What the spinning wheels delivered. Full disclosure, this was one of the easier ones.
- Royal Decree: Must tell the truth about the suspiciously intelligent cat next door.
- Words: Jigsaw Puzzle, Letter, Arm
- Potion of: none.
- Magic Mirror: a character always notices tiny details
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What I did with it.
My life took a dramatic turn a while back when I opened my front door to ten pissed and very tired Wardens. It transpired that they blamed me for the loss of their Barracks, and since they knew I had a newly renovated home with spiffy new beds and clean sheets…
In my defense, I was new to a world of magic and monsters. How was I supposed to know imps could chew through the boxes I’d made to contain them? I’d only been trying to help.
Because imps are thugs, everything went pear-shaped. The powers that be had to call in the Nullifiers, who decided the only solution was to magically nuke the entire facility, which included where they trained, worked, and, most importantly, lived. Apparently, reconstruction couldn’t begin until something that sounded very complicated had dissipated.
No one would tell me how long that would be.
And that’s why my house was trying to be a B&B, but more closely resembled a mental institution where all the patients were mad at me. Well, except Mike. But he’s a pragmatic gargoyle, so no surprise there.
I was just grateful for my en suite master bath because sharing a communal bathroom with two orcs and a minotaur was not acceptable. I learned after a few heated discussions on bathroom etiquette that it was the varastaa who was the actual slob.
The satyr, rax, and tengu refused to share bedrooms, much less bathrooms, so they got the few en suite bedrooms I had. Where the gargoyle stayed or what his hygiene habits were remained a mystery. I didn’t have the nerve to ask.
In an effort to turn the tide in my favor, I’d instituted Game Nights. There was a lot of grumbling the first night, but surprisingly the battle-hardened Mystic Knights, Warriors, Defenders, and Scouts had taken to it like a duck to water.
I’d tried teaching them human games, but they couldn't understand or agree on how to interpret the rules. Also, tengu suck at charades. I’d had some success with a deck of cards, but there were 10 Wardens and 52 cards, so one big game didn’t work. Week 2 came around and they’d brought a few games from their home worlds so we could all break into groups of 2-4.
Game Nights were such a success that my brother, Caleb, and best friend, Venn, had invited themselves along by week 3. Now every Friday, for at least a couple of hours, there was a bit of a truce. I’d even gotten a few of them to dial it down to merely ‘annoyed with me’ during the rest of the week. Only Rada, our persnickety aerorax, was still giving me the cold shoulder most days. Weirdly, she was also the most cutthroat on game night.
Which is why tonight I went out for treats as my current strategy to win over any lingering Hedy Sucks sentiment. A new hobgoblin bakery had opened up in the neighborhood. I was hoping the universal truth that hobgoblins loved their sweets translated to tasty goodies.
When I’d left, everyone was in high spirits, disappearing the couch and other furniture from the living room to make room for tables and chairs. By now, we had a system and everyone knew their jobs. It was loud and happy. I loved it.
So I was a little surprised to open the door on dead silence. I looked around and everyone was there, but no one made a sound or even moved. I would have thought they were frozen in place without the occasional rustle of someone shifting.
“Wh…”
“Shhhh” and hand flapping came from at least half of the people in the room.
That’s when I noticed they were all staring at Luther, who was sitting by himself at a table nearest the window. Before him were the scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, which he wasn’t paying any attention to. No. He was in a staring contest with a cat.
As one of the Company’s Defenders, he was the one who typically did the intimidating. Someone forgot to tell the cat.
I thought it was a Maine Coon because it was huge and fluffy. I was mentally congratulating myself for coming up with tortoiseshell to describe its coloring when the cat, looking the big, scary minotaur full in the face, reached out with one paw and swatted the piece closest to Luther’s hand right off the table and onto the floor.
In my head I heard… Boop.
It then jumped down and strolled, at a very leisurely pace, for the basement door. Every head in the place tracked his progress. None of us moved in… well, I was fascinated. I assumed they were too.
“That seemed intentional,” observed Luther. “Is it possible I offended it in some fashion?” He sounded genuinely concerned by the possibility.
The room exploded.
“I know for a fact it is trying to give us a message,” Breka shouted above the din. Everyone stopped and turned to look at her. “I don’t know who it's for.” She shook her head in mild alarm.
“What are you talking about?” Prax demanded.
“I’ve been finding little wooden squares on the back porch for the last two weeks, each one with a single letter on it,” she explained like it was damning evidence.
“The Scrabble tiles in the bowl on the kitchen counter?” I asked. “That’s where they’ve been coming from?”
