To Garrett’s surprise, the small greeniron gate in the tall wall running along the lengthy side of T’Hawthorn estate opened for Black Cat Two, who’d told him to call him, simply, Black. Unable to enter through the shieldspells, Garrett lingered outside the grounds. They had to wait for a Hawthorn guard to come and clear him.
While they stood by, a small, plump calico cat bounded over and addressed them.
Hello, Black! Hello, Man With Black. She glanced up at Garrett with such trust in her yellow eyes that he realized she -- and probably the cat with him -- were under a year old. Something he should have noted before.
Black, after you got hurt, I looked all around the pig place and even under the pigs like Black Pierre said, but didn’t find anything, she announced.
“Searching pigsties,” Garrett muttered. “Sure sounds like a good and a well-paying job to me.”
The cats sniffed in unison. Black lifted his nose. I will go get gilt coins for You from Black Pierre, he has some.
“That I’ll believe when I see it.” And Garrett would prefer gems.
I will wait here, the little calico with baby fat said. Black Pierre doesn’t like you much, Black, but He asked You to help. A slyness entered her gaze and she looked aside. Hiding something, as all cats did all of the time. Black Pierre doesn’t like Me at all. I will stay and this Man will pet Me. She gave Garrett a winsome look.
He shrugged and hunkered down, but in the back of his mind, the amount of time he’d already spent on this “job,” kept ticking by, adding up.
As Black ran from the gate in the direction of the gray and vertical Earthan-like castle in the distance, the pudgy calico traipsed through the shieldspells and thin bars of the gate to rub against Garrett. You smell like many Cats and dogs and foxes! You smell good!
“Thank you,” he said, and stroked her, scratched her muzzle and around her ears.
She wriggled and purred. I like being Outside the gate more than Inside. For now.
“I hear you.”
She added, Black Pierre does not like Me, but Black does.
“I could see that.”
With a side-glance smirk she said, But pigs do not mind Me. *I* did not get hurt by pigs!
Garrett snorted a laugh, picked the little cat up and stood and scanned the area. The high stone wall surrounding T’Hawthorn grounds appeared nearly new, the rich Family kept it so well. The greeniron gate also looked new, and the path clear and well-defined with no roots to trip up a foot.
The fragrance of Hawthorn blossoms hit his nose and he knew massive hedgerows of the tree must be planted all over the grounds. Naturally. And this FirstFamily estate covered a significant amount of land, and that would take an equally large amount of gilt to maintain.
Nobles. His lip curled. What could they know about real problems? You had money and status and power, you could take care of anything.
Finally, a young woman dressed in a guard uniform of Hawthorn colors jogged toward them, her face scrunched in a dissatisfied expression. The wind brought her grumble to Garrett, “All this way for a damn feral cat,” she muttered. “Nothing but problems from cats, lately.”
I want down now. I am the lowest Cat in status, and the guards don’t like to see me. The female cat wriggled from his arms, leapt away and slunk into space between bushes that seemed too small for her.
The guard’s expression smoothed as she saw Garrett, and she slowed to a walk as she examined him, taking him in head to foot. With her dark hair and purplish eyes, Garrett thought she might be a distant Hawthorn relative who worked for the GreatLord as security.
Just beyond the gate she stopped and nodded to him in acknowledgment.
He bowed with slightly more respect than her rank demanded.
“Your name and business and why you didn’t come to the main gate?” she questioned.
“Garrett Primross, Private Investigator.” He plucked one of his new holographic cards from a tunic pocket and tried to sound not-too-stupid as he said the next words. “Requested to come here by the FirstFamily T’Hawthorn FamCat, Black Pierre. I was led here by another FamCat, a young long-haired black one.”
At least she didn’t fall on the ground and roll with laughter as he would have. No doubt she respected her Family and Fam companions more than he.
She reached through the gate and took his card, stepped back to glance at it. Then she tapped his card against her palm, but didn’t trigger the embedded images. “I’ve heard of you,” she said, to his surprise. “You’re the P.I. who uses animals as informants.” She smiled, and it didn’t look derogatory.
