Catopolis

MENTOR OF THE POTALA by Bruce A. Heard

The elegant Birman Tai Pan licks one of his pristine white forepaws, a sign that his work is over.

“Well, Mugs,” he sighs, “you’ve truly outdone yourself this time. It took a bit of doing to get them to give you up, especially since this is the second time you’ve irritated them. Please try not to do that again. If you do, next time they won’t listen to me at all.”

He sits on the low branch of a tree with broad, thick leaves, looking down on the Astral emanation of the grizzled, muzzle-scarred gray alley cat regarding him from among the roots. Behind Mugs, a forest of giant rhododendrons slowly bristles into bloom under the soft light of a celestial crescent. A wall of majestic snowy mountains curtains the horizon, their snow-capped peaks contrasting bright against the nocturnal sky.

With shrewd turquoise eyes, Tai Pan examines for a moment the faint aura around his paw, looking at its throbbing, pulsing hues. He then glances at the translucent silver cord extending from Mugs’ upper abdomen to the Astral horizon. His own cord disappears in the opposite direction.

“You do understand, of course, that my intervention on your behalf during this little disagreement will cost you a major favor, Mugs Grayshadow?”

The alley cat winces, then nods. Sighing, Mugs levitates until he is opposite Tai Pan’s branch. In midair, he rolls over on his back and offers his belly to seal their bargain.

“Aye, I understand. Though I wonder what you have on them, mate, that they’d let me go just on your say-so.”

Pleased with its appearance, Tai Pan sets his paw against the other three on the branch. He shrugs his long sable and cream fur to make certain every hair is in perfect alignment. “Oh, just a small debt of honor in the right place,” he answers with satisfaction.

Mugs rights himself, stepping to the branch near Tai Pan and sitting down. His thick ghostly tail coils around his paws. “Oy, that kind of thing’s easy for you, the mighty Tai Pan. You’ve always got the goods. We’re settled then: I’m in your debt, mate.” He closes his golden eyes and sniffs the crisp, nocturnal air for an moment before rising.

“Gotta be off,” Mugs says, and vanishes.

“Farewell, old friend,” Tai Pan mutters. “Be safe, at least for now. Let me know when you’re in trouble again.” He allows himself a satisfied smile. “Business has been very good this month, very good indeed!”

“It’s excellent news to hear you are doing so well, Sir Titus de Pannikin!” purrs a soft voice behind him.

Tai Pan leaps to his paws and whirls, ready to pounce. “Who’s there?” he calls, seeing no one.

On the Astral Plane, seeing no one can be dangerous.

The silvery outline of an old white cat levitates from behind the broad leaf of a rhododendron. “I am Tara Moondreamer, from the Order of Lamasery Cats,” she answers, gracefully landing on Tai Pan’s branch. “Surely you remember me from long ago.”

Tai Pan admires the composure and control of his visitor.

This is someone who has traveled the Astral Plane for a long time.

He searches his prodigious memory and comes up with a remembrance of a tall emerald-eyed white cat fuzzed by just-focusing kitten eyes. Tara Moondreamer had been old even then, a teacher and companion to one of the lamasery’s leaders. A wriggle of unease prods his nerves, but he hides it.

What can she want from me? And what will it cost?

As if hearing his thoughts, an amused expression curls her mouth and makes her whiskers twitch. “Ah, Titus Pannikin, have you already forgotten who you are?”

“I am a businesscat,” he returns a bit stiffly, the tip of his tail twitching. “And a good one, too. From where do I know you?”

“You were still learning to extend and retract your kitten claws the last time I saw you,” laughs Tara. “Little Titus de Pannikin, lordly even as a kit, you always preferred to lap water from that rare silver cup. Do you still?”

Annoyed at being caught off guard by such a personal detail, Tai Pan settles his paws beneath him, trying to look more at ease. If only he could stop the last third of his Astral tail from flipping back and forth.

“Yes, I still do. But you seem to know much more about me than I do about you, Honored Tara. I am at a disadvantage here.”

“Pardon my intrusion, Titus. And I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” she purrs. “I am sent to give you a message. There is something urgent that you need to do.”

“That

I need to do?” His unease grows, as if something from his past has returned to haunt him. “What business does the Order have with me? Someone needs a favor, perhaps?”

