In the City of Cats

Part 11

	Fithir had gone back to her own tent an hour ago to sleep the drink off, but Deirdre was still too restless to get comfortable.  She didn't dare drink any more, even though she still felt remarkably clear headed and alert.  Instead, she decided to let exercise take the place of sleep.  She went down to the barracks, now firmly under Cearnach's control, and there she cornered the sergeant on duty.  He was a big red fox, almost twice her size, and from the grey in his fur it was clear he was quite a bit older than most of the soldiers Nessa had brought along.  He saluted her at once.
	“Come to run an inspection, General?” he said.
	“Not tonight.  I'm just here to keep in shape,” Deirdre said.
	“I saw you out on the battlefield, while we were trying to take the North Gate, I believe.  You could beat any of my boys with your eyes shut,” he said.
	“How about you, then?” Deirdre said.
	The sergeant's ears drooped with uncertainty and he glanced back at the empty training field behind them.
	“I'm not sure that would be appropriate,” he said.
	“Why not?” Deirdre said.
	“After what happened with General Nessa this evening, well... I wouldn't say a word against you, you know that.  But what about the others?  She has a lot of loyal followers and you're an outsider, now,” the sergeant said.
	Deirdre sagged against a nearby wall and she hoped she didn't look as disappointed as she felt.  The sergeant had a good point, of course, but that didn't stop her feeling suddenly lonely.  She'd lost track of how many of her friends had died over the years, but there couldn't be many left who remembered her.
	She turned to go back to her tent when a new soldier ran up to her.  He was a Corporal, though his rank badge was nearly unreadable through the blood.  He'd lost his sword and someone had cut him quite badly across the forehead and right shoulder.  He stopped just shy of running into her and saluted awkwardly with his left hand.
	“You must come right away,” he said.
	The sergeant scowled and Deirdre heard him draw breath to scold his subordinate.  Ordinarily, nobody below the rank of Captain was supposed to address a General directly unless they were spoken to first, but Deirdre raised a hand to stall the lecture.
	“What happened?” Deirdre said.
	“Blackpool soldiers.  They must have gotten out and circled around somehow.  They hit us from behind,” the Corporal said.
	“An attack?  Then why wasn't the alarm sounded at once?” Deirdre said.
	“They found us on patrol.  There were just a few of them, but they knocked out half the squad before we could react.  General Crovan was with them and... your daughter as well,” the Corporal said.
	Deirdre drew her sword and waved the tip under the Corporal's nose.  He whimpered, and Deirdre thought he might wet himself, but he held his ground.
	“How did this happen?  You were supposed to watch over her,” Deirdre said.
	“I don't know.  They must have gotten in through the window.  We had a sentry guarding it, but our scout found her in the city midden with her throat cut,” he said.
	“You tracked them down?” the sergeant said.
	The Corporal wiped a trickle of blood out of his eyes and blinked at them.  He was swaying so much he could barely stand.  In spite of her anger, Deirdre felt a twinge of sympathy for him.
	“We almost caught them.  There were only six of them who left the city, and there were ten in my patrol.  But they had friends waiting in the bushes.  I was the only one who survived,” the Corporal said.
	“I see,” Deirdre said.
	Fear and anger churned in her stomach, and she wanted to run all the way back to her tent, but she forced herself to walk calmly.  It wouldn't do to let anyone see her in a panic.  The Cearnach soldiers were already looking for any excuse to finish their job of destroying Blackpool and, in any case, she doubted the Crovan would really hurt her daughter.  She had a pretty good idea she already knew what he wanted.
	She didn't bother with most of her armor.  It took too long to put everything on and she had never been able to tighten all the straps by herself.  She made do with her leather cuirass and her heavy cloak to keep out the cold and damp.  She took her sword down from its place on the rack and stuck it through her belt.
	A rustle at the door of her tent made her turn, but it was only the young Corporal, who cringed when he saw her expression.
	“They went south, down toward the Wilds,” he said.
	“Yes, thank you.  You should go back and report to your commander now, before they decide you've deserted,” Deirdre said.
	“Lieutenant Cross is dead.  He was with us when the lynxes attacked.  He ordered me to find you,” the Corporal said.
	Deirdre tugged at the straps of her cuirass, trying to get them tight enough.  There had been a time when she'd had Ciara to help her dress and since then she'd never found anyone who was as good as her daughter.  The Corporal noticed, of course, and he took another step into the tent.
	“You'll need help,” he said.
	“From you?  Not likely.  I need someone to go tell Queen Fithir where I've gone, and you're it,” Deirdre said.
	“You're going alone?” the Corporal said.
	It was a stupid thing to do and Deirdre knew this was just the sort of thing that would get her killed one day, but she was in no mood to babysit anyone.
	“Ciara will be there.  And her rabbits,” Deirdre said.
	“But... rabbits?  What good could they possibly do?” the Corporal said.
	“If you'd ever tried fighting them, you'd know,” Deirdre said.