“That’s right. I have a Flair for animal communication.”
“Makes sense.” Now she rolled her eyes. “Black Pierre, such a demanding FamCat.” One last scrutiny of Garrett, and she moved up to the gate. Placing her hand against the shieldspell, she sent energy and murmured spellWords to drop it for him and unlocked the gate, then stood aside for him to walk through.
Against the long wall grew equally long and thick hawthorn hedges. Of course.
Once beyond the greenery, he bowed again, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She closed and locked the gate behind him, snorting as the calico cat zipped in. “Cats are nothing but nuisances.” Then the guardswoman raised the section of shieldspells again. “We’ll be notified if you leave the estate by this or other lesser-known entrances, or swim away from the beach into the ocean. And if you enter the Residence, the House will monitor you.”
“Got that.”
“Please check out at the front gate main entrance when you’re finished with your business here.” With a wave, she left, loping back to her station.
Follow Me, said the calico who sauntered from the bushes. She led the way up the clear path. We will go to the kitchen door. Old, fat Black Pierre stays mostly in the warm kitchen now. He was the old lord’s FamCat, the one who died, but Black Pierre did not die, too, like some old Fams do. Now Black Pierre prefers to be the chef’s Cat. Her tail waved in punctuation that Garrett didn’t quite understand, except that she didn’t respect Black Pierre and seemed to think everyone old. He figured most were, compared to her.
They’d rounded a bend in the path, and the ocean that T’Hawthorn land bordered on throbbed into better hearing, when Black Cat Two--Black--shot up and dropped a small leather pouch he carried in his mouth down before Garrett. The bag clinked as it hit the ground, and when Garrett opened it, he found eleven medium-sized golden gilt pieces.
“Interesting,” he said.
There will be more gilt, Black Pierre says, if you take the case.
“Explain this case to me,” Garrett said, weighing the gilt in his hand.
Like I said before, the housekeeper accused Black Pierre of stealing!
“Food?” asked Garrett. Cats stole food all the time. “Treats? Catnip?”
No such thing as stealing those. Food and treats and nip are Ours.
“Uh-huh.”
Said Black Pierre stole a Family thing! An important Family treasure!
“Did he?”
Black Pierre gets all He wants all the time. Why would He take some Man thing? If He wanted Man thing, the lord or the chef would have given Black Pierre the Man thing.
“What sort of man thing?” Garrett asked, as they walked through an arch stating “Kitchen Gardens” with a signpost showing multiple arrows: Vegetable, Herbs, Spices, Edible Flowers ...
I don’t know. A thing Man uses, not Cats. Stup to say Cat stole, even if one part was shiny and another part could be a bed. Black paused, his tail flicked. Not a good bed, not like a fat pillow.
Like any of that made sense. Garrett would be interviewing Black Pierre. Great.
When they got close to the Residence, Black stopped. I have been good. I started to look in the pig place for Man stuff. Then I got You and brought You here and told Black Pierre. I got the gilt pouch and gave to You. Now I get to go rest and tend My hurts!
The calico licked him on the nose. Y
ou told Black Pierre about nothing in the pigs?
Yes, Black affirmed, and, treading lightly, he passed Garrett. Calico followed him.
Guess neither of them would be introducing Garrett to the former GreatLord T’Hawthorn’s FamCat. In his mind the clicking counter of on-the-job minutes continued. He already figured Black Pierre wouldn’t want to pay him any more gilt than that in the pouch he’d put in a trous pocket.
A few strides later, he reached a large flagstoned terrace outside an equally large door that must lead to the kitchens. Though big windows were set in the fortress-like castle wall, metal shutters framed the glass, and Garrett had no doubt they functioned. The shutters would have been necessary when the castle was new, but now the Residence, as an intelligent home, could defend itself.
Lying in the spring sun on the flagstones curled a fat, long-haired but perfectly groomed and shining-furred black cat. Garrett figured that spells also kept the terrace warm.
