"He never said anything about being married."

"Thanks for your help," Myrmeen said abruptly. "Both of you are dismissed."

The woman nodded, took the arm of her a.s.sistant, and left the shop. One of Myrmeen's soldiers accompanied her. The dark-eyed ruler turned to Stralana. "Othmann and Elhazir were lovers."

"I gathered as much from your, shall we say, creative inquiries."

"I want you to use your best men to conduct the search of Elhazir's home and business. Go through everything."

"You're hoping to find some tangible evidence of Elhazir's relations.h.i.+p to Othmann? To establish her motive?"

"That's part of it," Myrmeen said. "Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if she's a mage herself-or knows the ident.i.ty of the mage who killed Othmann. But we can't arrest her without cause."

"What if my men find nothing?"

"Then have her watched night and day. She's upset enough now after that story I made up about Othmann's wife and other lovers that she might make a mistake. Let's hope she gives herself away or leads us to the one we seek."

A scream ripped through the street, causing Myrmeen, Stralana, and one of the soldiers to race out of the shop. The mages and another soldier remained behind.

"It came from there," a young flaxen-haired soldier named Kynan Tofte said as he pointed at an alley across the street. There they found an old woman crouched atop a pile of trash. She brandished a broom as if it were a sword, holding off the collection of hissing, clawing cats at her feet. The felines had trapped the woman and seemed prepared to attack.

"This does not bode well," Stralana said as the soldiers went to the woman's aid. "Does it?"

Myrmeen watched the cats scatter into the alley, then shook her head. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't"

For the next three days, incidents involving the feline population of Arabel abounded: Two dozen people were a.s.saulted by their household pets the first afternoon. Ten times that number reported confrontations that night. No one was seriously injured, though many claimed to have nearly died of fright.

A marauding pack of cats, several hundred strong, pounced upon an outdoor fish market in the middle of the day and seriously depleted the merchant's supplies before they were driven off. Bakeries and dairies were vandalized. Arabel's most prominent tailor came to Myrmeen in tears, reporting that his entire warehouse of clothes had been ripped to shreds by tiny claws. In several incidents it was obvious that human hands, or hands that were human at least part of the time, had been at work. A half-dozen outdoor performances by dramatic touring companies had been interrupted, and one which relied heavily on magic to carry off its action had been stopped dead, the actors terrified of getting their faces scratched by the animals.

Like most in Cormyr, Arabel's citizens had long believed cats to be the eyes and messengers of the G.o.ds. Killing a cat was a serious offense, and many preferred to suffer the indignations heaped upon them by the felines rather than risk offending some powerful deity. Some crouched in corners and prayed for guidance as their businesses were vandalized. They begged for illumination, horrified that they had somehow offended their G.o.ds.

Others became tired of the whole strange situation and took up arms against the beasts. Several cats had been killed, a few maimed. Those who slew them were later found to be the victims of mysterious accidents; bits of fur-some matted in blood-had been found at the site of each incident. The G.o.ds had taken vengeance, the devout whispered fearfully.

On the second night, reports of disturbances had escalated to include traders who had been accosted just outside the city's walls by monstrous creatures swathed in darkness. The merchants' wares had been destroyed. Other traders complained their stock had been similarly targeted when they'd attempted to leave Arabel.

Through it all, Stralana's men kept Lord Zacharius, Siobhan, Niccolo, and Sauveur under constant surveillance. The cat lords' whereabouts could be accounted for at all times. They had been nowhere near the sites of even the most minor conflict. Nevertheless, Zacharius had not been idle. Using his credentials as a diplomat, he had successfully charged to Myrmeen and the city outrageous bar tabs, bills for fine meals, and several visits to local brothels. At the last of these he had left a note which read, "Dearest Myrmeen, I could never resist a good cathouse. Yours, Zaz."

It was commonly believed that Zacharius was responsible for the growing number of strange episodes involving the felines. He may not have committed any of the acts himself, but he was certainly behind them. Despite the incidents throughout the city, though, the people were truly beginning to like Lord Zacharius, and it had nothing to do with his roguish charm. Myrmeen examined the pattern of attacks and realized the cat lord and his people had targeted individuals who had been known to cheat their customers, to treat their neighbors badly, or those who had otherwise achieved a hearty level of dislike among the common populace.

