The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) (17 page)

I took them without complaint, and stared at them
blankly.

“Aspirin and a multi-vitamin,” Yael explained shyly.
“You look awful, Preston.”

I swallowed both with water that crawled down my
throat like molasses.

“Thanks.”

The waiter came to check on us. Jenny ordered by
pointing, while Yael chatted familiarly with our waiter. I waved him off when
he turned his attention to me.

“No way I can eat. I’m sick as a dog, and I need to
sleep, okay?”

“In the name of efficiency, then,” Snowball suggested,
rising slowly, pausing to stretch out stiff hindquarters, “perhaps we should
divide our efforts? Your conversation requires privacy, Yael. Meanwhile, Preston
has no interest in a meal, and I have something to show him.”

“No.” Yael folded her arms, looking defiantly at the
cat that even Holly Diem treated with reverence. “No more secrets.”

“Of course,” Snowball responded smoothly, looking
amused. “Dunwich will accompany us, to provide you with a report of events, and
Mister Patches, my representative, will remain with the two of you. Our
agreement stands, Yael Kaufman. The Cats of Ulthar remain your steadfast
allies.”

Yael blushed, and then rose halfway from her seat to
offer a neat little miniature curtsey. I was suddenly certain that Yael had
been to finishing school, as improbable as that seemed for a girl who wore a
gas mask everywhere.

“Thank you, Lord Snowball,” she said respectfully.
“You are right, of course.”

“Can I object?” I asked hopefully. “I want to go home.
I need to check on April.”

“She’s fine,” Yael snapped. “Sound asleep in Sumire’s
bed. I checked before I left.”

I always miss the good stuff.

“…and for another, I’m going to die shortly.” No one
seemed particularly moved by the revelation, except possibly for the cats, who
looked intrigued, and maybe hungry. “I’m serious. I’m sick, exhausted, and my
heads all fuzzy from that Azure sh…”

I caught Yael’s glare just in time.

“…stuff. I need to sleep.”

“Do not worry, Preston Tauschen,” Snowball said,
sounding very amused indeed. “Our business will be brief, and then we will
escort you back to the Estates.”

“Oh. Good.” I stood up, put on my jacket with numb
fingers. My head sizzled and popped. “Die on my feet, then.”

Yael and Jenny were already lost in conversation. In
the midst of a procession of stray cats, I hit the streets of Sarnath, to discover
that it was raining again.

***

One thing I would like you to keep in mind: I do not accept the reality
of the Cats of Ulthar. I’m not about to endorse the idea of talking cats, or
their politics. I’m not one to argue with the evidence of my eyes and ears, though,
even if I suspect it to be hallucinatory. As hallucinations go, after all, Lord
Snowball of Ulthar was
very
polite.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s not far. We are nearly there.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Perceptive.”

“Care to?”

“Not in particular.”

I sighed.

“I’m tired, Snowball. Can we skip the games?”

He looked disappointed.

“Surely. I apologize. It is my nature, as lies are yours.”

“No problem. So, destination?”

“Within the Enchanted Forest,” Snowball said, walking
with more difficulty and less grace than I remembered. “We are not far.”

We were near the edge of the Empty District, walking
along the concrete banks of the Skai. The water was pungent and brown with dirt
from the hills, swollen by the persistent rain.

“Tell me, Preston – what do you think of Yael
Kaufman?”

It was a good question, apparently, because Holly Diem
and Jenny Frost had both been concerned over the same thing.

“She’s okay. A little stuck up, too smart for her own
good. Honest to a fault. The weird thing about that girl, though, is how
everyone seems fascinated with her. You guys in Ulthar, everyone at Kadath,
even Jenny Frost…”

“The Outer Dark, as well.”

“Why is that?”

“That is not an easy question. Interest in Miss
Kaufman is as universal as you suspect, but each party has individual
motivations, from the high-minded to the base.”

“Creepy. Where does Ulthar fall in that spectrum?”

Snowball was quiet for a while. I don’t know if I was
getting better reading cat expressions, or if it was the head full of buzzing
wasps, but I thought he was formulating an answer. We crossed over the Skai on
one of the old stone footbridges, into the Enchanted Forest. This side of the forest
was primarily coniferous; the air fragrant with the odor of pine and the ground
soft beneath a layer of decaying needles.

“Have you ever heard the story of the Bodhisattva of
Hell?”

“No,” I said, smirking despite myself. “I didn’t take
you for the religious type, Snowball.”

“Cats are objects of worship, not subjects. We use the
terminology as a shorthand, for describing things for which humans have no
truly appropriate language.” Snowball looked as if he were slightly amused I
didn’t know such a basic fact. “We see the invisible, Preston. We walk the
night and look on the Outer Dark without fear. Nothing is real, and everything
is permitted. We know your gods true names and natures. The same holds true for
your devils.”

“You have a pretty high opinion of yourselves.”

“That is also true.”

“Smartass cat. Finish the story.”

“There are a number of ways to tell this story. One is
that there was a bodhisattva, an enlightened human, who vowed to refuse ascension
to Buddhahood as long as there was suffering in the universe – including the
suffering of the guilty in hell. The bodhisattva refused Nirvana until the
hells were empty and the residents forgiven, even the hell-beings who tormented
the sinners. In service of the vow, the bodhisattva descended to hell, bringing
mercy and compassion where there was none.”

We passed a Moon Tree, fuzzy violet bark wrapped
around a trunk two meters thick, crowned with a mass of intersecting branches
that looked a great deal like roots. The branches were heavily laden with
vaguely heart-shaped, waxen pods. The moonlight played disquietingly across the
cloud of snaking branches, trembling like a thousand nervous fingers.

