The dark . . .
Darkness and pain and partial deafness, choking on dust, the rumble of stone, panic of emptiness—
"I'm here, I'm here!" A brush of fur against my hand. "Don't panic! Just get your breath back and sit up. We are in a large cave and are safe for the moment. Claude, Danny, you and I. And nobody's hurt; just a few bruises, that's all. I'm going to leave you for a moment to explore but I'll be back in a few minutes."
It was the longest speech he had made through the Ring: I realised that, even in my distressed state.
A wail came from somewhere to my right. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! My head!"
"Your head! It was my head you hit with yours!"
"And whose fault was that, may I ask? Where are we, anyway? And where's Sophy?"
"I'm over here, to your left. Stop arguing and come and join me . . ."
Scrabbling, scraping sounds, suppressed swearing and we were all together. A quick hug all round, and then the questions. I wanted to know if they had seen any more of Toby and Ky-lin than I had, the answer no, and they both wanted to know where we were.
"Sure, and they were together," said Danny. "And a canny old thing like Ky-Lin knows how to survive."
"He won't let Toby come to any harm," comforted Claude. "They are probably looking for us now. . . ."
I told them what Beau had told me, and a moment later he was back, rubbing against my knees.
"No way out the way we came in, I'm afraid. The fall brought down part of the entrance tunnel, and it must be blocked by at least twelve feet of debris."
I could hear the panic in my voice. "You mean—we're trapped? If there's no way out we'll die!" Without thinking I had spoken the words aloud, instead of by thought-process through the Ring, and immediately I could hear the others muttering hysterically.
"Now look what you've done," said Beau-cat. "I never said we were trapped."
"We're in a cave, aren't we, and you said the entrance was blocked—shut up you two—so we must be trapped . . . mustn't we?"
"I said we couldn't get out the way we came in, yes, but that doesn't mean there aren't other ways out. This is a large cave—just sing a couple of lines of your favourite hymn. Yes, go on!"
"All things bright and beautiful . . ." How inappropriate! Danny and Claude must have thought I had completely lost my mind, but as my voice strengthened I understood what the cat had meant. It was not like singing in an overstuffed sitting-room, far more like being in church. "You're right . . . But how do we know there are any passages leading out?"
"Trust me. Stand up and turn around slowly. See if you can feel any difference in the quality of the air. No, I'm not joking. . . ."
I did as he said, then repeated the manouevre. Sure enough I felt a slight difference in the movement of the air. I pointed to the two directions I thought it was coming from, forgetting of course that we were in darkness. But it seemed he could see me.
"Correct. Well done. As it happens I have already found our first passage and it leads in the right direction."
"How do you know?"
"Because we want downwards and as far as possible east of south. That way we have a good chance of finding the ultimate way out. And, yes, before you ask, I do know my south from my north!"
I was quite sure this new, masterful Beau-cat did. I told the others why I had been singing and the fact that Beau had found a passage for us to follow, at which they cheered up considerably.
"Now," said Beau, "retrieve your haversacks and let's see what we have. Yours is a little way to your left. I believe there are some candles in there."
He was quite right. There were a half-dozen ordinary ones and four long-burners, plus vestas. I wasted a couple of the latter before I managed to get a candle going, then bent to light some more.
"Steady on," said Beau. "One at a time. We don't know how long those will have to last."
So, by the light of one small candle we emptied our haversacks and took stock of what we had. It was a pitifully small heap. We each had a blanket, mug and water-bottle, the latter full. Then there were two coils of rope, a quantity of firewood, the small cooking pot and a ladle. As far as food was concerned, it was a small quantity of everything. A little rice and couscous, but not much; a pack of dates, another of dried figs, a few dried vegetables, some nuts, cheese and a handful of raisins. I would have said that would give us one meal, but not much more.
"Now that we haven't got Ky-Lin with us, it is up to you to take charge. Those two need leading, they can't do it on their own. So, I will help you, and you must be positive and firm. Every day I will scout ahead and find the best way forward—"
"Every day? I thought we'd be out of here by tonight!"
