Chapter 1:- Bad Kitten
A kitten romped in the shadow of a table. It was a fluffy orange and cream kitten, as serious and silly as a kitten can be. It stared at the brown shoelaces of a rather fat man who was eating won-ton soup. It stared and prepared to pounce. Then a noise from the kitchen distracted it, made it hop beneath a nearby, unoccupied table.
Sara Chang watched the kitten from a dozen feet away. She watched it bat the corner of a red and gold tablecloth. It certainly was a cute and happy kitten. It also had no business at all in the dining room of her family's restaurant.
Sara looked across the dining room. Customers sipped tea or nibbled egg rolls at six of the room's twelve tables. Her mom was busy at the reception desk. Her dad, she knew, was buying shrimp and crabs at the wharf with her brother. Sam the cook was cooking. Sara judged that dealing with the kitten was her responsibility.
She stepped quickly to the kitten-concealing table. She straightened the already perfectly straight napkins and checked to see if anyone was watching. Then she dropped one napkin next to the chair furthest from all the customers.
She knelt and picked up the napkin. As she did so, she peeked around the edge of the chair. The kitten's face was close, only a few feet away. Its very blue eyes went wide with surprise. Before Sara could move a finger, it skittered to the next table, the one by the wall.
Sara sighed with understandable frustration. It was time for her lunch, too, but she was a very determined girl and she wouldn't leave the kitten uncaught.
All of the customers concentrated on menus or food and her mom was now busy serving. She could just see an orange and cream tail twitching in the shadow. She crawled swiftly to the table under which the kitten now sheltered.
It was the new table, a small one for just two customers. Her dad had bought it last Sunday at a secondhand store across town. It was finely made, but he'd paid a low price for it. Her mom hadn't wanted to cover the inlaid squares on its top with a tablecloth. The chessboard design showed that it was intended to be a comfortable place for two friends to play a game. It fit nicely in the corner against the wall.
The kitten certainly thought it nice. It peeked out, ducked back, peeked out, ducked back and at last remained hidden. Sara again sighed with irritation. She'd have to crawl under the table. She looked over her shoulder. No one paid the slightest attention to her. She scrambled to the table and slid beneath the edge of its red tablecloth.
She paused and let her eyes become adjusted to the darkness. The kitten, eyes round and innocent, stared at her from the farthest corner. Sara eased toward it. She murmured, "Good kitty. Good kitty, kitty, kitty. That's a good kitty." She extended her hands, touched fluff and gripped quickly. The kitten's body tensed at first and then relaxed. It began to purr.
Sara smiled and rubbed her cheek against the kitten's fur. She held the kitten away and looked into its clear, blue eyes. She spoke to herself, "I guess you're not so bad, after all."
Footsteps approached the table. Sara clutched the kitten to her chest and looked out beneath the hem of the tablecloth. She recognized her mother's small, black pumps. The other two pairs of shoes, large Nikes and bigger Reeboks, she did not recognize. Quickly, she scrambled back against the wall as far as she could.
Her mother said, "Please be seated. Here are your menus. I'll be back in a moment with ice water and tea." Sara watched her mother's shoes turn and leave the table.
After a moment's silence, a voice, Mr. Nike's, said, "What now, dude?"
Reebok answered, "Just wait. Let her bring the tea."
Nike complained, "Why wait? Let's just do it!"
Reebok, still calm, said, "Cool it. I want to see who's in here before we pull out guns and boost the place. There's no hurry. They've got the weekend receipts in that register. We know they don't go to the bank until after Monday lunch."
Sara saw her mom's shoes approach the table. She heard a light thump as her mom put down the tray of teacups and pot. Her mom spoke as she placed the cups and poured tea, "Would you like a bit more time before you order?"
Reebok answered her, "Yeah. Some more time. Not long."
Sara's mom said, "I'll be right back." She turned. Sara saw her shoes disappear behind the next table.
Nike said, "Let's go."
"Keep your shirt on," Reebok answered. "You too wired to do this?"
"No," Nike answered. "I'm fine."
Reebok lowered his voice, "You better be. Don't pull out your gun until I do. Don't shoot unless I do. Got that?"
"Yeah, yeah, that's the plan."
"Make sure you remember it. We'll let those people at the counter pay their bill and leave. Then we'll do it."
Nike shifted his feet and almost touched Sara's arm. She shrank back against the wall. Fear and confusion froze her in place. These men were going to rob her parents and all the customers. They were going to use guns. She wanted to scream, but some inner voice told her that that would make things worse. She looked toward the front counter where the telephone was. It might as well be on the moon. There was no way she could sneak between the robbers' legs, run to it and dial 911.
The kitten wiggled. Sara squeezed it closer to her chest. It wiggled harder. She felt its claws dig into her shoulder. Suddenly, horribly, it let out a loud meeeow. Reebok and Nike shifted in their chairs. Sara had a vision of big guns pointing at her beneath the table. She pushed harder against the wall, tried to flatten against its surface. The wall suddenly gave way and her right hand sank into what felt like icy water. She gasped in surprise.
Nike snarled, "What was that?'
Reebok answered, "Something's under the table." He pushed his chair back and leaned down. Small, pale eyes squinted over a too long nose.
