D. MacHale - Black Water

“Who’s the guy on the stage?” I whispered to Boon.

“Ranjin, the viceroy of Leeandra,” he answered.

Viceroy. I guessed that meant he was the boss. But the boss wasn’t getting much respect. He held his paws up, calling for order, but nobody paid attention. Ranjin kept his cool, though. He glanced back to one of the cats in red, who was sitting politely, not joining in the argument. The cat nodded and lifted what looked like a carved, wooden horn to his mouth. He blew into it, sending out a long, low note. At the same time Ranjin raised his wooden staff over his head. Immediately the crowd grew quiet and looked to Ranjin. When he spoke, it was with a soft, calm voice that showed he was used to being in charge.

“What exactly is it that we are proposing here?” he said. “The repeal of Edict Forty-six?”

The cats all looked at one another nervously, as if none wanted to answer. I leaned close to Boon and whispered, “What’s Edict Forty-six?”

Boon looked straight ahead, deliberately not answering.

“Boon?” I pressed. “What is Edict Forty-six?”

Boon sighed and said, “It’s the law that forbids klees to hunt and eat gars.”

Gulp.

“And they’re thinking of getting rid of it?” I asked nervously.

“Yes,” he answered. “You still want to risk getting picked up by the Stray Division?”

I was really starting to hate Eelong.

“Weare not barbarians,” Ranjin said with passion. “Edict Forty-six is what separates klees from the beasts of the jungle. As long as I am viceroy I will notallow this to happen.”

Good man, Ranjin. Or good cat. Whatever.

“Then what do you suggest?” a cat shouted from the crowd. “The situation is getting worse. We can no longer grow enough food to feed our own young, let alone the gars.”

Another cat jumped up and shouted, “Their numbers are growing daily. They have no concern for our society; they are savages.”

I was beginning to realize why Boon wanted me to hear this. He wanted me to hear, firsthand, that humans weren’t treated well here. Heck, they weren’t even treated as well as cats on Second Earth. At least we didn’t need laws to stop us from eating them. The more I heard, the less I minded being tied to Boon. That leash was starting to feel like a lifeline.

One of the cats in red who shared the stage with Ranjin stepped up to the viceroy. He bowed to the older cat respectfully. Ranjin nodded as if giving him permission to address the crowd.

“Who’s that?” I whispered.

“His name is Timber,” Boon answered. “He’s one of the Council of Klee.”

Timber, Ranjin, Boon, Seegen… I was in another one-name territory. How does that work? How many names have to be handed out before last names kick in?

“The Council of Klee gives advice to the viceroy,” Boon continued. “But all decisions are the viceroy’s to make.”

That was good. From what I’d heard so far, the viceroy didn’t want to declare open season on humans.

“Fellow Leeandrans,” Timber began. “It is clear that we are in difficult times.”

The big cat spoke with confidence. He had dark brown fur, with thousands of black spots, like a leopard. His mane was long, and it looked as if he actually combed it. How’s that for an image? A big jungle cat with a slick hairdo? Amazing.

“Not one of us here today welcomes the idea of turning back the clock and returning to the ways of our primitive ancestors. Hunting gars has been outlawed for generations. The gars have become valuable to our very existence. Not just here in Leeandra, but throughout Eelong. Besides providing manual labor, they aid in our protection when traveling on the jungle floor. Some have even become beloved pets, family members, if you will.”

The spotted cat was making it sound as if gars were pampered lapdogs. From what I had seen so far, it wasn’t like that at all. But if this cat’s speech was going to keep the cats from hunting humans, as far as I was concerned, Timber could spin the situation any way he wanted.

“However,” Timber continued. “There are times when higher intentions must give way to harsh realities. The production of our farms can no longer keep up with the growing population of both klees and gars. At this rate, we will soon reach a point where there are dangerous shortages. We are always trying to find new ways to increase our yield, but even with the great strides we’ve made, we cannot keep up with the exploding gar population. I hate to say this in such dire terms, but soon there will not be enough food to go around.”

Uh-oh. His speech was taking a bad turn.

“One of the beauties of our society is that we welcome free and open debate. We are encouraged to challenge our leaders in constructive ways. It is what has made Leeandra the most powerful city in Eelong, and I’m sure we all want it to remain that way. That is why I challenge the opinion of our esteemed viceroy.”

His passion was growing, and so was the enthusiasm of his audience. Suddenly I wasn’t liking Timber so much.

“As important as it is to keep sight of our loftier ideals,” he continued, “noble intentions cannot take importance over our very survival!”

The crowd of cats cheered him on. Timber was feeding off their energy. This was looking very bad. I started to sweat.

“I for one cannot sit idly by and see our children go hungry in order for some lowly animals to fill their own bellies.”

A big cheer. Public opinion was on his side. Being the only gar in the room, I was feeling pretty uncomfortable. I glanced to Boon. He wouldn’t look at me. I looked to Ranjin, the viceroy. He stood firm, with his feet planted. He didn’t seem angry, though I wasn’t entirely sure what an angry cat looked like. Would he hiss? Would his ears go back?

“This is why I pledge to you today that I will use whatever humble influence I have on the Council of Klee to repeal Edict Forty-six until we have devised a way to increase our food supply. I believe the choice here is simple, my fellow Leeandrans. If it comes down to the survival of our race, I say: Let them eat gar!”

Yikes. The crowd jumped to their feet with wild applause. It was like one of those political conventions you see on TV. I half expected balloons to start falling from the ceiling. My stomach turned. In a few short minutes I had gone from being insulted by having to wear a leash, to understanding that gars were treated worse than gerbils, to fearing it might soon be hunting season on gars…and like it or not, I was a gar. I looked back to the stage to see what Ranjin’s reaction was to Timber’s speech. What I saw made my blood freeze.

The klees in the audience were on their feet, stomping and clapping. On the stage, the red-robed Council of Klee all stood, calmly discussing something with Ranjin. They didn’t seem upset or caught up in the emotion of the moment. But that’s not what I focused on. My eyes went right to the big cat named Timber. I expected him to be on the edge of the stage, waving his arms to whip the crowd into a frenzy. But he wasn’t. This cat stood by himself, away from the others. He didn’t face the Council of Klee. He didn’t face the crowd.

He was looking directly at me.

His gaze was solid and cold, like a predator who had located its prey. In some ways, that’s what it was. I had been here before…and so had he.

“We gotta get outta here,” I said to Boon.

“Let’s wait till things calm down,” he said.

“No!” I shouted. “Now!” I yanked my leash and pulled Boon toward the doorway. Boon quickly jumped in front of me. I’m sure he didn’t want to be seen being led by a gar. It didn’t matter to me. We had to get out of there. We got halfway through the large room when a crowd of klees spilled in front of us, laughing and cheering.