"Do you know where the Sovereign of Dreams lives?" asked the witch.
       "Of course," her cat, Sphinx, replied.
       "Then take me to him."
       "Why?"
       "I had a truly charming dream -- but you woke me up."
       "I was hungry. You know the pact; I live here, you feed me."
       "You owe me."
       "Hrumph. Very well. But you can't follow my path."
       "Then you'll fetch my dream. You have one day."
       The cat left.

       It is a truth universally acknowledged that a cat in possession of a good home must be in want of a quest.
       Sphinx the cat -- all eighteen pounds of him and now precisely 18 years of age today -- had an excellent home and, hence, generally had a great many quests as a result.
       Finding the Perfect Sunbeam was an admirable but easy quest, albeit one somewhat more difficult than the Two Legs thought. But then again, the Two Legs generally had very poor understanding of cats. Thankfully.
       Resting On The Perfect Tree Branch was a difficult task, one made all the more so during the last few years, for some strange reason. The fact that Sphinx had gone from a weight of six pounds to his current (but of course still muscular) weight during this time was, of course, merely a coincidence.
       Staring At Bugs was a very difficult task. The bugs, alas, seem to be becoming progressively smaller and faster over the last 18 years.
       Fetching A Dream? Ay -- that was an extremely difficult task, one that only a handful of cats can accomplish. Only one in a thousand cats knew the paths, knew the words, knew the wards and guards and glyphs, knew the answers to the riddles and questions.
       And knew the dangers.
       Sphinx let out a sigh, walked into the garden, and took a few deep breaths. When he felt ready, he moved his tail to and fro, his ears flicked hither and thither, and twitched his nose whither -- and then, with just the softest of pops, he vanished.

       In the place between the neverwere and couldhavewouldhave and above the BeforeandAfter and below the PresentandFuture -- a cat appeared.
       Sphinx -- as it was indeed him --- looked quite different from his appearance a mere moment ago. Whereas he was originally 18 pounds (I am merely big-boned!), here he was a svelte-like 10 pounds instead. His coat -- an admittedly drab brown and white coat -- was a bright brown and equally bright white here. All of his senses were better, healthier, and, indeed, younger.
       He was in a garden almost, but not quite, identical to the one he was in before.
       With a sigh, Sphinx moved on.

       The entrance to the Land of Dreams was marked -- helpfully noted by a large painted sign of stone and brick and iron -- by the Steps of Sunken Slumber.
       Sphinx sniffed in disapproval; clearly, whoever was in charge of naming the features was a fan of alliteration, which, as all creative geniuses know, is the clearest sign of one bereft of all talent and skill.
       This did not bode well for his journey.
       Sighing once more (Sphinx was Six-Time Forest Champion of Animal Sighing; it would have been seven times but the less said about the 'Crow Incident,' the better), straightened his tail and leaped down each of the 10,001 steps.

       The Land of Dreams was both ever-changing and static, a land of complexity and simplicity, a place of life and death, a concept between being and unbeing.
       For anything short of a cat, this was, of course, confusing. For a cat, of course, this was simply existence.
       Nevertheless, Sphinx still found the land perplexing. He had traversed these lands many times before (did you ever wonder where cats disappear to when you are not watching? Wonder no more) but he was old and tired and -- much as he was loath to admit it -- getting somewhat forgetful. Each journey took a bit more out of him, caused the curtain of haze to fall imperceptibly closer, and made him vow never to do so again -- until the next time.
       If memory served him correctly -- and with the fluidity of the Land of Dreams and his own memories, that was not a certainty -- the next waystation was the Enchanted Woods.
       "Oh joy," said Sphinx, out loud, "I have to deal with them."

       It is noted in all fairy tales of old, written by creatures with two legs and four legs and sometimes even three legs, that all 'Enchanted Woods' must, of course, be guarded by strange beasts.
       The Enchanted Woods of the Land of Dreams was no different.

