You might beat the dust mop, but you can't beat me," snorted Mungojerrie.
"Want to bet?" smiled the kitten. "Try me!"
Mistoffelees gave a questioning look to Munkustrap, who sighed and nodded. He crouched into a starting position.
"On your mark! Get set! Go!"
The four took off, bounding down the sidewalk.
Rumpelteazer grinned. "Misto may be a magical cat, but he's still not much older than a kitten."
Munkustrap rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should be grateful for the Tugger's antics, but I just can't bring myself to it."
"Still, it's best to keep the subject of Bustopher Jones away from Deuteronomy," she admitted. "Do you know what happened yesterday while I was watching him? Granddad was playing quietly for once, batting around that stuffed mouse your humans got him. Bustopher entered the junkyard, brushed off Jennyanydots and Jellylorum, and came up to him. He sneered at him, and, right in front of me, called him a demonic bastard impostor."
"He called him that?" the tabby practically hollered. "That… I won't say what I think of him. Oh, Everlasting Cat, what I wouldn't do to take just one good shot at him."
"It's a serious problem," she sighed, serious for a rare moment. "What if Bustopher tries to have him, you know, 'taken care of', if you catch my drift? It's like you said, Munkustrap, he's got contacts. And I'll bet not all of them are lawful."
Munkustrap rolled his eyes. "I think you've been watching too many human mob movies, Teazer. I seriously doubt that Bustopher Jones is going to have Old Deuteronomy whacked off."
"I don't trust that Saint James Street cat any farther than I could throw him," she said stubbornly. "And he weighs thirty pounds, so I probably couldn't even lift him. And how do you know what that fat snob would or wouldn't do? For all we know about him, he could be a Mafia Don!"
"He is a Jellicle, Rumpelteazer. He may not be the most agreeable cat, but he hasn't physically threatened Deuteronomy, or any other members of the tribe. Bustopher Jones is innocent until proven guilty," Munkustrap said calmly.
"I know! But he just makes me want to smack him!" she protested. "I swear, if he lays so much as one claw on Granddad, he's not going to live to eat another shrimp."
"Don't worry, if he hurts anyone, he will be dealt with," Munkustrap assured her. "But can you honestly see Bustopher Jones in a battle?"
"Granddad's a kitten, Munk, and a small one at that. It wouldn't be much of a battle. All it would take is a single claw across the throat while he's asleep, and no more Jellicle leader."
"Do you have to be so disgusting?" shuddered the tabby.
"Sorry, but it's the truth! It wouldn't take a great effort to kill my grandfather while he's in this state."
Munkustrap sighed. "You have a point. He's small, he's naïve, and he's trusting. Well, he always was trusting, but Macavity could walk right up to him now and he wouldn't know the difference!"
"I thought we were talking about Bustopher Jones."
"No, we're talking about Old Deuteronomy's safety in general."
"Munk! Teazer!" hollered the grey kitten. "Come on! Tugger says we're almost there!"
The two quickened their pace, and caught up with the others.
"Okay, Old Deuteronomy walks in front, I walk slightly behind him. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer are behind me, and the Rum Tum Tugger and Mistoffelees are behind them," Munkustrap commanded. "And mind your manners, Deuteronomy. The Yaltas outnumber us, and we don't want a war on our paws. Let me do most of the talking."
"I know, I know," the kit sighed. "And don't do anything that has the slightest chance of offending them."
"Glad we're on the same level. There's Haskin, he's the leader of the Yalta tribe. Remember to bow to him and anyone else I bow to," Munkustrap reminded him as the approached the Yalta junkyard.
The muscular dirt brown tom who was waiting to greet them stepped forward and bowed. "Munkustrap, it's a pleasure to see you again. And this, I presume, is Old Deuteronomy, the Jellicle leader."
"You presume correctly, Haskin," the silver tabby said politely, also bowing and making sure the grey kitten was as well. "I believe I explained our dear leader's unique condition to you before."
"Ah, yes. The lack of memories," the brown cat smiled, rising. "Quite unfortunate. But no matter, some things can't be helped, I suppose. Does he have any recollection at all of his former life?"
"Lives," Munkustrap corrected. "This is not the first time he had been reborn, but I think this is the first time he's come back like this. He can recall some moments of extreme pain or fear, but nothing else."
"Well, I'm sure it'll all come right eventually," Haskin beamed. "If you'd care to follow me, I'll show you the throne room."