Myrmeen wanted to lock the man up, but it wasn't until the third day of the weird siege that she had just cause. Someone secretly poisoned the entire night watch, though none fatally so. And though the unconscious men and women weren't discovered until morning, their beats did not go unkept; dozens of Zacharius's people somehow knew of the mishap and took on the task of patrolling the night. All of the cat lords were quite friendly and performed their tasks so efficiently that the subst.i.tution wasn't noticed until the new s.h.i.+ft came on at sunrise.

Less than an hour later, Myrmeen and Evon Stralana caught up with Lord Zacharius outside a popular eatery. He was taken to the Citadel and imprisoned. Along the way, he seemed completely oblivious to the anger of his captors and his very circ.u.mstances. In the street, some people cheered him.

"I love this city," he cried. "Arabel is an amazing and friendly place. I intend to recommend it to all my people."

Myrmeen locked Lord Zacharius in the lowest levels of the palace, demanding an end to the attacks against her citizens, but Zacharius claimed he was innocent of any wrongdoings-except the business with the guardsmen, of course. That, he noted with a smirk, had been a harmless prank.

The cat lord was clear on one thing, though: his presence was most certainly an indirect, contributing factor to the local chaos. The sooner he got what he wanted and was gone, the better it would be for all involved.

After a day had pa.s.sed with Lord Zacharius in custody, Myrmeen understood why he had been completely nonplussed by his incarceration. The green-eyed cat lord escaped repeatedly from an array of cells in the dungeon, but even Stralana could not explain how he was doing it. Men were stationed to watch him constantly, and mages were commissioned to prevent his jaunts. None of it had mattered. He came and went as he pleased. Regardless of precautions, the cat lord simply vanished from the prison to show up elsewhere in the city, enjoy an expensive meal, entertain a luscious young lady, then return to the palace, making a grandiose royal entrance.

Night had fallen, and Myrmeen Lhal sat in her throne room, brooding over the murder of Penn Othmann. Presently, the investigation was at a standstill: Stralana's inquiries into Lord Zacharius's actions since his arrival in Arabel-before and after his incarceration-had given no indication that the cat lord had been in any way affiliated with Penn Othmann. According to the records, Zacharius arrived the morning after the murder, right on schedule for his audience. And Zacharius could account for almost every moment of his time away from his cell, and he did so willingly, even to the point of garrulousness.

Myrmeen's investigation of her other suspect was faring no better. Stralana's men had uncovered no evidence at Elhazir's home or business to substantiate the suspicions of an affair between her and Othmann. And if the woman was a mage, she kept no spellbooks, no obvious components for enchantments, and no true objects of power. In fact, Elhazir had no correspondence or records to indicate that she had ever been affiliated with mages of any skill. Myrmeen, hoping that the magic-wielding murderer might make contact with Elhazir, decided to give the situation a few more days.

The door to Myrmeen's throne room suddenly burst open, and Kynan Tofte entered. The young soldier cried, "He's done it again! One minute Lord Zacharius was in his cell, content as could be, lapping at the soup we brought him, the next he was gone!"

"Search the restaurants and brothels," Myrmeen growled. "He'll turn up ... along with a sizeable bill."

Kynan Tofte lowered his head and nodded. "Of course, milady. Please forgive me for intruding."

"No apology is necessary."

The soldier turned his gaze in the direction of the untouched plate of food sitting beside her throne. She had been thinking about the desecration of the gardens and had been too upset to eat. The soldier seemed to consider making an encouraging comment, then thought better of it. He quickly exited, leaving the doors ajar. Myrmeen flirted with the idea of calling out to him, or to one of the servants, to close the door, then she chided herself for being so lazy. Crossing the room, Myrmeen sealed the chamber shut. She felt a slight chill at her back and turned sharply at the sound of someone biting into an apple.

Lord Zacharius sat upon the throne. He had one leg sprawled over the side, one arm over the back. The handsome visitor turned his dazzling smile upon Myrmeen as he dropped the partially eaten apple onto the tray containing the rest of her meal.

