Anar was face to face with a strange Alae female with black hair and blue eyes. She wore an austere light-colored dress with a wide skirt ornamented about the hem with bright-red cat's paw prints. Sitting next to her, in an identical round wicker chair, was a lean Alae of the "pedigree" sort, dressed with deliberate care. Both of them were gazing somewhere behind Anar – she with great sadness, he with a hint of annoyance.

Concentrating, Anar forced himself to "turn around." The concave golden wall of a grand hall floated before him, covered with seemingly endless recesses of different sizes, all stuffed with withered cat corpses. A particularly motley crew was seated on black-and-white stone pedestals that ran along it. Anar, who was used to the uniform sculptural beauty of his tribe, feasted his eyes on Alae with skin the color of sacred milk and the color of hatty. There were chubby Alae and lean Alae, even bug-eyed Alae resembling bizarre-looking fish; athletic Alae with flat noses and powerful necks; Alae like fine statues with frighteningly thin frames, orange hair and fuzzy tufts of fur on their translucent ears. Some had tails that were shaved smooth; others, on the contrary, sported long, spiraling rings of fur, and still others cut patterns on their "fifth limb," turning the fur into raised velvet. One busty lady in the front row had turned her ears inside out, wisps of fur protruding from them like stamens from a calla lily (if calla lilies had stamens, that is). There was something shamelessly seductive about it, Anar couldn't help but admired her. Her pudgy neighbor's richly fuzzy ears bent forward, their tips strung with a brass fish skeleton. Wrapped in a coat of mouse skins, her enormous green eyes – elongated by the arrows of fine lines – squinted with suspicion.

This entire variegated assembly was looking at an elderly, finely dressed man with the same dissatisfied expression. The man was brandishing a massive rod and shouting something angrily at a pair of Alae who were seated in armchairs. Though obviously not speaking Alae, after a few minutes Anar was surprised to realize that he understood him.

"It would be better for you all if you sold everything you owned and left Cahnerali this very day!"

"Why in the world would we do that?" a voice from the peanut gallery ventured.

"Because it might be confiscated tomorrow," the man stated, "as compensation for all the harm you've caused Cahnerali."

"Harm?" the lady with the calla lily ears blinked with surprise.

"Master ambassador, I don't think it would be too immodest of me in this situation to remind you of the role our people have played in the formation of your government. It was we who saved you from Hellyn's wrath, we who for many years ensured your... sovereignty. But now that you're more or less standing on your own two feet, we've suddenly changed into evil occupiers? Is that what you're saying?" said the Alae of seemingly highest pedigree, standing up from his armchair. He spoke in the soft, mildly exhausted tone of a priest-veterinarian, constantly having to extract the pendants of censers from the bellies of foolish temple cats who'd swallowed them.

"That's exactly right," the ambassador nodded, recovering himself. "I assure you, without your so-called help we would have gotten our footing much, much sooner. No, no one is denying the merits of the Alae in organizing the Exodus, but your subsequent actions, the way you shamelessly took advantage of our plight, negates all previous good you may have furnished. Your culture of permissiveness, your... ideology are alien to us. We are a separate, self-sufficient people; we've paid for our freedom with blood, and Ellis' Note guarantees us the right to remain so. We will not allow anyone to turn us into some sorry colony!"

"A colony? Master ambassador, I cannot recall even one instance in which Briaellar interfered in Cahnerali's internal affairs or attempted to influence its foreign policy."

"Well then, master High Priests, allow me to say two words that will make the picture infinitely clearer for you," the ambassador said with a bow. "Ar-Direllejt. One of the largest inter-realm schools of higher magic is thriving in the lands of people in whom witchcraft instills a deep, righteous indignation. Because of you, we are forced to put up with this hotbed of contagion. We cannot rid ourselves of Ar-Direllejt, or even restrict its propaganda, stop it from promoting its sinful – in every sense of the word – lifestyle on the streets of our cities!"

"As far as I know, more than a few denizens of Ar-Direllejt support Cahnerali, including many who've been vested with influence," a High Priestess noted.

"Which is hardly surprising, considering what percentage of Cahnerali's budget is made up of the school's tax contributions," another voice echoed their support.

"No amount of taxes could possibly compensate for the harm borne by the spirit of our people!" the ambassador snapped.

"Tell it to your own government. What does that have to do with us?" said the same voice in exasperation.

"It is because of you and none other that we cannot convince a portion of our own government of this," the man fulminated.

"I don't understand what you mean, master ambassador" the High Priestess continued in the same calm tone.