"Sorry, Sophy, but I think it will take longer than that. These hills are honeycombed with caves, but they don't all lead the right way; some are dead-ends and others may be too small to traverse. So, come on and give your first orders. Pack up everything except the shorter rope, get fastened together so we don't get parted. I'll lead the way, you follow with a guarded candle. We'll keep going as long as we can on this first stage."
He paused for a moment. "Tell me: how is the Ring?"
"The Ring?" I looked down at it. "It's fine. . . . Why?"
"Then that means we are doing the right thing. Let me know if it starts playing up, won't you?"
I nodded. After that first stab when we tumbled into the cave it had been quiet, so perhaps things weren't quite as bad as they seemed.
I decided to take Beau's advice and be positive, so I organised the others as he had suggested. "What time is it, Claude?"
He looked at his watch, shook it, looked again.
"Just after two in the afternoon, Sophy. I would have thought it later than that."
So would I: just over a half-hour since we had been entombed, because I had checked my fob-watch minutes before the avalanche. "Well, that's a bonus: means we can travel further . . . Right! Off we go! At least it isn't cold . . ."
In fact, after the sub-zero temperatures we had had to endure, it was almost pleasantly warm; I presumed these caves retained more or less the same temperature, like cellars: cool in summer, warm in winter, although it didn't do anything for my cough.
We started out with high hopes, but after an hour or so of stumbling along a stony, unlit, uneven, twisting passage, anchored only by a rope that we had to adjust because somebody either trod on somebody's heels or was jerked forward painfully, we were all short-tempered and much less sanguine. The passage was also not uniformly wide, nor did it slope down evenly. Once there was a sudden drop of about three feet; once a rock-fall almost blocked our way completely: another time we had to lower our heads to avoid bumping our heads on the roof—especially Claude!
We conversed in whispers—why whispers? Because it is a known fact that one always whispers in churches, cathedrals, libraries, museums, catacombs—anywhere one feels awe, unease or fear. Anything was possible in these caves; I would not have been surprised if they brought forth all the things which used to give me nightmares as a child: bats, ogres, witches, trolls, statues-which-came-to-life and giant cockroaches.
"Rubbish!" said Beau's thought-voice. "Don't you think that I would sense those things? Stop worrying!" And he rubbed his face against my thigh. Goodness, he certainly was growing. . . .
"You almost sound as if you are enjoying all this!"
"Why not? Better than giving up and crying! Think of it as a game, a puzzle, a maze to solve. We'll get out, never fear, but it may take a day or two. At the moment we are travelling at a snail's pace, but when we get into some of the larger caves we should move faster. Don't forget you have to measure this stumbling around in semi-darkness with what we achieved in the open. Twenty miles outside, what with twists and turns as well, will take four times as long in here."
An hour and a half later we reached the end of the passage, which debouched into a small chamber, before splitting into two exits. While Beau searched ahead we took a well-earned rest, ate a couple of mouthfuls of nuts and dried fruit, then pressed on again. This time the going was easier, but there were several halts as we passed other passages which Beau had to scout. At one, tantalisingly, there came a breath of outside air, but the cat reported that it was only a narrow funnel that even he couldn't struggle through.
At last, after we had used three of the ordinary candles, we reached a larger cavern, and I decided that enough was enough and called a halt for the day.
"We're not going to spend the night in here?" asked Claude fearfully.
"You're not going to tell me that you really thought we would be tucked up safe in some cosy inn, are you?" said Danny. "Are you frightened of the dark, then?"
"Of course not," he answered hurriedly. "It's just that . . . that . . ."
"We're all in the same boat, and we're all together," I said. "So be a good lad and help me prepare something for supper."
We made a small but comfortable fire and boiled up the rest of the couscous with a scrap or two of the fish, and finished with some dates. Hardly satisfying, but better than nothing. We were all physically exhausted, but sleep didn't come easily: our bodies were tired, our minds wide awake. Not only was the ground uneven and stony, but everyone must have been worrying the same way I was: how long would we be in here? What would happen if the little food that was left ran out? Worse, how about using up all the candles? Would we wander endlessly until we lay down and died?