       The Rat-Folk Guards that stepped in front of Sphinx were about three feet high, fanged, and had three horns on their heads.
       Their fearsome appearance, however, was somewhat offset by their choice of clothing; to wit, a leather jacket (emblazoned with the phrase 'Rats do it in groups'), a Victorian-era top hat, and boots that one would normally see in a Robin Hood movie.
       "Halt, evil feline intruder!"
       "Make way!" growled Sphinx. "I am on a quest to see the Sovereign!"
       This brought a peal of laughter from the three guards.
       "One does not simply walk through the Enchanted Woods," said the largest of the Rat-Folk guards. "Nor does one simply see the Sovereign! Not without facing us and our challenge!"
       Sphinx sighed (he was, after all, quite good at it) and sat back on his haunches. "Yes, yes -- I know. What shall it be? Trial by combat? A riddle to be answered? Out with it, vile Rat-Folk; I am on a quest and have little time."
       The Head Guard scowled, pulled out a dagger nearly as big as itself, took a few steps forward, and came to a stop five paces in front of Sphinx.
       "You are compelled to speak the truth, as per the Night Shadows Proclamation."
        An acknowledging nod from Sphinx.
       The scowl on the Head Guard's face softened somewhat. "What do you think of our new uniforms?"
       Sphinx's ears flicked in shock, and he squinted his eyes. "Say what?"
       The Head Guard's face blushed -- well, blushed as much as a giant fanged and horned rat could blush, given the circumstances -- and gave a long sigh that would have easily won it at least third place in the Forest Contest. Resting one paw on the dagger and using it as a cane, it continued. "The new supervisor had a new dress code. Something about a 'retro-dieselpunk montage motif' or something like that." The Head Guard tilted its head. "Now feline intruder scum! As per section 37, subsection 15 (c) (iii) of the Night Shadows Proclamation, speak the truth!"
       Sphinx tilted his head to and fro and then hither and wither, and then he spoke. "They're weird, but I rather like them."
       "Really?" said the Head Guard, something that could have been a smile slowly crossing its face. "Truthfully? "
       "I am compelled to speak the truth," reminded Sphinx.
       Head Guard smiled and shuffled to the side, its companions following suit. "You may pass! Would you be so kind as to fill out a survey form? It will only take a few moments of your time, and you will then be entered into a contest...."
       Sphinx bolted past the guards, the voices fading into silence after a few seconds.

       Presently, after a passage of time that was as fast as a sparrow's heartbeat but also as long as the lifetime of True Love's Passion, Sphinx arrived at a small town.
       The town's name was Arkney, and it had a most singular law, one unique in all the Land of Dreams, and it went thusly; no person may kill a cat.
       Cats, being the keepers of ancient and cryptic secrets and heirs to the tales of old and lost cities and kin to the lords of the jungle and savannah and forest, know a good thing when they see it.
       As such, the cats of Arkney were as numerous as the stars in the firmament and as spoiled as the Queens and Kings of Ancient Atlantis.
       Sphinx was…confused.
       He had been here a few times before. Indeed, the last time he was here, he almost didn't come back, as there had been no less than three female cats that had made it very clear that they had enjoyed his company.
       The near-infinite number of ear scratches, treats, and warm laps made it a temptation to remain as well.
       Alas, he was a Witch's Cat, and as such, had duties and tasks and obligations galore, as the Pact specified.
       Still...
       But now -- now! -- something was different.
       There were no cats. None. Not a single one graced the porches and seats and trees and streets with their regal presence. There were no buckets of treats strategically placed on street corners. There were no specialists going from cat to cat and examining them for aliments and diseases and treating them. There were no travellers from the Land of Dreams and beyond playing with the cats.
        There were none of the things that made the town of Arkney both famous and infamous throughout the Land of Dreams.
       What had happened?
       "You there!" shouted Sphinx to a man walking by. "Where are the cats? What had happened?"
       The man came to a stop, looked down at Sphinx, and sneered. "They're gone. Orders of the Sovereign himself. Begone, cat!"
       And with that, the man -- rather inelegantly -- attempted to kick Sphinx. It was a pathetic kick and one that Sphinx could have avoided even in the Real World, so it wasn't even remotely difficult for him to avoid this kick. With a hiss, Sphinx leapt away and ran out of the town.

       Curiouser and curiouser thought Sphinx as he continued on the Path. Why would the Sovereign revoke the Ancient Law? Granted, as Sovereign, he could do anything he wished. But the law had been written and known among the cats of the Known World for a hundred hundred cat generations. Why would he revoke it now?
       These thoughts were still on Sphinx's mind as he entered the Land of Mee-Tal, Stone, and Glasse.

