At last all the petitioners had disappeared, pleased or disappointed, into the night. The Queen stretched a long, graceful yawn, and signaled with her tail. Rumblepurr bustled and tumbled up onto the small plateau and leaned over her. The Queen whispered languorously into his piebald ear, and he bobbed his head assiduously.

“Yes, m‘lady, that’s right, right enough,” wheezed the old Chamberlain.

“Well, then, shall we not hear from him?” asked Queen Sunback in a voice like cold, clear stream water.

“Of course, Your Furriness,” grunted Rumblepurr, and hurried to the front of the plateau. He squinted his old eyes out into the darkness of the canyon and trumpeted: “Thane Squeakerbane of the First-walkers, you may approach the Vaka‘az’me!”

The proud-looking, many-striped hunter whom Fritti had noticed earlier rose, stretched, and calmly approached the leveled mound. He paused for a moment at the edge of the rise, then vaulted effortlessly up into the circle of light.

“A First-walker! Like Quiverclaw and Scuffledig!” piped Pouncequick excitedly. Fritti nodded absently as he examined Squeakerbane. In the Eye-light that surrounded the Oak-seat the Thane’s wiry body showed traces of many old, whitened scars beneath his short fur. Stripes and scars gave Squeakerbane the look of weathered wood.

“At your service, as ever, O Queen,” said the First-walker, touching his chin respectfully to the ground. Sunback looked down with cool amusement.

“We do not often see the First-walkers here at Court,” she said, “even those of you who haunt the Rootwood near Firsthome. This is an unexpected honor.”

“With all due respect, Your Exaltedness, the First-walkers do not ‘haunt’ the Rootwood.” Squeakerbane spoke with rough, but quiet, pride. “As you know, however, we do prefer the solitude of the wild. The Court is too... crowded for our tastes.” He sang the word “crowded” with a subtly disdainful inflection that brought a look of wintery humor to the face of Dewtreader.

“So we are told, Thane,” fluted the Prince Consort, “but I have heard it whispered that a vast meeting of the First-walkers is assembling east of Gentlerun Downs. Will your comrades not find so much society fully as depressing as our Court?”

Squeakerbane glowered and Sunback sneezed delicately and curried her tail. The Thane spoke with obvious restraint.

“The Thane-meet is occasioned by the same matters that bring me here. The Prince Consort, undoubtedly with good reasons known only to His Highness, seeks to open old wounds. I will not be tail-tweaked. There are graver issues at stake here.”

Rumblepurr, who had remained standing, now huffed uncomfortably and went to sit near Prince Fencewalker, who was showing an interest in the proceedings for the first time all night.

“I wish you all would stop squabbling for a while,” grumped the Prince. “It would be nice to speak of something important for a change.”

Queen Sunback regarded her son for a moment, then flicked her ears twice and turned to Squeakerbane. “Brash and bumptious though he may be, Fencewalker has spoken well. You must forgive our rudeness, Thane. I realize your concerns must weigh heavily on you, and you do not have our taste for badinage.” She sent a cold stare in Dewtreader’s direction, which the Prince Consort returned imperiously. “Speak on, Squeakerbane, please,” the Queen said.

The battle-scarred First-walker stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head low again and held it there for the space of several heartbeats. Then, lifting his gaze, he spoke.

“As Your Regal Softness is aware,” he began, “we First-walkers are few in number, and our thanages are widespread. I myself have jurisdiction over much of the Sunsnest Plains and this part of Rootwood—excepting Firsthome, of course,” he added, with a sly smile for Dewtreader. “The territories U‘ea-ward, north of the Caterwaul, were formerly the protectorate of my cousin, Thane Brushstalker. Now, he is dead.” Squeakerbane paused significantly. The Queen leaned forward, curiosity in her bright eyes.

“We are sad to hear of the passing of Brushstalker from these fields, of course,” said the Queen thoughtfully. “He was a brave and canny hunter. But we still do not understand the purpose of your embassy. The First-walkers have always determined their own succession without recourse to our Court.”