He picked up a polished dark redwood outdoor chair and placed it close to the cat, and waited. It wouldn’t like being looked down on.
Black Pierre stretched and flexed long-clawed paws before opening his yellow eyes and staring at Garrett. Who noted the more-than-usual intelligence in the FamCat’s gaze. But then, that cat had been the animal companion of a FirstFamily GreatLord strong in Flair psi power for ... over a decade.
Garrett thought of the younger black cat’s words. “You have a problem you think I can fix?”
“Grrrrrrr.” Black Pierre sat and his fur ruffled. The upper skin of his muzzle rose, showing good fangs. I was accused of taking a Family treasure! ME! His tail thrashed.
“What kind of Family treasure?”
Instead of answering in mental words, the cat formed images and sent them to Garrett’s brain. A long oblong item tapered at each end, chased with silver along the sides. A flat rectangular piece of deep purple tinted fine leather with additional pieces of leather on each side. And Garrett still couldn’t figure that one out.
I told the new, young Hawthorn lord that I did not take, but no one except Me assured him. No one said they’d taken it. And it remains missing! “Grrrrr.”
Then, as if rage prodded him, he leapt to a wide windowsill and perched on it in the sunlight. Then the young lord realized other objects had gone missing. A big mess. He grumbled in his throat and stared off toward the sea.
“And you didn’t take any of the Family treasures.”
No! What would I want with them? His muzzle lifted. I have anything I want. A sniff. Including the best food from the best chef on Celta.
The cat did show a significant bulge around the middle.
“So you didn’t take them, yet you remain accused.”
“Yessss,” Black Pierre vocalized with a long hiss. Huathe was an honorable man, and I am an honorable Cat. We are an honorable Family!
“Uh-huh. But no one’s speaking up to defend you.”
Stup humans. A lift of the muzzle. They think that blaming a Cat makes everything easy and right. No one must do anything to find the items, the young lord will be satisfied with the explanation.
“I understand.”
Flicking of the tip of cat tail. He will not. Huathe instilled in Laev great honor.
Maybe. FirstFamilies were touchy about their honor. And unlike other powerful men, Garrett had never heard that the Hawthorns contracted with people, got work out of them, and refused to pay. Too proud for that, and, yes, too honorable to break their word or contracts.
There might be a FirstFamily noble who’d be dishonorable, Garrett didn’t know and hadn’t cared to find out, never thinking to associate with them, but not a Hawthorn.
“So there continue to be missing items, including the one you were accused of taking.”
Yes.
“And it bothers you that you’re accused of stealing. But you still live here with every comfort,” Garrett pointed out.
My status is threatened. They would not dare to turn Me out, but they might not let My new FamMan, the Chef, give Me treats ... or buy Earthan catnip grown on the starship for Me. I would have to put up with an inferior nip.
“Terrible,” Garrett said.
Yesss. He stood on the windowsill, wide enough to accommodate his bulk, paced back and forth..
I have been a Good FamCat. Always. My honor is besmirched.
Those words pinched at Garrett. “Not good to have a smeared reputation.”
No. I will not allow humans to speak ill of ME. He turned his gaze on Garrett. You will fix.
“We’ll talk,” Garrett said, then asked, “What’s with the pigs?”
The kittens found a couple of Family items while frolicking in the pigsty. Black Pierre snorted. Kittens.
“What kind of valuable items?”
A bit of pretty jewelry shaped like a dragonfly. And at that, Garrett focused on the gleam around Black Pierre’s neck. A collar made of lambenthysts, worth a small fortune. Even one of the jewels would pay Garrett well. Squinting, he saw a hole in each ear, too, though the cat didn’t wear studs.
“Doesn’t sound very important.”
Pretty enough it caught the calico kitten’s attention. Housekeeper said it is a lovely piece of excellent craftsmanship. At least a half century old.
“All right, I get it, treasured heirloom.”
One would think so.
“Which one?” Garrett pounced on the phrase.
The young lord, Laev, Black Pierre sent to Garrett’s mind.