       It is a little-known fact that cities have a dream version of themselves in the Land of Dreams. Those who know this always express shock and amazement and bemusement at those who find this fact surprising.
       After all, say the sages of old, if a singular person can leave an imprint in your memories and thoughts and, yes, dreams -- then what will a whole city containing thousands upon thousands upon thousands of souls do?
       Indeed, continue the scholars of antediluvian age, Think of it as the snowfall. A singular snowflake weighs less than a thought and is just as fleeting -- but add a million together, and whole mountains shudder in their wake.
       In fact, speculate the savants of antiquity, if you take this to its logical conclusion, then what of the buildings themselves? Is it not noted by many people that houses and temples, and businesses often are described as having a soul of their own?
       The Land of Mee-Tal, Stone, and Glasse was proof of this.
       Imagine, if you will, every city, both ancient and modern, both intact and destroyed, both those existing only in books and scrolls and murals and those existing in the hearts and minds and thoughts of millions, both real and fictional, both existing in the memories of the very young and those existing in the memories of the very old -- all cities everywhere in time and space and thought and reality.
       And all existing simultaneously upon one another.
       After-images upon after-images upon after-images, repeated ten thousand thousand times. As real as the bedrock foundations of the Earth and as insubstantial as the morning fog.
       And into this land, travelled Sphinx...

       Sphinx walked through the faded streets of 1930's Chicago, turned right on the paved roads of Pompeii, took a left on the cobbled stones of Ai, took a shortcut through the watery paths of Kitezh, swam briefly past the temples of Dvārakā, and then stopped briefly near a home in Ys, before running through the sandy streets of Gomorrah.
       He was just passing out the gates of the City of the Pillars when the path before him swirled and shifted and spun and spiraled and -- with a flash of light in the Nine Colours of the rainbow -- spit out a ghost.
       The ghost -- like the cities of Land of Mee-Tal, Stone, and Glasse -- was an amalgamation of many, indeed possibly all, of those souls that came before it.
       As Sphinx stared at the spectre, it shifted and altered and morphed.
       It was a thing of human and animal, the very old and very young, the very wise and the very foolish, the very cynical and the very innocent.
       It was all these things. It was none of these things. It was both -- and neither.
       It spoke to Sphinx in languages not yet born and in those that were already lost when the very first brick was placed upon brick. Sphinx -- being not only the most intelligent of cats but also a Witch's Cat -- naturally understood all these languages. But this was not necessary, as the ancient magicks of the Land of Mee-Tal, Stone, and Glasse allowed all those who were foolishly brave or bravely foolish who traversed the Land to understand all languages.
       After all -- it would not be very wise to misunderstand a Guardian challenging you.
       The Guardian Ghost -- for it was indeed so -- spoke one word. It was as quiet as an ant's whisper. It was as loud as a mountain collapsing. It spoke with one voice. It spoke with the voice of a chorus of millions.
       And the word it spoke was thus:
       HALT
       Sphinx came to a stop. It was, after all, the polite thing to do.
       After a moment of awkward silence, Sphinx spoke.
       "Yes? And? And now what?"
       WHY DO YOU TRAVERSE THIS LAND?
       "I am on a quest to find a dream. I believe that the Sovereign is in possession of it."
       There was a long pause as a plethora of emotions seemed to fight for control of the Guardian's face. In the end, something akin to amusement won.
       YOU ARE A BRAVE FELINE, LITTLE ONE. ARE YOU ALWAYS THIS BRAVE?
       "Not even remotely, to be honest," replied Sphinx. "Truthfully, I have much more important things to do. There are sunbeams of slumber, bowls of braised beef, and blankets ripe with beauty that I much prefer to see." Sphinx stretched and, with a creak and crack and pop of joints, rose up to his full height. With a regal pose imitative of his namesake of Old, Sphinx stared at the phantasm. "But I am a Witch's Cat and, as such, I have a Duty. And today, I have a Quest." Sphinx's eyes narrowed to slits as his claws slowly sprung out from his paws. "Now, will you grant me passage, or shall I have to fight you?"
       The Guardian stared at Sphinx in silence for a long moment.
       And then they laughed.
       LITTLE ONE. YOU WISH TO FIGHT ME? IF I ATTACK YOU, YOUR BODY WILL BE TORN ASUNDER, YOUR SOUL CAST INTO THE VOID, YOUR MIND BROKEN, AND YOUR MEMORY WILL BE FORGOTTEN BY ALL.
       Sphinx tilted his head and spoke one word.
       "If."
       The Guardian continued to stare at Sphinx. The universe held its breath. And then --
       I LIKE YOU LITTLE ONE. GIVE MY REGARDS TO THE SOVEREIGN.
       And with that, the Guardian vanished back into the past and present and future of Land of Mee-Tal, Stone, and Glasse.
       Sphinx pressed onwards...

