“No. Nothing,” was his short reply. “Leave the lady out of this, Raist. She didn’t have anything to do with it. I drank too much, that’s all. It was my fault.”
“Perhaps,” murmured Raistlin. “I must get into that house again . . . alone.”
“What?” asked Caramon drowsily.
“Nothing, my brother.”
The mage went to his bed. When he heard Caramon snoring, his breathing deep and regular, Raistlin allowed himself to drift into sleep.
Earwig. What are you doing?
“I’m sleeping. What does it look like I’m doing?” the kender retorted.
Huge claws, black claws, the claws of a gigantic cat.
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made a swipe at him. Earwig just barely managed to dodge out of the way.
What are your friends doing?
“They’re sleeping, too.”
Both of them? Safe? Unharmed?
“Yes! Now leave me alone. I have to get out of the way of this monster!” The kender jumped over something that resembled a metal box with teeth.
/’// be back, Earwig . . . I’ll be back . . . I’ll be back . . .
The next day, Caramon, after the night’s sleep, felt as invigorated as ever. No trace of yesterday’s sickness remained. Earwig, however, was cross and out-of-sorts.
“What’s the matter with you?” Caramon asked over breakfast.
“Nothing,” said the kender. “1 didn’t sleep well, all right?”
“Sure,” said the astonished Caramon. “I was just asking. What are we going to do today, Raist?”
Two more days until the Festival of the Eye. There isn’t much time. I wish I knew for what, thought Raistlin. Aloud he said, “I think we should explore the rest of the city.”
“What? Why? What are you looking for?” Earwig asked sharply.
The mage stared at the kender. “Nothing in particular.”
“Well, I’m coming, too,” Earwig announced. “Where are we going?”
“To the other two city gates, and then we’ll work our way back into the center.”
“The innkeeper says those black carriages are ‘public conveyances,’ ” said Caramon, repeating the unfamiliar
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words carefully. “You pay to ride in ’em.”
“Councillor Shavas will pay for us to ride in them,’ said Raistlin. “Go find one.”
The companions took the carriage around the outer road to Eastgate. Three major thoroughfares in Mereklar led from the gates to the center of town. The road they traveled cut across the Unes of the city, making access to other neighborhoods fast and efficient. The trip took a little more than an hour on the warm day.
Cats were everywhere—lying on sidewalks or sitting in the laps of people. Some of the more adventurous felines padded into the shops to browse with the few customers out in the streets, or climbed to rooftops to gaze down at the world below.
It was Earwig who first noticed that some of the cats were following their carriage, maintaining a distance of ten feet. When the coach slowed to move around people or a cart crossing the street, the felines slowed as well.
“Look!” said the kender, entranced.
When Raistlin turned to investigate, the cats fled. All except one.
“That’s the black cat. The one we found near the councillor’s house.”
“I don’t know how you can tell, Raist,” Caramon said. “All black cats look alike to me.”
“Except that there are no other black cats in the city.” The carriage rolled off. “It’s following us.”
Caramon, his face unusually serious, leaned forward on the carriage seat. “Raist, I don’t like this. Any of this. I don’t like the way that cat looks at us. I don’t like people trying to murder us. I don’t like the way the kender’s acting—”
“I’m not acting any sort of way!” protested Earwig.
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Caramon ignored him. “It’s not worth ten thousand steel pieces, Raist. Let’s leave—go find some nice, safe war.”
Raistlin didn’t answer at first, but stared out the back of the carriage at the cat who was following behind. Then, nodding, he said, “You’re right, my brother. It isn’t worth ten thousand steel pieces.” He said nothing more. Caramon, heaving a sigh, sat back in the carriage.
Eventually they reached the gate. Like the portcullis in the southern wall, it was also made from metal decorated with strange plates and sheets, each inscribed with the head of a cat.