Oskar considered the tree above them. "Why not try sleeping on a branch, if it'll make you feel better?"
"And if I roll in my sleep and fall out?" Taj was downcast. "I'll hit the ground. Actually hit the ground! That's never happened to me, Oskar. You don't know what it's like, this fear of falling. Cats may land easily on four feet, but birds land as lightly and easily as—well, as a feather. The thought of not being able to slow a descent, or stop a fall…" His eyes were tortured.
"At least you're used to standing on two feet," Oskar encouraged him. "So you can't fly. I understand that. But if you've never fallen off a perch in your sleep before, what makes you think you'll do so now? Why not give it a try, on a low branch. If it works, you can sleep in a higher place tomorrow."
Taj considered, then nodded slowly. "You take a long time to get to a point, Oskar, but when you do, it's usually worth the journey. Thanks, I will." So saying, he got to his feet and shinnied up the trunk behind them. Choosing a large, low-hanging branch, he promptly dropped his chin onto his chest, let his arms hang at his sides, and closed his eyes. He rocked slightly but didn't tumble. Soon he was fast asleep, a small smile fixed on his face. Oskar was much pleased.
He had begun to pace off tighter and tighter circles preparatory to retiring himself when a shape materialized at his side. It was Cocoa. He hadn't heard her approach, which was hardly surprising. Cats didn't walk up to you. They simply appeared. Even in the absence of natural light, her eyes were luminous. He blinked repeatedly: she did not.
"Oskar, I have to ask you: do you find this form attractive?"
He hesitated. He didn't want to be scratched, even by nails greatly reduced in efficiency. "Cezer does," he replied quickly.
Her expression was one of distaste. "Cezer thinks everything with a tail is attractive. I'm asking you. You know how important looks have always been to me. You've seen how much time I spend grooming and cleaning myself." Her expression twisted delightfully. "I can't even clean everyplace in this body."
Ignoring the implications of that observation, he plunged ahead as best he was able. "I've always thought you, um, pretty, Cocoa. Just not my type, that's all. I mean, you're feline."
"Not anymore, I'm not. I'm human—and so are you." Curiosity flickered behind her eyes as she moved closer to him, very close indeed. Panic rising within him, he looked past the fire, but Mamakitty was already asleep, curled up with her back to the flames. The curves and lines of her back were highlighted by the blaze, a fact which he suddenly realized was…
This sweating business, he reflected anxiously as beads of perspiration broke out on his brow, was decidedly irritating. On the other hand, he realized, he would not have presented a more confident picture with his tongue hanging out and drool dribbling from his jaws. He noticed that he was, however, panting noticeably.
"All right, yes—I do find you attractive in this form. But it just doesn't seem right somehow. I mean, I feel I should be chasing you, not—"
"Not what?" The smell of her was powerful, a confusing, conflicting blend of human and cat. "Biting me? You can bite me if you want, Oskar. I never realized how big you were before this. I was always trying to ignore you, or get away from you." Her lips, devoid of fur, were very close to his as she stretched upward on tiptoes to bring them nearer to his own. "Come on, Oskar. Why don't you take a little nip? Just—don't—bark at me."
Laughter suddenly split the night air. They pushed apart to see Cezer, pointing and chortling. "Now there's a sight to tickle a cat's funny bone better than catnip! I always thought you had better taste, Cocoa. That close to the floor mop that walks, I thought your fur would be up."
Stepping back, she brushed at her blouse and with great dignity, turned to walk away, moving to rejoin Mamakitty on the other side of the campfire. "For your information," she replied acidly, "my fur is up."
The laughter died in Cezer's throat. "Hey, I didn't mean … what I was trying to say was…" Growling, he advanced to confront Oskar. The older man did not move. "Listen here, bone-farts: you're a dog, I'm a cat. Cocoa's a cat. Is that too complicated for you to understand?"
Reaching out, Oskar quietly gripped the front of the younger man's shirt in his clenched fist. Fingers were a poor substitute for teeth, but they would have to do. "Not anymore, hysteria-for-brains. She's human, as are you and I. If she wants to explore communication in this form, I'm not going to tell her she can't. And neither are you."