“Come now, Titus. You were always meant to be a mentor, not a mere broker of services and favors,” Tara chides. “Your Birman lineage ties you and your kind to the Order. Your ancestral duty is one that cannot be traded away. You realize this, don’t you?”

“Ah. Tied to the Order,” Tai Pan snaps back, now truly annoyed. “I haven’t heard of them since I was a kitten.” He recalled the group as an obscure brood, mostly concerned with the development of supernatural talents among catfolk and a few carefully chosen humans. “So, what do the ancient lamas and their wise cats want with me now, after forgetting me for all these years?” he asks.

“You were never forgotten,” Tara states, staring at the moon-fed shimmers of the snow fields. “We have watched your growth. We’ve allowed you to ply your chosen trade for many years. And we have bided our time until the right moment. That moment is now.” She takes in a deep breath, but says nothing further.

Tai Pan again tries to control his tail, with little success. It now flips in a full half arc. “All right, Honored Tara,” he grumbles. “What do you want me to do?” Too late he realizes that she might take his question for acceptance rather than a request for information.

She does. “It is now time you took up your true calling, Sir Titus de Pannikin. The Order needs you to help a human acolyte master the ability to travel the Astral Plane. A simple task for you, really, considering your extensive experience there.”

“What?” Tai Pan shudders. “Me, teach a human boy? Let the lamas handle that duty. Surely they have somebody better for this than me.”

“No, they don’t, Titus.” Tara ’s green gaze becomes icy, reaching into Tai Pan’s very soul. “When you were just a kitten, the Order placed you in the household of this human acolyte. Yes, Titus, that was no mistake-it is him you are to guide. You are best suited because you have been with young Norbu since his early childhood. He trusts you. What better mentor can there be?”

Tai Pan grumbles, “You and the Order planned this all along. You allowed me to go into business and forget!”

“True, we did the planning, Titus,” Tara answers with some amusement. Her eyes become gentle. “But it was your own greed that made you forget your mission.”

“Don’t call me Titus,” he growls, barely keeping his shoulders from hunching with irritation. “My friends know me as Tai Pan.”

“What a pity. Your birth name was so fitting.”

He snorts. “That’s past history. Please, it’s Tai Pan now. Thank you.”

“Ah. My time here is at an end.” Tara glances at her silver cord, which is taut and trembling. “I must go now, Titus-Tai Pan. But I need to warn you. Be very aware that there are some who seek to harm Norbu, some who are as familiar with the Astral Plane as you are.”

Tara hesitates, sighing a little. “It is Norbu’s destiny to become an important figure among human lamas, perhaps eventually to lead the Order. If you fail, there will be disastrous consequences not only for the lamas, but also for the rest of the world. Norbu is a key element to a binding that prevents many horrors from freely roaming the Astral Plane. His foes will try to prevent his growth and also his accession into the Order when he’s ready.”

“So why don’t the lamas take on this duty themselves?” asks Tai Pan. “It sounds like something they’d relish.”

“They can’t act directly. If they did, it would surely reveal the place where he’s hidden. That place you know so well. So be on your guard, Titus-Tai Pan. Be discreet. You’ll need every claw and every wit you have to succeed.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Tai Pan hops to his feet as Tara vanishes. “How am I…?”

He is left alone in the ice-scented breeze, among the giant rhododendrons growing at the foot of the mountains under the crescent moon.

“This is not good for business,” Tai Pan mutters. “Not good at all. But what choice do I have?”

Sighing, he vanishes as well.

A split-second later, Tai Pan’s Astral form materializes in a small room. His white feet rest on a worn wooden chest at the foot of a bed that is little more than a thin mattress and blanket on raised slats. Tai Pan sits down, observing for a moment the common-looking Asian boy and the bedroom of the small house they’d called home for most of their lives.

No more than ten years old in human years, Norbu sleeps restfully on his back. He is dressed in soft striped cotton pajama pants that appear to have permanent wrinkles. The blanket lies twisted over one foot and ankle. Two large bookcases, crammed with dusty old prayer books and rolled-up scrolls, stand against the wall on both sides of the head of the bed. Wads of well-thumbed comic books stick out between some of the voluminous tomes.

Tai Pan scouts the room with his heightened senses, making sure no one else is hiding there, either physically or in Astral form.