She nodded. “I assume when it’s done, it will spell out a message.”
I mean, I couldn’t fault her theory, except… “Breka. It’s a cat. They can’t spell.” She looked at me like I was off my rocker.
I gave up and held my box of goodies aloft. “I’ve got treats!” When no one paid any attention I headed to the kitchen. Meanwhile, the conspiracy theorists got stuck in.
“It did seem to be attempting to communicate with Luther,” Kaze started. “Was it a threat? Or a message of some kind? Luther, is that puzzle piece significant in some way?”
“I’m uncertain. It bounced and I didn’t see it land.” The room considered the implications.
“It comes to the kitchen door every morning at precisely 7:12. Except this last Wednesday.” Faren’s voice lowered a register. “Wednesday it appeared at 6:48.” He sat back in his seat after dropping his news into the room.
Prax asked what we were all thinking, “So?”
“That’s exactly when Luther came out of his room.” Faren said it like he was delivering the bad guy reveal at the end of a murder mystery. The room considered it and decided it was a coincidence. Probably.
“Unless it is actively threatening the Company, I don’t understand why we’re discussing it,” sniffed Rada, crossing her arms for emphasis. Which had the desired effect. The room began to settle down a bit. It was noticeably quieter at any rate.
“It left a dead mouse on the front porch two nights ago,” Luther shared.
“Has anyone considered it may be hunting us?” asked Damaris. “Was the dead mouse a warning?” He jumped up and started pacing.
“I gave it some of my meal this afternoon,” confessed Garr.
“Why would you do that!” from somewhere in the crowd.
“It was staring at me.” He ducked his head. I didn’t blame him, the blotchy deep blue spots that popped up randomly on a hobgoblin’s head when they blushed were mildly concerning if you didn’t know what was going on.
“You paid tribute to it!” Venn exclaimed, clearly appalled.
“Well, if it is hunting us, paying tribute might help.” I thought that was Garr, but wasn’t sure because it was so softly spoken.
“Are you sure I can’t eat it?” Prax asked. Orcs ate cats. Good to know.
“Whatever it is, its coat is magnificent. The fur would make a lovely muff.” Venn looked around for agreement. “No?”
“It would solve the problem.” I heard from a few.
“Whoa. No one is skinning the cat. It’s someone’s pet,” Caleb tried to introduce sanity to the mob. It was a fool’s errand.
“Has anyone checked whether it's cursed?” Luca wanted to know.
“I don’t want to eat it if it's cursed,” grumbled Prax.
Breka clearly agreed. “No. Gross.” She made a blech face to make sure we got the point.
“We need more information before we decide what to do. Kaze. Find out where it lives,” commanded Taviran.
“It lives next door,” Fenlo shared. “He helps me with my projects. He’s very smart. I named him Graflink.”
“Suspiciously smart for a creature you claim is a pet.” Taviran sounded like he was accusing me of purposely misleading them. They understood the concept of a pet. They’d all had one at some point in their lives. Obviously, none of their pets were anything like cats on Earth.
“They are! Listen, guys, cats aren’t magical. They’re just…” I didn’t know how to explain cats to aliens. Wait. It helps Fenlo. Fenlo works in the basement.
The cat disappeared down into the basement after what appeared to be challenging Luther. What was it doing down there on its own? If it was a normal cat, I’d assume he was looking for a mouse or an imp, assuming he could catch one. If it was magical…
And, now that I was thinking about it, I personally wanted to witness this pairing because a Maine Coon is not a small cat and Fenlo is a tiny gnome. Does Fenlo ride him around the basement while working on the various systems he’d built to run my house?
“Fenlo. How does… Graflink help you on your projects? Exactly.”
“It depends on the day. He helps me with my diagrams and schematics when I spread them out on the floor. He’s especially keen to review any section I’m marking up.” He beamed at me with pride in his friend’s interest in his activities. “Very thorough. He’ll lay down right on top and absorb it directly into his body.”
“He’s especially good at helping me with testing. He sits on the console and pushes buttons, then he’ll race up the stairs and to the various rooms to authenticate the validity of the adjustment without being asked!” He nodded sagely. “He’s almost as fast as me.”
I couldn’t believe I’d almost joined the inmates. Yes, it was all suspiciously intelligent… if you didn’t understand what a cat was. Not that anyone truly ever understood cats. “Yeah. I hate to burst everyone’s bubble, but the truth is, he’s just acting like any other cat. I swear. He’s just a cat.”
I instinctively turned to the light tapping on my arm of someone attempting to get my attention.
It was the cat and he looked like he had something to share.