The city was prosperous and self-sufficient. Everyone living in Mereklar accepted the legends and prophecies found in ancient tomes left in unused libraries and engraved on the outer protecting walls. That cats would save the world, they had no doubt. All doors were left open. Small paws made hardly a sound as they went from home to home, receiving food and warmth and comfort. The cats were always loved, always revered. They congregated in the parks, sunning themselves lazily, or wandered the streets, rubbing against the legs of a passerby.
Perhaps Lord Alfred Brunswick, Minister of Agriculture, was contemplating this very history of Mereklar, or perhaps he was pondering the absence of the cats. The servants wondered what he was doing, locked up alone in his study, all day and long into the night. His wife wondered as well.
“I never see you anymore, dear,” she complained daily. “I know you’re worried about the cats, but there’s nothing you can do—”
At this point in the conversation. Lord Brunswick always got up and left the room, returning to his study and locking the door.
The study was a large, round room, filled with the books of the lord’s ancestors, each telling a different tale of Mereklar. In the center of the room stood a triangular table, as long on each side as a man is tall, surrounded by ten chairs—one for each of the ministers of Mereklar. On the table was a perfect model of the city, exact in every detail. Each tree was in place, every river and stream flowed in the proper direction, even the carvings on the
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outside walls were duplicated with unprecedented skill. Like the city, the model’s origins were a mystery. It had been here when the lord’s ancestors moved into the estate.
Surrounding the model were the lands Lord Brunswick controlled — the lands of fruit and grain and corn. The servants had seen him studying at the model, determining when an orchard should be abandoned or expanded, a prairie burned or left to stand. His wife had watched him record notes in books and scrolls. That was before he had taken to locking the door to his study.
“Dinnertime, my lord,” said one of the servants, knocking gently on the door.
Each night, the Brunswick family sat around a white, glass-topped table, father and mother sitting at the far ends, the youngest children sitting to the right, and the two older daughters at the left. The meal always began with thanking the cats, protectors of the lands and world, for their kindness. These last few weeks, however, that custom had been abandoned.
“No,” Lord Brunswick had said abruptly one evening when his wife had begun to recite the words. “Cats will not be mentioned in this house again.”
His wife and children knew, of course, why he was upset. Their cats had been among the first to disappear. And so the Brunswicks said nothing of cats, but talked of other things at dinner. Matters that were not likely to worry Lord Brunswick.
“How were things in the Council today, dear?” his wife asked, dishing up the soup.
‘The usual,” Lord Brunswick replied shortly.
“Daddy,” his eldest daughter began, “you know that the Festival of the Eye is in two weeks.”
Lord Brunswick glanced at his daughter sharply but
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said nothing.
The girl drew a breath, gathering her courage. “When may I buy my new dress for the ball, Papa?”
“You’re not going,” said the minister.
“Oh, but you said I might! Only a month before, didn’t he, Mama?” the daughter cried.
“Yes, dear. You promised,” said Lady Brunswick, looking at her husband strangely. “Don’t you remember?”
“Did I?” said Lord Brunswick vaguely. Suddenly he snapped, “Festival of the Eye! I don’t have time for such foolishness.”
Lady Brunswick shook her head. To her tearful daughter, she said quietly, “We’ll discuss this later.”
The dinner proceeded in silence. After dessert, the girls excused themselves from the table, going back up to their rooms.
“What’s the matter, my dear?” Lady Brunswick turned to her husband, her face lined with concern. “You always enjoy the Festival of the Eye. Surely, even with these dreadful problems, you can relax and participate in it. After all, it occurs only once a year.”