In the City of Cats
Megan Bryar

Part 01

	The streets of Oseille were strewn all around with flags and colored streamers hung from the eaves of every building.  Torches and lanterns burned on every corner and shop-front, and every rabbit on the street was dressed in their finest clothes.  There was an air of excitement throughout the city and children chased each other around the crowded squares while their parents stood in small clusters of friends to drink and gossip amongst themselves.  Ciara found the whole thing deeply embarrassing.  When she'd come back to Oseille she'd hoped that she could return to the quiet life she'd had before the war, but it looked like those days were gone for good.
	“It's only a wedding, for pity's sake.  People have them every day,” she said.
	“Not like yours.  Can you blame them for wanting to celebrate their heroes?” Saoirse said.
	The old brown rabbit looked pleased with herself.  Ciara knew it was Saoirse who had arranged most of the celebrations, though of course she'd denied it.  It had taken the old rabbit some time to get used to the idea of having a fox in the family, but the events of the last two years had done a lot to soothe her doubts and these days she treated Ciara with a sort of cautious respect.  It wasn't every fox who'd risk her life to save a rabbit.
	“All of this is just ridiculous.  Niamh and I aren't anything special.  We only did what anyone would do,” Ciara said.
	“Maybe so, but nobody else took the trouble.  Now be quiet and enjoy the attention.  And try to smile a little.  It took us a year and a half to rebuild after Blackpool's last visit and it's about time we had something more fun to look forward to,” Saoirse said.
	The city gleamed under the mid-morning sun.  Most of the buildings were brand new.  The Red Wolf tavern was the only place that hadn't been touched by the fire and most of the houses had been reduced to ash and rubble.  If it hadn't been for the four seasonal fairs that were held in Oseille, and generous reparations from the City of Cats, they might still be digging themselves out.  Ciara gritted her teeth and made up her mind to do as Saoirse asked.  It wasn't up to her to spoil the mood.
	The wedding was to be held in the large open space at the front of the city, where the fairs usually were.  What was left of the Rabbit Wall, built last year at the height of the war, was covered in bright flowers and more flags.  An enormous pavilion stood in the middle of the square, surrounded by a number of smaller tents and chairs.  This early in the day the place was largely empty.  The caterers were still setting up the food tent and there was a general bustle among those on the inside of the square that suggested that idlers would not be welcomed.  Ciara turned to go back, until Saoirse's hand closed on her wrist.
	“Your lady is waiting for you,” Saoirse said.
	Niamh stood by herself in one corner of the square.  She wore a simple, ankle-length purple dress and had braided small, white flowers in her auburn hair.  They had known each other since childhood, but the sight of Niamh in such an outfit made Ciara's mouth go dry.  
	“Isn't this bad luck?” she said.
	“I wouldn't have thought that you, of all people, would worry about a thing like that.  Go on, now,” Saoirse said.
	When Niamh spotted her, Ciara hurried over to the girl and she threw her arms around Niamh's waist.  They kissed, and the insides of Niamh's ears reddened with embarrassment.  The whole of Oseille had turned out in honor of her wedding day and Niamh was still shy about kissing in public.
	“You're early,” Niamh said.
	“On a day like today?  I don't think there's any such thing,” Ciara said.
	“You and I have been through so much since that morning I found you on the Oseille Road.  I'd never seen any girl who looked so lost and alone as you.  Or who was so beautiful,” Niamh said.
	“You always have been a flatterer,” Ciara said.
	“No.  It's only the truth, and nothing more,” Niamh said.
	“I fell for you on the spot,” Ciara said.
	Niamh had haunted her dreams from the day they'd met.  When she'd arrived in Oseille Ciara was too young to really understand what love was, though she'd had a sort of girlfriend back home in Cearnach.  Her friendship with Niamh had changed her life, and always for the better.
	“They're going to take at least another hour to get ready here.  Let's go have a drink,” Ciara said.