"You understand exactly what I mean. Not a single Cahnerali patriot in his right mind would defend this plague on the flesh of our homeland. But you are experts in clouding others' minds."

"And what evidence do you have that your government is being pressured?" a High Priest inquired.

"Evidence? Everyone knows full well that your telepaths leave no trace of their... deeds. But if before your actions were subtle, and we truly could not accuse you of anything, now that you sense the mood in Cahnerali has changed, and your precious school is in real danger, you've thrown caution to the wind. You became frightened and blatantly lured the younger princes to your side. If the support of some of the nobility can be attributed to their greed, how do you explain such an unexpected shift in Their Highnesses' behavior? They've never showed any particular love – not for you, not for your sycophant sorcerers. Verily, when someone in a position of power suddenly starts acting as never before, an Alae must be afoot."

"I could just as feasibly propose that your current accusation has been the result of someone's suggestion. This shift in the course of your politics is more than unexpected," the High Priestess pursed her lips and sorrowfully shook her head. "Think about that, master ambassador. Carefully consider it and then take action."

Silence reigned in the hall. The ambassador swallowed a lump. His shoulders suddenly slumped; his face took on a bewildered expression.

"What... what have you done to me?" he sighed heavily, teetering.

"Nothing at all. Although you must be aware that in the presence of a High Priestess of Alasais, any active charms influencing someone's mind are weakened. They melt like clumps of sugar in hot soup, and the victim of such charms recovers his wits," the Alae stated softly. "Take advantage of my gift. Have a sober look at the events of the past week. I ask nothing more."

"This does indeed seem... very strange. Are you prepared to swear that your telepaths are innocent?" the ambassador managed with obvious strain.

"Absolutely." The cat didn't hesitate for a moment.

The ambassador once again fell into pensive silence. No one bothered him. The Alae waited patiently.

"Everyone knows that High Priestess Gweliaryn has a noble heart. She is one of the few trustworthy children of Alasais, and we will heed her words," he pronounced finally.

The priestess nodded, half closing her eyes in satisfaction. All three Cahneralians bowed and made a beeline for the door.

The vision ended.

Anar found himself lying on a carefully laid-out sleeping bag. Aniallu was sitting next to him, tracing a sophisticated pattern from the nearby bas-relief on her leg out of boredom.

"Hey there. We have your grandmother to thank for that wondrous illustration, may her mind abide in a blissful haze," the sianae chuckled, finishing the last curl. "When you were a child, your parents could've saved a lot of money on picture books. As long was there's text, your... valley nature would take care of the rest."

"Did that... really happen?" Anar asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yep. That strange encounter set in motion an event I was going to tell you about. As you saw, the Cahnerali ambassadors left our city with nothing, ashamed of their accusations. But so what? High Priestess Gweliaryn was able to help those three regain their grip on reality, but influencing their authorities was beyond her power."

"So a telepath really had brainwashed the authorities?"

"Yes, and an outstanding one, no less. In the span of a few months he'd managed to influence the minds of every member of the royal family. And it's interesting that while inciting some to singe our tails, he fostered in others a love for everything Alaean. As a result, when the king began to insist on confiscating Ar-Direllejt's property and repressing the Alae living in Cahnerali, he encountered resistance. His brother and two younger princes stood up in defense of cats – which is what the ambassador was talking about."

"And it really has nothing to do with us?"

"At that time, nothing. Later on, one of our rulers, Lord Inaan of the GreatForest, decided to get involved. He... Anar? You still with me?" Alu asked, noticing her companion's faraway look.

"Not really... Again..."

"Taemass," the word resounded in Anar's consciousness, uttered by a rich, deep voice, full of might.

After the sound came an image, as a huge black leopard appeared to Anar. Its hide was glossy, its whiskers shimmered silver. It was treading on a skull – flat like a crab shell and corroded as if eaten through by bark beetles.

"Rage. Fury. Evil enters our world, streams through space and flows into the living. Set out towards the people of Cahnerali," a cat thundered to someone Anar couldn't see. "You will become a shield standing in the way of evil. If this disease is not stopped now, while only a few are infected, later, when it becomes an epidemic, we will not be able to oppose it. It will consume those who submitted to it willingly, those who were indifferent, and even those who fought it. Inaction is unforgivable."

"Was... that... him?" Anar breathed, opening his eyes.

"Yes. Lord Inaan himself," Aniallu chuckled, clicking the fountain pen's cap. The last vision only lasted long enough to allow her to decorate one finger. "At this rate we will linger here till sundown. I say we fire up a self-propeller and continue this conversation on the move. I checked the hall for magic; seems pretty safe."