Although it is difficult to conceal anything in this room, I’d better be sure, he tells himself. I love this child. I’ve been his accomplice in many adventures, both on the streets in this city and within the pages of books. We are good friends. How could I lose him now, or leave him, furthering my business my only excuse?

Still thinking, he leaps silently upon the small desk sitting against the wall opposite the bed, where bluish starlight filters through a gap in the curtains covering the single narrow window. The scarred wood holds a jumble of school-books, papers, pens, smudged trading cards, and toy dragons undisturbed by his weightless paws. The starlight shines through Tai Pan’s immaterial form and puddles upon torn jeans and a yellow T-shirt thrown on the chair next to the desk. Worn-out sneakers and dingy socks lie underneath.

“It looks as it always does in here,” says Tai Pan aloud to himself, relieved at finding nothing more obtrusive than dust and starshine.

Norbu mutters something unintelligible. Tai Pan stares back at the boy, whiskers aquiver.

“So, you hear someone speaking in the Astral Plane even in your sleep. That’s good. We won’t have to start from the very beginning. Now, to pry you out of this physical shell… Yes, perhaps that will do it.”

Tai Pan jumps onto the bed and tiptoes along Norbu’s sleeping body, right up to the boy’s face. The faint golden glow of Tai Pan’s Astral form reveals the boy’s crooked nose and the faint shadows thrown by his thick eyelashes even in the dimness of his bedroom.

“Come on, boy,” mutters Tai Pan, his nose almost touching Norbu’s. “Time to come out and learn something new now.”

The child squirms in his sleep, opens his mouth, and lets out a small snore.

“Uh huh… there lies the future of a great order of lamas,” quips Tai Pan, amused. “Well, let’s try this.”

He pads downward a few steps along Norbu’s body. With his front paws, Tai Pan reaches through the boy’s physical ribcage and nudges his somnolent Astral essence. Norbu mutters more incomprehensible words and straightens his legs. Tai Pan purrs softly in encouragement and quirks his paws, pulling upward. His brow furrows and his ears stand erect as he concentrates.

A moment later, a ghostly duplicate of Norbu materializes just inches above his physical body. A silver cord links the Astral form to the boy’s solar plexus. The strong golden aura about Norbu’s immaterial shape, added to the pale glow from his silver cord and the starlight from the window, fills the room with a warm, pleasant light totally unlike the harsh brightness of human-made lamps.

“Hello, Houston, we’ve got liftoff!” Tai Pan feels smugly proud of himself and his pupil. “All right, Norbu, let’s keep going. Lesson two.”

The boy’s Astral form begins to waver and sway. Tai Pan scampers toward Norbu’s long feet. From there, he reaches up and grabs a hem of Norbu’s Astral pajamas with his teeth.

Tai Pan mumbles, pulling. “Thif’ way, ’orbu. Thif’ way!”

At last, Norbu’s essence slowly glides to the foot of the bed and stands upright, floating an inch or two above the wooden floor.

“Ataboy,” says Tai Pan proudly from the corner of the rumpled bed. “Lesson three.”

Norbu opens his Astral eyes.

“Good,” Tai Pan encourages.

But the boy sees nothing. He hovers, motionless, still in a dream state.

“Now, for the tough part: keeping you wide awake and making you conscious of the Astral Plane itself. Let’s try this…” Tai Pan pads forward and takes a quick nip at the boy’s immaterial backside.

That brings Norbu to consciousness. Confused, he looks around. He screams when he sees his physical body lying on the bed.

Tai Pan exudes every ounce of a cat’s extraordinary ability to calm. “No, easy there. Everything’s fine.” His purring fills the room.

It works. Curious now, Astral-Norbu examines his glowing hands and body. Seeing the silver cord attaching him to his corporeal self, he realizes his situation. He remembers reading about this in one of those old books. With a smile, Norbu observes his room.

He’s really looking at things, noticing every detail, thinks Tai Pan, proudly staring up at the boy. I remember the first time I saw through my Astral eyes-everything appears much more clearly.

Norbu’s eyes come to rest on Tai Pan. “Why can I see through you?” he asks.

Caught off guard, Tai Pan answers, “Um… Meow?”

“Weird,” says Norbu. Levitating upward, he adds with glee, “Hey, this is cool!”

