Catland - a humorous fantasy

Chapter Eighteen: Breakfast and Scheming

The next morning, over a breakfast of smoked fish and catnip tea, Leopold held court with his newly-minted councilors.  All three of them had bold ideas for how to rally the city's population to the Bannockburn cause.

"The fish houses of Herring Alley are closely bound to each other," declared Septimus.  "Where one leads, the others will follow.  Pay no heed to my father's indifference.  He is old, and his time is ending.  Those whose lives are still ahead of them will fall in behind our banners!"

The big cat's enthusiasm was contagious, and the flecks of fishmeat that flew from his whiskers as he spoke only added to the effect.

"I can gather the young cats of the alleys," put in Tanner Bowland eagerly.  "They are bored and idle; they spend all their time nipping, or tying soup cans to each other's tails.  They'll jump at the chance to be a part of something grander.  I can see them now, marching on the palace a thousand strong!"  The young cat's eyes shone with the joy of this vision—although it might have been partly the catnip tea.

Leopold was lapping all this up like milk from a saucer.  "And you, Jasper?" he purred, turning to the tabby beside him.  "Can you promise us that your fighters will join the fray?"

Jasper was more circumspect than the others.  "I believe I can," he said slowly.  "They may fight for show, but their training is real enough—and their value as figureheads is beyond estimation.  A great fighter is among the most admired cats in the kingdom.  Many would join our uprising simply for the chance to fight by their side."

"I had rather they flocked to the justice of my cause," admitted Leopold.  "Still, beggars can't be choosers.  The real question is when, my friends.  When can we be ready to strike?  With every day that passes, the usurper king sits more firmly in his throne, and my risk of discovery grows ever greater.  I fear my old friend Glimmerind may already have his suspicions.  Our cover story was not ... entirely convincing."  Here he shot a baleful glance at Greg.  Ever since Greg had named himself Thumbledramp, Leopold had been inclined to blame all their troubles on him.

"It will take a few days," cautioned Jasper.  "Perhaps even a week.  The worst mistake we could make would be to move before our forces are aligned behind us.  We will get no second try at this."  The tabby seemed slightly fretful, and this made Greg feel worried.  Jasper was clearly the most mature member of the group, and if he thought there was cause for concern, there was.

Leopold nodded sagely.  "So be it, then," he said.  "Take what time you need, and be sure of your followers.  In the meantime, I shall walk the streets of our fair city, and reacquaint myself with its myriad charms."  Leopold rose to his feet and gave a slight bow.  The others rose also.  The war council was at an end.

As the little group moved toward the exit, Greg managed to pull Jasper aside, into a little alcove at the base of the stairs.  "Listen," he said, softly and urgently, "you know everyone, don't you?"

The tabby shrugged.  "Not everyone."

"Well, all right, fine, not everyone, but you're very well connected, aren't you?  Friends in high and low places?"

The tabby shrugged again.  "You could say that."

"Listen, I need you to do something for me.  See if you can get word to the Lamleys.  You know, the ones who—the Culling.  Those Lamleys."

Jasper raised his eyebrows.  "The ones in the thrall of humans?  I'm afraid you overrate the reach of my influence."

"Well, I need you to try, all right?  It's for Millicent.  She's very ..."  He searched for the word.  "She's alone."