In the City of Cats

Part 09

	The fighting lasted the rest of the day and half the night.  Every time Cearnach beat Blackpool back the lynxes rallied and came at them again.  Blackpool Castle was captured just before dark and bright red and black banners flew from what was left of the keep.  The sight of them made Ciara sad, like she had just lost something important that she could never get back.  There was no sign of Sabia, but Ciara knew the Queen of Blackpool had to be dead by now.
	She found Deirdre outside a warehouse that had been half burned down.  Deirdre's arm was wrapped up in a sling and her clothes were tattered and stained with blood, but she smiled and held out a bottle of good red wine.
	“Your rabbits are inside, with Fithir.  Have a drink.  It will help dull some of the pain,” Deirdre said.
	“Is Brigit--” Ciara said.
	Deirdre pushed the bottle into Ciara hands with the impatient little sigh she always used when someone wasn't doing what she wanted.
	“Drink,” Deirdre said.
	The wine was strong and cool, much better stuff than the soldier's slop Deirdre usually carried with her.  It washed some of the dust and bitterness from Ciara's mouth and she drank deeply.
	“Your little sister is just fine.  Sabia didn't really want to hurt her, she just wanted to scare you a little.  The real damage is her missing tail, but it was a clean cut and it shouldn't hurt anything but her pride,” Deirdre said.
	Deirdre leaned over and kissed Ciara on top of her head.  She was clumsy at it, and the gesture embarrassed them both.  Deirdre had never been the affectionate sort, and Ciara couldn't remember the last time her mother had even hugged her, but she gave Deirdre a smile and a kiss on the cheek in return.
	“Sabia was a fool.  But maybe she knew a thing or two, after all,” Ciara said.
	“Maybe so.  The older generation isn't totally useless, you know,” Deirdre said.
	“Only annoying,” Ciara said, but she gave Deirdre a smile.
	Niamh met her at the door of the warehouse with a kiss of her own, and she hugged Ciara so tight it made her squeak.
	“I should have listened when Fiachra told me to put you on a leash,” Niamh said.
	Fiachra gave her a rather more polite hug and led her over to a pile of boxes that had been arranged to form a crude chair.  Fithir sat in the middle of the boxes with her daughter in her lap and her head bowed.
	“I had to stand over her and make her drink a half bottle of wine so she could at least get a little bit of sleep.  I was afraid she'd go join the fighting if I didn't,” Niamh said.
	“Did you really fight Sabia?” Fiachra said.
	“We had a little talk.  I don't think she's ever had the chance to just talk to someone in all her life,” Ciara said.
	She knelt and took one of Brigit's little hands in her own.  The child stirred and opened her eyes, which were the same bright green as her father's.
	“Sabia won't bother her anymore,” Ciara said.
	There was a commotion outside and a brief clash of steel.  Ciara rose and ran to the door, her  sword in her hand before she had time to think.  The warehouse was surrounded by soldiers and it took her a moment to realize they were all foxes and, possibly, on her side.  Cearnach's red and black flag fluttered over their ranks and a number of foxes at the front of the crush held long pikes up and crossed over the head of a lean vixen in metal armor.  This, Ciara realize, must be Fithir's General Nessa, the bold vixen who had come to their rescue.
	Deirdre grabbed Ciara by the shoulders and pulled her close as Nessa walked over to them.
	“You've been a busy girl,” Deirdre said.
	“Nobody told me you'd be here,” Nessa said.
	“Did you stop to ask?” Deirdre said.
	Nessa took a step forward, fists clenched.
	“I swore an oath to defend my Queen.  Should I have stayed at home while she was in danger?” Nessa said.
	Deirdre pulled the cork out of a fresh bottle of wine and took a drink.  Nessa frowned, but she took the bottle when Deirdre offered it to her.
	“What was the first lesson I ever tried to teach you?  Think before you act.  Gather intelligence.  Don't just rush in,” Deirdre said.
	“Oh yes, and the great General Lohan has never acted foolishly, has she?  Anyway, it doesn't make any difference, does it?  We won, didn't we?” Nessa said.
	“That's no excuse,” Deirdre said.
