Chapter 7: Eve of Destruction

For days, men camped around the mansion and its impenetrable wall, watching for the cat. As is usual among men, disputes arose.

“The cat is calico, so it is a female,” said one man wisely—as though the information would be helpful.

“Nonsense. The cat is silver gray. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Oh, did you really? What color is the ribbon around its neck holding the key?” asked another.

“The witch kept it hidden. There might not even be a ribbon with a key on a cat,” said one disgruntled suitor. He picked up his pack and set off westwardly. Certainly, there had to be women easier than this one.

One man saw a cat chasing a rat behind the tavern. He chased after it, certain it was the cat with the key. The rat made a fast turn at the pigsty; the cat swiftly pounced beyond to latch onto the rat. Unable to stop, the man leapt toward the cat, landing face down in the muddy sty. Splattered by the mud, the cat dropped the rat, which ran down the neck of the man’s shirt as the cat stalked off to clean itself of mud.

That night, the man told a story in the tavern of his great chase and how the cat had scratched his back in its battle to get free. He even showed the scratches on his back (left by the frightened rat) as evidence of his fight with the cat.

“Aye. So ... Just asking you know...” said Lorelei the Barmaid, “if the cat was behind you, what was it fighting to be free of?”

“Well, it was ... We got ... I was...” the man spluttered.

“You was face down in the pigsty when I found you,” laughed Boris Dremel, the man who owned the pigs. “Thought you was trying to steal one of my pigs.”

“How did the cat scratch your back and your shirt not get torn?” asked another.

Soon the tavern was filled with jeering and laughter. The next morning, the man left for lands farther south where perhaps people had never heard of that darn cat. Others went as well.

Of course, they took souvenirs with them. The women of Tumwater had quickly put together hats, gloves, blankets, and even sweaters knitted from wool with up to ten percent cat hair from Tumwater. Another vendor sold amulets as a commemorative token. Each amber amulet had a cat hair trapped inside. Even market day morning had booths selling fruit and vegetables ‘harvested from the witch’s garden.’

Lilith had nothing against the people of her town earning a little cash, so she freely traded her fruits and vegetables with them so they could sell them for a tidy profit. As more adventurers, traders, and shady merchants came to town, the townspeople grew prosperous.

As one wave of adventurers left Tumwater, yet another arrived. And with this wave, a new cadre of merchants and scheming peddlers reached the village.

“Catnip! It’s the one sure way to catch a cat. Doktor Grigor’s Custom Catnip is the best there is. Sprinkle a bit of this on the ground around you and just wait for the cats to line up, waiting to be petted and examined. Just ten ruri a bundle. Harvested from the high Alps, this genuine premium catnip is 100% guaranteed.”

“Ten ruri? That’s a bargain!” yelled one of the adventurers who happened to have arrived the same day as the peddler. The villagers turned to the stranger.

“BUT!” all the men stopped to listen to Doktor Grigor again, “if there is one thing cats love even more than catnip, it is silvervine. On my treacherous journey to locate the rare herb, I came across this miracle of cat intoxication. I personally harvested over a thousand silvervine blossoms and dried them so you may attract every cat within a mile with the scent of this precious herb. Why should you trust to mere catnip—even such a rare breed as I have brought—when you can have silvervine for just twenty ruris. That’s right, just twenty ruri will get you silvervine and if you act now, I’ll throw in the catnip for just five ruri more. That’s right, folks. Mix the catnip and silvervine together to have an unbeatable cat attraction. Just twenty-five ruri for both!”

Men lined up to buy the weed that looked and smelled strangely like the local peppermint and the silvervine, which smelled like hyacinth. Nonetheless, just twenty-five ruri a bundle seemed like a bargain compared to the rumored wealth of the witch’s girl.

“Now, there isn’t a man here who can outrun a cat,” said the next peddler. “You have to trap the cat so it can’t get away from you. But who wants every cat in the neighborhood to show up in his trap? I see four cats from where I stand and not one of them is of interest.”

This caused an immediate stir among the enrapt crowd who looked around to watch cats scampering away from rooftops, under houses, and into trees. They returned their attention to the peddler.

“None of those cats were of interest. Why? Because they didn’t hold the key! You aren’t interested in capturing the cat! You only need the key. So, the object of my invention is to lure the cat forward. Nothing lures a cat like a flashing light. This tiny mirror, hung from a thread will reflect the light of the sun in different directions. That flashing spot of sunlight is irresistible to cats. When a cat pounces on the spot of sunlight, which all cats will do, it triggers a ball of yarn to drop from a shelf and roll across the floor. If there is one thing that will attract a cat more than a spot of sun light, it is a ball of yarn. The cat will chase and bat at the ball of yarn as it rolls down this track, where it will hit the jar at the end.”

The men were fascinated by the demonstration and did not even notice the number of cats gathered on a nearby roof watching it. They looked curiously at the contraption, but didn’t move.