	Niamh glanced over at her grandmother, but Saoirse was busy bossing everyone around on the other side of the market.  Just lately, Saoirse had found a lot of reasons to excuse herself whenever Ciara and Niamh were together, and it occurred to Ciara, again, that the old rabbit was a lot more understanding than she ever thought.
	“Just a small one.  We don't want to let people down,” Niamh said..
	Ciara hooked her arm around Niamh's waist and pulled her away from the square and into the crowded streets.  The rabbits all around them gave way to make room for them and Ciara saw more than a few turn to watch them as they passed.  Ciara was all too aware of the extra attention that most of the rabbit bucks, and quite a few of the does paid to her.  All of the fresh attention made her blush and swish her tail.  She was an ordinary vixen, short and plain and miles away from beautiful.  Even in her best black dress, chosen for the way it made her reddish-blonde fur glow in the sunlight, she wasn't a match for Niamh at all.  She'd spent most of her life in Oseille in Niamh's shadow, and she had been quite content to live the rest of her life like that.  It was quite startling for those same neighbors who had spent years carefully looking past her to now treat her like she was something special.
	“It's just as well I said no when Fithir wanted to make me Queen of Cearnach.  I don't think I could have stood this sort of bowing and scraping for more than a day,” Ciara said.
	“At least it's something you expect from foxes.  You're used to queens,” Niamh said “Oh, no, please get up madame.”
	This last was to an old grey doe who had dropped to her knees directly in their path.  The rabbit was probably the same age as Saoirse, but stooped with age.  A cataract clouded her left eye and her arms were laced with so many scars that here wrists were bare of fur.
	“Bless you, dear children,” the old doe said “Only think what we might have lost without you.”
	“Don't thank me, please.  It was my family who did this to you.  You'd all have been much safer without any of us,” Ciara said.
	“We are all born into this world for a purpose.  Foxes have always destroyed.  None ever cared about us, until you came,” the old doe said.
	She grasped Ciara's hand in her own and pressed Ciara's wrist to her mouth.
	“They say you do not believe in Our Lady, but she must have sent you to us all the same.  I will ask her to watch over you this night, and bless your life to come,” the doe said.
	Niamh freed Ciara from the old rabbit's grasp as gently as she could, and they ducked into the Red Wolf as much to get away from the stares as for the promised drink.  Ciara relaxed as the familiar gloom surrounded them.  Killian was one of the few people in the city whose opinion of her hadn't changed in the slightest.  All the war had given him was a permanent limp and all the excuse he needed to hide in his tap room and drink up most of his stock of wine.  Ciara slapped a hand down on the bell on the end of the bar and she smiled when it didn't ring.
	“The way he treats his customers, it's a wonder this place is still open,” she said.
	“Some people will put up with anything for a drink.  That's the secret, Miss Lohan.  Your pretty rabbits know they're just a little bit safer with me around, too,” Killian said.
	Killian swung himself down from the hammock he'd strung above the bar for when it was too hot to sleep downstairs, and he treated them to a rare smile.
	“It's about time you put a ring on that girl's finger.  The only problem is, the next time I have to send a bill for repairs to a Miss Lohan, I won't know which of you to give it to,” Killian said.
	“What's the fun in getting married if you can't make life difficult for all your friends?” Ciara said.
	“Just as long as you keep it up.  Life has been much too upsetting lately for you girls to get respectable on me now,” Killian said.
	He ducked under the counter for a moment and came back up with a trio of glasses and a small bottle of whiskey.
	“I don't have any champagne.  It's too expensive to buy in bulk, and nobody around here ever wants it anyway.  But I want to give you girls something in honor of your day,” he said.
	He poured a measure of whiskey into each glass and they drank in silence.  Ciara had a feeling that the real spirit of the toast was a celebration of simple survival.  Oseille was much smaller than it had been a year and a half ago, and the graveyard on the banks of the Glass River was much too large.
