Chapter 4: The Red City of Cats

Zeth came to a good few slaps on his cheek and one painful headache.

“There you are, child,” said a blurry Old and Wrinkly, face set in what Zeth’s groggy brain assumed was a grimace. Grint and Merdis’s voices were somewhere to the left, all hissy and angry. There was some sort of strange humm all around. Kind of unpleasant, kind of strange. Unkindly loud.

Zeth blinked a few times, trying to get his vision back into focus. It took a few tries, but he succeeded, and promptly discovered he was lying on the ground, half slumped against something cold. There were a pair of very fancy purple boots right in front of his face, lined with gold across the fancy edges.

Familiar.

Ah, yes. Old and Wrinkly’s boots. What the hell happened anyway? Why was he on the ground? Why did his head hurt? He sneakily looked around. It wasn’t just the old man’s. There were other boots too. Short, long, white, blue, some not even boots, but strange slippers on sticks, click-clacking loudly with every step. Those came in different colours and shapes, too. Some were even tied with ribbons. All in constant movement. Some were shorter and came in fours. While most of those were shoe-less, there was a number clad in the same boots as the ones that came in two’s. The ground was also new. It wasn’t the usual dirt-road or the occasional gravel with your single pair of wooden legs of a house. No. It was lined with big, flat stones, grey and pink, following patterns that seemed to span everywhere. And the house legs were everywhere. Thick and grey, some thin and black, some so long Zeth would have to grow five more eyes just to see the end.

Where were they?

“I suppose that was your first time using a port-seal,” Old and Wrinkly hauled him up on shaky feet and steadied him. “Worry not, it shall pass quite soon. Your body is just unused to..finer ways of travel.”

Huh? Port-what?

Zeth unclenched his jaw – which he didn’t realise was even shut – to say something, but out came a feeble croak. Old and Wrinkly gave an audible sigh that just screamed ‘I am not paid enough for this’ and ushered him forth.

“Come. We need to get to the Inn.”

The ginger boy nodded absently, but stayed rooted in his spot, wide eyes going everywhere, taking every new thing in. There were many people around; dressed in strange clothes, talking in strange manners. About twice as much as them, however, were cats of all shapes and sizes. They, too, were walking all over, around, and under. There was huffing and puffing from some strange small boxes littered all over..wherever they were. The noise from all that was not doing his headache any favours.

“Where are we?” Zeth asked. And what the riff was a port-seal?

Old and Wrinkly halted and looked back.

“Ah, right, of course,” he gestured widely with an arm, the sleeves of his layered tunics following in a graceful arch. “We’re in Orthon Square, one of the four main travel hubs of Yotsu Crossing” – he walked over to Zeth and reached behind him – “and this is the Orthonstone. This magnificent statue here is the focus of the port-seal I used.” He placed his gloved palm over the white marble.

It really was beautiful. And enormous. It took the shape of three cranes, all of which were in a graceful flight — or was it a dance — around a torch almost thick as Zeth’s arm was long. This torch was lit with fire that somehow looked alive despite being made of stone. It really was mesmerising. He could almost see the ember colours in the depicted waves , and a hint of azure in the feathers. The base that kept it up – a lined pillar that curled elegantly on the sides – held a symbol engraved onto it. It looked like the ones he’d seen on the scorched thing, seal, he corrected himself, back at home.

Old and Wrinkly’s hand was there, hovering above it. Zeth stared at the man staring reverently at the dancing cranes.

“This here, along with its sister statues in the Crossing, is the base to most known travel-type seals. And here” – he traced the symbol with a finger – “is the main binding component. It shall always call those who wish be home.”

What the riff did that even mean?

“Home?”

“Base. Key-point. Centre. Core. However you wish to call it. I established mine decades ago, when I was a mere student of the Arts. I chose Pyrolis, of course, as it houses the Yotsu Crossing.”

Zeth nodded, absently staring at the statue again. The bird’s eyes looked very real. And the whole ‘seal’ thing was interesting too. He’d never heard of anything like that. Even old Wacuba’s teachings never mentioned those ‘seals’. Did he even know? That old man boasted about his illustrious knowledge to all his students. By all, I mean exactly 7 children, including Zeth, from villages surrounding his secluded hut on a hill.

Travel seals..he came all the way from ..wait..

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He did a double take, gaping at the man.

“D..did you just say Pyrolis?”

Old and Wrinkly raised his ever-thick eyebrow. “Indeed I did.”

“The Pyrolis? The one with caravans and cats? Lots and lots of cats?”

