Chapter 22: Two Ways to Skin a Cat
Does she hate me? What’s wrong with wanting to be part of a family?
The events of last night played in his mind as he swung his staff at a dummy.
It’s not a stupid wish.
He swung again.
I saw other dogs. I saw what they had.
His stuff crunched into the side of the dummy, denting wood.
I want it.
Another swing.
She doesn’t understand.
Thump.
Does she?
He realised he didn’t really know much about Mitty. He’d internally imagined her to be a stray, through and through. He’d certainly never seen her in a collar.
In his mind she’d just been some bratty cat who stopped by to taunt him between meals, and he would always take the bait, launching himself at her. It was a game of course, and he played it willingly. He appreciated the diversion, in retrospect; staying locked up there was stifling, but without her, he might’ve just wasted away in that doghouse.
In fact, he’d broken loose that day because of her.
Without her, I might’ve still been there. Forever, maybe.
He still saw her expression in his mind’s eye. Hurt, betrayal, anger and fear, mixed into one ugly lump. Not directed at him.
She’d given him freedom, even if unintentionally and for that, he owed her. He’d trust her. He’d reserve judgement. For now.
But one day. I want it for myself, no matter what anyone thinks.
He noticed he’d stopped swinging, his staff at his side.
His teacher’s voice broke his thoughts.
“The girl leave you, dear student?”
“Yes. At the outlook. She got upset and left.”
The teacher mumbled something under his breath that his ears barely picked up.
“Tsk, too pure to tease. The girl was more fun”. Then louder, “Well don’t just stand there, STRIKE.”
He struck half heartedly.
“I MEANT HARD! AGAIN!”
He struck again.
“HARDER, BOY”
He struck again with all his might.
“AGAIN, HARDER”
He struck now with all his feelings as well. His resolve, and hopes, and dreams. Strength surged through his muscles, beyond what he thought he was capable of.
His staff ripped hard into the dummy, nearly shearing it in half.
“Good. Now step into the ring.”
***
Oh god, he probably hates me now.
She’d come to terms with it over the course of the morning. She didn’t know how to approach him again after that outburst, and she didn’t know she wanted to either. What would she say?
Sorry for calling your wish stupid? For saying you don’t deserve love?
Of course that’s not what she’d meant, but it had still come out like that.
Maybe she’d make it up to him by making something tasty. She was still practicing the soufflé Selia showed her. It was deceptively difficult, getting everything right. She was practicing with regular fish for now, still reserving her final two Featherfish for the night of the aurora, but she was making progress. It was almost edible now.
She was wandering around the big square at the base of the mountain, looking for interesting ingredients. So far nothing was catching her eye, but she’d gotten a few basic ingredients like eggs, butter, flour and sugar.
She took stock of the magical scents around her but there was just too much magic in Windcrown to be able to find anything in particular unless it was right in front of her. She was sure she could smell something, but it was drowned out by the sea of other enchantments. Preservation magics, and aroma magics, and voice broadcasting magics, and so, so much more.
She’d been feeling off lately, so she stole an apple while looking for other items of interest. A bit of casual thievery always lightened her mood. She bit into the apple. Sweet and crispy. Nice.
Aside from food, the market also provided gossip, if your ears were keen enough to pick it up.
Over there, at the potion booth, the middle aged wizard was looking for a spell to ‘enhance his vitality in the wee hours of the night’ to help his partner ‘really feel the magic’.
There, the lady selling produce was complaining to her friend in the neighbouring stall that the spell she’d purchased to wash her clothes was eating her socks.
There, a cloaked man passed off too much gold to a woman selling meat. The meat there was dog quality, so obviously the man wouldn’t be paying in gold. They leaned closer together, and their conversation was lost in the noise, but the woman looked in her direction and pointed.
The man, following her direction scanned the crowd. Then locked onto her. Their gazes met briefly through the crowd, and the animal part of her mind screamed, and she knew.
That man is dangerous.
She saw him slipping through the busy morning crowd, so she ducked between two stalls, slipping to another lane that ran parallel. Behind her, she heard startled shouts and complaints, as the man went from slipping through the crowd to pushing through it.
Who was he? Why was he looking for her?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Okay think, what do I know about that man?
