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6. Bad behaviour is its own reward


"So all roads do lead to Rome," Tonino grumbled to himself. For no matter which path he had tried, he always came out in the same place. By the fourth time he had walked into this clearing, with its stone archway and slab table, Tonino had grown quite frustrated.

He'd meant to wait for Cat by the wall, but, in that brief amount of time, he'd become hugely lost. Tonino recognised that magic was responsible, magic that felt oppressively, uncomfortably strong here. He would have preferred to leave this clearing as soon as possible -- if only he could figure out how.

Perhaps it was similar to the enchantment hiding the base of those terrifyingly steep, overgrown stairs they'd had to ascend to enter this garden. Cat's solution had been to shuffle toward them backwards so that they couldn't be tempted to peek; for looking directly at the stairs, he'd explained, always shifted them elsewhere. As they'd fallen right over the bottom step, it had proven a successful, if slightly painful, solution.

Tonino decided it was worth a try. He screwed his eyes shut, extended his arms out before him, and cautiously walked into the trees. After a few minutes of feeling his way from trunk to trunk, he opened his eyes: He was standing before the stone arch once again. Tonino sighed moodily, and poked at finger at the damp moss on the stonework. So that hadn't been the answer either.

A bored voice behind him suggested that he try widdershins. Obviously.

Tonino whirled about. "What?"

Wandering about with one's eyes shut only succeeded in making one look ridiculous, the large, stripy cat told him. Of course, a cat could go anywhere he liked, but anyone who was not a cat needed to leave widdershins.

The cat yawned, rose stiffly to his feet from the corner of the stone-slab table where he'd clearly been napping, and began a complex series of stretches. Then he began a few preliminary washes with his left paw.

"Oh." Tonino blushed. Now that the cat had explained it, it did seem obvious. He apologised hastily: "I'm sorry that I did not notice you before."

The cat informed him that he hadn't wished to be noticed. He paused in his ablutions long enough to point out, with some asperity, that the garden was off-limits to visitors; so he rather wondered at seeing someone tumbling into the clearing repeatedly.

"Er, well, no," Tonino stammered, "we aren't supposed to be here, but--"

We? the cat interrupted.

"I am here with Ca, er, Eric Chant," Tonino admitted.

The cat flicked his tail. That one, he said simply. Well, he supposed it came as no surprise then.

Tonino had a sudden inspiration. Janet had told him that Fiddle slept on her bed most nights, and had suggested Tonino stop in after dinner. Tonino wouldn't have expected to find Fiddle in this garden, but, as he had pointed out, a cat could go wherever he liked.

"Pardon me," he asked him eagerly, "but you are Fiddle, are you not?"

A moment of half-lidded suspicion, and the cat turned smoothly to jump from the table.

"Oh, please wait," Tonino said desperately, wondering what he'd said wrong. "Benvenuto will find it unforgivable if I have offended the boss cat of the Castle."

The what? The cat paused, and looked back. Who is Benvenuto? he added.

"Benvenuto is the boss cat of my home, Casa Montana. It is the finest spell-house in Italy," Tonino told him. "Are you not Fiddle? Janet did tell me that Fiddle was the boss cat of the Castle here."

At the mention of Janet's name, the cat seemed a trifle mollified. He acknowledged that he was indeed Fiddle, and also said warmly that Janet was an excellent judge of character.

Tonino breathed a sigh of relief as Fiddle settled back onto the table.

Fiddle then suggested to Tonino that perhaps explanations were in order. And proper introductions.

Tonino blushed at this reminder of his manners. "Er, I am Antonino Montana the younger, of the Montana spell-house in Caprona," he said and approached the stone table. He held out a finger. "Everyone calls me Tonino," he added.

After a few moments' deliberation, Fiddle rose and sidled over to tentatively sniff it.

The pop of static startled them both.

Tonino nursed his shocked finger, and wondered why that sensation had felt strangely familiar.

Manners on the continent leave a great deal to be desired, Fiddle stated coldly from the far end of the table where he had landed. His tail lashed angrily.

"But did you not do that?" Tonino protested.

No, Fiddle informed him stiffly, he had not.

"I do not understand," Tonino said. "Are you not an enchanter?"

The cat now studied him with a thoughtful expression. Why, he asked, would Tonino think that?

"Er, your eyes, Tonino admitted humbly, "I could not help but notice." He did wonder why Janet hadn't mentioned it. Tonino hadn't even known before now that a cat could be an enchanter. But then he hadn't known that a rat could be a sorceress either, which was why he believed that, in the interests of self-preservation, he should accept such intuitions at face value.

Fiddle told him firmly that he was quite mistaken, and his expression now seemed speculative. He strolled back to the side of the stone table where Tonino stood. Fiddle said he was certain the other one would come looking for Tonino eventually; however, in the meantime, he might tell Fiddle more about why he was staying at the Castle.

Fiddle also told him that just behind his right ear would be a good place to begin.



Cat rubbed his nose, puzzled. As he'd been neatly stacking his snowballs, he'd felt an odd tingle. It had resembled nothing so much as someone flicking the tip of his nose with a finger.

Perhaps, he thought warily, it could be incipient frostbite. He'd read of it in books; he was still trying to remember how long it was supposed to take before one's nose turned vivid colours and fell off when something else, far more peculiar, occurred.

Someone began to scratch his back. Or rather, it felt as though someone were, only in the most gratifying sort of way imaginable, in all the hardest to reach places where one's back always seemed to itch the most.

Cat trembled. Nothing like this had happened the last time he'd been in the garden. He wondered if perhaps losing one's mind was a symptom of frostbite as well.

But really, he found it an enjoyable hallucination for all that. He felt rather warmer now.



As Tonino scratched just above Fiddle's tail, the cat arched his back and the rasping deepened. To Tonino, the sound was remarkably like the lowest notes being sawed upon a violin. He supposed that must be why he was called Fiddle. Or perhaps it was the smoothness of his fur, satiny to the touch, like the finest varnish. "You know," he mused, "my family would love you very much, I think. They are all musical."

Fiddle sneezed. Farther to the right would not be amiss, he said, kneading at the stone.

"So, you see, at first I was so very homesick," Tonino continued, "but Cat made that much better."

Fiddle commented drily that Tonino must enjoy being dragged into trouble then.

Tonino thought about that. "Ah. No. I meant that, that I am very much liking to be with him."

Fiddle said that he himself preferred Janet's company. He rolled onto his back.

Tonino palmed Fiddle's belly with wide strokes. "Oh yes, she is very nice," he agreed. But, on reflection, Tonino decided that he should not attempt to explain the difference. Instead, he changed the subject, "Before I left home, someone said something to me that has confused me. If I might ask you?"

Fiddle stretched contentedly, and told him to feel free.

"Ah, thank you," Tonino said happily. "I told you of the Casa Petrocchi? One of that family is Angelica, and she--"

But Tonino never got the chance to finish the explanation, for just then he pressed a ticklish place low on Fiddle's stomach. In reaction, the cat sank the claws of his left paw into Tonino's hand.

Whereupon, Tonino said, "Ooph."

And Fiddle said, Urgh.

And Cat said, "Wh-aaah!"

And the world around them lurched.