Alan Foster - Kingdoms of Light

They had to cajole Taj to carry any weapon at all. "I'm a singer and a thinker, not a fighter," he kept protesting. In vain, it turned out, as Oskar and Mamakitty outfitted him with a brace of small throwing knives. As for Samm, spears and swords looked like toothpicks in his massive hands, and might have proven as effective.

"These are too small." He laid them aside. "I will improvise something suitable for my size and appropriate to my nature." But with the tiny armory all but gleaned, there was little left to choose from. "I have an idea," he announced cryptically. Exiting the storeroom, he left them to proceed with the next step in their search.

Though they examined every corner, even searching behind the tall wooden vessel from which emanated threatening scratching sounds, they found nothing that looked like a suitable vessel for the capturing and holding of color.

"Would we even know one if we saw it?" A weary Cocoa wiped sweat from her forehead and proceeded to lick the moisture from the back of her hand, lamenting the much reduced reach of her new tongue. "We're nothing but a wizard's pets, and have little of his knowledge."

"I should have paid more attention to the things he was doing and slept less." Mouth set, Mamakitty rested hands on hips and surveyed the chamber. "We'll just have to find something appropriate to store this color in after we've collected it."

"Then that's how we'll deal with it. The next thing we have to do is choose a leader." Pausing in the doorway that led back to the rest of the house, Cezer struck an aristocratic pose, head up, one hand on the pommel of his magnificent jeweled sword, ears pointed as far forward as he could force them. "I hereby nominate myself. Who votes for me?" When not one hand or voice was raised in support, his expression changed to an irritated pout. For a moment, he thought about spraying the lot of them, but somehow that no longer seemed an appropriate response. "All right, then—if not me, who? Who is better qualified as a fighter?"

"Better in this instance to ask who is better qualified as a thinker?" Turning, Mamakitty indicated the scruffy individual standing by her side. "I propose that we confer the distinction on Oskar."

"Him? The living doorstop? The dust mop that eats?" Cezer almost broke out laughing. "You can't be serious! Who ever heard of a leader of a desperate adventure named 'Oskar'?"

"Why not you, Mamakitty?" proffered Cocoa shyly.

"Because I can be too impatient," the older woman replied. "I suspect there will be times ahead of us when calm and reflection are more important than sheer brain power. Oskar is by far the most even-tempered of us all. The most mellow, if you will."

"Also the ugliest," Cezer put in, "though I don't see that as a qualification."

Glaring at the younger male, Mamakitty concluded, "I cast my vote for Oskar."

"If you think he's the right one—" Cocoa shrugged. "Very well. I'll vote for him as well."

"Thank you—I think." Running fingers through his thick, undisciplined patch of remaining fur, Oskar came to a decision and tossed the cap aside. Though light enough, even the slight weight on his head irritated him. So his scalp would get wet—he had never minded it before. "If this is what you all want"—Cezer held his tongue—"then I will do the best I am able. What say you in this matter, Taj?"

"I don't care." The singer was not happy. "We're probably all going to die anyway, so what difference does it make who leads us?"

"Thanks for that vote of confidence." Gazing past the slim-bodied cynic, Oskar squinted. "Where's Samm? His opinion counts in this as much as anyone's."

"He said he was going to try and find something to arm himself with," Cocoa reminded them. "I wonder if he's had any luck?"

Still miffed by his rejection, Cezer snorted derisively. "Probably trying to figure out how to make a dirk out of a fork. His kind aren't too bright, you know."

They located the giant behind the house, by the guest stables. Cowl pushed back to expose his bald head, he proudly displayed his handiwork. The impressive appliance he had fashioned for himself consisted of a single massive granite wedge wrenched from the foundation of the stable. A hole ran through the center of the wedge-shaped stone. Using the tough leather straps of old unicorn tack, the man-mountain had fastened the block securely to a thick pole chosen from a pile of cut logs stored by the side of the stable. Water dripped from the imposing apparatus. Several such soakings, Mamakitty knew, would cause the leather straps to tighten even more securely around the rock.

"That's quite an axe," she told the giant admiringly. "It suits you."

Cezer could still not quite bring himself to compliment his newly limbed companion. "Simple is as simple does," he sniffed. "There's no elegance in it."

Samm hefted the immense adze in both hands. "I did not fashion it for beauty, meower of meticulous complaints."

Mamakitty stepped in before Cezer could respond. "That's enough, you two. We're likely to have to fight some of this Horde, and maybe an evil necromancer or two. Save your belligerence for that." She turned to Oskar. "Time to go."

"Go?" A baffled Oskar scratched absently at his hip. "Go where?"

"Yes, where!" Cezer snickered gleefully. "Lead on, O stalwart and intrepid leader! I hereby knight thee Oskar the Oaf. Lead us—if you can even pick a direction!" Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to an acerbic whisper. "Why not use your great oversize nose, and simply smell us a path? You always were good at ferreting out the most remarkable stinks."

"Though rude as always, Cezer has a point." Looking ravishing (to another human, at least) in her riding pants, boots, and long-sleeved tunic, Cocoa eyed Mamakitty questioningly as they returned to the house. "Do we even have an idea where to go to find this color we're supposed to bring back?"

"Yes, and once we've found it—" Samm began.

"If we can find it," Taj interjected.

"—how do we 'catch' it, what do we put it in, and how do we bring it back?" the giant finished concernedly.

Everyone's attention swung to Mamakitty. She considered silently, then shrugged her broad shoulders. "Hey-ho, pssst —we'll catch each fish when it swims past. Cocoa's right. First we have to figure out where to find this batch of color. After that, everything will follow naturally."

"Unnaturally, you mean."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Taj," Oskar chided his friend. He had always enjoyed Taj's singing, but now was not the time for coddling. "If Master Evyndd believed we could do this thing, then do it we will."

"Boldly spoken!" Drawing his sword in a single supple motion, Cezer thrust it skyward. "Onward, masters of an empty house! Onward to—" He gazed pointedly at Oskar. "Excuse me, dear Leader, but you still haven't said where we're going?"

His brows drawing together, the other man pushed out his lower lip defiantly as he engaged in a momentary orgy of contemplation—after which he turned helplessly to Mamakitty. "We have to have a destination. What kind of color might be immune to this world-spanning incantation of the invaders?"

"How should I know, dog?" Troubled, she walked over to the kitchen window and gazed out at the creek. The rippling water was gray, the trees thrusting up from its banks gray-green, the grass dim and dingy, the wildflowers different shades of dusky gray. Nowhere was there a hint, a suggestion, of the color that had been stolen from the world. Natural light would bring back that color, she knew. To have color you had to have the right light. But in the absence of color there was—

She let out an abrupt, unexpected yowl so loud that it stiffened the hairs on Oskar's neck, caused Cezer to drop to a fighting stance on all fours, and made Cocoa leap instinctively onto the table. Samm did not stir, but Taj took immediate refuge behind the giant's bulk.