Without warning, he vanishes through the ceiling.

“Whoa. Oh, wharf rats! Hang on there, boy!” shouts Tai Pan, launching himself after Norbu’s silver cord. “Stop!”

He sees Norbu’s Astral form in the distance, gliding above the city and turning cartwheels. Tai Pan does his best to catch up, thinking himself to where the child is. As soon as Tai Pan appears next to Norbu and opens his mouth to chastise him, the youngster spies a lamasery, and darts through an open window.

Not a good idea! Tai Pan instantly materializes inside the meditation hall, apprehension filling his mind. He looks for the boy’s silver cord. This is not a good idea at all!

Norbu’s unexpected visit is unwise-an enemy might be watching, even in a lamasery. And considering his minimal experience with the Astral Plane, Norbu is in grave danger.

Above large vats of smoking stick incense, the youngster aimlessly darts in and out of the shadows around the head of a large golden Buddha.

He’s returned to his dream state: there is no thought behind his motions, Tai Pan realizes.

One of the clairvoyant lamas interrupts his prayers when Norbu’s Astral form drifts overhead. He then turns and glares angrily at Tai Pan.

“Sorry about that,” says Tai Pan, bowing respect. “He is very young in knowledge.”

Norbu vanishes once more.

Oh, hairballs and curdled milk! I should have known he’d go out and about. Worried and frustrated, he launches himself after his pupil.

This time it takes Tai Pan much longer to track down the boy’s whereabouts. Norbu’s silver cord stretches in a different direction every time Tai Pan reaches a new location: the school, the playground, the local mall. Tai Pan arrives at a crowded ice cream stand outside the mall just in time to see Norbu zip straight up into the nocturnal sky.

“By the Great Cat’s extra toes, will you stop this!” Before darting off in pursuit, Tai Pan takes a moment to quickly assess the people waiting for ice cream. One of them, a bearded and hirsute human male covered with tattoos, looks straight at him.

“You shouldn’t be seeing any of this!” spits Tai Pan.

The man gives Tai Pan an evil grin and quickly walks away.

Tai Pan hisses and mutters, “The enemies know Norbu’s loose! That’s bad! Bad, bad, bad…” He takes off into the sky in a hurry, expecting the worst.

Moments later, Tai Pan finally catches up with Norbu at the rhododendron forest near the towering mountains. He levitates just above his student’s head, next to the trunk of a large tree.

Terrified and cornered, the boy cowers against the bark. Only ten feet away, a nightmarish creature lurches toward Norbu. Filthy black and purple hair covers its entire body. On its face, jagged lips reveal a wide mouth with slime-dripping fangs above which purulent gray eyes bulge from slits. Standing on three thick spider legs, the monster raises two arms like a praying mantis, and clicks deadly serrated claws.

Landing between his pupil and the beast, Tai Pan shouts, “Hold it! I know you for what you are, Garakk Fearmonger. Leave this boy alone!”

Garakk takes a step back and hisses, “What makes you so sure of yourself, Titus-Detritus?”

“I know your kind. You feed on people’s terror. I’m not scared of you, you miserable scum. Your business is done here. Get lost! Go back to that slime pit you call home!”

Garakk reveals its fangs in a taunting grin. It hisses back at Tai Pan, “The boy’s soul is mine to feed upon. And I will have yours, too.”

The creature lunges. Tai Pan’s attention was momentarily divided between Garakk and Norbu, a great mistake. He realized that as the monster’s claws ensnared and lifted him.

Tai Pan fights like a beserker, biting and slashing at Garakk’s arms. Oblivious to the pain of multiple puncture wounds, the beast lifts him closer to its horrid fangs.

“And now, I will kill you!”

Furiously clawing at Garakks’s mouth and eyes, Tai Pan shouts, “I’m not afraid of you! You are powerless against me!”

The monster huffs a sardonic laugh as it tips its head and seizes Tai Pan’s silver cord between its slimy teeth. Despite his best efforts, Tai Pan cannot free himself from Garakk’s thorny grip, cannot reach far enough to protect his Astral connection.

He shouts, “Norbu! Do something! Help me!”

The boy, terrified, screams and crouches at the base of the tree, his fingers in front of his face.

Hissing and gurgling with success, Garakk rips through the silver cord.