"Lord Zacharius," Myrmeen said, carefully hiding her surprise. "Is it exercise period for the prisoners? If not, I a.s.sume you have a reason for being here. You might also explain how you got into my throne room, while you're at it."

He shrugged. "The reason for my visit is simple. I merely wanted to extend my thanks for your warm hospitality, your old-fas.h.i.+oned generosity. It touches my heart, it does. I'm not often treated to free bed and board." He licked his lips. "The how? That's my secret and will remain as such."

"You were locked in a dungeon, Lord Zacharius. The 'hospitality' you spoke of was imprisonment."

"I suppose, if you want to look at it that way. But as you can see, I've hardly been confined. Why don't we try to make the best out of it?"

"Your imprisonment is as much for your protection as anything. Many hold you responsible for the acts of your people. They might attempt to harm you."

"Or they might reward me for getting back at the nasty, fat slobs that cheat them. You're aware of the protesters outside the Citadel, aren't you? Even as we speak, there are-"

"I am well aware of them," Myrmeen said curtly.

"Our citizens are outraged and frightened by the treatment I've received. They chant that the G.o.ds will be quite cross. They feel all the 'incidents,' as you call them, are the results of the higher powers defending my race."

"Those people are professional zealots," Myrmeen said, "looking for any cause."

"They've found mine."

Myrmeen narrowed her eyes. "They don't know what you truly are, Lord Zacharius. I doubt they would be so supportive if they knew of your b.e.s.t.i.a.l side."

'Threats don't become you," he drawled. "And please, call me Zaz."

"Lord Zacharius, this is a serious matter. Your kind has the power to hypnotize, to enchant. Is that how you've managed to get out of your cell nearly every evening for the past tenday? Is that how you got in here?"

"Nothing so crude as that. I thought we might spend a quiet evening together." The cat lord uncoiled his body and rose from Myrmeen's throne. She went angrily toward him, and they met in the center of the room. "And afterward, I thought we might once again discuss my proposal."

"I refuse to give any serious consideration to your request so long as the attacks against my people persist."

"What makes you think I have anything to do with it?" he asked as he absently brushed her arm.

Myrmeen pulled away and restrained an urge to strike the man. "I slighted you. I insulted your religious beliefs and refused your request to unearth the remains of your ancestor. Zealots have often killed for less."

"Do I seem like a zealot to you?"

Myrmeen looked away from the man's hypnotic gaze. "I don't know what to make of you."

"Of course you do. Trust your instincts. Listen to what they tell you."

"At the moment, my instincts tell me that, despite your diplomatic status, you should be questioned about the murder in the gardens."

"Do you suspect me of that murder?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Myrmeen nodded. "You or one of your people. Your gift for getting in and out of heavily secured places has certainly done little to set my concerns aside. The way the dead man was savaged certainly seems like it could have been the work of your kind."

"Naturally you've considered that the victim may have been killed in this manner to cast suspicion upon any wild beast, not just my cats. The ploy has been successful in keeping your attention from the true murderer, if you're spending so much time worrying about me."

"Anything is possible."

"I don't even know this man who was killed."

"So you say."

He grinned, his green eyes sparkling. "Myrmeen, I could never lie to you."

Anger seized the n.o.blewoman. "You seem to think you can get what you want by being charming."

"It's always worked before."

"Understand this, Lord Zacharius: Even if I was attracted to you-which I am not-I could make love to you tonight and order your death tomorrow."

"I see," the cat lord said. "Well, with that in mind, I think the act itself would be anticlimactic. Good night."

He walked gracefully to the door. "I want the activities of your people curtailed," Myrmeen called after him.

Lord Zacharius turned back and opened his hands in a solicitous gesture. "Even if my people are responsible for the local chaos, I'm sure they're just being playful. They like it here. I don't think I'll be able to convince them to leave. If anything, I think more will come."

"That would be unfortunate."

"I don't think so. We cat lords know how to have a good time. We'll liven the place up." He shrugged. "Oh, and would you be so kind as to summon an escort for me? I seem to have forgotten the way back to my chamber...."