Danny sat up suddenly. "This is no use, you know. I'm not a bit sleepy. Why don't we have a sing-song or something?"
"Or a story," suggested Claude, who couldn't sing.
"A story it is then; who's to start?"
"You can, Danny," I said.
To his credit he told us an amusing folk-tale about how an enterprising Irish family finally outwitted a couple of ill-intentioned leprechauns.
Claude then told one of my favourites, "Stone Soup," how a cunning traveller and his dog conned a fat and lazy cook out of dinner and a gold coin. But of course this talk of food made us feel hungry again, so when it was my turn I steered away from all that and started to tell the tale of the "Princess and the Pea," but before I had finished I had the strong suspicion that I was talking to myself (and Beau).
"They're asleep," I said.
"Five minutes ago. An interesting tale. My governess never told me that one. But normal princesses aren't as tender-skinned as that."
"Cats don't have governesses, Beau. And how would you know how princesses feel?"
"Young princes have tutors or governesses, and they also have princesses as sisters."
"But you're not a prince—"
"Who says? Want to hear my story?"
I hesitated. The Ring was warm on my finger, the candle was out, what remained of the fire a couple of embers, but I was still not sleepy enough and my chest felt tight. What on earth would he invent to entertain? "All right, then . . ."
"Lie down, tuck yourself up, and I'll tell you just how a handsome prince was turned into a lowly cat . . ."
I see: it was one of those. A fairy-tale. At least "Stone Soup" could have had a basis in fact—just with a clever enough man and a stupid enough woman . . . But even thinking about that and my stomach started to protest, so I shut my eyes and concentrated on Beau's tale.
"Once upon a time," I murmured. "All the best fairy tales start that way. . . ."
"Once upon a time," he began obediently, "if that's what you want. But this is fact, not fiction."
"Anything you say . . ."
"This story begins in the country of Siam some few years ago," he began, and I snuggled down to listen through the Ring. "The current king had many wives and innumerable concubines, so there were plenty of royal princes and princesses—eleven of the former and twenty-three of the latter, if I remember correctly . . ."
I found myself drifting.
"The king decided he had to do something about it, as the palace was getting definitely overcrowded. All the royal children had had English governesses, and that is why I speak your language so well, but the king decided to give his sons the chance of further education, and arranged advantageous marriages for the girls. The princes were sent to foreign universities—"
"Oxford and Cambridge," I murmured sleepily. "Harvard and Yale . . ."
"And the Sorbonne, of course. That's where I went, and that is why I was pleased when you called me `Beau,' the French for handsome."
"But you are a cat, not a prince!" I interrupted, waking up.
"Fiddlesticks, as you English say! You haven't heard the rest of the story . . ."
"Sorry, I won't interrupt again."
"Well, when I came back from the Sorbonne I found that my father had decided it was time that I got married. I was then twenty-four years old and in no mood to settle down. I asked him to send me abroad again for a while, to one of our embassies perhaps, but he was adamant. Until all of his sons had produced a son he would not be satisfied, for he had not yet decided whom to make his heir.
"That might have been acceptable to my other brothers, but not to me. I had always been a rebel, so I took off on my own with a purseful of money and some jewelry to enjoy the fleshpots of the world. My wild way of life led me into some very peculiar situations, but none so strange as an encounter I had in Spain. It was fiesta-time, and I had watched a very beautiful girl dancing all evening. It seemed she had noticed me too, for when the dancing was over—and very late it was—she caught up with me as I was returning to my lodgings, and invited me to her place for a last drink. I was already stumbling-drunk, so it didn't seem at all unusual that a young woman like that was not chaperoned.
"As it was, I'm afraid I disappointed her, for immediately I entered her apartment I was sick, then fell asleep on the floor. Waking some time before dawn I found I was immensely thirsty, and wandered down a long corridor looking for the kitchen. On my way I became aware of some strange chanting coming from a room to my right, whose door was partially open. I peered in, intending to apologise to my pretty hostess and beg a glass of water, but what I saw drove all thoughts of thirst from my mind . . ."
He paused, and sighed. "We can finish the tale tomorrow. You must be very tired."
