Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback

too ragged even for Professor Owl, I think.”


“Come on, you,” said Blanchefleur, clearly disgusted. He followed

her out of the room and up a flight of stairs, to a bathroom with a large tub on four clawed legs. He had never seen anything quite like it before. At the mill, he had often washed under the kitchen spigot.

After she had left, he filled it with hot water that came out of a tap and slipped into it until the water was up to his chin.

What a strange day it had been. Three days ago he had left his

father’s house and the life he had always lived, a life that required almost nothing of him: no thought, no effort. And now here he was, in a castle filled with talking cats. And tomorrow he would start for another place, one that might be even stranger. When Blanchefleur had taunted him by telling the Lady that he had nothing to say for

himself, he had wanted to say—what? Something that would have

made her less disdainful. But what could he say for himself, after all?

With a piece of soap, he washed himself more carefully than he

had ever before in his life. She had said he smelled like a pigsty, and he had spent the night before last sleeping on a haystack that was, indeed, near a pen where several pigs had grunted in their dreams.

Last night, he had slept in the forest, but he supposed the smell still lingered—particularly to a cat’s nose. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of shame.

He dried himself and put on the clothes she had left for him. He

went back down the stairs, toward the sound of music, and found his way to the great hall. It was lit with torches, and sitting at the two long tables were cats of all colors: black and brindled and tortoiseshell and piebald, with short hair and long. Sitting on the dais were the Lady, with Blanchefleur beside her, and a large yellow and brown cat who was striped like a tiger. He stood in the doorway, feeling self-conscious.

? 344 ?

? Theodora Goss ?

The Lady saw him across the room and motioned for him to come

over. He walked to the dais and bowed before it, because that seemed the appropriate thing to do. She said, “That was courteous, nephew.

Now come sit with us. Tailcatcher, you will not mind giving your seat to Ivan, will you?”

“Of course not, my Lady,” said the striped cat in a tone that

indicated he did indeed mind, very much.

Ivan took his place, and Marmalade brought him a dish of roast

starlings, with a green sauce that smelled like catmint. It was good, although relatively flavorless. The cats, evidently, did not use salt in their cooking. Halfway through the meal, he was startled to realize that the cats were conversing with one another and nodding politely, as though they were a roomful of ordinary people. He was probably the only silent one in the entire room. Several times he noticed

Blanchefleur giving him exasperated looks.

When he had finished eating, the Lady said, “I think it’s time

to dance.” She clapped her hands, and suddenly Ivan heard music.

He wondered where it was coming from, then noticed a group of

cats at the far end of the room playing, more skillfully than he had supposed possible, a fife, a viol, a tabor, and other instruments he could not identify, one of which curved like a long snake. The cats who had been sitting at the long tables moved them to the sides of

the room, then formed two lines in the center. He had seen a line

dance before, at one of the village fairs, but he had never seen one danced as gracefully as it was by the cats. They wove in and out, each line breaking and reforming in intricate patterns.

“Aren’t you going to ask your cousin to dance?” said the Lady,

leaning over to him.

“What? Oh,” he said, feeling foolish. How could he dance with a

cat? But the Lady was looking at him, waiting. “Would you like to

dance?” he asked Blanchefleur.

“Not particularly,” she said, looking at him with disdain. “Oh, all right, Mother! You don’t have to pull my tail.”