In the City of Cats

Part 10

	Deirdre was drunk.  It was breaking every promise she'd made to Ciara, and to herself, but she'd woken up at midnight with every cut and bruise screaming at her, and whiskey was an old, familiar friend.  For most of her life, alcohol was the only treatment soldiers in the field had for their injuries.  It wouldn't let her sleep, but it dulled the pain a little and it set her mind at ease.  She splashed a little whiskey on a cut on her arm and poured another glass to keep the others company when the tent flap opened and Nessa came in.  The young General was still wearing her armor and Deirdre doubted Nessa had slept at all.
	“Do you really plan to make peace?” Nessa said.
	“I don't see why not.  Sabia's dead and we can't really blame her soldiers for following her.  We're no different than they are,” Deirdre said.
	“And our good friend General Crovan?” Nessa said.
	“Who knows?  He might make a fine king, and he's at least more sensible than Sabia was,” Deirdre said.
	She took a sip of whiskey, then yelped when Nessa slapped the glass out of her hand.
	“Crovan's escaped,” Nessa said.
	“Has he now?  I left guarding him up to you,” Deirdre said.
	“You also forbade me to put him in chains,” Nessa said.
	“Would you prove him right?  Are we really barbarians?” Deirdre said.
	“Are we fools?” Nessa said.
	Deirdre stood up on her second try and took her sword down from its peg on the wall.  It felt heavier every year, but the hilt still fit comfortably in her hand.
	“Where can he go?  His soldiers have been disarmed, his city has fallen, and--”
	“And you're not going anywhere, either.  Look at you.  The famous General Lohan, so drunk she can barely stand.  Is this how you plan to lead us to greatness?” Nessa said.
	“Blaming me doesn't excuse you, or find Crovan,” Deirdre said.
	Nessa scowled at her and Deirdre was surprised at how much she was enjoying herself.  She'd never thought of herself as the spiteful sort, but all she wanted right now was to see the young upstart humiliated.
	“You're supposed to stay here and keep order.  God only knows why Queen Fithir trusts you with even that, but that's what she wants.  I'm to go find Crovan,” Nessa said.
	Nessa swept out of the tent.  After a moment, Deirdre stuck her sword through her belt and followed after the pup.  The night air was cool and damp and she could smell the stench from the latrines that had been dug too close to the camp, but it all made her feel better in a strange sort of way.  This was the world she understood, even if she was too old for it now.
	A small group of soldiers had been assembled outside Nessa's tent and the young General walked up and down their ranks, barking orders.  She didn't notice Deirdre's approach until she turned into the full force of Deirdre's grin.
	“What do you know about tracking anyone?” Deirdre said.
	“As much as you do.  Maybe more.  All my teachers could do was sing your praises until I was sick of hearing your name, but times have moved on and we've learned from your mistakes,” Nessa said.
	She gestured to her lieutenants, who hurried off into the darkness.
	“Then you know he'll be expecting you to come after him with an army.  He'll fight with everything he has,” Deirdre said.
	“I hope he will.  It will give me all the excuse I need,” Nessa said.
	“And if he has reinforcements waiting out there, the next time anyone sees you will be when we pick your bones out of the grass,” Deirdre said.
	Nessa spat on the ground at Deirdre's feet and flattened her ears.
	“You go crawl back into your bottle and let me do my job,” Nessa said.
	“Your job isn't to fuck up everything we're trying to do here, God-damn you,” Deirdre said.
	Nessa turned her back to Deirdre and stomped off through the press of soldiers around them.  Those she had chosen trailed after her, though several of them glanced back at Deirdre as if they were waiting for her to do something.  Deirdre flung her empty whiskey glass after them, but this did nothing to relieve her feelings.
	“We do need you here,” Fithir said.
	Deirdre jumped at the sound of Fithir's voice and she scowled, disgusted with herself at being caught by surprise.  She still hadn't gotten used to how quietly Fithir could move.  All around them, the Cearnach soldiers straightened up and a few of them even remembered to salute their queen.  No one had expected Fithir to be awake at this hour.
	“You're just going to let her go off like this?” Deirdre said.