Anar got up grudgingly. He positively detested using self-propeller spells, although they did take care of many unpleasant chores. This spell enabled one to write a scenario for one's body to follow: to walk, bow, polish statues and sing hymns completely autonomously for several hours, without engaging one's consciousness. During this time, the Alae could mentally converse on any topic their hearts desired, unhindered.

And so it was: while their spell-controlled bodies muttered prayers while shoving chunks of meat into the gullets of dozens of cats sitting around along the walls, our heroes resumed their conversation.

"So, if I understand correctly, this Inaan character decided to send his subordinates to Cahnerali to nose out the enemy telepath?"

"Correct. And it was a whopping mistake."

"They were caught? And their presence was counted as proof of the humans' suspicions?"

"No. It's very unlikely Cahneralians would be up to such a task. We couldn't imagine where the trouble eventually came from... But there was one who managed to feel its approach – Lady Timela, Inaan's companion. She tried to employ her right of veto, but Inaan ignored her, breaking the most ancient of laws..."

... A tall Eale pressed her back against a powerful trunk. Her black skin melted into the ebony bark, her long and agile tail vanishing amid the aerial roots. Her feline fingers dug into a frayed branch; her eyes burned; the ripples of her musculature quivered with suppressed rage. Her ears were turned back, pointing in the direction of the source of a soft, even light that barely percolated through the black wall of trees.

"That's Timela," Aniallu's voice reached Anar. "Right afterher conversation with Inaan."

"Are we in Al Emenayit?"

"Yes. I think you're the first male to ever come to this part of the forest. We're near L'en te Anaeis, the Feelers' Chalice. This is their holy of holies. Hear that? They're singing."

Anar perked up his ears. The woods were full of sounds – alluring, captivating, enigmatic and somehow... completely otherworldly. It was difficult to believe they originated in feline voice boxes. Suddenly Anar desperately wanted to join his voice to theirs, to feel like a part of this wondrous whole.

"The hymn of the union of feelings. The Anaeis sing it upon closing a meeting of the Council," whispered Aniallu. "I sang with them once. Not something you'd soon forget."

Timela was still. It seemed as if she didn't want to be at the Council meeting. Only when the voices died away did she slowly move towards the light. Anar followed.

The forest came to an end at a vast hollow. The aerial roots of the trees on the edge interweaved with one another as they slid to the floor, serpent-like, covering the earthen chalice completely. There was a small white reservoir in the center of the chalice. Like the full moon's disc, it was overflowing with delicate shades of gold. Hovering over the milky, mirror-like surface, around the tail section, was a black, spindle-shaped stone.

"What's that... pupil?" Anar asked telepathically.

"Think of it as a... 'think-not.' It prevents those who look at it from thinking – gives logic a kick in the pants and unleashes your intuition," Aniallu giggled.

Dozens of multicolored little sparks blazed in pairs among the dark foliage of the trees ringing the chalice. From green to turquoise to orange, their soft glow illuminated the silhouettes of panthers – the owners of the eyes that were the source of all this radiance. The flames were going out, one by one. The meeting had ended, and the Anaeis were going their separate ways. Timela was waiting patiently, still not giving away her presence.

Finally only one panther was left in L'en te Anaeis. She lay on a branch that hung over the hollow, front paws crossed elegantly, gazing pensively at the stone as it bathed in a milky glow.

"That's Lareh. She's a k'aelene – the Feelers' instructor. Their second mother," Aniallu explained.

"Has Timela come to her for advice?"

"No. She's made her decision. She came to say goodbye," Aniallu said flatly, with pain in her voice.

Shifting her shape, Timela got down onto the wall of the chalice. At the same instant, Lareh pushed off with her paws, bounded from her branch in a flash and in a single leap flew across the hollow, landing on a root beside her former student. Their snouts were so close that the long whiskers were touching. Timela endured this blatant familiarity without complaint.

"Claws and fangs, Timela!" Lareh whispered. "Inaan's son and his telepaths have indeed departed for Cahnerali, then? Just last night you were beside yourself with worry, arguing – not that you needed to convince me – that meddling in Cahnerali affairs would be suicide! You promised to speak to Inaan again... What happened?"

"He said that my wrath has blinded me, and that my hatred of humans ought to negate my status of Feeler. 'Perhaps you should make peace with the past, Lady Timela? As an Anaeis, your personal bias shouldn't cloud your inner vision,'" Timela repeated her co-regent's words mockingly.

"And is it clouded?"

"No. I told him this and suggested that he heed the other Anaeis if he didn't trust me."