	One of the lynxes standing close to Nessa spat at Deirdre's feet.
	“Barbarians.  You invade our city without any provocation, and now you stand here squabbling over our bones like children,” he said.
	When Deirdre rounded on him with her sword raised, he held up his hands, which had been bound in chains.  His clothes were torn and his arms and chest were covered in small cuts.  When he smiled, Ciara saw that all his front teeth were missing.
	“Your student learned all she needed to know about brutality.  Did you teach her that, too?” he said.
	“You tortured him?” Ciara said.
	Nessa laid her ears flat and sneered back at Ciara, not bothering to hide her contempt.
	“What do you know about anything?  I don't think I need to be questioned by some mannerless child who has never fought a day in her life,” Nessa said.
	“This child has fought as hard, in her time, as anyone standing here.  You will answer her now,” Fithir said.
	Fithir came out of the warehouse with Fiachra at her side for support.  All of the Cearnach soldiers came to attention and saluted her.  Ciara was sure she was the only one who could see the little flush of embarrassment that colored Fithir's ears at that.  Even the captured Blackpool soldiers bowed to her.  Nessa only stared at Ciara, and Ciara smiled back at her with just a few more teeth than were necessary.
	“But she's only Connor's bastard,” Nessa said.
	“She's still his daughter, with his blood in her.  Will you dishonor him?” Fithir said.
	Niamh came out of the warehouse with the little princess Brigit in her arms.  She'd wrapped the child in a fresh blanket but she had left Brigit's head bare so all of the assembled soldiers could see her clearly.
	“We didn't come for war.  All I wanted was my daughter,” Fithir said.
	Nessa sagged a little and looked away from all of them.
	“What was I suppose to think?  You simply vanished, and there was a Blackpool sash in your room and the stink of cats all over the place,” Nessa said.
	The Blackpool General bared his teeth at them and shook his hands to make his chains rattle.
	“You lie.  You knew our city was weak and our queen was growing old.  What better time to wipe us out?” he said.
	“Is that what you think?  Who are you?” Fithir said.
	The cat gave her a mocking bow and a smile that was all teeth.
	“I am General Crovan, head of the army and, I suppose, the new ruler of Blackpool, now that you have murdered our queen.  Though I'm sure you will relieve me of that duty very soon,” he said.
	“Perhaps.  For now, you will stand your forces down and Cearnach will do the same.  Whatever happens next should not be decided by the edge of a sword,” Deirdre said.
	Crovan and Nessa both looked at Fithir, who nodded.  Ciara saw Nessa's ears go flat with anger and the foxes around her were in no better mood than their commander.  Deirdre watched them all with the air of one who knew she'd get her way.
	“You've forgotten your place,” Nessa said.
	“No, I haven't.  I can't seem to get away from it no matter how hard I try,” Deirdre said.

	The bulk of the Cearnach army camped outside the city walls.  Nessa had protested about this, but Fithir gave Deirdre everything she asked for.  In return, Deirdre stayed with the soldiers in their camp  Ciara knew her mother had never quite gotten used to sleeping in a real bed, but even she had been surprised by how eager Deirdre had been to play General again.
	Ciara and Niamh were given a room in Blackpool's finest and only surviving tavern.  Ciara insisted on paying, though the room was twenty dollars a night and her generosity made Niamh grumble.  Their first night, they were kept up by the sound of Cearnach patrols marching by under their window, though Ciara wasn't sure she could have slept anyway.  So far as she knew, General Crovan was still a prisoner under Nessa's personal care, and nobody could say if Blackpool had really been conquered or how the situation might resolve itself.  Besides the threat of war, Ciara couldn't stop thinking of all the things she might have done to prevent the slaughter.
	“I think I liked it better when I was just Connor's bastard, before they made me a princess.  At least then I could pretend that nobody listened to me because they just didn't notice me.  Now, everyone treats me like I'm important and they ignore everything I say that much more,” Ciara said.
	“They don't pay attention to Fithir, either, except when she's saying something people want to hear,” Niamh said.
	“Sometimes I wish I could just give up on everyone and stay home where I'm wanted,” Ciara said.