By now I was sitting bolt upright and the thought of sleep was far from my mind. "No, no, go on!"
"All right then . . . Where was I? Ah, yes. I peeped into the room, and I couldn't believe my eyes. An old crone, bent almost double with age, was hobbling round a bubbling cauldron on a brazier, muttering spells and charms! At first I thought it must be some ancient relative of the girl I had met earlier, then I noticed she was wearing the same dress, and in her ears were the same earrings! Even as I watched, I could see the spells begin to take effect; from looking about a hundred years old she was gradually straightening, and her hair was turning from white to its previous colour . . .
"I must have made some sound for suddenly she turned towards the door and saw me."
"Couldn't you just have run away?"
"I suppose I could—I cetainly should have! But I suppose it was the residue of the drink talking, but whatever it was I stepped into the room and accused her of being a witch!"
"What did she do? What did she say?"
"At first she was surprised, then she was very angry that she had been found out, and told me to get out and never darken her doors again!"
"And did you?"
"No, I was an idiot. I did the very worst thing I could have done. She looked so stupid half-changed—"
"Half-changed?"
"The top half was nearly the pretty lady again, the bottom half was still the old crone. I couldn't help myself: I laughed at her."
There was silence.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"I'm just suspending judgment, that's all," I said carefully. "Of course I don't believe in witches—"
"You should! It was she who made me what I am now. Apparently she knew perfectly well who I was all the time, and had some hare-brained scheme of seducing me into becoming her puppet and then persuading my father to make me his heir.
"I said something to the effect that she must be jesting if she thought I would ever agree to anything like that, saying that she was just a silly old woman and I wasn't the least afraid of her spells and curses. I'm afraid that did it."
This was better than the Arabian Nights! He had a terrific imagination. "Couldn't you still have run for it?"
"She had fixed me where I stood. I could move neither hand nor foot. Some kind of hypnosis, I suppose."
"Couldn't you have struck out at her? Shut your eyes and unhypnotised yourself? Yelled for help?" I was getting involved in his fairy-tale.
"One, she was out of reach and I couldn't move; two, I tried looking away, it didn't work; three, who would have heard me? Anyone else in that apartment would have been her creature anyway.
"Then she started to threaten me, everything that could hurt me most—blinding, laming, impotence—but I gathered from her mutterings that these spells lasted only for a specific time, and I reckoned I could put up with any form of disability for a short while. My spirits started to rise, and at last I found a tongue in my head, tried to defy her.
" `I don't believe you have any powers at all!' I said. `Why, if you could work any spells, you would have turned me into a dog or a toad or a crow long ago!' A foolish boast to make, for at once she started to circle me, muttering in a strange tongue, and a rhythm I realised was a primitive form of spell-casting.
"Suddenly I felt a horrid shrinking feeling, and realised the floor was coming up to meet me. I found I was on all fours, and that my feet were turning into clawed paws! The room was expanding, my mouth became full of pointed teeth, suddenly I had sprouted a tail, my body had become covered in fur, and there I was, crouched on the ground amidst my discarded clothing. The only thing from my other life that I still retained was the neckace I had been wearing—an insurance against the need for money—which I still wear."
"You mean the one you're wearing now? The tatty one of coloured glass and brass?" I snorted with derision. "I suppose you're going to tell me it is really gold and emeralds!"
"Of course—when she changed me she changed that as well, without realising it. She laughed at me, gave me a lusty kick, and opened the window. `Out you go, tom-cat; roam the alleys until you die, or else find a virgin who will give you three human kisses of her own volition. And this you must do within the year, else you will turn to dust!'
"I leapt from the window and fled." He paused. "And that's it. That was four months ago; I won't bore you with my aimless wanderings, nor my capture by that stall-holder you rescued me from. You are the one I have been looking for, the one with the Ring, the only one I can explain this to." He paused again. "So how about it?"
"About what?"
"A kiss, freely given. The first . . . Or more, if you feel like it."
I drew away and tucked myself up again. A story was a story, but as to believing it—
"I don't kiss cats," I said. "Sorry. It was a good tale, though. 'Night . . ." And I turned over and went to sleep almost immediately.