	Killian poured a second round and Ciara had just drained her glass when the door flew open and Fiachra ran in.  Fiachra was Niamh's half-brother, though the two of them could almost have been twins.  He was quite a large buck with raven black hair and Ciara had always been a little bit intimidated by him until last year, when she'd learned how much he really liked her.
	“There you are.  Grandmother's been looking all over for you two.  You'd better come down to the Market Square right away,” Fiachra said.
	“Calm down.  We've still got plenty of time before the ceremony starts,” Niamh said.
	“It isn't that.  It's Sabia,” Fiachra said.
	Even half drunk as she was, Ciara caught the anger in Fiachra's voice when he said the Queen of Blackpool's name, and she saw Niamh's hands clench into fists.  She had never known either of them to raise a hand to anyone, but both Niamh and Fiachra had made dire threats against Sabia if she came to Oseille again.
	“Deirdre spotted the Queen's entourage as she came in for the wedding,” Fiachra said.
	“She was certain it was Sabia?” Niamh said.
	“Deirdre was alone so she didn't stick around to count heads, but they were carrying Sabia's banner,” Fiachra said.
	“The old bitch has no manners at all,” Killian said.
	The four of them hurried out the door.  Killian paused long enough to grab a fresh bottle of whiskey and his grandfather's sword.  Then the big wolf took the lead and, for once, Ciara was content to follow him.  She had faced Sabia down once, and that was more than enough for one lifetime.
	Deirdre and Saoirse were waiting for them when they arrived.  The streets had cleared and everyone else had fled the square.  Deirdre wore a sword at her hip and the sight of it filled Ciara with the same old, dull anger she'd felt most of her life.  No matter what happened, her mother simply refused to change in any real way.  Maybe it was for the best this time, but Deirdre had no business playing at being a soldier at her age.
	“So much for your promise to retire,” Ciara said.
	“If I hadn't gone out, we wouldn't know Sabia's out there now,” Deirdre said.
	“I asked her to fetch the sword.  We may need all the swords we can get before this is over,” Saoirse said.
	The old doe took both of her grandchildren by the arm and pulled them close to her in a protective embrace, even though Fiachra was a full foot taller than her now.
	“I thought we were done with swords.  Blackpool and Cearnach both got what they wanted from us,” Fiachra said.
	“They won't give up.  They never learn.  They don't want to,” Deirdre said.
	“Sounds familiar,” Ciara said.
	Deirdre pushed Ciara gently into Niamh's arms and she kissed them both.
	“Ci, I want you to take your rabbits and go back home.  I had a word with a few people during the reconstruction and your house is the strongest building in Oseille.  I'll take care of Sabia,” Deirdre said.
	“Somebody needs to warn the city,” Killian said.
	He had his sword out and cocked over one shoulder.  It was an ancient weapon and even Ciara could tell that the blade wasn't very sharp.
	“I'm not just going to be bundled off like this.  I'm not a little girl anymore,” Ciara said.
	“Neither am I.  Remember, I went to Blackpool too.  I'm not a coward,” Niamh said.
	Deirdre laid her ears back and she gave a little snarl of irritation, the way she did when she wasn't going to get her way.
	“Now listen--” Deirdre said, but Ciara cut her off with a wave.
	“I'm not running.  I got Sabia to back down last time, I can do it again,” Ciara said.
	“Last time, you had an army at your back,” Saoirse said.
	Ciara grabbed the sword from her mother's hip and bared her teeth when Deirdre tried to take it back.  Deirdre snarled back, but she couldn't stop it turning into a grin.
	“My little girl,” she said.
	“Queen Sabia has taken far too much away from us already.  She isn't going to fuck today up, too.  Niamh, go and get Thirteen, will you please?  Don't bother with her saddle, just ride as fast as you can and try to catch up to me before Sabia does,” Ciara said.
