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147 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1987
In a place far distant from where you are now grows an oak-tree by a lake.
Round the oak's trunk is a chain of golden links.
Tethered to the chain is a learned cat, and this most learned of all cats walks round and round the tree continually.
As it walks one way, it sings songs.
As it walks the other, it tells stories.
This is one of the stories the cat tells.
The scholar-cat tells its story to the chink of its golden chain.
Forget Chingis and her witch-mother for a little while (says the cat). But remember Kuzma, the harvester of ice-apples.
Best of all, remember the woman Marien and the baby Czarevich whose life she saved.
Remember how the baby's father, the fearful Czar Guidon, gave orders that the Czarevich was never to leave the tiny room in which he had been born - that tiny room at the very top of the Palace's tallest tower.
Now I shall tell how Safa Czarevich lived and grew in that little room, under the care of the slave-woman, Marien.
Every moment, day and night, waking and dreaming, his spirit cried; and circled and cirled the dome-room, seeking a way out.
And Chingis heard.
In that country the snow falls deep and lies long, lies and freezes until bears can walk on its thick crust of ice. The ice glitters on the snow like white stars in a white sky! In the north of that country all the winter is one long night, and all that long night the sky-stars glisten in their darkness, and the snow-stars glitter in their whiteness, and between the two hangs a shivering curtain of cold twilight.
But we need not love Czars, and we need not become them.
The darkness of the open air was different from the darkness that he had lived his life in, and it was a darkness that changed as often as light.
