|The Cat Dreamer
- Isobelle Carmody
The Cat Dreamer arose because of a friendly verbal fencing match with
Paul Collins, over cats and dogs. Paul is a self confessed dog man
and although I have and have had many dogs, I am definitely a cat
woman. It was this conversation that evoked my never too deeply slumbering
fascination with cats. One of the main characters in my very first
book, Obernewtyn, was a grizzled old cat called Maruman and in Greylands,
cats are the only creatures which can wander between dimensions and
worlds without any difficulty. In Dreamwalker, the world and the creatures
that the narrator, Ken, created were cat like and in Billy Thunder
and the Nightgate, the trickster /guide is the malevolent firecat.
So it was no surprise to me to find I was once again wanting to write
about cats. But in this book, I wanted to see what would happen if
you melded the wildness of a cat with a human girl. It was interesting
that despite my feeling that cats pretty much take care of themselves,
my Katya was wild but honourable. But of course you never really know
where you will wind up when you set out on any story road…
A strange, mind-numbing fog shrouds Quentaris and a cat that is more
than it seems enters the city. It is a dangerous time in Quentaris.
Before it is over, the city and its magical rift caves will face destruction.
It is up to Igorik and the girl who visits him in his dreams to do
all they can to save Quentaris and its inhabitants...
Red gazed through the window of the cramped Watch hut and sighed.
The idea of going out into the damp air and patrolling the long stony
stretch of ground before the rift caves every fifteen minutes had
been Cora’s. It was a matter of pride to her that the Watch
assigned to rift guard were alert when she was in charge.
Donning his cloak, Red tried to recall exactly when Cora had issued
the order to patrol. It had definitely been since the arrival of the
fog that currently shrouded Quentaris, because one of the Watch that
had fallen asleep claimed it had confused her into unconsciousness.
And the fog had arrived when? A week ago. Two weeks? Red decided the
troll brew his twin brother had pressed on him the night before must
have affected his memory He had no clear recollection of how much
he had drunk, but he had ended up being carried to bed, slung like
a sack of potatoes over Igorik’s shoulder. He ought to have
a mighty hangover, but in fact he had awoken rested and clear-headed.
He stepped out into the clammy gloom, reminding himself as one did
these days, that it was only late afternoon. The fog had reduced night
and day to a queer, shifty dusk. The street lamps were left alight
constantly, though their grainy puddles of brightness offered little
illumination. Which explained why the streets were deserted. People
had no doubt begun to prefer to stay indoors with their curtains drawn
until the fog lifted. Though who knew when that would be?