Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

Chapter 8: Night watch

Cicero’s room was filled with books, old favorites like Shakespeare, biographies of great men, and the more challenging ones about quantum physics. Their presence filled him with peace, like old friends who read together, not needing to hold meaningless conversations.

Cicero arose and stretched his front legs out on the table where he was reading a book by a man named Einstein. It was time for his regular night watch of the library, not that there was much to lose sleep over in all the years he’d been here. No one would ever find him or the Book in this sleepy little town. But the stiffness in his old bones wouldn’t let him forget he was going to need a successor soon.

Out on the balcony, Cicero overlooked his domain. He had grown very fond of the Angel Springs library, even though circumstances for his transfer here were made under duress. Except for the ticking of the grandfather clock, all was quiet. In the darkened library there was only the soft glow of a large aquarium in the children’s area.

Cicero’s ears perked up at the sound of pages turning. Had the young cat returned as promised? It was critical Marco had kept his word about returning tonight, but Cicero was used to broken promises. He tried to contain his hopes as he searched the first floor and found Marco lost in a book.

The young cat didn’t even notice his presence and Cicero fought the impulse of making a rash decision. He did not want to make the same mistake again, but there was something about Marco. Something besides his choice of reading material and long tail, a sure sign of intelligence.

He had to remind himself that intelligence was only one aspect needed to be a Guardian. Wasn’t it his own reverence for knowledge that had blinded him before? Hadn’t he learned how deceiving appearances could be?

Marco’s slender tail twitched. He was young; all the better for training, but youthfulness had its drawbacks. The vulnerability of youth could be heartbreaking. Cicero sighed. He had enough worries. Why did he always want to add more?

Then he winced. He was getting way ahead of himself. He barely knew Marco. And why on earth did he think it was only the young who were victims of deceit?

Cicero gave himself a good scratching to shake off his fears and exchanged his gloomy thoughts for the cheerful anticipation of a visit to his old friend Akeel. It must certainly be no accident that Marco showed up at this critical time. If destiny was working in his favor, he would have a traveling companion.

To Marco, he said, "I see you are reading about your namesake."

***

Marco jumped a little, startled by Cicero’s sudden appearance.

"Yes," he replied. “I… I mean Marco Polo… was being introduced to the Mongol emperor.”

“You enjoy a good adventure,” said Cicero, in a way that could have been either a statement or a question.

“Yes,” Marco answered, flustered by Cicero’s gaze. He had questions. Like how did the adventurer get two names? And what did it mean that he and Polo shared the name of this famous explorer?

But he didn’t ask. The look in Cicero’s eyes stopped him.

“You are free to continue reading about the adventures of others,” said Cicero. “Remain among these common books.” He spoke in such an odd way, as though he were giving and taking something at the same time.

Marco held his breath.

“But I must counsel you,” continued Cicero. “There are worlds far beyond your ordinary imagination, far beyond what you find here.” With that, Cicero turned and headed for the stairs. He paused but did not bother to glance back. “Tonight, you must make a choice. Stay with your safe adventure stories,” he said as he climbed the stairs. “Others’ adventures, I should say...”

Marco felt light headed, then remembered to breathe.

“...or follow me, young Marco Polo, on a true adventure.” Cicero continued up the staircase, in no way resembling heroes Marco met in books. But even when he could no longer be seen, Cicero left a trail of powerful energy in the room.

He tried to shake off the spell, and when he finally did, he was a little offended by Cicero’s remark. Safe? Who does he think he is? And just what is wrong with my imagination?

Marco was getting a little indignant. I travel throughout the human world in their books. Sometimes I even forget I am a cat. What’s safe about my adventures?

He scrunched over his book, but he’d lost his place and couldn’t remember what had been happening anyway. His thoughts were muddled and the air was filled with an electric charge. Even though he tried ignoring it, curiosity grabbed hold of him. Cicero was bigger than he looked, thought Marco, and then wondered what in the world that meant.

When Marco entered Cicero’s chambers, the old cat was curled up, sleeping on a long wooden table. His eyes were still closed when he said, "Come in. I'm just resting up for our journey."