       It was very much a castle and also very much unlike a castle.
       It had all the accruements one would expect of a castle; towers, barbicans, battements, gatehouse, courtyard, turrets and so forth. It even had a moat, of sorts.
       It also was made of crystals of green and blue and red, covered a territory the size of a city, and was floating so high in the sky that the towers pierced the firmament, a waterfall of primal water spilling down upon the land.
       The only way to reach it was by a bridge of mist and fog and smoke, ephemeral as a dream and as strong as an uncaring heart.
       Sphinx paused for just a moment before he began climbing the 10,001 steps of the bridge.

       There were Soldiers of clockwork and steam and gears. Sphinx dodged them with ease.
       There were Minions of flesh and metal and bone. Sphinx evaded them without a care.
       There were Guardians of spirit and shadows and air. Sphinx laughed at them as he ran.
       There were Locks of death and life and dreams. Sphinx passed through them as all, as cats are wont to do.
       And then he entered the Sovereign's Throne Room...

       The Sovereign was tall and thin, with features sharp and angular. His skin was pale, white as snow, and his hair was that of corroded silver. A guitar lay at his feet. With a sigh, the Sovereign picked up the guitar and walked to a balcony. Resting a foot on a balcony of ruby and emerald and diamond, he plucked a few notes, the sound sharp and yellow and with a taste of feathers and a smell of wet musk.
       He sighed once more and rested the guitar on the balcony, and turned to face Sphinx.
       "Why are you here, my feline friend?"
       Sphinx tilted his head this way and that way before he spoke.
       "You have a dream. I need it back."
       A flash of white teeth, a grin of one who had not found cause to grin for some time.
       "And what of it? It is mine and mine to do with as I wish."
       "You don't understand; that wasn't a request."
       A laugh, humming with the sound of molten copper.
       "Brave little feline. You do know I can vanquish you from existence with a single thought?"
       A nod. "Yes. But the dream must still be returned."
       The Sovereign sat down on a railing, his eyes darting briefly back to his guitar for the tiniest moment of a moment before returning his gaze back to Sphinx.
       There was a long pause, and then;
       The thin white fingers on the thin white hands twisted and twirled, spun and swivelled, pivoted and pirouetted, and after a few seconds, whirled and wobbled.
       And then an object appeared in his hands.
       It was the size of the Sovereign's fist, a thing of glass and crystal and gemstone, the colour of sunset on a winter's lake in a forest at the ends of the world. It glowed with a light flickering as fast as a newborn's heart and as faint as a newborn's guilt.
       "Three questions," said the Sovereign, the faintest hint of a smile on his face as the object disappeared into the folds of his clothes. "Answer them correctly, and you may go home with the object of your quest. Fail, and your skin will adorn my wall, your flesh will grace a dinner plate of platinum, and your memory will be no more." There was red in his cheeks, gold in his eyes, and silver in his hair.
       "Ask your three questions," replied Sphinx, his voice filled with a bravado and confidence that he knew to be false.
       "What is your purpose?"
       Sphinx tilted his head this way and that way and then spoke. "I suppose I could say 'to fulfill my quest,' but you are the Sovereign of Dreams, and I suspect you wish an answer that is both inaccurate yet filled with untapped wisdom. As such, my answer is simply 'To learn to be both much like and much unlike a cat."
       The Sovereign sat down into a chair of marble and silk and skins of creatures undreamed. A thin pale hand stroked a chin smooth as glass and pale as fresh snow. The eyes were the blue of unblemished skies.
       "What is greater than Life?"
       Sphinx lied down and shut his eyes for a moment. With a grunt, he stood back up. "If I was speaking to anyone else, I would answer 'Death' but, once more, I am certain you want an answer that will satisfy the sages and philosophers of old. As such, my answer is 'Love and Duty and Honour."
       The Sovereign leaned forward, his long thin fingers intertwined in front of his mouth and nose. The eyes were the green of untouched swamps, his cheeks were the crimson of blood, and the hair was the hue of a blizzard.
       "What can never be returned?"
       Sphinx's eyes widened in shock -- then narrowed. A frown etched his face for a moment, then two, then a third and final moment. "One's word."
