Alan Foster - Kingdoms of Light

"There are questions we avoided in the course of our journey that we can no longer put off. Suppose we find it? How do we acquire it? We have no money, and if we did, it most likely wouldn't be good here. Assuming that we do manage to obtain it, how do we transport it home? How do you package light?"

"With a pouch made of moonbeams, maybe. How should I know?" Trying not to sound too cross, he let his head flop back down on his crossed forepaws. "Can't we worry about it tomorrow?"

"That's what we've been doing for weeks. But I guess it will have to wait one day longer. Everyone else is already asleep." Raising her head slightly, she searched out each remaining member of their exhausted little party. "It's just that, so near to the goal we've fought so hard to reach, I find myself more fretful than ever."

"Fine," he told her. "Fret all you want. But I'm not worrying about anything, including the future of the world, until tomorrow." He managed a canine smile. "That's an advantage we dogs have over cats and humans. We don't suffer overmuch from stress. Except for purebreds, and I've always pitied them." Turning his head slightly and closing his eyes, he shut her out of his thoughts. If all her kind worried half as much as Mamakitty, he reflected sleepily, it was no wonder felines had so many internal problems.

His last glimpse was of the affable Smegden, comfortably curled up in one of Samm's brawny coils, indifferent to the proximity of powerful, fanged jaws that on another occasion might have devoured him as easily as a whale would swallow an eel.

Oskar felt as if he awoke only moments later. But though he did not know the duration of the local night, it seemed unlikely that it should vary much from what they had encountered in other kingdoms. Overhead, the amethyst-hued sun was shining with a clarity born of crystal. It was not the shimmering sunshine that had awakened him, however, nor any prodding or chiding from his companions.

It was the music.

And such music! It spilled forth from thousands of throats, all chorusing together, not one out of tune—throats capable not only of imitating and surpassing the songs of humankind but of reproducing almost any harmony imaginable.

There must have been ten thousand bird-folk awakening in the trees of the Grand Commons, and their joyous hymn to the morning was truly something to behold.

Birds of paradise trilled sensuously alongside dozens of smaller songbird-folk. Cranes and crows supplied percussion, while macaws and parrots counterfeited human voices as perfectly as if they had possessed hands instead of wings. The smaller birds provided woodwindlike accompaniment, while a rustling of raptors surged in counterpoint to the elegiac central motif.

Rolling onto his back on the soft grass and crunchy leaves, all four legs waving in the air, Oskar stretched and delighted in the majestic swell of music. Only after the magnificent overture to the sun had crescendoed and begun to fade, drifting away into the distance as soft as down from a newly fledged chick, did an exultant Taj glide down from his branch to greet his friends. He had been participating wholeheartedly in the concert.

"Did you hear it? Oh, did you hear, Oskar?" The jubilant canary hopped an ecstatic circle around an imaginary axis. "Wasn't it splendid? Wasn't it glorious?"

A familiar voice interrupted from nearby. "Doesn't this town let a visitor sleep?" Rising, a rested but exasperated Cezer stretched, digging his front claws purposefully into the ground, his chin scraping the grass between them.

"Always the complainer." Nearby, Cocoa had risen and was using her right paw to inspect a freshly fallen meatfruit. "Who's for breakfast?"

Gathering around a pile of suitable eats, they fell to discoursing freely among themselves while dining at their leisure. Smegden joined them, in no hurry to rush off before eating. Indeed, Oskar mused, there seemed to be no reason for animal folk to hurry anywhere in this relative paradise. What real work there was to be done fell within the province of the much more active enchanted ones.

"You know," mouthed Cezer, his cheeks bulging with the meatfruit of the moment as he ruminated reflectively, "this is a pretty nice place."

"Very nice," agreed Samm from somewhere within his coils.

"Exceedingly nice," Cocoa added unnecessarily.

"It's so nice," Cezer continued, "that we might consider staying here."

Oskar eyed his companion narrowly. "You mean, you might consider returning after we've carried the white light back to the Gowdlands."

Instead of meeting the dog's eyes, the golden feline contemplated the sky through branches heavy with lavender-tinged leaves and fruit. "Not exactly. I was thinking that this might be the most propitious possible ending to our journey."

"What about the inhabitants of the Gowdlands?" Mamakitty's tone was accusing, but Cezer refused to back down.

"What about them? I know all of this was discussed earlier, but that was before we had risked our lives ten times over, and long before we knew a land such as the Kingdom of Purple existed outside the country of wishful thinking. What if our luck is running out? How many narrow escapes can we reasonably be expected to survive? This place has everything we could want: free food that falls from trees, clean air, pure water, and industrious enchanted folk to keep everything running smoothly. It's more than a refuge; it's a kind of heaven. A singularly purple heaven, to be sure, but a heaven nonetheless.

"As for the people of the Gowdlands, what did they ever do for us? I'm sorry they're suffering—I don't like to see anyone suffer. But to tell the truth, I feel no especial affection for them. They're humans; we're not."

"You were once," Oskar reminded him, "and can be again."

"Why?" This time Cezer raised his gaze to meet those of his friends. "From everything we've experienced and everything I remember from my life as a cat, humans have a tough time of it." He spread both forelegs as wide as his quadrupedal shape would allow. "I'm more used to being a cat than I am to being a man. This isn't such a bad way to spend one's life. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "if I was forced to spend it as a dog…"

Mamakitty stepped between them. "That isn't the point.

We swore to carry out Master Evyndd's last wish, which was to aid those in need. What about that, Cezer?"

The tomcat looked uncomfortable. "Master Evyndd was a good person, even if he wasn't cat. But Master Evyndd is dead. We're not."

"So you think that cancels out the debt?" Oskar challenged him.

Cezer held his ground. "Spoken like a true dog. A fawning, slavishly affectionate, drool-dripping dog who'll cut off his left ear in return for a pat on the head."

Mamakitty spoke before an increasingly angry Oskar could reply. "There are among cats those for whom the word loyalty is not only for dogs."

Cocoa joined the discussion. "By my count, you owe Master Evyndd for about two thousand bowls of milk, a hundred and fifty pounds of meat, uncounted table scraps, assorted chunks of cheese, and enough catnip to stun a cougar. Have you no gratitude, no sense of honor?"

"I couldn't turn my back on the Master's last wish," Samm announced with finality.

Cezer glared at the python. "Do you even have a back? Oh, all right!" he hissed. "I refuse to have my honor as a cat impugned by a snake. But I think you're all mad." Turning, he trotted off toward a tree where some wallabies were playing ball with a coterie of meerkats and bonobos.

Oskar remembered the smallest member of their party. "Well," he asked the songster, "we haven't heard from you, Taj. What's your opinion?"

The canary pushed out his purplish yellow chest. "I owe Master Evyndd everything. If not for him I would be nothing more than a bird in a cage. I mean," he added quickly, "I would not have been given the opportunity to participate in so important a journey."