Cezer's right hand dropped to the pommel of his sword, then drifted away. Pulling free of Oskar's grasp, he straightened his shirtfront. "I don't like you, dog-man. I never did."
"The feeling's mutual. But for the sake of this journey, we had better learn to turn our anger outward, away from the group."
Cezer nodded slowly. "Fine. Just keep away from Cocoa."
The older man casually crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll keep away from Cocoa the cat. If Cocoa the woman wants to talk to me, I'll make myself available."
"Master should've had you fixed." Muttering to himself, Cezer moved away. Oskar watched the younger man until he had lain down and closed his eyes. You couldn't trust a conscious cat.
With a sigh, he decided he had better find a place to sleep himself. Samm looked content, curled into as tight a ball as he could manage, his head resting on one massive arm. Tomorrow they would enter a human town. They would have to pass themselves off as humans without a master to tell them what to do, how to act, or how to behave. If they failed, and drew unwanted attention to themselves, their journey might find itself compromised before it had even begun. Finding a soft pile of leaves, he paced a few circles, settled down, and dropped into a deep but far from dreamless sleep. Occasionally he would whimper softly, and kick out with his right leg. Only when he rolled onto his hack and thrust hands and feet into the air did the unsettling dreams finally cease.
With its narrow streets, innumerable decorated shopfronts, shuttered pubs, and a general level of activity that bordered on the somnolent, Karpluvy Towne was not the noisy, exciting contrast to the deep silences of the Fasna Wyzel that they had expected. The same gray air of gloom and depression hung over the township that gripped the rest of the Gowdlands in its melancholy embrace. Small squads of soldiers and armed citizens patrolled the streets, windows remained closed and shuttered, and people spoke in whispers of the coining of the Totumakk Horde. Their greatest hope appeared to be that the terrible Horde would overlook so small and isolated a community as theirs, and pass to the north and south of it.
As they entered upon the cobblestone streets, a worried Oskar leaned over to whisper to Mamakitty. "People are staring at us. What are we doing wrong?"
"Nothing, I wager," she replied after a moment's consideration. "I think we just stand out a little bit from the typical townsfolk. They probably fear any strangers, concerned that they might be spies for the Horde." She studied their surroundings thoughtfully. "I remember Karpluvy as being full of life, and light, and happiness. See what the loss of color does to human beings?"
Oskar studied their little party. Were their nonhuman origins showing? Everyone was careful to resist their innate urges. Cezer had put a leash on his feline exuberance, and no one dropped to all fours. Samm had a tendency to slide down the street until Taj reminded the giant to pick up his feet. Surely they had managed to blend in. How could they possibly stand out? True, Mamakitty was more muscular than the average woman. And Taj blonder than the blondest northerner, even in the dim gray light. As for Cezer and Cocoa, though it pained him to admit it, it was difficult to tell which was the more beautiful, or who drew the more surreptitious admiring stares from the otherwise downcast crowd—from both men and women.
Come to think of it, of them all, he was the only one who looked remotely average. This realization made him feel neither slighted nor overlooked. He had always been commonly, even exceptionally, ordinary.
So it was fitting that when they finally settled on a slightly less than funereal taverna in which to dine and resto
ck their nearly barren store of victuals, it was he who entered first, made hesitant but easygoing contact with the proprietor, and secured them a table near the back. His mastery of language might be lacking, but his inherent friendliness overcame the owner's initial uncertainty. Maybe he was not as handsome as Cezer, but the personality people had instinctively liked when he was a dog had carried over to his human shape. It was a puzzled proprietor who wondered at his sudden urge to reach across the counter and pat this scruffy, smiling customer on the head.
While Mamakitty discussed the purchase of jerked meats, assorted fruits, dried fish, salt and other spices, and assorted individual items from the slightly bemused owner, the rest of them retired to a table and ordered food from a jaded serving wench no less depressed than her fellow townsfolk. Try as she might as she recorded their order, she could not keep her eyes off the rakish profile and lean muscularity that was Cezer.