	The two of them lay in each others arms in the middle of the bed.  Niamh had insisted that Ciara undress so she could treat the cut on Ciara's arm and check her over for other wounds.  So far, they'd spent more time tending to other matters instead, but Niamh had finally pinned her down long enough to look at her.
	“Sometimes I wish you could, too.  Every time you go out to play hero you come back to me cut to ribbons.  If I didn't sleep with you, you'd never take care of yourself,” Niamh said.
	“I don't feel half of them,” Ciara said.
	Niamh grunted and dug her fingers into Ciara's back.  For all her protests, Ciara enjoyed the feel of Niamh's hands on her and she was grateful to have someone to worry about her.  She rewarded Niamh's efforts with a gentle nibble on the inside of the rabbit's neck, which earned her a light tap on the nose.
	“You're awful,” Niamh said.
	They made love gently, to spare Ciara's arm.  This came naturally to them now, as Ciara's arm had never quite healed from their adventure last year.  Ciara let Niamh lead, yielding to the heat of her wife's mouth and the gentle pressure of Niamh's fingers, slipping downward.
	They were interrupted by a knock on the door.  Ciara mumbled curses into the swell of Niamh's thigh and she rose, reluctantly, with a sheet wrapped around her waist.  When she opened the door, Fiachra came in carrying a tray of bread and butter and a fresh bottle of wine for their supper.  He paused, blushing, just inside the door, and shut his eyes.
	“You're early,” Niamh said.
	“I thought you might be hungry,” Fiachra said.
	“We are.  Come in and put that try down before you drop it, and stop acting like such a damned boy.  You should be used to seeing me naked by now,” Ciara said.
	Years ago, when they'd all been children, the three of them had gone swimming together every summer.  Until their stolen kiss a year ago, she'd never thought a thing about it.  Even now, it was hard to think of Fiachra as anything more than the harmless playmate he'd once been.  Because he refused to open his eyes until they were dressed, Ciara guided him over to the little table that sat in the corner of the room, where he could put the tray down.
	“Your mother and that new General are screaming at each other just outside the door.  Frankly, I think they're both having fun,” Fiachra said.
	“She wouldn't be Deirdre if she stopped fighting, that's all,” Ciara said.
	She grabbed the bottle out of Fiachra's hands and bit the cork out.  This wine wasn't as good as the last bottle, but it was stronger.  After only a couple of swallows Ciara felt a comfortable numbness wash over her.
	“Just when I thought everything was going to be okay, I've lost her again,” Ciara said.
	“You still have us,” Fiachra said.	
	Ciara felt the tears well and she hid her face against Niamh's chest so Fiachra wouldn't see her cry, but he put his arms around both of them and he and Niamh rocked her gently while she wept.  She wept for her mother and all the years they had lost between them, but some of her tears were for Sabia as well.  She had to mourn the old cat.  Nobody else cared.
	“All of this fighting and death, and where does it all lead?  Nothing ever changes.  Poor Brigit, she'll never be able to live up to what everyone will expect of her after this,” Ciara said.
	“Her big sister will take care of her,” Fiachra said.
	“Poor child.  She's doomed,” Ciara said.
	Niamh nipped her ear in gentle reproof.
	“You're as pessimistic as your mother, sometimes” Niamh said.
	“There are times when I can see her point,” Ciara said.
	After supper, Niamh took Ciara back to bed and Ciara laid her head in Niamh's lap while the siblings' conversation buzzed around her.  She felt warm from the wine and safe with Niamh's hand on her forehead, and she wondered at how relaxed she could be with trouble all around them.
	After a time, Ciara fell asleep and she dreamed of the great engine of War crashing through all the walls of the world.  Smoke and flame obscured its shape, but the taste of blood filled her mouth, and the beast advance with a shrill metallic squeal as it rolled through the world without care for those it ground under its wheels.  She stood still, rooted to the spot, naked and alone as the machine of War came toward her.  Behind her, all she loved lay scattered on the grass but the wind brought strange whispers to her ears, telling her to run, telling her there was no point in trying to fight anymore.  The world had turned its back on her.  It was only the smell of Niamh's perfume and the memory of their comfortable little house in Oseille that kept her from dropping to her knees before the monster.