       The Sovereign lowered his hands, stared at Sphinx in silence with an intensity that unnerved even Sphinx, and then stood up and walked to the balcony. The guitar -- a thing of wood from trees that are never-more and never-have-been and never-will-be -- appeared in his hands.
       He played a tune of sorrow and regret and pain and remembrance. He played a tune of love and happiness, and life fulfilled. He played a tune of ambition and greed, and avarice. He played a tune of life and death and duty and honour.
       When he was finished, he laid the guitar on a railing. He took a deep breath and stared. Stared at the night filled with stars and constellations that existed only in dreams.
       After a long moment, Sphinx decided to break the unnatural silence.
       "Well?"
       "Hmmm?" replied the Sovereign, tearing his gaze from the sky and staring at the cat. "Well, what?"
       "Did I answer correctly?"
       The Sovereign strode towards Sphinx, came to a stop, and stared at Sphinx with eyes of fire. And then, the face of stone and marble broke into a smile. He sat down cross-legged in front of Sphinx. One long thin finger reached out and stroked Sphinx's forehead.
       Sphinx was surprised how...gentle…the stroking was. Unconsciously, a purr escaped his throat.
       "Little One -- you answered with heart and faith. For that -- I give you the object of your quest."
       The thing of glass and crystal and gemstone appeared in his hand, tied with a necklace of leather and silk and satin.
       Tenderly, lovingly, quietly -- the Sovereign placed the necklace around Sphinx's neck. With a caress, stroke, and tap -- the Sovereign slowly turned Sphinx around.
       "You have your object. Now go back to your Mistress." With that, the Sovereign of Dreams turned and walked back to the balcony. The guitar flashed back into his hands, and he sat down, deep in thought, awaiting his muse.
       Sphinx took one, two, and three steps towards the door...and paused. There was one last thing he needed to know.
       "Yes, Little One?" He still stared out at the night sky, not even looking at Sphinx.
       "I need the answer to one more question."
       "You know the old saying about curiosity and cats, correct?"
       "Yes. But I need to know."
       The Sovereign let out a sigh and turned to face Sphinx. "Yes?"
       "Arkney. You revoked the Ancient Law. Why?"
       "I need not explain myself."
       "Nevertheless, I ask once more. Why?"
       The Sovereign tilted his head, the eyes shining as amber and grass and sky and earth and a hundred other colours.
       "Once answered, you will forever be altered. Are you certain you wish to know?"
       "I ask thrice then. Why?"
       The Sovereign stared at Sphinx for a long moment in silence. He turned and stared back at the stars.
       "I have lived for a hundred hundred hundred generations. I was there when the first creature crawled from the muck and dreamt about home. It was once said that I will be there when the last stars of the universe die and dream of home."
       There was a long sigh.
       "I grow weary though. So very weary. I am to take my leave. Appoint a new Sovereign. Let them rule the Land of Dreams."
       Sphinx stared in shock at the Sovereign. It took a moment before he could find his voice.
       "But...where? Where will you go?"
       "A wise writer once said that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Clever little human. I will go and explore, never to return."
       "And the cats?"
       "What better travelling companions are there than such magnificent creatures like yourselves, Little One?" The Sovereign stared at Sphinx, a smile on his lips. "You can come with me. Travel a thousand thousand universes until the stars themselves burn out."
       "But...the ...dream...."
       "I can return the dream to your Mistress with a snap of my fingers. Say the word, and I will do so. And you can join me. Forever. Think of the adventures. The thrills. The knowledge. A life longer than the universe, with me and a thousand other feline friends. And all you have to say is...yes."
       Sphinx stared at the Sovereign.
       He thought of sunbeams and bowls of braised beef and soft blankets.
       He also thought of walking on cold stars and seeing life evolve and immortality.
       And then he thought of his Mistress.
       And then Sphinx made his decision.

       "Oh, Sphinx! You returned! And with my dream!"
       "But of course. After all -- I gave my word."

       Later that night, Sphinx dreamt of sunbeams and braised beef and soft blankets.
       It was a good dream.