Sara recoiled and fell through the wall. A flash of silver light blinded her. She fell through the light. The kitten squealed, twisted and leapt away. Sara cried out, but her cry was cut off as she landed with a thump. She lay still for a moment. Her eyes were still dazzled, but she could tell that she was on a hard, cold floor.
She sat up. She opened here left eye. She found that she was no longer beneath the restaurant table and that the floor was made of bluish stones, not yellow and black linoleum. She opened her right eye, too. She saw that the robbers were gone, but that she was not alone.
A small, thin man, somewhat stooped, stood beside a window across the room from her. He was looking out of a window with his back partly turned toward her. He wore worn, red carpet slippers, not Nikes or Reeboks.
She glanced about her. Books, maps and papers littered a table to her right. A brass horn with three bells lay in the far corner. A bass viol and its bow leaned up against the wall to her left. A chair with one cracked leg rested beneath the table. A faded red carpet speckled with breadcrumbs and stained in several places, covered part of the stone floor. Deep red curtains, very dusty, hung to either side of the window.
Sara decided that this place didn’t look too dangerous. She shifted her right knee, prepared to stand. The man across the room said, “Ah!”
Sara froze.
The man, still peering out of the window, muttered, “Well, well, well. Come in! Come in!” He turned, looked somewhat vaguely at her and hesitated. “Forgive me! You are in. Well, have a seat.” He indicated a comfortable looking chair with a fat red cushion.
Sara looked at the chair and then more closely at the small man. He was dressed strangely. He wore gray trousers, a darker gray coat and a royal blue shirt. On his head he wore a tall, brimless, pointed, black hat, though its point was crushed and tilted drastically to the right.
Sara nodded politely, stepped to the chair and seated herself on its edge.
The man smiled at her, a kindly smile, and said, "Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Pangloss. And you?"
Sara hesitated. This man and this room were impossible. She felt a scream coming on, but she knew that wouldn't help. At last, she decided to find out as much as she could. She said, "I'm Sara Chang. Ah, where am I?"
Delighted to meet you, Sara. Now," he pointed his right index finger at her, "I must tell you that you’ve changed worlds.”
Sara’s eyes grew wide.
“Yes,” the man continued, “ you fell right out of your own world and into this one. It’s very upsetting, I know, so just sit quietly while I get you some tea.” His eyebrows rose. “You do like tea?”
Sara nodded.
“Good, good!” He turned and walked across the room. He opened a cupboard near a tall, thin window.
Sara looked around the room more slowly. It was a very unusual place. Shelves lined the walls to an improbable height. Scrolls, papers, books and bottles lined the shelves. Skulls of strange animals, eyeholes disturbingly black, served as bookends. Cobwebs decorated all of the corners and filled otherwise empty shadows. Several small machines perched on lower shelves. Their brass gears and wheels gleamed like gold.
Pangloss walked to a tall, narrow fireplace. He plucked a tea ball and a faded red canister from the mantle. He opened both. He poured tea from the canister into the tea ball. Spilled tea floated down to the hearth like brown snowflakes. He closed the tea ball, dropped it in a flowered teapot and placed it on a shelf next to the fireplace. He picked up a tattered hot-pad, bent over and lifted a teapot off its hook above the fire. Pouring hot water into the teapot, he muttered, more to himself than Sara, "Nothing like a cup of orange Darjeeling on a cool day, there."
He turned toward Sara. "We'll let that steep for a bit. Where was I?"
Sara answered, "You said that I'd changed worlds."
“Ah, yes. I arranged a number of portals between worlds,” he rubbed his chin, “though I can’t remember why.” He shrugged. “No matter. You dropped through one of them, so we may as well make the best of it.”
Sara jumped up. "I can't stay here! I must go back now! My family is in danger!"
Pangloss looked at her. "Danger, you say? What danger?"
"I was beneath a table in our restaurant. I followed a kitten there. Two men sat down and I was afraid to move. I heard them talking, planning to rob my parents. They had guns."
"Guns?"
Sara snorted with frustration. "Yes, guns, weapons."
Pangloss clasped his hands before him. "My dear child, I understand your concern."
"Then send me back at once! I have to warn my parents!"
Pangloss steepled his fingers, looked directly at her, arched both of his eyebrows and said, "I can't."
"You can't?"
He shook his head. "I can't."
Sara stamped her right foot. "Why not?"
Pangloss fluttered his fingers in the air. "I'm sorry, dreadfully sorry, but this sort of spell has two parts. This portal will only allow you to return once you've completed your mission in this world."
"No!"
"Yes, I made them that way, but don't fear."
"My mother might be killed! My father and brother, too, if they come back now!"
Pangloss clasped his hands together. "No, no, you don't understand. The portal will place you at the exact same place and moment of your departure. When you return, you can still warn your parents of the robbers."
Sara looked suspiciously at the strange, little man. "I can?"
Pangloss nodded. "You will."
Sara considered this for several moments. Pangloss poured tea into a rather faded, flower-patterned cup and handed it to Sara.
Sara took the cup and at last asked, "You say that I have a mission here. What is it?"