I had been here before, with Holly, a few years
earlier. This was the Enchanted Forest – once the site of a children’s
amusement park, the ruins of which were still to be found rusting between the
foreign and invasive trees. It was the largest green area in the city, and saw
regular use from a community of hikers, young lovers, and deranged cultists.

Sumire took April there for a picnic, once.

The further we went into the Enchanted Forest, the
thicker the copses of Moon Trees became. They rustled as we passed, despite the
lack of wind, despite the absence of leaves, and the seedpods fell thickly in
our wake with the clamor of colliding pots and pans.

At the very least, they provided some cover from the
rain.

“Pretty story,” I grunted. “Don’t see the relevance.”

Snowball shot me a knowing look.

“Are you entirely certain that we do not presently
reside in Hell, Mr. Tauschen?”   

I scooped up one of the seedpods as we walked and
shook it, listening to the sharp rattle within, like metal on ceramic. The
outside of the pod was smooth and even, as if coated in lacquer.

“I don’t believe in that sort of thing, cat.”

“Believe?” Snowball shook accumulated rainwater from
his matted coat. “Nonsense. It is simply a story, man. Care to hear another
version?”

I tossed the seedpod back into the woods, but never
heard it hit the ground.

“I guess. We are close, right?”

“Quite. This version isn’t quite as old – it was first
told not long after it was decided that one god trumped many.” Snowball shook
his ragged head, as if saddened by our folly. Involuntarily, I thought of the
cat-headed deities of the ancient Egyptians, and wondered. “This singular god
is too distant and busy to be bothered with the judgment of humanity as a whole
– and is, apparently, in something of a hurry to put the whole planet to bed.
Instead of weighing the actions of billions, he focuses his attention on
thirty-six individuals, each of whom bare the weight of redeeming and
justifying an entire species. They are called the
Nistarim
, because they
are hidden from all but their god, and are themselves unaware of their particular
responsibilities. Or they are called the
Lamedvavnik
, for their number
and righteousness. They are cryptic queens and kings, covert royalty, bearing
the weight of your entire race, and should even one of them falter or fall, their
god will end the world.”

Snowball’s pace slowed as the path became more rugged,
and there was a slight hitch to his step. Dunwich tried to stick close to us
and remain distant from me, an impossibility that left him in a state of
perpetual motion.

“I think I follow you,” I said, slowing so as not to
overstrain the cat. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, though. Do you
mean to suggest that Yael…?”

“Not at all,” Snowball said, with a wheezing laugh.
“Just an old cat telling even older stories. Would you care to hear one more,
or have you had your fill of the vivid imaginations of men?”

“Why not?”

“Why indeed. This version is the oldest of all, from before
the discovery of fire, when men cowered from the dark.” His gaze smoldered in a
manner that recalled the young hunter he must have been. “According to legend,
the universe is vast, but it has an end. That end is sentient. It is a remnant,
a remainder of the true darkness that existed before everything. Call it the
Outer Dark, Avici, or Azathoth; it makes no difference. If the Nameless City
exists on the event horizon of doom, then it is what waits at the other side.
It is the cruelest of the hells, or a gibbering idiot god, or an ongoing
reversal of the Big Bang. And it
hates
us – it hates everything. It is
intent on our violation and exploitation and unmaking – and everything it
desires is inevitable. We are helpless in the face of this scale of horror;
even the cats.”

 We approached a low stone bridge, carved from basalt sanded
until it was smooth as glass. The canopy of Moon Trees was dense, the moon light
filtering through the branches held an unusual radiance.

“I’m not a fan of this story.”

Snowball nodded.

“Nor I. In a second-hand manner, I have become
familiar with the tale of a boy who traded with the Outer Dark, and received a
new shadow, and a mask, in return. Of course, his loss exceeded his gain, but
that isn’t to say the deal was utterly one-sided. The patronage of the Outer
Dark is unlimited, Preston. As is the cost. Keep that in mind, when it comes
time to bargain.”

He led me across the little bridge. The shallow
culvert beneath was choked with pine needles and long strips of the velveteen
bark of the Moon Trees, shed in the heat of the summer. The combination of cobblestones
and frequent seed pods made for uncertain footing. A vague glow to the east hinted
at a dawn not yet imminent.

“You are frustratingly cryptic, Snowball. You hint
around that maybe Yael is important, and then you suggest that nothing matters.
Which is it?”

“That remains to be seen. I simply thought you should
be aware of the possibilities.” When a cat smiles, I’m not sure that it
indicates happiness; nonetheless, smile is what Snowball did. “I would think it
enough to know that the Cats of Ulthar consider her a worthy ally.”

“Sure,” I said, with a curt shrug. “Assuming I knew
fuck all about your motivations.”

On the other side of the bridge, massive Moon Trees
encircled a large open space, extending tens of meters into the night sky,
densely crowned with leafless branches. The clearing was an expanse of dense,
soft tufts of grass, dotted with outcrops of volcanic stone and clumps of
anise-scented wildflowers. The meadow was lit by the gentle glow of hanging
lanterns, filtered through colored glass to create a vast array of hues. A
pavilion had been established in the center of the grassy expanse, and winding
arcs of tents and caravans encircled it. I followed Snowball beneath a
multicolored canopy and onto the carpet of bluegrass, breathing in the heady
scents of exotic spices and drug fumes, fried food and burning incense. We
followed a broad, informal promenade that meandered between the tents, between
rows of vendors laying out their wares on tables and rugs.

“What is this place?”

“This is the Night Market. All things can be bought
and sold here.” The stub of Snowball’s tail flicked from side to side as he
promenaded, drawing stares and respectful whispers from the Market’s patrons. “It
moves periodically, but has favored the Enchanted Forest of late. It is a
convenient place for a meeting.”