As for their larger purchases, if the shopkeeper found any of them curious, especially the large bag of fish heads that the dark woman ordered up, he kept his opinions to himself. Not only did he find the handsome broad-shouldered customer herself intimidating, but the man-mountain hovering wordlessly behind her ensured that he held his peace. As the merchant filled and packaged the order, he tried not to glance in the direction of the curious colossus. The man-mountain's unconsciously intense stare was more than a little unnerving; it bordered on the hypnotic. Didn't the giant ever blink? And why did he seem unable to keep his tongue inside his head?
Mamakitty and Samm were still busy accumulating supplies for the journey ahead when food finally arrived at the rear table of the extensive establishment. In her absence it fell to Cocoa to hiss a warning at her two male companions.
"Stop that!"
Pudding in hand, Oskar frowned at her. "Stop what?"
"Eating like that. With your fingers." She cut her eyes sideways, indicating nearby tables full of muttering, suspicious townsfolk. "Among humans, certain foods can be eaten by hand, but others demand the use of utensils. Didn't you two ever watch the Master and his visitors eat?"
The two men exchanged a glance. "Not really," Oskar confessed. "I was more interested in following the path of overlooked table scraps."
"What does it matter?" Grinning defiantly, Cezer deliberately shoved his hand into the middle of the large hot pie that presently occupied the center of the table and extracted a heaping fistful of steaming vegetables and bits of meat. This he conveyed with careful deliberation to his waiting mouth, thick gravy oozing out between his fingers.
Struggling with unfamiliar knife and fork while wishing she could simply bend over and shove her face into her plate, Cocoa lowered her eyes. "You disgust me!"
"She ain't the only one."
The amused voice came from nearby. It was difficult to say who were the roughest-looking individuals occupying the table across from the travelers': the heavily bearded men, the women with their manifold painful piercings, or the pair of horned mogs freely sharing their food and drink. Oskar opted for the women.
Fumbling a piece of chicken into her mouth, Cocoa kept her gaze lowered and her voice down. "Just ignore them."
"You ignore them." Grease and gravy threatening to stain his elegant tunic but never quite adhering, Cezer rose from his chair, shaking off Oskar's cautioning hand. "Excuse me, offspring of an indeterminate parentage: did you say that I disgust you?"
It grew very quiet very quickly at the neighboring table. Still tugging at his companion's shirt, Oskar growled his own warning. "By the Whiskers of the Great Mother, sit down!"
Cezer spoke without looking at his companion. "Not until this boorish lout apologizes. To Cocoa if not to me."
Smiling wanly at the grim-faced group seated across from them, Cocoa declared reassuringly, "That's all right. No apology necessary."
One of the mogs was starting to rise. Jingling more chain than a clutch of convicted pickpockets, so did the blue-painted woman next to him.
"Drinks are on the house!" Oskar suddenly shouted as he pushed his chair back and straightened.
Toothy mog, blue woman, and puzzled companions stared at him. "You can't say that," rumbled one of the men. "Abnyk is the owner of the White Ass. Not you."
Grabbing Cezer around the neck, Oskar nodded in the speaker's direction. "I know, but I needed the moment."
"Let go of me, you fatuous cur!" Whirling around, an enraged Cezer swung one fist in a sweeping arc that caught the startled and still seated Taj on the side of his head. Reeling but not releasing his grip, the older man stumbled backward, still holding tightly to his outraged companion.
"By Master Evyndd's beard, that's enough!" Putting utensils and further thought of food aside, Cocoa leaped across the table to join in the fray. Her weight was enough to send all three of them crashing to the floor in a noisy upwelling of dishes, goblets, drink, and condiments. Caught in the middle and struggling to escape the fray, Taj succeeded only in being drawn in deeper.
Confronted by this display and uncertain now exactly how to proceed, the ominous throng at the other table hesitated. By the time one of the men started to draw the knobkerrie slung at his belt, Mamakitty had arrived. More importantly, so had Samm. The giant put a hand on the would-be combatant's shoulder.