He led them into a tunnel made in the pile of junk. It had obviously taken a lot of cats to make, but the Yalta tribe had a much larger population than the Jellicles.
"You're pretty young to be the leader of a tribe," Deuteronomy mentioned as they walked through the semi-darkness of the tunnel. He was careful to keep close to Munkustrap.
"I inherited the throne six months ago after my father died in an accident," the brown cat said casually, as if he was discussing the weather. "But I assure you, I am well-trained, and I have elders behind me to help me rule wisely."
"Are there any magical cats in the Yalta tribe?" Mistoffelees asked nervously.
"Not at the moment, no. But I believe there is a kitten the elders think will develop powers as he gets older. We're overjoyed, of course. Magicians are rare in our tribe."
"We think we have higher levels of magic in the Jellicle tribe because of our interaction with the Heaviside Layer," Munkustrap said. "There are three, excuse me, four magical cats in our tribe. A set of psychic twins, Mistoffelees here, our conjuring cat, and Old Deuteronomy, who's regaining his healing powers."
"Ah, yes. I've heard of your magic, Old Deuteronomy. I've even heard a rumour that you lost your last life trying to heal a human. Then again, with all the stories floating around, who can tell what's true, hmm?"
"What's he talking about?" the grey kitten whispered.
"I'll tell you later," Munkustrap replied softly. He prayed that he would forget about it before he had a chance to tell him.
"I recognize Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer from our last meeting," Haskin continued. "And you've already introduced the tuxedo as Mistoffelees, but who is your last companion?"
"The Rum Tum Tugger," the black and leopard tom replied, ruffling his mane. "I came along as a sort of protection for Old Deuteronomy. The last thing we'd want is for something to happen to him."
"Ah, yes, I suppose he would be a bit of a target in his current state. Have there been any… incidents yet?"
"Not yet, thank the Everlasting Cat," Munkustrap said. "But I'm sure you heard about the Jellicle Ball two and a half years ago."
Haskin chuckled. "All of London heard about that. I must say that I am very impressed with the way you handled it. I guess you Jellicles have a huge advance with all of your magical cats."
"So that's what he wants from us," Mistoffelees whispered to the Rum Tum Tugger. "They have numbers, and we have magic."
"Here it is, the throne room!" the brown tom announced.
It was a large room with a large easy chair at the front of it, obviously the Yalta throne. There were carvings on the walls made by claw marks in the metal, depicting various battles. Small slits in the roof let in sunlight.
"We cover those sun holes in the winter and when in rains," the Yalta leader mentioned. "We'll have to close them soon; it's been getting cold out."
"Nice place," commented the Rum Tum Tugger. "I guess not many of you guys are house cats."
Haskin shook his head. "Very few are. Most of us live in these tunnels the generations before us built. You six are all house cats?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't mean we're sissies," the Tugger said defensively, before Munkustrap stepped on his tail in warning.
A red-orange tabby tom with a slight build poked his head into the room. He seemed to be a bit younger than Mistoffelees. "Master Haskin, you suggested I meet you here before?"
"Ah, yes. I have some matters to discuss with Munkustrap, so I was wondering if you could give Old Deuteronomy, his grandkits and his guards a small tour of our tunnels. Would that please you, Old Deuteronomy?"
The grey kitten looked at Munkustrap for conformation, and finally replied. "Yes, I would like that. Thank you for offering." The silver tabby and Jennyanydots had spent all of the day before drilling manners into him.
He bowed low before Deuteronomy. "My name is Jabirus; my father is on the council of elders that aids Master Haskin. It would be a pleasure to show you around." He walked towards the door and gestured for them to follow.
The Jellicle leader, the twins, the Tugger and Mistoffelees trailed behind them as he led them around the complex tunnels. He showed them the sleeping quarters and the sick bay, which was currently empty. Jabirus explained how everything was built, along with a brief history of the Yalta tribe, which was short in comparison to the Jellicles' history.
Deuteronomy feel behind as the others followed Jabirus, even though Mistoffelees was the only one actually interested in what the young tom was saying. The kit spied a smaller hallway, and light was coming from the end of it. He glanced back towards his fellow Jellicles. Munkustrap wouldn't like it if he ran off.
But he'd never know. It's just for a second, and then I can catch up with them, he reasoned. I'll just go up for a peek…