Old and Wrinkly eyed the horde of cats surrounding the square. “Yes? Are there any other Pyrolises?”

“I don’t..Wait, so this, here” – Zeth gestures all around him, arms and fingers splayed as wide as they could go – “ this is Pyrolis, the Red City? The Capital of the Empire?”

“Yes. Where else would we be? The easiest way to reach the caves is through The Crossing. Of course we’d head there, child.”

Zeth’s arms flopped to his sides, boneless, as he tried to pick his jaw from the ground.

He was at the heart of the Empire. The one that his father and mother held little love for, despite being a part of it. Pyrolysis was far away. Very far away. He’d asked Wacuba about it just a few months ago. 2780 kilometres, he had said with a wheeze. Somehow, he travelled over 5 cities, one forest, three lakes and one mountain range, all the way up where the maps ended. All in a span of minutes.

It seemed unreal.

Was it those seals? Had to be, right? How the riff did they even work? Was he okay? Was he melting? Would he rot like a month's old, forgotten dough? He patted himself down rather frantically and checked everything, from the tips of his hair to his toes. Well, as much as his tied hands would allow, of course.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Though his clothing did seem to have dried up.

“Come. We should not make the Lord wait any longer than we have.” Old and Wrinkly apparently had had enough. Time was ticking and that, if the minute grimace that passed through that long face was any indication, was not a good thing. “We must hurry.”

With that he started briskly walking. Zeth, idly wondering why the man wasn’t dragging him by the rope, or why he, himself, wasn’t running away, followed.

Not like I can. They’d have mother and father executed. Maybe Wacuba too.

Whatever he and his unfortunate classmates may have said about the man, he was still someone Zeth loved dearly. It’d be nice if he got his hands on a seal, used that crane statue, teleported home, gathered everyone to safety…

Dreams sure are nice, aren’t they?

***

“Brainless brutes! How dare you treat our precious guest like this? Sarus, why did you let this happen? You are supposed to be the voice of reason, you old fart!”

There was an older boy kneeling in front of Zeth and cradling his tied hands in his own, gloved ones. He had greeted them at the entrance of the Inn, with laughter on his lips, a joyous spring in his step, and a cat, peering from over his shoulder. That is, until he registered bony hands, tied in several layers of thick rope, a pale, freckled face, arms and well, his whole being really, covered in scraps and dirt and dried..something. Well, we know what that was, but to anyone else, it looked very grimy and suspiciously brown. Zeth had cringed then, fully expecting exclamations of disgust, a few words Mother said to never repeat, a push, or two, maybe. Probably. Maybe he’d have the cat scratch his eyes out? It looked friendly, but who knew? Or a whip. He did not want the whip. He’d been expecting the worst, but to his utter confusion, the lord had knelt down and apologised for how he was treated. And now Old and Wrinkly was on the receiving end of an angry glare and an angry hiss.

“Apologies, my Lord.”

Zeth gaped as the stoic old man went on his knees and bowed. Actually bowed.

“Do not let it happen again!” the lord pulled out an unsheathed tiny dagger that Zeth would swear to hell and back was supposed to be a hair decoration, and briskly cut the rope in one slice. “And you two, Grint! Merdis!” he hissed at the respective duo. “Did I pay you to mutilate our precious future companion?

“Mutilate?” muttered Merdis under her breath, facing the ground.

“Well?”

Sword Lady flinched and bowed as well. “No, my Lord!”

“We beg forgiveness, my Lord!” Grint just plopped on the floor on all fours.

“Pathetic. Not only did you hurt our guest, but you were also late. How..disappointing. You shall make it up to me.”

“Yes, my Lord,” all three chorused.

The Lord made them all wait a few agonising minutes before huffing. Then, just like magic, that sunny smile was back. He even patted Zeth on the head a few times, making sure to ruffle his wild curls.

The lord was nice. Where was all the ‘you’d better watch your tongue, as well as your step on the way’ and ‘you won’t be returning to your parents’ in one piece, child’ thing?

“Right, right. Let's get back on track. I am extremely happy you are here. We needed a..ah..”

“A baker, my Lord,” said Merdis. The Lord waved her off.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget! A Baker, of course,” he ushered the boy into the Inn. “Lets get inside, warm up. I have a feast waiting for you!”

A..feast?

“From this day on, I’ll protect you. I’m sorry about the brutes, very, very sorry. Never in my life did I expect that. I..they have to come with us, but you’ll stay with me.”

Zeth watched as the older boy placed a hand over his heart. His eyes looked teary.

“Why?” Finally, finally Zeth found his voice.

“Because without you, we can’t even enter the cave.”