	“I know you don't like her, but Nessa is a good soldier and she really is doing what she thinks is best for all of us,” Fithir said.
	“She's an impulsive fool,” Deirdre said.
	“So were we all at her age.  But we survived, and I suspect she will, too,” Fithir said.
	Fithir took Deirdre by the arm and led her back to her tent.  Inside, Fithir's nose wrinkled at the smell of whiskey, but she picked the bottle up and took a long swallow.
	“Have you always had to drink such awful shit?  No wonder you're all half crazy,” Fithir said.
	She sat down on Deirdre's cot and took another drink with her eyes closed.  When it became clear she wasn't going to share, Deidre took a second bottle out of her footlocker.
	“This isn't your army anymore, Deirdre.  Those kids out there know your name, but most of them were just babies the last time you fought for us.  They respect you, some of them are even afraid of you, but they're not going to listen to you,” Fithir said.
	“That doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing,” Deirdre said.
	They drank for a while in silence, and when they had each finished their own bottle they worked together to polish off a third one as well.  Deirdre was impressed with the way Fithir held her drink. Like everyone else, Deirdre had always assumed that Fithir was soft and weak.  She'd never heard Fithir as much as raise her voice before a few days ago, and now the girl sat on her bunk and matched her drink for drink.  Then again, being the queen of the most powerful city in the land had to count for something.  It wasn't a job Deirdre would have ever volunteered for, and she couldn't think of anyone else who would have, either.
	“I should have been able to stop all of this before it began,” Fithir said.
	“You had your daughter to worry about, nobody can blame you for that.  But this is why you need someone competent to run your army,” Deirdre said.
	“Like you?” Fithir said.
	Deirdre hesitated, then shook her head.
	“No.  There was a time when I thought that, but I have my own family to take care of.  Twenty-four years of fighting are more than enough for anyone.  I'm going to see this through, and then I'm going to keep the promise I made to my daughter and go home,” Deirdre said.
	She was surprised to find she meant every word she'd said.  Fithir was right.  Her day was over, and it was time for her to step aside and let someone else do the running around.  It really wasn't all that bad in Oseille, and the rabbits were kind to her.
	“I'm glad.  I'm quite fond of Ciara, you know.  She deserves to be happy,” Fithir said.
	“I only hope I'm not too late,” Deirdre said.

	Niamh sipped at the last of the wine and fought to stay awake.  Ciara lay curled up beside her, fast asleep.  The poor girl had had as rough a trip as any of them and it was no wonder she was exhausted.  Ciara had always been afraid of turning into her mother, but she'd been as quick as Deirdre to pick up a sword and she'd been the one to face Sabia in the old cat's last stand.  So far, Ciara had taken it all in stride, but there was no telling how it would affect her in the long run.  Niamh doubted that Ciara had killed Sabia, whatever anyone else might say, but she would blame herself for the old cat's death all the same.
	“She's come a long way from the little girl who used to sneak you chocolate.  Sometimes I wonder if it's all to the good,” Fiachra said.
	“She's still the same sweet girl she's always been, at heart.  I don't think that'll ever change,” Niamh said.
	“It's just lucky she's on our side.  Can you imagine what Grandmother would say if she'd seen your vixen in action out on the road?” Fiachra said.
	“I think she'd have been impressed.  Remember when she used to try to teach us to fight?” Niamh said.
	“That was just because you used to go out wandering all over the place by yourself.  You've always been much to bold for a rabbit.  I guess that's why Ciara chose you,” Fiachra said.
	“Perhaps.  But she's always loved you for your gentle spirit,” Niamh said “She has always looked up to you.”
	Niamh pushed Ciara's sleeve back to examine the girl's wound.  She'd put a bandage over the cut on Ciara's shoulder and the bleeding seemed to have stopped.  Fortunately, it was no more than a scratch, and Niamh couldn't help but wonder at how lucky Ciara always was.
	“She looks more like her mother all the time,” Fiachra said.
