The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

3. GUARDIAN OF THE CAT'S ESSENCE (part 4)

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For a moment Aniallu considered relaying to Shada the picture of her emotional state at the time so as to discourage her once and for all from her dream of pursuing the Cat's Spirit, but decided that such a radical measure might be premature. Her maid was far from doltish; on the contrary, she was exceptionally sensitive and perceptive. Alu was fairly certain that, given some time alone to reflect on the surprisingly strong words of her mistress, Shada would understand everything and find solace. And her own spirit would grow stronger as a result.

The sianae walked over to a closet and picked a formal dress at random. She didn't even bother unfolding it. Simply, a dress had to be taken along. It was an odd tradition, and every Alae followed it without fail and without questioning its origins.

Having packed the glittery outfit away in her rucksack, Aniallu tightened the buckles for the last time. That seemed to be all. She didn't forget anything. Alu scratched herself behind the ear, slightly flustered: what the tail had gotten her so nervous? Why was she acting as though she were going to a place from which she wouldn't be able to return until her mission was complete, if not longer, when she knew full well that a highly reliable portal of dragon craftsmanship was always at her disposal to travel back for anything she might have missed? Somehow each item seemed so essential that not having it at hand might determine the sianae's fate. Every bit of her Alaean intuition screamed it, despite the obvious absurdity of such sentiments given the nature of Alu's upcoming journey.

With the packing done, she couldn't help walking back out onto the balcony and casting one last look at the city. Briaellar was still hidden under a thick veil of shadow. Only two buildings managed to rupture the dusky haze: to the east loomed the Tower of a Thousand Dragons, its walls literally woven of lithe scaly bodies, mighty membranous wings, clawed paws, intricately curved tails and cunning elongated faces. The majestic bas-relief shimmered all shades of silver in the wide-open resplendent pools of Alasais' Eyes. It was this mercury brilliance that caused many of the city's tourists to mistake the Tower for a Veindor's temple. In actuality, it housed the Dragon Fangs embassy, as well as the "lair" of Mercurion's dragons that resided in Briaellar for reasons nobody knew. These were enormous spaces with murals on the walls and uncomfortably high ceilings, where the steps of guest staircases and sparse furnishings – shelves, bars, mattresses, chair bottoms and backs – floated idly in the air, waiting for the masters to will them to come together into a dining suite or, conversely, disperse so as to make room for dancing.

The tower was one of the city's tallest buildings, rivaled only by the azure spires of Alasais' Palace. The blue radiance of its walls was set off beautifully by the ash gray spirals of galleries, balconies, terraces and bridges, domed roofs of smoked- and windows of stained-glass. The palace's facade was illuminated, though nary a lamp was lit inside it. Only a single arch shone resplendent yellow high above, where an elegant balcony emerged from the dusk just beneath the roof of the main tower.

In ages past a keen observer might periodically discern on the balcony a seemingly tiny, dark feline shape, and then all eyes in Briaellar would turn there at once, to behold her who gaze out at her city with the same awe that Aniallu had felt one hour earlier. Those fleeting minutes bestowed immeasurable joy to all who shared in them; the kind of joy the heart seldom feels and thus always longs for... Alas, it had been an eternity since Alasais had appeared in Briaellar.

Aniallu sighed and, giving the city one last look, shrugged in dismay. In previous times, it was precisely in these moments of parting that Briaellar would appear before her in all its splendor, as if beckoning her to stay, presenting the very best side of itself. It didn't hurt that the city's main attraction was located literally across the street. There shone with an amber glow the high windows of the ballroom of House an Kamian – a house that was more a museum, theater, tasting room, brothel... A house whose residents embodied the desire to know – to feel, smell, hear, see and comprehend – all that the Infinite had to offer in his infinite generosity.