Martin Greenberg - Catopolis

Tai Pan admires the composure and control of his visitor.

This is someone who has traveled the Astral Plane for a long time.

He searches his prodigious memory and comes up with a remembrance of a tall emerald-eyed white cat fuzzed by just-focusing kitten eyes. Tara Moondreamer had been old even then, a teacher and companion to one of the lamasery’s leaders. A wriggle of unease prods his nerves, but he hides it.

What can she want from me? And what will it cost?

As if hearing his thoughts, an amused expression curls her mouth and makes her whiskers twitch. “Ah, Titus Pannikin, have you already forgotten who you are?”

“I am a businesscat,” he returns a bit stiffly, the tip of his tail twitching. “And a good one, too. From where do I know you?”

“You were still learning to extend and retract your kitten claws the last time I saw you,” laughs Tara. “Little Titus de Pannikin, lordly even as a kit, you always preferred to lap water from that rare silver cup. Do you still?”

Annoyed at being caught off guard by such a personal detail, Tai Pan settles his paws beneath him, trying to look more at ease. If only he could stop the last third of his Astral tail from flipping back and forth.

“Yes, I still do. But you seem to know much more about me than I do about you, Honored Tara. I am at a disadvantage here.”

“Pardon my intrusion, Titus. And I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” she purrs. “I am sent to give you a message. There is something urgent that you need to do.”

“That

I need to do?” His unease grows, as if something from his past has returned to haunt him. “What business does the Order have with me? Someone needs a favor, perhaps?”

“Come now, Titus. You were always meant to be a mentor, not a mere broker of services and favors,” Tara chides. “Your Birman lineage ties you and your kind to the Order. Your ancestral duty is one that cannot be traded away. You realize this, don’t you?”

“Ah. Tied to the Order,” Tai Pan snaps back, now truly annoyed. “I haven’t heard of them since I was a kitten.” He recalled the group as an obscure brood, mostly concerned with the development of supernatural talents among catfolk and a few carefully chosen humans. “So, what do the ancient lamas and their wise cats want with me now, after forgetting me for all these years?” he asks.

“You were never forgotten,” Tara states, staring at the moon-fed shimmers of the snow fields. “We have watched your growth. We’ve allowed you to ply your chosen trade for many years. And we have bided our time until the right moment. That moment is now.” She takes in a deep breath, but says nothing further.

Tai Pan again tries to control his tail, with little success. It now flips in a full half arc. “All right, Honored Tara,” he grumbles. “What do you want me to do?” Too late he realizes that she might take his question for acceptance rather than a request for information.

She does. “It is now time you took up your true calling, Sir Titus de Pannikin. The Order needs you to help a human acolyte master the ability to travel the Astral Plane. A simple task for you, really, considering your extensive experience there.”

“What?” Tai Pan shudders. “Me, teach a human boy? Let the lamas handle that duty. Surely they have somebody better for this than me.”

“No, they don’t, Titus.” Tara ’s green gaze becomes icy, reaching into Tai Pan’s very soul. “When you were just a kitten, the Order placed you in the household of this human acolyte. Yes, Titus, that was no mistake-it is him you are to guide. You are best suited because you have been with young Norbu since his early childhood. He trusts you. What better mentor can there be?”

Tai Pan grumbles, “You and the Order planned this all along. You allowed me to go into business and forget!”

“True, we did the planning, Titus,” Tara answers with some amusement. Her eyes become gentle. “But it was your own greed that made you forget your mission.”

“Don’t call me Titus,” he growls, barely keeping his shoulders from hunching with irritation. “My friends know me as Tai Pan.”

“What a pity. Your birth name was so fitting.”

He snorts. “That’s past history. Please, it’s Tai Pan now. Thank you.”

“Ah. My time here is at an end.” Tara glances at her silver cord, which is taut and trembling. “I must go now, Titus-Tai Pan. But I need to warn you. Be very aware that there are some who seek to harm Norbu, some who are as familiar with the Astral Plane as you are.”

Tara hesitates, sighing a little. “It is Norbu’s destiny to become an important figure among human lamas, perhaps eventually to lead the Order. If you fail, there will be disastrous consequences not only for the lamas, but also for the rest of the world. Norbu is a key element to a binding that prevents many horrors from freely roaming the Astral Plane. His foes will try to prevent his growth and also his accession into the Order when he’s ready.”

“So why don’t the lamas take on this duty themselves?” asks Tai Pan. “It sounds like something they’d relish.”

“They can’t act directly. If they did, it would surely reveal the place where he’s hidden. That place you know so well. So be on your guard, Titus-Tai Pan. Be discreet. You’ll need every claw and every wit you have to succeed.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Tai Pan hops to his feet as Tara vanishes. “How am I…?”

He is left alone in the ice-scented breeze, among the giant rhododendrons growing at the foot of the mountains under the crescent moon.

“This is not good for business,” Tai Pan mutters. “Not good at all. But what choice do I have?”

Sighing, he vanishes as well.

A split-second later, Tai Pan’s Astral form materializes in a small room. His white feet rest on a worn wooden chest at the foot of a bed that is little more than a thin mattress and blanket on raised slats. Tai Pan sits down, observing for a moment the common-looking Asian boy and the bedroom of the small house they’d called home for most of their lives.

No more than ten years old in human years, Norbu sleeps restfully on his back. He is dressed in soft striped cotton pajama pants that appear to have permanent wrinkles. The blanket lies twisted over one foot and ankle. Two large bookcases, crammed with dusty old prayer books and rolled-up scrolls, stand against the wall on both sides of the head of the bed. Wads of well-thumbed comic books stick out between some of the voluminous tomes.

Tai Pan scouts the room with his heightened senses, making sure no one else is hiding there, either physically or in Astral form.

Although it is difficult to conceal anything in this room, I’d better be sure, he tells himself. I love this child. I’ve been his accomplice in many adventures, both on the streets in this city and within the pages of books. We are good friends. How could I lose him now, or leave him, furthering my business my only excuse?

Still thinking, he leaps silently upon the small desk sitting against the wall opposite the bed, where bluish starlight filters through a gap in the curtains covering the single narrow window. The scarred wood holds a jumble of school-books, papers, pens, smudged trading cards, and toy dragons undisturbed by his weightless paws. The starlight shines through Tai Pan’s immaterial form and puddles upon torn jeans and a yellow T-shirt thrown on the chair next to the desk. Worn-out sneakers and dingy socks lie underneath.

“It looks as it always does in here,” says Tai Pan aloud to himself, relieved at finding nothing more obtrusive than dust and starshine.

Norbu mutters something unintelligible. Tai Pan stares back at the boy, whiskers aquiver.