“But not the old lord ... Huathe?” Garrett persisted.
The cat radiated insult. I have been accused of stealing objects!
All right, dead end there. Garrett winced inwardly, a literal dead end as the lord had passed on. Garrett vaguely recalled he’d died in his mistress’s bed. Not a terrible way to go.
Yank his thoughts back to this “case” taking his time, and maybe costing him gilt. “What other items were found in the pigsty?”
A little stuffed goat, much the worse for wear.
“Laev’s childhood toy?” Garrett pressed.
Black Pierre licked a paw. I do not think so, older than him, retrieved from a toy box in the nursery. I do NOT go to the nursery, the FamCat ended haughtily. Nothing there of interest to Me.
“Of course not.”
The cat leapt down from the window, began sauntering toward the door. Time for my treat.
“Obviously that takes precedence over speaking with me.”
Yes. I have told you what needs fixed. Fix it.
“Uh-huh. But before you disappear into the kitchen, what does the Residence have to say about these missing items?” Garrett wasn’t sure what all an intelligent house sensed, and what kind of memory it might have, but may as well ask.
Black Pierre glanced over his back at Garrett. The Residence is quiet on this. It has not spoken to Me, though I have requested information. It does not inform the young lord that I did NOT take the object. I do not know why it is so recalcitrant. The feline sniffed in contempt. Which is probably why the Residence didn’t speak with the FamCat.
They could be trying.
FAMMAN! Black Pierre demanded at the door, then issued a yowl. Time for My treats!
The door whisked open, showing a young teen-aged girl with a harried expression. Garrett figured she must be the lowest kitchen maid. Black Pierre strolled inside.
“Greetyou,” said a male voice behind Garrett. He stood and turned.
A tall young man with noble-style longish black hair stared at Garrett. As he strode closer, Garrett met his steady violet gaze, the color denoting the Hawthorn Family. Though he dressed in the richest of clothes, he moved with a walk not as arrogant as Garrett expected, not truly the walk of other FirstFamily members he’d seen around and about in the city. Surprising. His face also showed a few lines deeper than a man of approximately thirty should hold.
“Greetyou, Garrett Primross, Private Investigator.” T’Hawthorn, the man must be the GreatLord himself, stopped outsi
de longsword point and inclined his torso.
The guardswoman must have told her boss of Garrett’s admission to the estate.
Though Garrett had rarely used the formal salutations that nobles preferred, he, like everyone, knew the courtesies. He just hoped they sounded smooth. “Greetyou, GreatLord T’Hawthorn.” He bowed, but didn’t think it was the proper degree. Fligger. All right, he shouldn’t care, but something in the man’s gaze and manner engendered reluctant respect. As if the guy had weathered significant storm-problems in his life.
Who’d have thought that?
Wait, hadn’t there been a duel between the Hawthorns and the Hollys? And anyone going against the warrior Hollys would be bound to lose. And this man wasn’t the late T’Hawthorn’s son. Probably his Son’sSon. So something happened to this new lord’s father.
Garrett really should have done some basic research before he’d left his office ... with a cat. But he’d treated the “case” as minor. Somehow it didn’t seem as negligible now as he thought.
The man picked up a redwood chair and placed it next to Garrett’s, dropped down into it, and Garrett sat, too. With his arms braced on the flat ones of the chair, T’Hawthorn tapped his fingertips together. When he noticed Garrett’s gaze focused on his hands, he gave a tired smile and stopped the movement. “My FatherSire’s habit.”
Going straight to his own largest concern, Garrett said, “Black Pierre feels insulted at being accused of stealing a Hawthorn Family treasure.”
A twitch of the lips up from the GreatLord. “Of course he is.”
“He informed you that he didn’t steal the item?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe him?”
The nobleman sat up straight in the back-slanted chair. “There’s no reason for him to lie.”
Garrett paused but went with honesty. “I’ve had significant dealings with cats, and have learned that their reasons for lying don’t match humans, that they can lie casually, and take the truth casually.”
Hearts and Stones (Celta HeartMate) Page 17