Squeakerbane sat back and scratched impatiently. “And so we shall continue to do, O Queen. It is not Brushstalker’s legacy but the manner of his passing that brings me here. Brushstalker was attacked by an unknown enemy and torn to pieces. The other Walkers of his thanage have disappeared.”

Queen Sunback, crouched in the split-bark hollow of the Vaka‘az’me, gave a shudder of distaste. The pearly inner wood of the trunk framed her white form as she peered out at the Thane.

“How horrible!” she said.

Dewtreader stepped toward the Thane on silent pads. “What beast committed this act?” he demanded. “And what can we do about it, that you have come to us with this story?”

Fritti, seated among the few remaining onlookers, felt Pouncequick go tense like a bent sapling at his side.

So this is what had brought Quivereclaw and the others up from the South! he thought.

“None of the Folk can say, Majesties,” answered Squeakerbane grimly. “It was a powerful creature, indeed, if it was only one. If it was a hunting pack it is no less disturbing. Brushstalker was savaged.”

Sunback had regained her aplomb. “Why do you come to us, though, to make us uneasy?” she asked. “Brushstalker’s fate is terrible to hear of, but Ratleaf and the northern area have long been dangerous, forbidding places. Why do you bring us these upsetting stories?”

“I do not bring these portents just to upset the tranquillity of Firsthome,” spoke Squeakerbane, scarred head proudly erect. “I come to alert you to peril, because I think the Court is in a hazardous state of complacency. This is not an isolated incident. I know that, and so do you. Your son has been patrolling the borders of Firsthome because of troubles closer to nest.”

“Now we’re getting to it!” said Fencewalker, pleased, but Dewtreader raised a slender paw and interrupted him.

“There have been marauders on our borders, but it is nothing to raise hackles over,” said the Prince Consort in his musical voice. “Wild Growlers, perhaps, or a sickened Garrin-there could be many explanations; so also with the lamentable death of Brushstalker.”

The battered old Thane eyed Dewtreader with quiet contempt. “The massive Garrin can be dangerous, of course,” he said, “but they are winter sleepers, and these developments began during the last snows. I think that they will continue through this year’s snow, when the Garrin have again gone to ground.” Dewtreader met his stare, but said nothing. “Whatever is lurking in the northern territories—and beginning to spread out—is not a natural child of this world, as many can attest. The earth has a great forgiveness for its creatures. I have lived in the high places and the deep places, but I have never seen anything like this.”

“What do you mean, Thane?” questioned Queen Sunback. “I am afraid we do not understand.”

“Something strange has settled in the area across the Hararscrape. The forest creatures of Ratleaf are migrating outward, fleeing the area in swarms. The birds who nest there at this season are flying away across the Bigwater. Of all the Folk, you in Firsthome should know why that portends dangerous times.”

“Make your point, First-walker,” said Dewtreader, his voice cold.

“It should be obvious. Here, around Firsthome, is the greatest concentration of the Folk to be found anywhere: a hungry, hunting mob constantly beating the brush for fla-fa‘az and Squeaker. Yet those creatures still remain—having bigger litters and hatch ings than in other places, perhaps, but still living out their lives here. Rootwood is their ancestral home as much as it is ours. We Folk—and the ones on whom we prey—all dance together. That is how it should be.

“Whatever has taken up the northern flats, though, and raised a mound—a pile of tailings near as big as all of Firsthome—that is something that the creatures of Ratleaf cannot live with. This is a danger we would all do well to regard.”

“Bravo!!” shouted Fencewalker. “Leaping Harar, but it’s good to hear somebody has some sense around here!”

Queen Sunback seemed about to speak. Fritti and Pouncequick—indeed, all those assembled—leaned imperceptibly forward to hear her pronouncement. Dewtreader, however, rose and yawned.

“Well,” he said calmly, “there is much in what you say, Thane, and much of it is new to us. The mound, in particular, sounds a very strange thing indeed—we shall have more discussion of it later. For the moment, however, we do not find it meet to go kitten-paddling off after rumors, and mounting uninformed expeditions into what you yourself have said is very evil territory.” Squeakerbane seemed about to protest, but Dewtreader whipped his brown-tipped tail from side to side and the First-walker held his peace.