He was wearing a brown red cloak, which was standard fare for travelers, though it looked finer than most, with the embroidery running along the hem.
So it’s either uniform or money.
The amount he’d paid that cheap bitch selling rancid meat indicated money at least. Maybe both still, she couldn’t tell.
She pulled up her hood and stood in a dark corner in a stall, watching. It was morning, and the deep shadows of the night were gone, though some of the sturdier stalls of wood offered sufficient cover she was confident it would be hard to spot her in a crowd.
Sure enough, the man came through the same gap in stalls onto this path and looked both ways, unable to spot her.
From under his cloak, she saw a glimpse of his face. His skin indicated he was from Esthar, or the nearby regions, but she put little stock into it concerning a motive. They were all over the place, pervading most ports on the Red Sea, from what she’d learned.
“You going to buy anything, amira?”
As though to prove her point, a young blond with a similar skin tone and a youthful smile spoke from behind the stall.
She noticed he was selling little trinkets of metal and glass.
Not wanting to cause a fuss and raise attention, she pretended to peruse his wares to buy her time to think.
If she were trying to catch someone in this city, what would she do? The answer came easily.
Stake out the elevators.
They were the only way to the upper levels unless you were fool enough to take the stairs, but that was a doomed strategy. If she climbed the stairs and he took the elevator to cut her off, she’d be too tired to escape. Besides, her stamina wasn’t great, and from the sound of it, the stairs had completely wiped Dantes.
“Do you know another way up aside from the elevators?” she suddenly asked, picking a trinket at random. It was one of those little round birds in metal looped onto a necklace.
“That’ll be 3 stakes, amira.”
She withdrew 4 dented copper coins and placed them in his hand, putting on her best doll eyes. It wasn’t as easy as a human.
The young shopkeeper sighed, returning a coin.
“No need for that face, amira. It makes you look like a sand frog. Is that man in the cloak bothering you?”
She indicated agreement.
“Well, I’m assuming you don’t mean the stairs. The warehouse on the docks has a courier lift. Unlike the normal lifts, this one doesn’t stop on the way up, it just goes to the floor you need.”
It sounded perfect for her current situation.
“And surely a big strong man like yourself could get me access to that?”
She knew the building he was talking about, so she also knew there were lots of guards inside it, and not inclined to let her explore around. She’d even asked nicely. They’d said ‘No’ much less nicely.
“If you’re going to play that game, amira, you should practice first.” He chuckled and added, “and know if your target is even playing the same game. But yes, as it happens I can get you in there. What’s your name, amira?”
“Hannah” was the first name that came to mind so she gave it.
“Wrong” he said, amused. “You are Junior Courier Hannah, and this is your first day. Would you deliver this letter to my husband? Here, I’ll write his address for you.” The man scribbled out a quick message on a paper, then folded it up and scribbled an address on the back. He handed it back to here, along with the three copper she’d paid earlier. He also retrieved a colorful token from behind the counter. “And here, take this. It proves you’re out on delivery.”
She gave him a smile. A real one this time that touched her eyes.
“Thanks” she said, not knowing what else to say, turning to go.
“Viriq” he responded. “A pleasure.”
“Mitty” she whispered, looking out to see if the coast was clear.
She didn’t see him immediately, but the man was average height and wearing a generic colour, so that wasn’t surprising. She quietly slipped out, walking alongside a wagon transporting crates of… cabbages, from the smell of it.
She tried to stay aware without looking around obviously like a fool. There were also plenty of people wearing black, so she felt relatively safe in the crowd.
Following the cart took her towards the warehouse in question, which was convenient, until she saw him up ahead. The man had his eyes close and was whispering something under his breath when he eyes snapped open, locked directly on her.
She cast around for a lookout, but only saw birds. How did he find her so quickly? And he was between her and the courier elevator. Maybe the regular elevator would be her best bet. She quickly headed inland, towards the plaza, but instead of trying to head her off, the man remained lockstep with her, staying between her and the warehouse.
He knows about the courier elevator. Is he confident about catching me at one of the stops on the regular lift? If I stay ahead of him, I can go all the way up to the Cloud District before he can. Surely he can’t bother me there. Maybe. I’d be best just losing him first.