	Ciara stuck the sword in her belt and ran.  She was a little out of shape from all her soft living over the last year and she hated herself for it.  Since Embarr's death, and with all the work that had gone into rebuilding the city, she'd spent less and less time exploring the wilderness that surrounded the city.  It simply wasn't as much fun without Embarr's company.  In fact, she rarely went anywhere except to her forge and sometimes to the Red Wolf for some company.  Thirteen was sweet and, in some ways, she was a much better horse than Embarr had been, but it wasn't the same.
	Ciara found her stride as the Oseille Road curved to the left and headed out for the rest of Viridis.  From here she could go anywhere she wanted.  Up until a year ago that had always been a comforting thought.  Now, it meant Blackpool could come at her from any direction, and they might be able to reach her before she saw them.  She didn't think the ordinary soldiers would attack her without provocation.  She wasn't important enough, or heavily armed enough, for them to worry about.  If Sabia caught her out in the open by herself, though, she would be in real trouble.  She put a hand on the hilt of her stolen sword, which made her feel a little better, but she didn't draw it.  If there was going to be any fighting, she wasn't going to be the one to start it.	
	She was nearly a quarter of a mile from Oseille when she saw movement ahead of her.  A small lynx in black leather armor stood out in the open, right in the middle of the road.  He had his back to her and he was so busy pissing on a handy bush that he didn't notice her until she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
	“Don't say a word.  Don't even breathe hard.  How many of you are there?  What do you want?” Ciara said.
	“A towel would be nice,” the cat said.
	“You're lucky I found you before anyone else did, or you'd have more than wet feet to worry about.  Where's Sabia?” Ciara said.
	The cat tucked himself back in and turned to face her.  He was quite young, probably no more than sixteen, if that, and Ciara could see the fear in his eyes when he looked at her.
	“Still with her retinue, I hope.  I hope you don't think you're going to stop her.  She's got what she wants, and there's nothing you can do about it,” the cat said.
	“We'll be ready for her.  If she's come to burn my home down again you'll have to carry her home in a sack,” Ciara said.
	Hoof beats on the road behind them made them both turn.  Thirteen galloped down the middle of the road.  Niamh lay nearly flat along the mare's back with her arms around Thirteen's neck and Ciara didn't have to see to know Niamh had her eyes shut tight.  Only Niamh could spend days riding all around Viridis by herself and still be terrified of horses.
	“You've brought the cavalry with you, I see,” the cat said.
	He punched Ciara in the small of her back and kicked her legs out from under her when she stumbled.  She rolled with the fall, the way Deirdre had taught her to do so many years ago, and she was up on her feet again in a second.  The cat had a dagger in his hands now and his ears were flat with fear.  Ciara still had her sword, but he was too close to her and she knew he'd kill her if she tried to draw her weapon.
	“I don't know what Queen Sabia is planning, but you'd better go back to your little rabbit hole and stay out of her way, or we'll make you sorry,” he said.
	Niamh had nearly reached them when he lunged at Ciara and slashed at her with his knife.  Acting purely on instinct now, Ciara leaped back, straight into Thirteen's path.  She heard Niamh yell and a flash of yellow shot past her right shoulder, so close she felt her hair brush Thirteen's flank.  Niamh tumbled from the mare's back and landed hard at Ciara's feet.  Ciara stooped to help Niamh back up, but the doe didn't need it.  Even winded from her fall, Niamh still had the strength to spring up and charge straight at the lynx.  Ciara was astonished when the cat turned tail and ran, and it was only thanks to his head start that he made it into the trees ahead of her.  Niamh plunged in after him, but the branches and brambles caught her dress and stopped her in her tracks.
	“He isn't important.  We should get back home before any of his friends come to see if he's okay,” Ciara said.
	“What about Sabia?  You aren't going to let her just walk up to the front gate, are you?” Niamh said.
	“We'll look around for her, but if she's got scouts out we probably won't see her until she wants us to,” Ciara said.
	She helped Niamh untangle herself from the thorn bush, and she brushed some grass from the back of Niamh's dress, which made the girl fidget a bit and blush.
