Chapter One
The Elder Paw was telling a story.
It was a Jalal tale, one of the best. Varjak loved to hear his grandfathers tales of their famous ancestor: how Jalal fought the fiercest warrior cats, how he was the mightiest hunter, how he came out of Mesopotamia and travelled to the ends of the earth, further than any cat had been before.
But today, the Elder Paws tale just made Varjak restless. So what if Jalal had such exciting adventures? Varjak never would. Jalal had ended his days in the Contessas house. His family of Mesopotamian Blues had stayed here ever since.
The old place must have been full of light and life in Jalals time, generations agobut now it was full of dust and musty smells. The windows were always closed, the doors locked. There was a garden, but it was surrounded by a high stone wall. Jalal was the last to cross it. In all the years since then, no one had ever left the Contessas house.
Now, no one except Varjak was even listening to the tale of Jalals adventures. Father, Mother and Aunt Juni were dozing in the late afternoon light that trickled through the thick green windows. His big brother Julius was flexing his muscles; his cousin Jasmine was fiddling with her collar. His litter brothers Jay, Jethro and Jerome were playing one of those kittenish games that Varjak could never see the point of, and wasnt allowed to join in anyway.
No one was looking at him. This was his chance. Hed been in the garden before, but the family didnt like it out there, and never let him stay very long.
Stealthy as Jalal himself, Varjak rose up and padded to the cat door. He could see the garden on the other side. He could almost feel the fresh air, brushing through his whiskers. He nudged it open
Variak Paw! It was Father. Where do you think youre going?
Varjak spun around. The tale was over; theyd woken up and seen him. But this time, he wouldnt give in.
Arent we allowed in the garden, now? he said.
Sweetheart, said Mother, coming over and straightening his collar, the garden is a nasty, dirty place. Youre a pedigree cat. A pure-bred Mesopotamian Blue. What do you want out there?
Varjak looked around: at the stuffy furniture, the locked-up cupboards, the curtains he wasnt allowed to climb. Hed never been anywhere else, but this had to be the most boring place on earth.
Hunting, he said. Arent we supposed to hunt? The tales talk about
Tales! snorted his big brother Julius, green eyes glinting. It was said that their ancestor Jalal had green eyes. Everyone in the family had themeveryone but Varjak Paw. Tales are for kittens, scoffed Julius. Cousin Jasmine giggled; Varjak bristled.
Jalal was a long, long time ago, said Mother, smoothing and grooming Varjaks silver-blue fur, until he wriggled away. Anyway, Jalal came to live in the Contessas house for a good reason. The tales also say there are monsters Outside, huge monsters called dogs, so fierce that even people fear them. She shuddered. No, were lucky that the Contessa loves us, and lets us live here.
The Contessa loves some of us, interrupted Julius. Varjak knew what was coming; and worse, he thought it might be true. When I was a kitten, boasted Julius, the Contessa was down here every day. She used to let me play on her lap, she made a fuss of me. But now she only ever comes down to feed us, and sometimes she doesnt even do that. In fact, weve hardly seen her at allsince that funny-looking Varjak was born.
Cousin Jasmine giggled again. This time, Varjaks litter brothers Jay, Jethro and Jerome joined in.
Its because of his eyes, added Julius. The colour of danger. A Mesopotamian Blue whose eyes arent greenits an embarrassment.
That did it. Julius was bigger than him, and older, but Varjak couldnt help it. He faced up to Julius, fur rising with anger.
I dont believe you, he said. Youre a liar.
Varjak! said Father. Thats no way to talk to your brother!
But Julius said
Whine, whine, whine, sneered Julius. Listen to the little insect whine.
Julius, you shouldnt tease him so much, said Father. The Contessas upstairs because shes ill, nothing more. But Varjak Pawyou have to learn to behave like a proper Mesopotamian Blue. Were noble cats, special cats. We dont run around calling each other liars. We dont talk about disgusting things like hunting. And we dont get our paws all muddy in the garden. Thats not what being a Blue is about. Do you understand?
Varjaks tail curled up. It was always like this. Julius could get away with anything; but everything Varjak did was wrong.
Your fathers talking to you, said Aunt Juni sternly. Do you understand?
He stared down at the cold stone floor, silent. There was nothing he could say.
Fine, said Father. Suit yourself. But until you learn to act like a Blue, therell be no supper for you. He licked his chops. Come on, everyone. Lets eat.
They all headed down the corridor to the kitchen, leaving Variak on his own in the hallway between the stairs and front door. Last to go was the Elder Paw, the head of the family.
Dont worry, Varjak, he whispered, so no one else could hear. Ill tell you another Jalal tale tonightone about his greatest battle. He winked, and then joined the rest of them.
It made things a little better. Even if the tales made Varjak restless, he loved them. They were the closest hed ever get to adventure in this place. He looked at the old, wooden stairs, covered in dusty carpet. The cats werent allowed up there now the Contessa was ill. Her door was always shut.
The whole house was like that. No one came in and no one went out. Nothing new or exciting ever happened. It was the dullest life a cat could have.
creeaak
The front door swung open. A blast of wind swirled in, sweeping all the dust into the air. Varjaks fur stood on end.
click CLACK
Two shiny black shoes. Each big as a cat. Coming through the door.
Heart racing, Varjak bent back his head, to follow the line above the shoes. Up a pair of legs, up some more, he saw huge white hands, huge enough to hold his whole body, strong enough to break his neck.
He had to crane back even further, till it hurt, to see the face. It was a man Varjak had never seen before. It was hard to make out the mans eyes for the shadows of his brow, but his full pink lips glistened wetly in the half-light.
The lips creased and opened, and out came a voice that rumbled like thunder, far above Varjaks head. The man strode into the hallway.
Varjak felt dizzy. He looked down. By the mans shiny black shoes, there were two sleek black cats, stalking into the Contessas house. They were nothing like Mesopotamian Blues. They looked much larger and stronger, even than Father or Julius, and there was something frightening about the way they moved. As if they were two parts of one body, working together perfectly. Too perfect. Varjak glanced from one to the other, and couldnt tell them apart.
They came right up to him, and looked down at him with identical eyes; eyes as smooth and black as their fur. He trembled.
Who are you? he said. There was no flicker of understanding in their eyes, no expression: nothing. They just pushed him aside as if he wasnt even there, and took up positions, flanking the staircase.
And now other men came into the house. Their shiny black shoes clicked past Varjak, one by one by one. It was all he could see of them. Frozen to the spot, mind spinning, he watched these giants pass the black cats, climb the stairsand enter the room where the Blues werent allowed to go.
Copyright © 2003 by SF Said