Tesseliot, a ginger tabby, was a working tom. In my opinion, he sniffed too much of that cheap alley-grade catnip. He related the strangest dreams to his friends, which I'm sure were drug-induced hallucinations. Regardess, he was a hard worker and his oddities didn't affect his ability to earn his way in this world.
Tesseliot wasn't a house cat like the rest of us. His sleep cushion was at a warehouse for human perishables, and he made his way in life as a vermin catcher. He didn't have his own human or his own centaur to give him drinking money. He had to cash in the mice and rats he caught to pay for his drinks at our favorite gathering spot, the Lakpro Felibus. We liked the human owner, Veronica Bosamons, so none of us were rude enough to point out the spelling mistake in the milk bar's name.
When Tesseliot did show up, coin for his evening libation grasped in his teeth, he had interesting gossip. The crazy old molly at the Temple of Bastet had another of her strange visions. She saw a balas ruby pendant on a cloth of gold ribbon and said the Goddess Bastet had lost it. In her vision, she saw Mios, the god of war, steal the pendant, but he slipped leaving her celestial mansion. The pendant fell through a crack in the basement of heaven to land somewhere in the mortal lands. Any cat who found it could become immortal.
Purrlock, our resident magus, interrupted Tesseliot at this point, adjusting his monocle and smoothing down the white bib of his tuxedo coat. "Tesseliot, my dear boy," he purred, "our goddess may have lost her pendant, but old senile Katza lost it years ago. You are too gullible, youngster. You shouldn't believe everything that old molly says. Her wits have been addled by sniffing all that silver vine they use down at the Temple."
"But, Master Purrlock," Tesseliot protested, curling up to his bowl of top milk, "that's just it. The humans stopped their sacrifices of silver vine at the Temple two days ago and locked up the sanctuary. The Head Priest and Head Priestess have been called to the capital to some big emergency meeting of the Bastet clergy. The curates have been conducting the rites of the catconical hours in the lesser chapel, of all places, without a whiff of silver vine in the air. Old Katza is as sober as you or me at the moment, and very grumpy about it. She was caterwauling something awful about her arthritis now that she's not fluffed out on silver vine. She had her vision without the influence of drugs."
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"Withdrawal symptoms," Purrlock pronounced. "I've been around a few more years than you, youngster, and I've seen this before. Kitties coming down from prolonged drug use can hallucinate."
"She was the most rational I have ever seen her, Master Purrlock," Tesseliot protested. "I judge her second sight was unclouded. The behavior of the Bastet clergy supports that she saw a true vision."
"Well, it does no harm to believe that the old gal saw true," I interjected, wanting to change the subject before Purrlock managed to rile up Tesseliot again. Despite his social standing and reputation, the old hairball had a love for a good cat fight and Tesseliot always fell for Purrlock's goading. I just wasn't up for it this evening. My human was making salmon for dinner and I didn't want to be late. Leticia wouldn't save me any if I got delayed.
"I heard the Guild of Centaurs raised a ruckus at the public meeting the other night," I attempted to change the subject. "I hear they didn't like the proposed design for the new gatehouse at the west gate, something about the custom fence not being wide enough for their carts."
"Don't go trying to change the subject on me, Clawdia," Tesseliot gave me a furry eyeball. "Mentioning fences reminded me of something I forgot to mention. Old Katza said that Bastet's pendant got caught in a fence, here, in Nueve Vidas."
"Now I've heard everything," said Grishkin, a sexy Russian Blue who was currently pursuing Cheshire, a good-looking grey tabby who was a part of our little informal group. Her tail smacked Tesseliot on the back of the head as she sauntered past. "Silly kit, you know there are no fences in Nueve Vidas other than the custom fences. It's human law that every wall must be masonry or stone. The silly humans are so irrational about fire."
"Well, Luv, the city did burn to the ground when all the buildings were wood," I said, "back in the year 2,783. Rebuilding in stone does make a lot of sense."
"Oh, Pish Posh," Grishkin said in her funny accent. "It's so hard in this town to keep my beautiful claws sharp with so little wood around."
"Ah, vanity," Purrlock rolled his eyes.
"Well, of course, darling," Grishkin purred at him. "After all, I am a cat of impeccable breeding. I'm entitled to be vain."