	After the Corporal was gone, Deirdre went to the stables.  When Sabia had captured them she'd put their horses in the same stables as her best war horses, and the place had survived all of the excitement intact.  Even after Cearnach had taken the city, Fithir had decided to leave the horses where they were, to keep them safe.  Thirteen whinnied when Deirdre opened the door to her stall, and the big yellow mare pushed Deirdre out of the way to trot out into the middle of the paddock.  Deirdre brought Thirteen's saddle and tack out of the store room and did her best to fight down the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Thirteen was a good horse, just like Embarr before her, but Deirdre had never really been comfortable with horses at all.
	Thirteen came to her when she clucked her tongue, the way Ciara had taught her, and the yellow mare stood quietly while Deirdre tried to remember how to put a saddle on.  The process was complicated by the way her hands shook.  She couldn't blame Crovan for escaping, or for attacking her soldiers.  She'd have done the same thing in his place, and she'd probably have done a lot worse in the bargain.  For that matter, she could almost forgive him for targeting her daughter.  Ciara had been raised to think like a soldier, however much she might like to pretend otherwise, but Niamh and Fiachra were innocent.  Deirdre had no doubt they could take care of themselves, but that wasn't the point.  They shouldn't have to suffer just for loving her daughter.  She swung herself up into the saddle and dug her heels hard into Thirteen's flanks, which made the yellow mare leap forward and gallop down the road.

	Ciara's legs ached and her head felt fuzzy from lack of sleep.  They'd been on the road for well over an hour now, and Crovan didn't show any sign of slowing down.  She had her arms around Niamh and Fiachra both so the three of them could hold each other up, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it up.  If they didn't stop soon, she was afraid she'd simply collapse, and she dreaded to think what General Crovan would do then.  Still, the lynxes were kind enough, in their way.  When it began to rain the cats closest to them held heavy oilskin covers over them to keep them dry.  When the road became tangled and pocked with stones, the cats helped them over the most difficult parts, so they wouldn't cut their feet.  Crovan's lieutenant, a scruffy female lynx with one missing ear fussed over the three of them in a motherly sort of way and once, when Ciara's weariness made her stumble and drop to her hands and knees in the mud, it was the lieutenant who helped her up and brushed her off.  Ciara pushed her away with a bit more force than she intended.
	“What difference does it make?  It's not like I don't already know what's going to happen when we get to wherever you're taking us,” she said.
	“Do you, truly?  That puts you a step ahead of me, then.  General Crovan is more complex than you give him credit for,” the cat said.
	Crovan walked ahead of all of them, head up and ears perked like he didn't notice the weather or the difficult road.  Even when he was soaked to the skin he seemed as cheerful as if he were taking a stroll through his garden.  Ciara was certain she heard him humming sometimes, too.
	“Your friends from Cearnach are wrong about us.  They think that because we have fought them all these years we must be wicked,” Crovan said.
	“You kidnapped my sister,” Ciara said.
	“That was Sabia's doing.  Would you hold us all responsible for what one person has done?” Crovan said.
	“You helped her,” Niamh said.
	“I did no such thing.  I never knew about it until Queen Sabia summoned me to her apartments after she came home.  These soldiers here with me are innocent, too.  But what about you?  Didn't you follow your queen here?  Didn't you kill Sabia because Fithir wished it?” he said.
	Ciara flattened her ears and it was only because Fiachra tightened his grip on her arm that she kept her temper in check.
	“Sabia was alive when I last saw her.  She had a sword.  Old as she was, she could have fought her way out if she'd wanted to,” Ciara said.
	“You might not have landed the final blow, but you killed her nevertheless.  Queen Sabia cut her wrists after you left.  I was there to hold her while she died.  I was the only one who stuck by her side to the last,” Crovan said.
	His voice was low and soft and Ciara was sure that his face was wet with more than just rain.  Ciara tried to fight back a feeling of guilt, and she bared her teeth at the General's back.
	“I only wanted to keep my sister safe,” she said.
	“I know.  But don't think too badly of Sabia.  Her only crime was that she forgot how much our world has changed over the last sixty years,” he said.
	The rain slackened by mid-morning and the air grew hot in spite of the mist that still drifted over them.  Ciara's fur felt like a soggy blanket that threatened to smother her.  She didn't let go of her family, but she could feel Niamh fidget under her arm and Fiachra's breathing became a ragged pant.
	“Deirdre had better find us soon,” Fiachra said.
	“She'll be here before you know it,” Ciara said.  But she couldn't stop scanning the horizon in hopes that her mother would appear over the next ridge.
	Sometime close to mid-day, they finally stopped in a wide clearing in a circle of trees.  The grass here was clipped short and there were wide, low rectangles of stone set at even intervals all around the circle.  A single house stood on the far side of the field.  It was an ancient building, made mostly of bricks and thatched with straw.  Large balks of timber propped it up on three sides and it didn't have a door or any windows, only gaping holes where they should have been, but it looked like it had been well taken care of.  The whole clearing felt very old and there was a slight chill in the air in spite of the heat.