Pangloss shrugged. "I don't know."
Sara almost shouted, "You don't know?"
"I don't."
"But you brought me here!"
"Never fear, we'll start trying to discover why I arranged your visit. Your mission will be revealed when we do. We'll begin as soon as we've finished our tea."
Sara raised her cup and took a gulp of tea. It was hot, sweet and orange-flavored. She swallowed, took a smaller sip and asked, "Where's the kitten?"
Pangloss looked away. "Ah, kitten?"
Sara nodded. "Yes, I followed an orange and cream kitten beneath the table. I caught it. It must have come here too. Where is it?"
Pangloss mumbled, "Um, well, ah, it was part of the magic. Magical creature, you know."
"Yes, but is it here?"
The old man's fingers fluttered again, "Of course, it's here, somewhere."
Something stirred behind a trunk just to Sara's right. Sara looked toward the sound and her mouth fell open with surprise and sudden fear. A wolf rose from behind the trunk. It was tall, long and very lean. Its fur was rough and gray; patches were missing here and there. Its muzzle was thin and sharp. Its right ear was a chewed and tattered remnant. It looked at Sara with cold, yellow eyes.
Sara watched the wolf warily and asked, "That's the magical creature?"
Pangloss nodded, "Yes. It's able to change its shape and color quite easily. Sometimes it cooperates with me. I asked it to become a kitten, you see. I wanted a young person for some reason and young people are often attracted to kittens. I hoped it might lead you here. It did."
"Does it bite?"
Pangloss nodded again, "Oh, frequently."
The wolf whimpered.
Sara turned toward it.
The wolf whimpered again and took a step toward Sara. Sara's heart lurched and a lump rose in her throat. The wolf lowered its head, took another step toward Sara and wagged only the tip of its tail.
Somewhat reassured, Sara asked, "What does it want?"
The wolf lowered its head, raised it, lowered it again and took two steps closer to Sara until it stood next to her knee.
Pangloss peered at the wolf. “Hmm. I believe it wants you to pat its head.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. It’s never wanted a pat before.”
“What else could it want?”
Pangloss rubbed his chin beneath his stringy beard thoughtfully. “It might wish to chomp your hand off and swallow it whole.”
Sara quickly put both of her hands behind her back. The wolf stepped close to her. It rubbed its ragged head against her leg and whimpered again. Then it nuzzled her wrist with its cold, wet nose. Sara slowly brought her right hand from behind her back and stroked the rough fur. The wolf's pink tongue flickered out and licked her wrist. She snatched her hand back.
She looked up. "It tasted me."
Pangloss nodded, "Likely so."
The wolf pushed against Sara's thigh with its head. She scratched it between its ears. It settled down by her side. She smiled.
Pangloss said, "The creature is usually not so friendly."
Sara asked, "What's its name?"
Pangloss mumbled, "Ah, let me see. Well, I don't think it actually has a name."
Sara paused in her scratching. The wolf licked her wrist again. She said, "I'll call you Kitten."
Pangloss raised his head. "You intend to call my wolf 'Kitten'?"
"Is it truly your wolf?"
Pangloss paused. "Well, I snatched it up from the wild when I detected its capacity for magical enhancement. I kept it here. I fed it. I used it as a portal lure. Yes, I suppose it's mine."
Sara snorted in disgust, "You may own it, but I shall be its friend. I'll call it Kitten."
Pangloss shrugged. "So be it. Ah, the tea is getting cold."
Sara sipped her tea again. Kitten licked her elbow.
Pangloss asked, "Are you hungry? Would you like a biscuit?"
Sara nodded and said, "Please."
Pangloss walked to a cupboard, rummaged briefly within its cluttered interior and produced a green tin. He opened it, reached in and plucked up several frosting-covered biscuits. He plopped them on a plate, none too clean, and returned to Sara. He extended the plate and offered her a biscuit."
She looked dubiously at the biscuits. She was hungry, however, so she took one and bit into it. She tasted sugar, cinnamon and butter all at the same time. "It's good!" she exclaimed in surprise.
Pangloss said, "Thank you. I make them myself. It's my grandmother's recipe, a very old family tradition."
Sara finished chewing, took another sip of tea and asked, "Have you thought about what we should do first?"
Pangloss looked at her. "Do?"
"Yes, about discovering what my mission here is."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that. I want to return home as soon as I can. I must!"
Pangloss, nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand. Well, an obvious first step would be to question Mean Molly."
Sara tried to be patient. "Who's Mean Molly?"
"She's a neighbor of mine."
Sara blinked. Then she asked, "Where is she?"
Pangloss smiled. "Oh, she lives quite near here. We can be at her door within an hour."
Sara was relieved. "Let's finish our tea and go speak with her."
Pangloss shook his head. "It's not so easy as that. We can't just walk up and start asking her questions. We have to capture her first."
"Capture her?"
Pangloss nodded. "You'll see. She's very dangerous and not at all cooperative, so before we can speak with her we must capture her."
"Is she that unreasonable?"
"Oh, yes, and dangerous, highly dangerous. She's a witch, you know."
"A witch?'
Pangloss looked solemn. "A cruel, ruthless, clever witch."