	“You're getting as bad as Fiachra, finicking over me so,” Niamh said.
	“What were you doing, charging in like that? That was something I would have done,” Ciara said.
	Niamh waved a hand at Thirteen, who pranced and snorted challenges on the road above them.
	“That was her idea.  All I could do was hold on,” Niamh said.
	“I meant after you fell off the horse,” Ciara said.
	“He had a knife,” Niamh said, like that was a reasonable explanation.
	Back on the road, Thirteen snorted and bumped her forehead against Ciara's chest in greeting.  Ciara scratched Thirteen under the chin and smiled when the mare nibbled at her sleeve.
	“She's her father's daughter, sometimes,” Ciara said.
	“That means the two of you have something in common, then,” Niamh said.
	Niamh cupped her hands to give Ciara a boost up onto Thirteen's back.  It wasn't necessary, Thirteen was a smaller horse than Embarr had been, but it was too old and comfortable a ritual for them to give up.  Niamh scrambled up a moment later and put her arms around Ciara's waist.
	“Just like old times,” Ciara said.
	“Too much like them,” Niamh said.
	Ciara clucked her tongue and Thirteen trotted down the road, ears pricked for danger.  Ciara swiveled her own ears around, listening to every sound, but all she could hear was the thump of Thirteen's hooves on the road and birds whistling in the trees.  They rode in a slow circle all the way around Oseille, by way of a network of small side roads that most visitors wouldn't know about.  Ciara kept Thirteen a good distance from the city to avoid spooking her friends.  The rabbits of Oseille were good at knowing when visitors were near, and Sabia knew better than to try to sneak around this close to the city because there wasn't a rabbit in the city who didn't know her.  Even so, there was no point in taking chances and she didn't trust that someone like Killian wouldn't stir them all up into a panic at the first sight of a horse.
	It took them better than an hour to make their circuit.  Except for a few wild pheasants startled up by their passage, they didn't see anything but grass and late spring flowers.  The day was warm and the ride would have been quite pleasant if not for the threat of finding lynxes around every turn.  As they progressed, Thirteen's pace slowed and Ciara felt less inclined to urge her along.
	“It's a free road, after all.  Mom always has been a bit of an alarmist,” Ciara said.
	“Domesticity doesn't suit her.  Remember the 'bandit'?” Niamh said.
	Ciara's ears drooped with embarrassment and she swished the tip of her tail back and forth.  Deirdre had ambushed a wandering tinker who had mistaken the Forest Road for a short-cut to Oseille, and she might have cut his throat if he hadn't wet himself and passed out as soon as she grabbed him.
	“It's not really her fault.  It's hard to let go of a lifetime of experience,” Ciara said.
	“That's true, but it's impossible when you don't want to,” Niamh said.
	“Don't be too hard on her.  I think Dad's death might have unhinged her just a little,” Ciara said.
	“How can you tell?” Niamh said.
	Deirdre and Saoirse met them at the front gate when they returned.  Killian stood behind them with his sword out, and Ciara saw the look of disappointment that flashed across his face.  Deirdre wasn't the only hothead in the city.
	“They're playing hide and seek right now.  I'm sure Sabia thinks it's funny,” Ciara said.
	She held Thirteen steady while Niamh dismounted.  Niamh had never really liked horses much and, like Embarr before her, Thirteen was much too spirited for Niamh's taste.
	“Sabia isn't the patient sort.  She'll be here tonight, you can bet on it.  She wouldn't miss such a grand chance to show off,” Deirdre said.
	“We'll keep an eye out for her, and we'll lock the city gates.  In the meantime, we've got a wedding to perform,” Saoirse said.
	“Just like that?  And what do we do when she tries to crash the party?” Killian said.
	“We'll worry about that when it happens.  If it happens.  I don't think Sabia will be fool enough to come here, whatever anyone might think,” Saoirse said.