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tated, but the cat meowed, urging them to come forward.
Without hesitation, Raistlin walked on, holding the staff at eye-level, able to raise it no higher because of the low roof.
“Come, Caramon. Don’t fall behind!”
They came to an intersection, and the black cat skipped on, moving to the left, beginning to run, splashing through the water. The brothers increased their pace, both prompted by curiosity.
“—which killed the cat,” Caramon said, but under his breath.
The tunnels became a dizzying maze, a labyrinth created for some unknown purpose. Raistlin held the Staff of Magius forward, a lance of light piercing the dark. Caramon sloshed along behind. He noticed that the walls were beginning to change, becoming drier.
“Look at that!” Raistlin breathed, holding up the staff.
The wall was covered with paintings and engravings, showing sights neither brother could identify. They moved swiftly on, left and right, straight and back, a curving tunnel leading to a crooked passage leading to a sloping floor.
The cat moved faster. The twins rounded a corner behind it and stopped suddenly, staring wide-eyed.
“Name of the Abyss!” Caramon cried aloud, steadying himself against the cavern entrance with his hand.
Raistiin said nothing, but simply stared in the staff’s soft radiance. The black cat turned to face them, eyes red in the staff’s light.
The chamber in which they stood was huge-hundreds of feet long. Numerous passages led in and out, black gashes in the rock. Small rivers collected in ponds that glittered with an oily reflection. And everywhere
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they looked they saw the cats of Mereklar. Thousands of cats lay resting on their sides without sound, without motion. Raistlin knelt down, holding the staff close.
“Look,” he said, pointing.
From every mouth and nose poured a small stream of blood.
“They’re all … dead!” Caramon gasped.
Raistlin examined one of the small bodies. Putting a thin, golden hand on tiger-striped fur, he stroked it gently. He moved to another body, then another, lifting heads and peering into shining eyes.
“I don’t understand,” Caramon said softly, “What could have killed them all? Poison?”
“They’re not dead.”
“They sure look dead to me.”
“I assure you they are quite alive. However, their minds are gone.”
Caramon went to the nearest cat and touched its fur. He felt warmth under his hand, a tiny heart still beating, breath barely entering and leaving.
The black cat leaped in front of him, hunching down on its forepaws. It spat at him.
“All right.” Caramon rose to his feet and backed away. “I’m not going to hurt them. You’re right, Raist. They are alive!”
“In answer to your first question, they were not poisoned. There is no poison I know of that could do this.”
“What do you think it was?”
“The only answer I have is magic, though a spell that could cause this kind of destruction is beyond my means.”
Caramon paused, considering the implications. ‘Then you think this is the work of a wizard?”
“A wizard of extraordinary power, perhaps greater than Par-Salian.”
Caramon shivered, recalling the powerful master of
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the Tower of High Sorcery.
The black cat watched and listened intently to the brothers talk, never taking its bright, reflecting eyes from them.
Raistlin raised his arms and began to speak the strange, spidery language of magic. The room glowed— a dull, purple aura that covered everything, including the corridor through which they had walked.
“There,” the mage said in satisfaction. “We can return here whenever we wish.” He turned to go.
“But—”
‘There is nothing more we can do. I cannot save these cats. I must go back to my room and think. And you, if you will remember, have an engagement tonight.” Raistlin headed down the corridor.
Caramon stood, looking back, a sadness in his heart. Removing the yellow sequined ball from his pocket, he laid it down gently on the blood-wet floor.
“I’m sorry,” he started to say to the black cat, but it was gone.
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“7 woNtjeK wijene EanwiQ is. Maybe lye Got lost”
Caramon said, straightening the room. His mother had always made him clean up after himself, and the fighter did not let old habits die.