Horror-stricken, Tai Pan feels the essence of his life withering. A cold, numbing darkness submerges him.

Garakk shrieks in triumph, dropping the body and turning toward the child. Raising its claws, it opens its hideous mouth.

“I will take you one small bite at a time,” the beast exults, stepping forward.

“Stop!”

The imperious command comes from behind it. Lying on the forest’s cold ground, Tai Pan’s Astral body regains some of its brightness. His silver cord reforms, but too slowly for his need. With what little strength he’s managed to reclaim in the last few moments, he staggers to his feet, trying to look undaunted.

“It takes more than one death to kill my kind, Garakk,” Tai Pan announces.

“You can’t save him!” gurgles Garakk. “You are too weak!” It takes another step forward. Norbu screams.

It’s right, I am too weak. Tai Pan closes his eyes. It is time to call for help. To call in a favor.

His facile mind probes the night. A friendly soul answers, “Already cashing in, are you?”

Two other cats show up in their Astral forms, just as Garakk lifts an arm to strike at Norbu.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, mate!” says Mugs Greyshadow. “And I brought a friend, just in case.”

The other cat, a large brown-striped Maine Coon, takes in the situation with a cool glance, leaps over Mugs, and lands on Garakk’s back.

“Let’s get him!” the Maine coon snarls in a gravely voice, betraying a mind as thick as his fur. With savage fury, he claws away with all fours at Garakk, sending clumps of matted hair flying. The creature flings its spiky appendages backward, trying to reach its assailant.

Mugs turns to Tai Pan. “That’s Shindig Haywhisker. He’s the bouncer at the Fish Eye Cat Club. He’s good.” The gray studies his friend. “Oy! You don’t look right, mate.”

“Thank you, Mugs,” replied Tai Pan, ignoring the reference to his diminished appearance and denying any more talk about it by changing the subject. “Your friend is just right for this situation.”

“So that’s how it is,” Mugs says. Stepping forward, he hunches and begins to circle Garakk, studying the beast.

“Some nasty bugger you’ve got here for us, mate! Seen this before, I have-that’s an Astral killer, that is.”

Dodging Garakk’s claws with an uncanny agility learned from years of street fighting, Mugs hollers, “Better watch its arms, Shin. Wicked, those are. If they catch you, you won’t get loose!”

Mugs feints at Garakk several times, looking for weaknesses. Shindig does his best to avoid the beast’s claws, while delving deeper into its noisome substance. Blackish blood begins to drip from the beast.

Mugs steps back, looking at Tai Pan with an air of glee as huge switch-claws spring from his front paws. “Just got these, mate! If they don’t do the job, nothing will.”

He lunges again, slipping under Garakk’s belly. With a wail of savage joy, Mugs plunges two oversized sets of switch-claws deep into the repugnant flesh.

With a screech born of hurt, rage, and frustration, Garakk brutally kicks Mugs away and finally snags Shindig. The bouncer rebounds off a tree trunk and flops on the cold ground.

Mugs staggers to his feet. “Oy, something’s wrong here! That should have done him in.”

Tai Pan’s mind races. “He’s still feeding on Norbu’s fear!”

Mugs yells, shaking his head, “If it’s that, I don’t think we can stop him, mate.” He looks at his Maine coon friend, just staggering to his feet. “This is the first time Shindig’s ever been down.”

Gathering his strength, Tai Pan frantically cudgels his memory for bits of information that might help.

“I understand now,” he calls to Mugs. “Someone evil summoned Garakk and bound it to kill the boy. Only he can defeat it. Mugs, just keep it at bay a bit longer, will you?”

“Yeah, well, we’ll try.”

Shin and Mugs launch themselves against Garakk in a frenzy of screaming, hissing, and clawing. Tai Pan staggers toward Norbu and places his paws against the sobbing boy’s chest. Bringing his face close to Norbu’s, he purrs and says calmly, “Norbu? Look into my eyes. Look at me, Norbu!”

The terrified boy finally pulls his hands away from his face. His black eyes find Tai Pan’s. He discovers unexpected solace and courage in the steady blue gaze.

Tai Pan concentrates all his will and strength to force Norbu’s mind to stay focused on his words. “Listen, Norbu. Only you can defeat Garakk. That beast’s only weakness is its hunger for your fear. There is nothing for you to fear but fear itself. Snap out of it, boy! Trust me, and trust yourself. It’s time you did.”