"Let's everyone just keep calm, shall we?"
"Snolwraith! I'll not have anyone telling me to—" At this point the eager bruiser noted that the hand on his shoulder was quite large enough to envelop his entire head and squeeze it like a pimple. His voice and testosterone level plunged in concert. "On the other hand, maybe I will."
The nominal leader of the seated rogues shrugged. "No need for us to thrash them, Gelgirth. They're doing a good enough job of it themselves." Watching the brawl, a couple of the women had begun to giggle. Vestigial wings smacking appreciatively against one another, the mog seated between them began to shout encouragement and suggestions to the combatants.
Observing the chaos, Mamakitty uttered a sigh of dismay. "What the canary is doing in there, I can't imagine. Samm, clean it up."
"Yes'm." Lurching forward, the giant deftly but firmly began to disengage the cursing, spitting, disheveled belligerents.
"Outside." To the now grinning spectators she added, "Sorry for the disturbance."
"Not disturbance." With a sharp claw, the other mog picked something revolting out of his front fangs. "Enjoyed the show, I did."
"Rightly so." A human comrade slapped the mog on the back, between its folded wings. "Fought like cats and dogs, they did!"
Once they were outside, while Samm strove to balance an enormous canvas sack of newly acquired supplies on his expansive back, Mamakitty proceeded to upbraid her abashed companions.
"What were you thinking, fighting in there like that?" There was no response from the now contrite combatants. "The one thing we don't want to do is draw attention to ourselves, and you four promptly start a fight!" She glared furiously at the leanest member of the indicted quartet. "And even you, Taj—I'm surprised at you."
"I wasn't—" The singer was not given a chance to explain.
"We were insulted." His honor but not his tunic stained, Cezer methodically flicked chopped carrots from his collar. "I was merely attempting to redress the situation."
"You would've been redressed, all right," Oskar growled at him. "In blood. I had to stop you."
Taking another tack, Taj blurted, "It was Cocoa who saved us. By jumping in and keeping us fighting among ourselves, she gave those at the other table no reason to participate." He eyed the young woman admiringly, his thoughts oddly unbirdlike. "That was very clever of you, to fake a real fight to create a diversion."
She frowned in confusion. "What 'fake'?"
"Oh, come on, all of you! I want to be well out of this misery-drenched town by nightfall. Before any of you can cause any more trouble." Pivoting smartly, Mamakitty started down the main street, resuming the march southeastward. The others followed.
"Should've kicked your butt," Os
kar muttered.
Cezer hissed at him. "You and what pack of offal-rolling mongrels?"
"Shut up, the both of you!" Lengthening her stride, Cocoa caught up to Mamakitty and engaged her in conversation, ignoring the two men. Oskar went silent to oblige her, while Cezer did the same so he could concentrate on watching her walk.
Behind them, in the White Ass Tavern, mogs and men had already forgotten all about the contretemps that had taken place at the table beside them. Those of the other patrons who had observed the fracas had returned to their respective drinking and conversations. Once more, the gray and depressing atmosphere was broken only by occasional whispers.
Only one patron left his seat. Easing away from the ragged counter, he was already composing the message he would send via aireq bird to distant Kyll-Bar-Bennid. It had been known for some time that the generals of the Horde and the necromancer Khaxan Mundurucu would pay well for any information that would help them to ferret out the remaining small pockets of resistance to their otherwise all-dominant rule. Surely any armed, purposeful, combative travelers who as they were fighting among themselves swore by the name of the dead wizard Susnam Evyndd were worthy of the Horde's attention?
In addition to being keen of eye and ear, the quisling was also sensitive of nose. When seated, the belligerents had smelled as human as anyone else. But when they had been battling with one another, a powerful odor of cat and dog and something fowl had suffused that portion of the taverna. Whether that information would be of any use to the Horde he did not know, but wishing to be as thorough as possible in hopes of receiving an appropriate reward, he had included it in his missive as well.
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