identity 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 assaulted 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 gods. 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 gods.
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 gods 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 substitution wasn't noticed until the new shift 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 circumstances. 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 passed 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 assume you have a reason for being here. You might also explain