Norbu’s eyes widen, betraying a new glimmer of consciousness, a new level of understanding.

“That’s the spirit, Norbu!” encourages Tai Pan. “Stand up. Be strong. Go now, and cast that thing away!”

Slowly, Norbu stands up. He walks toward Garakk, putting one foot in front of the other. His lips are tight and a frown of concentration marks his smooth forehead.

Garakk glares at the boy after pinning Mugs under one thorny foot. It holds Shindig firmly locked in both claws, turning its head to treat him as it had Tai Pan a moment ago.

Norbu walks toward Garakk almost as if the beastly thing were nothing more than a pesky fly. Reaching up, he grabs Garakk’s arms and shakes them until the monster’s body rocks back and forth. Shindig flies from the claws to land hard on the ground.

The youngster stares the monster in its repellent eyes and, full of juvenile anger, hammers each of his words.

“ENOUGH! I-AM-NOT-AFRAID-OF-YOU-ANYMORE! GO-AWAY, AND-NEVER-COME-BACK!”

Garakk snarls at Norbu. It staggers back, dropping Mugs, and tries in vain to free its arms from the boy’s grip. It can’t move. Feeling its strength waning, Garakk voices a deafening shriek. Norbu stands his ground unafraid, seeing now what a pathetic creature Garakk really is. The beast shakes its head and gives Norbu a spiteful grimace before vanishing in a puff of noxious green-yellow smoke.

“Thanks for the help, mate!” Mugs says as he flicks his switch-claws back in. He then scratches his neck with a back foot and steps toward Shindig to help the bouncer up. “Oy, Tai Pan, we done here?”

“This was a favor well returned,” answers Tai Pan. “Your debt is paid, and your account with me settled, old friend. Thank you.”

“Good thing, that is. What of the boy, mate?” Mugs looks closely at Norbu. “What’s between you and him?” Shin also eyes Norbu with curiosity.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Tai Pan says, “As you put it so well, my friend, that is between him and me.”

“Fair enough, mate. Nice doing business with you,” concludes Mugs. “Come on, Shin.” The two cats disappear into the Astral night.

Tai Pan turns back to Norbu. The boy is watching him.

“What happened?” he asks. “I mean, really?”

Tai Pan chooses his words with care, fluffing his fur as he thinks.

“It so happened you fell into someone’s trap. You can’t go bouncing around in your dreams anymore. It’s just too dangerous. From now on you must learn to stay conscious when leaving your physical body. Careless journeys are a thing of the past. I’ll see to teaching you that.”

Norbu nods at Tai Pan’s caution. “I’m so glad you’re here, Titus.” As he looks at the snowy mountains, thinking of all that had happened, the veil of dreams once again clouds his gaze. He’s exhausted.

“I think you’ve had more than enough excitement for this night,” says Tai Pan. He levitates up to Norbu’s waist and presses his paw against the boy’s solar plexus to get him started home.

Satisfied with the sight of his student diving back toward his physical body, Tai Pan begins to think. He doesn’t expect Tara Moondreamer as she materializes next to him. He steps back a pace, startled.

“Not bad for a first effort,” says the old cat, smiling as she gives Tai Pan a moment to regain his equilibrium. “Of course, the lamas were very worried about Norbu running amok in the city for every clairvoyant to see. They trust you’ll do better next time.”

“This turned out to be a very costly first try-one life and one major favor paid,” laments Tai Pan. “I’ll be out of business before long at this rate.”

“Ah, yes. You lost one life,” remarks Tara, “but did you not gain another, with a deeper meaning and a greater worth? Did you not just trade a favor from an acquaintance for another of much higher value?”

“Touché,” agrees Tai Pan a bit sheepishly. After a moment of silence, he adds, “I’m just realizing there is no greater wealth than that of true friendship, especially the boyhood friendship of a lama destined for greatness. Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Tara. With that in mind, I think I’ve just become the richest cat in the world.” He stands up, preparing to leave the Astral Plane.

“What will you do next, Sir Tai Pan Titus de Pannikin?” asks the white cat.

His voice lingers on the Astral Plane after he disappears. “If you please, I need to take a long nap. Then I’ll plan Norbu’s next lesson.”