She’d long abandoned the cover of the cart and was planning her next move behind some barrels. If he was just going to let her get to the elevator, she could just take it up a few floors and lose him in one of the landing plazas. He’d have to waste time searching every plaza where she could just go up a few floors then ditch him with the head start.
She peeked over the barrels. He was approaching her directly. She went on the move again.
How did he know where she was? He hadn’t found her when she was inside the stall earlier.
Someone is watching from above.
Now that she had this thought, she could feel eyes on her. Somewhere far above her, someone was watching her.
On the mountain perhaps?
Crap, maybe that’s why he’s corralling me towards the regular elevators. His lookout will head me off on the lift.
She should’ve realised it sooner. The courier elevator was still her best shot then.
She doubled back towards the water, trying to keep something between her and the mountain, crossing the street behind carts or groups of people.
The man had lost her again, but she could see him whispering again, but this time, she was completely obscured from the mountain. His lookout partner wouldn’t see him either.
He locked eyes with her again.
What? That’s cheating!
She knew, among other things, her cloak made it near impossible to locate her with magic, so it probably wasn’t directly magical.
Maybe another lookout?
She looked up, but the sky was clear, nothing but birds. Sea birds hoping for scraps, or birds flying out to sea on the morning breeze, or birds of prey, circling high above.
He’s talking to a bird.
Stupid birds, she should’ve known. She hadn’t even eaten one of their kind since arriving here, and they were still a pain in her neck. She’d rectify that situation tonight.
Sticking to the shadows offered little help as she wove through the crowds, the man now actively trying to head her off as she made her way to the warehouse.
She needed to be a bit more proactive about staying ahead of him.
She approached a man unloading crates from a cart.
“Hey… I was hoping you could help me out. I rejected that man over there in brown, and he is being a bit too persistent. Would you help me out by having a word with him? Oh, thank you kind sir.”
The worker was persuaded easily enough, alongside a copper rod, and headed over to intercept the man.
She waited until the worker approached him to make towards the warehouse.
Perhaps seeing her, or perhaps his bird-brained friend whispered a warning in his ear, but the man noticed her passing him by.
She didn’t wait to look what happened as the worker tried to stop him, but the surprised exclamation and pained groans were probably a decent indication. She hoped he was okay.
She was now ahead of him dashing down the lane towards her end goal. Her legs ached in protest and her breaths came out heavy. She really needed to work on her stamina. She could feel the man on her tail, so she knocked over a crate of fruit on the way by, oranges spilling out onto the flagstones.
She heard complaints behind her but ignored them, withdrawing a handful of marbles from her pockets. She dropped those behind her too, not waiting to see the effect. This one appeared less successful, since there was only a single woooaaahh.
After a handful more breaths she was in front of the warehouse, a guard motioning for he to stop. Before he could say anything she spoke.
“Junior Courier Hannah, delivery for the 14th level.” She presented her token, noticing it was engraved with a cat on one side. Good taste.
The guard seemed amused at her state of huffing and puffing and spoke.
“First day on the job? They always take it so seriously early on. Head on up, Junior Courier Hannah, haha” the man ended on a hearty laugh.
Finally daring to look back, she saw the man was at the edge of the crowd watching her, but not approaching. He was whispering something into his hand.
Heading through the warehouse, she found the elevator. She selected the 15th floor on a panel, just in case, and headed up, heaving a sigh of relief.
The ride was quick, and she shot up the side of the mountain with no interruption. Just in case the bird was able to spot her on the exit pad, she transformed back into a cat mid ascent.
That should do it. I’m safe now.
She padded out of the elevator past two guards who just looked at her. Who wouldn’t admire her splendid coat. She’d groomed it herself, three days ago.
Another guard pointed at her and yelled.
“CAT!”
Other voices echoed in in alarm.
“WHAT!? GET IT!”
“KILL IT!”
“NO, SKIN IT!”
“NO, SPILL INK ALL OVER ITS LIFE WORK IN RETRIBUTION!!”
“NO, PAINT IT PINK AND THROW IT INTO THE SEA… I MEAN, KILL IT!”
Oh yeah. Folks hate cats here.
The consensus eventually settled at ‘kill’, but she was long gone by then.