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seemingly out of place in the forest wild. It had the look of a strayed house pet.
"Hello, cat," Ben ventured with a wry smile.
"Hello, yourself," the cat replied.
Ben stared, certain that he must not have heard correctly. Had the cat spoken? He straightened. "Did
you say something?" he asked cautiously.
The cat's gleaming eyes blinked once and fixed on him, but the cat said nothing. Ben waited a few
moments, then leaned back again on his elbows. It wasn't as if it were surprising to imagine that the cat
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might have said something, he told himself. After all, the dragon Strabo spoke; and if a dragon could
speak, why not a cat?
"Too bad you can't talk," he muttered, thinking it would be nice to share his misery with someone.
The night brought a chill with it, and he shivered briefly in the rough work clothes. He wished he had a
blanket or a fire to help ward off the damp; or better, that he were back in his own bed at the castle.
He glanced over again at the cat. The cat hadn't moved. It simply sat there, staring back at him. Ben
frowned. The cat's steady gaze was a bit unnerving. What was a cat doing out here in the woods alone
like this anyway? Didn't it have a home? The emerald eyes gleamed brightly. They were sharp and
insistent. Ben shifted his own gaze to the shadowed woods. He wondered again how he was going to
find Willow. He would need help from the River Master and he hadn't the foggiest idea as to how he
would convince that being of his true identity. His fingers brushed the tarnished medallion that hung about
his neck, tracing the outline of Meeks. The medallion certainly wouldn't be of any help.
"Maybe the River Master's magic will help him recognize me," he thought aloud.
"I wouldn't count on it, if I were you," someone replied.
He started and looked quickly in the direction of the speaker. There was no one there but the cat.
Ben's eyes narrowed. "I heard you that time!" he snapped, irritated enough that he didn't care how
foolish he sounded. "You can speak, can't you?"
The cat blinked and answered. "I can when it pleases me."
Ben fought to regain his composure. "I see. Well, you might at least have the courtesy to announce the
fact instead of playing games with people."
"Courtesy has nothing to do with the matter, High Lord Ben Holiday. Playing games is a way of life with
cats. We tease, we taunt, and we do exactly as we please, not as others would have us do. Playing
games is an integral part of our personae. Those who wish to have any sort of relationship with us must
expect as much. They must understand that participation in our games is necessary if they wish
communication on any level."
Ben stared at the cat. "How do you know who I am?" he asked finally.
"Who else would you be but who you are?" the cat replied.
Ben had to stop and think that one through a minute. "Well, no one," he said finally. "But how is it that
you can recognize me when no one else can? Don't I look like someone else to you?"
The cat lifted one dainty paw and washed it lovingly. "Who you look like counts for little with me," the
cat said. "Appearances are deceiving, and who you look like might not be who you really are. I never
rely on appearances. Cats can appear as they choose. Cats are masters of deception and masters of an
art cannot be deceived by anyone. I see you for who you really are, not who you appear to be. I have no
idea if how you appear just now is how you really are."
"Well, it isn't."
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"Whatever you say. I do know that however you might appear, you are in any case Ben Holiday, High
Lord of Landover."
Ben was silent a moment, trying to decide just what it was he was dealing with here, wondering where
on earth this creature had come from.
"So you know who I am in spite of the magic that disguises me?" he concluded. "The magic doesn't fool
you?"
The cat studied him a moment, then cocked its head, reflecting. "The magic wouldn't fool you either, if
you didn't let it."
Ben frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"Much and little. Deception is mostly a game we play with ourselves."
The conversation was turning a bit oblique. Ben sat back wearily. "Who are you, Mr. Cat?" he asked.
The cat stood up and came forward a few feet, then sat back down again, prim and sleek. "I am a great
many things, my dear High Lord. I am what you see and what you don't. I am real and imagined. I am
something from the life you have known and something from dreams of life you have not yet enjoyed. I
am quite an anomaly, really."
"Very insightful," Ben grunted. "Could you be a bit more precise, perhaps?"
The cat blinked. "Certainly. Watch this."
The cat shimmered suddenly in the dark, glowing as if radioactive, and the sleek body seemed to alter
shape. Ben squinted until his eyes closed, then looked again. The cat had grown. It was four times the
size it had been, and it was no longer just a cat. It had assumed a slightly human face beneath cat's ears,
whiskers, nose and fur, and its paws had become fingers. It swished its tail expectantly as it stared at him.
Ben started half-a-dozen questions and gave up. "You must be a fairy creature," he said finally.
The cat grinned an almost-human grin. "Exactly so! Very well reasoned, High Lord!"
"Thank you so much. Would you mind awfully telling me what sort of fairy creature you are?"
"What sort? Well, um... hmmmmm. I am a prism cat."
"And what is that?"
The grin disappeared. "Oh, I don't think I can explain it not even if I wanted to, which I really don't.
It wouldn't help you to know anyway, High Lord. You wouldn't understand, being human. I will tell you
this. I am a very old and very rare sort of cat. I am but one of just a few still remaining. We were always
a select breed and did not propagate the species in the manner of common animals. It is that way with
fairy creatures you have been told this, haven't you? No? Well, it is that way. Prism cats are rare. We
must spread ourselves quite thin to accomplish our purposes."
"And what purpose is it that you are trying to accomplish here?" Ben asked, still trying to make some
sense out of all the verbiage.
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The cat flicked its tail idly. "That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"Oh you. On your... intrinsic self-worth."
Ben stared at the cat wordlessly. Things were becoming a bit too muddled for him to stay with this
conversation. He had been assaulted in his own home and bounced out like a stranger. He had lost his
identity. He had lost his friends. He was cold and he was hungry. He felt as if any intrinsic self-worth he
might possess rated just about zero.
The cat stirred slightly. "I am deciding whether or not I shall be your companion for a time," the creature
announced.
Ben grinned faintly. "My companion?"
"Yes. You certainly need one. You don't see yourself to be who you really are. Neither does anyone
else, apparently, save for me. This intrigues me. I may decide to stay with you long enough to see how it
all turns out for you."
Ben was incredulous. "Well, I'll say one thing for you. You're a different sort whether cat, human,
fairy, or whatever. But maybe you'd better think twice about sticking with me. You might be letting
yourself in for more than you can handle."
"Oh, I rather doubt that," the cat replied. "I seldom encounter anything that difficult these days."
"Is that so?" Ben's patience slipped a notch. This cat was insufferable! He hunched closer to the prim
creature. "Well, try this on for size, Mr. Cat. What if I were to tell you that there is a wizard named
Meeks who has stolen my identity, my throne, and my life and consigned me to exile in my own land?
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