"Your humility delights me..." Lareh frowned.

"He refused. He said this time the situation is too serious to rely on premonitions. Neither you, Lareh, nor I have any tangible evidence at all..."

"Timela!"' Lareh lashed her side with her tail. "You're going in circles. Yesterday you were resolved not to allow this tragedy, and today you remind me of a house cat who's been declawed by her prudent owner so she won't cause trouble."

"He was very convincing while 'declawing' me, Lareh. He's always convincing. He's one of the First Cats, one of the progenitors of our race, the first Sovereign Al Emenayit who gave our forest a name and ruled it for thirty centuries... And ruled wisely, mind you."

"Even the best hunters can miss," Lareh objected. "I understand what's bothering you. I know better than anyone how well Inaan can argue his position, how adroitly he can hit others where it hurts. But you're an Anaeis, you should be above all that! Great Alasais! What kind of fleas is this world infested with? Since when do telepaths oppose Feelers?!"

"He's not opposing us," said Timela, hanging her head. "He just does what he considers necessary, and you've got to admit he's earned that right."

"What are you saying?!" Lareh exclaimed, bumping Timela's chin with her snout, making her raise her head. "What right has he earned? The right to destroy centuries' worth of existing balance? We've flourished and continue to flourish only because we've respected and continue to respect our Cat's Essence in all its manifestations, just as our rulers have always heeded their intellect and intuition in equal measure. We remember that each of us has their place in the grand song of life – and it strengthens us. The telepaths think, analyze, calculate coldly and rationally, but we Anaeis feel and implement corrections in their plans when necessary. The world is complicated. Life is complicated. You can't think of everything; some things you can only feel. And you, my pupil and my mistress, should have defended your right to the last word with claws and fangs! Who better than you ought to know how many times the Anaeis saved our people from error by exercising the power of veto. Remember what I purred to you when you were a child: 'When we trust our intuition, our eyes become like Alasais' Eyes, which look upon the world from the height of the night skies. Nothing can cloud their vision. They transcend personal feelings, transcend intellect and knowledge. They just see.' The essence of our 'irrational' gift lies therein. Inaan's behavior is unnatural. Suspiciously unnatural. If we were talking about some petty human, I would chalk this stunt up to ignorance or an acute bout of pride. But Inaan is not a human. He can't be unaware of what he's doing."

"I agree with everything you've said," Timela nodded. "It's possible I showed frailty, I wasn't stubborn enough. It's too late now to fix that."

"But that's no excuse for leaving Al Emenayit without a ruler!" Lareh hissed. "If you go to the Tree, you probably won't be able to come back."

"Then let it be so. I'm tired of being a prisoner to my own doubts. I want to know for sure. I want my eyes to truly become like Alasais' Eyes."

"Then you will become like the night sky: dark, cold, far from everything you hold dear."

"Perhaps I'll simply become myself?"

"I would give my paw, would that were true!" Lareh sighed.

Timela the wild cat flew across the darkness of the night. She leaped from branch to branch, climbing higher and higher, to the very canopy of the wood. Flocks of rainbow l'etri swept past; fuzzy moths flitted hastily from her path. Timela ran in such a way as to turn the world around her into the same dismayed blur that reigned in her soul. She craved serenity, sought answers, confirmations of her feelings, and it was instinct – more ancient than Inaan, wiser than all his words and her friends' admonitions – that guided her path.

On the border of the territory of the Council of Anaeis she paused to still her heart lest it burst from her chest. Choosing a tree with rough bark, Timela began sharpening her claws. Arching her back with relish, she concentrated on the sensations in the tips of her paws... and suddenly felt someone grab her hardily by the nape of the neck. The enraged cat spun around and socked the hapless fellow right in the mug with a heavy paw. He literally flew right off the branch. Timela heard the crack of branches breaking and the rustle of leaves, accompanying a mournful meow. Timela didn't even bother following her target's fall with her eyes. Luckily, the victim was not only four-legged, but endowed by the goddess with the gift of always landing on those same four legs.

After a few bounds, Timela suddenly stopped and glanced over her shoulder longingly. What if Lareh was right? A visit to the Tree would change... everything, and in that new life there would be no room for nocturnal singing with her Anaeis sisters, nor for catching frogs in Green Crater Grove, nor for sunbathing on Biting Luminary's Day that drew cute little rings of smoke on her hide... nor for cavalier admirers laying in wait for her at every turn.

She grumbled to herself. Now was not the time to give in to fainthearted doubts. The Feeler flicked the tip of her tail in annoyance and continued on...

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Illustration by Oksana Sanzharova.