‘The councillor’s Home? Just keep walking straight up the street,” said a man to Caramon in response to his question.
“Thank you,” the warrior replied, returning to his brother and the kender, who were seated at an outdoor table at another tavern.
They had seen a few cats since their arrival in Mereklar. Occasionally one would stroll past the companions as they were walking. Caramon had the strangest feeling that he was being scrutinized, examined by unblinking green eyes. Then, more and more started
Buotnens Majeue
coming around, and now Earwig was surrounded by cats. The felines jumped on his shoulders, batted at his topknot of brown hair, and rubbed themselves around his neck. The kender was overjoyed at the attention and more than willing to play with his new friends.
Raistlin, on the other hand, sat silent and alone. None of the cats would come near him.
“Look at that,” Caramon heard a woman whisper, and saw her pointing at the mage.
“I know,” said her companion. “I’ve never seen our cats act so unfriendly to anybody.”
“Maybe they know something we don’t!”
A third woman hissed, “I bet the wizard has something to do with the missing cats! After all, there were no problems until he got here!”
“Your problems started before we arrived,” Caramon began hotly, but, once again, his brother flashed him a warning look and the fighter swallowed his words.
“I’ve heard some people say that their kind are responsible for everything bad in the world!”
The mage ignored the words. He sat at his ease in a chair, sipping occasionally at a tiny porcelain cup containing a local speciality called hyava. The heat from the drink filled his body with welcome warmth, though the day was not particularly cold and he wore the red robes that covered him from head to foot.
Caramon sat down and tried to talk to his brother over Earwig’s giggling. “Like the guard told us, all we have to do is follow Southgate Street to the center of the city, where we’ll find the councillor’s house. ‘All roads lead there,’ the man said. ‘You can’t get lost.’ ”
“Don’t you think that’s a little unusual?” Raistlin asked. “A house in the exact center of the city?”
“Yeah, I thought it was odd, but then again, this whole
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damn place is pretty odd,” the fighter muttered.
“I think I would like to see this house.” Raistlin reached over to touch Earwig’s shoulder. The cats ceased playing with the kender and turned to stare at the mage, freezing in place as if they were statues. “Earwig,” said Raistlin, staring back at the cats, “it’s time to leave.”
“All right,” said the kender, always glad to be going somewhere other than where he was. “Come on, cats,” he said, shoving at those perched on his lap. “I’ve got to go. Move.”
When the cats didn’t budge, he stood up slowly from the wicker chair. The cats leaped off him but kept their eyes on Raistlin.
The mage drew the hood up over his face, covering his thin, golden features from the light of day, finding refuge in the shadows of the robes. Taking the Staff of Magius in hand, he started walking up the street, Caramon and Earwig following back.
The cats stood for a moment, then they, too, began to walk slowly after the companions, staying about ten feet back.
“Look at that!” said Earwig in delight.
Raistlin paused, glanced around. The felines came to a halt. Raistlin moved again, and the animals started after him again. More cats came to join their fellows and sxion the companions were being followed by a pack of fur and tails and shining eyes that moved without the slightest sound.
“Why are they acting like that?” somebody asked.
“Don’t know. Maybe he’s got them under a spell or something!”
“I doubt it. He knows what we’d do to him if he used any magic on our cats.”
Suddenly Raistlin turned around and jerked the hood from his head. The cats scattered, fleeing, leaving the streets to the mage.
BuotrjeRs Majene
Caramon had been to many cities and towns in his life, but none like Mereklar. There were more places to eat and drink on the little stretch of Southgate Street than the fighter could remember seeing in most villages, and there were actually places that specialized in one type of meal instead of serving the same thing night after night.