	Niamh drained the bottle, then froze when she heard a faint scratching outside the bedroom window.  It was locked, as was the door, and they'd pushed a heavy wardrobe in front of the window for good measure.  The tavern hadn't been built to stand up to an assault, and Ciara had insisted they take every precaution while they were still in enemy territory.  Niamh groped around in the semi-darkness of their room until her hand found the hilt of Ciara's sword.
	“Keep quiet and stay still.  They'll leave soon,” Fiachra said.
	“You know better,” Niamh said.
	The scratching at the window was repeated and there was a faint click of a lock opening.  Niamh slipped down off the bed and raised her sword.  It was lighter than she expected, but she had to hold it with both hands to keep it from shaking.  Her breath sounded harsh and too loud in the quiet room.
	“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Fiachra said.
	“I'm going to ask our new friends to go away,” Niamh said.
	“And if they're real soldiers?” Fiachra said.
	“They are,” Niamh said.
	Niamh hefted the sword to get the feel of it and moved toward the window
	“This is why Ciara married you.  You're as mad as she is,” Fiachra said.
	“I swore to protect her, remember?  Her life is mine, just as mine belongs to her.  It's all in the vows we took,” Niamh said.
	Fresh air blew into the room when the window was pulled open, and Niamh could smell the lynxes outside.  They stank of dirt and blood, overlaid with the scent of leather and steel.  She could hear them whispering to each other, though her grasp of the feline tongue was so shaky she only got the name “Crovan” and that someone wanted to just kill them right away.  Then the wardrobe began to move.
	Niamh glanced at Fiachra, and she gave him an encouraging smile.  He took the bread knife he'd brought in with supper from the table, and the anger on his face made her feel a little safer.  He also held a lantern and a book of matches in his hands.
	Once the wardrobe had been pushed away from the window enough to let the first intruder slip in, Niamh shut her eyes and waved at Fiachra.  At her signal, there was the scrape of a match and Fiachra's lantern lit the room.  The lynx who had just come in through the window mewled in pain and Niamh slapped him with the flat of her sword.  It wasn't an accurate blow and it just bounced of the leather shoulder of his cuirass, but it made him yelp and cringe.
	Ciara jerked awake at the noise and she launched herself at the intruder with her teeth bared and her ears flat.  The cat barely had time to scream before Ciara bowled into him and banged his head against the wall.  She raised her hand to hit him again when a second lynx leaned in through the window and put his dagger against Ciara's throat.
	“Good evening, Princess.  I am General Crovan, and my friends and I have gone to a lot of trouble to visit you this evening.  Won't you come out and join us?” he said.
	“I don't think so.  We'll be staying right here, thank you,” Niamh said.
	She raised her sword again and waved it in what she hoped was a suitably threatening manner.  The lynx she'd hit gathered his feet under him to leap at her, but he stopped when she aimed the weapon at him again.  Niamh had always been more than happy to take advantage of the fact that many predators didn't know how to deal with an aggressive rabbit, as their confusion could buy valuable time.
	“Now, let's be sensible here, shall we?  You children are brave, I'll give you that, but you aren't soldiers and you're alone now.  You don't have a chance,” Crovan said.
	“All we have to do is shout.  How far do you think you'd get before the foxes found you,” Niamh said.
	“All I have to do is move this knife and your girlfriend's throat would be cut wide open.  If that's what you'd like, then go ahead and shout as loud as you can,” Crovan said.
	“We don't have to do a thing.  Deirdre will find them, and they know it.  No matter how far they go, no matter how well they plan,” Ciara said.
	Crovan laughed and he gave them a smile that was far too cheerful for Niamh's taste.
	“Oh, I hope she will find us.  The sooner she does, the better,” he said.
	He pushed Ciara, hard, so she stumbled back  away from the window.  Niamh dropped her sword to catch Ciara and they landed in a heap on the floor.  Fiachra took a step forward and raised his knife, but by then Crovan was in the room and two of his soldiers came in behind him.  The lynx Niamh had hit picked himself up and joined his friends.  Behind him, Niamh could see still more soldiers outside, some of them armed with crossbows.
	“What are you going to do?” Ciara said.
	“We're going to take a walk, Princess.  I've got something I want to show you,” Crovan said.