	“Welcome to Cuarán's Rest, Princess.  You and your rabbits are the first outsiders to set foot here in five hundred years,” Crovan said.
	“Ever since the Blackpool was built,” Niamh said.
	General Crovan turned and smiled at the girl.  It was the first time he'd looked at any of them since they left the city.
	“You're a student of history, I see.  Imagine that.  I thought rabbits only cared about rabbits,” he said.
	“We all have to live on Viridis together,” Niamh said.
	“Tell that to your foxes,” Crovan said.
	At a signal from their General most of the lynxes spread out around the perimeter of the clearing and vanished into the trees.  Only Crovan and a couple of his soldiers stayed behind to watch over them.
	“If any of you children are thinking of running, you wouldn't get three feet,” Crovan said.
	“Charming,” Ciara said.
	Still, she didn't intend to run.  She knew something about the Blackpool lynxes, too.  They'd come to Viridis almost a thousand years ago as raiders and pirates, and had gotten the surprise of their lives when they ran slap into the worst free-for-all war in history.  Many of the lynxes had been slaughtered, and those who survived had been conscripted to fight by her ancestors or one of their rival clans.
	“We never should have survived.  We were just a handful of raiders hundreds of miles from home, with enemies on every side.  When they couldn't use us anymore, they drove us into the wilderness to starve,” Crovan said.
	“So you chose to attack them in return, and burn their cities,” Ciara said.
	“Why not?  They'd have done the same to us, given half a chance.  Foxes only understand violence,” Crovan said.
	“Nobody cared enough to wipe you out.  There were dozens of little factions all fighting each other, or forming alliances against each other.  Who cared about a bunch of outsiders when there were old grievances to settle?” Niamh said.
	“While the rabbits sat back and made money off of everyone.  You didn't care who lived or died so long as you had our gold in your pockets,” Crovan said.
	Crovan unhooked a flask from his belt and drank.  Then he passed it to Ciara.  She was pleased to find the flask held beer instead of water and she drank carefully before she passed it to Niamh.
	“Did you really kidnap us just to give us a history lesson?” Ciara said.
	“In a sense.  Will you trust me enough to come into the house with me?” he said.
	He turned and set out for the one house left standing without waiting for her answer.  After a moment's hesitation, Ciara followed him.  It was probably a stupid thing to do, but if he was going to kill her he could have already done it.  Besides, she was curious.  The house didn't look all that special.  In fact, it didn't look much different from the squat farmhouses that surrounded Oseille for miles on every side.  It wasn't the sort of thing she'd have expected to see carefully preserved against time.
	Crovan stopped at the door and when Ciara arrived he put a gentle hand on her arm.
	“Tread lightly, if please, Princess.  All we have in the world may soon crumble into dust, but if you have any mercy in you at all you will leave us our past,” he said.
	He took her inside and she stepped only where he did.  The house was only a shell inside, grown grey and fragile with age, but it had been kept clean and there were signs of fresh repair.  The only furnishings were a stone table covered so thickly with carved names that they were unreadable and a low oak bench that might have been a bed.  The floor was dirt, but it was bare, with no sign of the weeds or grass that blanketed the rest of clearing.  Only one corner had been disturbed.  A new headstone stood near one wall, above a low mound.  The name carved on the headstone was “Alana Cuarán”.  At the sight of it, Ciara felt her knees go weak and fresh tears pricked at her eyes.
	“I was her Captain when she joined up.  Princess Alana hated fighting.  She wanted to be a wandering priest, just like her father before her, but her mother shamed her into picking up the sword,” Crovan said.
	“She told me,” Ciara said.
	“I buried her here myself.  Sabia was furious, but this is where her family began.  They were farmers, nothing more.  They weren't heroes like your family,” Crovan said.
	“Why are you telling me all of this?  I thought you hated me,” Ciara said.
	Crovan's ears drooped and he twisted the hem of his shirt in his hands and would not look at her.
	“Because you care.  I know all about you, Princess.  When you tried to stop the war last year, it wasn't just because you wanted to save Oseille, or your father, or yourself.  You wanted everyone to be safe, no matter what species they were,” Crovan said.
	“Then you also know I failed to protect anyone.  Connor was killed, and now Sabia is dead as well, and nothing has changed,” Ciara said.
	“You never could have saved us.  We lost our chance at redemption before you were even born.  I just want someone to remember us. I want you to teach your little sister that we were more than bandits and kidnappers,” Crovan said.
	Ciara knelt and put her hands on the earth over Alana's grave.  It had only been by chance that Alana had died and not her.  It had been blind luck that they met at all.  She'd spent every night since dreaming of that fatal arrow and the day she learned what it felt like to lose a sister.
	“Viridis is our home, too,” Crovan said.
	“I came to Blackpool to save my family and I ended up killing you instead,” Ciara said.
	Crovan knelt beside her and put a hand on Alana's grave next to her's.
	“This would have happened soon enough anyway.  There has been hatred between my people and yours for far too long to expect what little harmony we've known to last forever,” he said.