Myrmeen was unable to sleep that night. She left the palace under heavy guard and was on her way to the gardens when she heard the scream. Having faced the horror of death many times in the past, the n.o.blewoman knew the sound of a man facing his end. By the time she had pa.s.sed through the maze of buildings flanking the gardens and discovered the limp, staring bodies of the guardsmen left on duty, Myrmeen knew what she would find in the maze of shrubs and flowerbeds.

A second man lay murdered in the gardens. His body had been torn to pieces. Blood was splattered everywhere, particularly in the gazebo. Myrmeen advanced on the corpse in disbelief, choking back a scream of rage. She tried to understand how this could have happened a second time.

Myrmeen was barely aware of her surroundings as her soldiers congregated around the corpse. Kynan Tofte soon uncovered the victim's head, then guided Myrmeen to the spot where it rested. She was surprised to find that she recognized the dead man's face.

It was Volney, the elder mage Evon Stralana had employed to secure and investigate Penn Othmann's shop a few days earlier. Stralana arrived and seemed momentarily stricken at the sight of the mage's corpse. In a hoa.r.s.e whisper he said, "Volney and Walcott were supervising the surveillance of Elhazir."

"He may have learned something that made him dangerous to the sorcerer we've been after. Stralana, get a search going for Walcott. Either he's in danger, too, or he's in league with the murderer."

"There's something else you should know," the minister said. "Volney's last report noted that the cats have been watching Elhazir, too."

"Where is Lord Zacharius?"

"In his cell, conducting some kind of game with the guards. Something with dice. It seemed harmless enough, and the men were bored."

"Get him. I want him with us when we confront Elhazir."

Stralana broke from her and hurried to see her orders carried out. Within ten minutes, Myrmeen, Stralana, and Lord Zacharius started off in the direction of Elhazir's Exotica. A group of soldiers accompanied them, and, by the time they reached the market district, a pack of felines trailed their every move. Myrmeen noticed the jaguar and looked around for Siobhan, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

The door to Elhazir's was open, and the warm orange glow of torchlight could be seen from within. Before anyone could react, two cats slipped inside, one with auburn fur, the other pale silver.

Myrmeen turned to her soldiers and pointed at Lord Zacharius. "Keep him out here for now."

"That may not be wise," the cat lord said.

Ignoring him, Myrmeen went inside with Stralana and found that the place was a shambles, the ornate tapestries covering the walls shredded. Racks were filled with clothing that had been torn apart. Gla.s.s cases were shattered and displays had been overturned. The floors were covered in cheap, glittering costume jewelry.

The two cats were already there when Myrmeen discovered the girl, Andreana, huddled in the corner of a private room in the back. Elhazir lay at her feet. The older woman's hair was wild, her eyes staring. Her breathing was shallow.

Andreana was in tears. The moment she looked up and saw the cats approaching, she screamed something in a language Myrmeen had never heard before. Suddenly a reddish black tongue of flame erupted from her hands, covering the distance separating her from the cats in the blink of an eye. The felines leaped out of the way as the bolt struck the wall. As Andreana rose, her fists swathed in the reddish black energy, the cats raced away from her. "Why are you here?" she sobbed at Myrmeen. "To laugh at the halfwit?"

The n.o.blewoman stared at the child. Here was the missing mage. Elhazir didn't need to leave her shop to contact the sorcerer; she'd been at the old woman's side all along. "Andreana? Who killed Penn Othmann?"

"He was a vile man. It's good that he died. He did things. Bad things."

"To you?"

Her tears covered her face. The sleeves of her gown fell back, revealing a network of scars on her arms. "Yes. Elhazir did, too. They beat me and burned me. They wanted to keep me in line."

"Did you kill him?"

"No," she snarled. "But I wish I had."

Myrmeen looked at the frightened eyes of the abused girl before her. "You're a powerful young woman. Why did you stay here with them?"

"My family is poor. They needed the gold I sent them."

"Was that the only reason?"

"No. Elhazir told me that my mother and father would be hurt if I disobeyed her or if any harm came to her."

Myrmeen bit her lip. "What happened here tonight? Was it the cats? Did they attack you? Or was it Elhazir?"