“However,” continued Dewtreader pointedly, “we are not insensible to danger. The Queen’s son, the gallant Prince Fencewalker, has our permission to levy what Folk he deems necessary, with an eye to safeguarding the borders of our territory. He may begin at once.”

“Wonderful!” The Prince leaped excitedly to his feet. “I’m so pleased!” he burbled—a little inappropriately, Tailchaser thought—and with a leap and a bound, Fencewalker was gone into the darkness.

“Now,” continued the cold-eyed Prince Consort, “we will also ask that when you have met with your fellow First-walkers, Thane, you return and do us the courtesy of sharing your conclusions with the Court of Harar. Is that possible?”

“Certainly, Your Highness!” said Squeakerbane, somewhat taken aback, “I hope we can continue to cooperate on this ...”

“Of course, of course,” said Dewtreader. “Those are the Queen’s wishes. Am I correct, my many-whiskered Queen?” he asked, turning to Sunback. The Queen, lulled by the familiar sound of Court routine, only waved her tail distractedly in assent.

“Very well, then, I suppose that brings an end to the night’s audiences. We thank you again, Thane Squeakerbane, for bringing these matters to our attention. Please extend our heartfelt sorrow to the friends and relations of Brushstalker.”

Dewtreader had actually begun to leave the plateau when Rumblepurr spoke up distractedly.

“Err... hmmm ... um, begging your pardon, Lord, but I believe there was one more... umm ... waiting their turn... if you see what I mean.” Dewtreader returned to the grassy knoll wearing a look of annoyance that was swiftly muted into bland indifference. The Queen was paying no attention at all—in fact, she was grooming her flank as she reclined between the spreading roots of the Vaka‘az’me.

“Very well,” said the Prince Consort, “where are they? Bring them forward.”

Fritti and Pouncequick, totally unprepared, were urged forward by Rumblepurr. The chubby tom leaned forward and whispered to Fritti: “Try to keep it short, youngling. Their Eminences are a trifle out of sorts.”

Nervous Fritti could see this clearly. Pouncequick was almost completely overcome by shyness, and trembled silently beside Tailchaser as they stood before the Great Oak.

“What are your names and why have you come before us?” asked Prince Dewtreader impatiently.

“I am Tailchaser, and this is my companion Pouncequick. We are of the Meeting Wall Clan, from the far side of the Old Woods. We are seeking a friend of ours named Hushpad.” Fritti’s voice was weak.

The Queen finally seemed to notice the two small cats.

“Do you think she is here in Firsthome?” she asked, turning her gleaming eyes on them. Pouncequick, keyed up to a fever pitch, gave a whimper of despair and buried his head in Tailchaser’s hip. Fritti swallowed and spoke.

“No, great Queen, we do not think so. We do think it is possible that she has been taken by the creature or ... creatures of which Squeakerbane spoke. Many of the other Folk of the Meeting Wall Clan have also disappeared mysteriously. The elder sent a delegation to this Court for that very reason,” he finished hurriedly.

Sunback yawned widely, showing sharp teeth as white as her pelt, and an impossibly pink tongue. “Have we received such a delegation?” she asked Rumblepurr. The old Chamberlain pondered for a moment. ‘ .

“Can’t say as we have, Your Softness,” he said finally. “Don’t think I’ve heard of the Meeting Wall Clan before this, and it’s a dead-rat certainty that no embassy has arrived from there.” .

“There you are, then,” said Dewtreader. “I’m afraid that the doings of the big, wide world sometimes pass this little Court right by. I’m truly sorry that we couldn’t help you. Feel free to stay in Firsthome as long as you need to. Perhaps, if you’re interested in all that, you could be of help to Fencewalker. You are past your hunt-song, aren’t you? Well, no matter. Mri‘fa-o. The Queen’s audiences are at an end.”

“Just think, Tailchaser,” he said, “we’ve actually been to see the Queen of Cats!”