The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

8. HATE-YOU-ALWAYS (part 2)

"I. Could. Not. Stay. Silent. Can you hear me now?" the an Kamian hissed through her teeth. "It really got to me, really struck a nerve. I couldn't look at all these miserable beings... and there you have it. Veindor's affairs were none of my feline business, but I messed with them anyway. And before I knew it, I'd fallen madly in love with him!"

Irson hesitated for a second, sniffing, deciding what next to add to this stew he'd cooked up.

"Miserable... Well, you know, Talia, murderers and rapists can also look helpless and miserable when stuffed in a prison cell. Should we take pity on them? What about the fellows from 'Uncaged'[1] ?"

"What a comparison! You're making a connection between killers and those who want to exchange their body of flesh for a body of stone?!" Talia was indignant. "My wards haven't violated anyone's rights or done anything out of sync with the fundamental laws of the Infinite. They haven't, but the Merciful's followers do it all the time! And it's positively nefarious. I... it was like seeing an ugly crack in the wall of our marvelous, sensible, harmonious universe."

"And you got scared."

"You can't even imagine! And these foil-covered scumbags are trying to prove it's not a crack. No! In their esteemed opinion, it's an absolutely necessary vent. But I know architecture better than that, praise Alasais!" Talia shook her finger at the half-lit room. "The Infinite's pool of laws is about as big as a mouse's puddle of pee, and when someone breaks one of them, you'd have to be blind not to notice!"

Irson didn't say anything. He had chosen the right catalyst: the reaction had been set in motion, and now he could relax and observe the steam rise and the sparks begin to fly. Talia was getting more and more fired up, and life was returning to her body with every uttered word. Slowly, drop by drop, but the process was already underway and couldn't be stopped.

"And even if I were a complete idiot, I still have Alaean instincts, you know? I can sense trouble. And I sense that the slightest little push will send everything crashing down. So I start thrashing about, yelling like a crazy person and nipping at the heels of sleeping homeowners! But they just get mad and kick me back!"

"Why? Because you're a fool? Because of your evil nature? They can't believe that you – a brainless an Kamian – could be smarter than Veindor?" Irson added fuel to the fire.

Talia was quiet for about a minute, wrinkling her brow, tapping her tail on the rug. Irson looked on with pleasure as her cheeks took on color.

"Because they don't understand that Veindor's work is always rushed. He's got countless worlds still sitting there untouched. Just think, Irson. How many creatures are doomed to eternal suffering in all kinds of afterlife torture chambers only because the gods there did not like their actions! Some seemed too cruel, some too merciful... That's all it takes! And how many are languishing aimlessly in blessed meadows, radiant skies and fertile swamps!"

"'Languishing?'"

"Well, yeah," Talia nodded.

She looked around as if confused about why she was laying on the floor and sat up, bracing herself on Enaor's shoulder.

"All this fiddle-faddle about better worlds only scratches you behind the ear until you find a decent spatial mage. Once you visit one of them, you'll find its inhabitants less than blessed. More like bored to tears! I don't disagree that some of them are happy, like some doofus with a sweet tooth who'd been given an everlasting gumdrop."

Irson scowled.

"All right, all right, enough of the rotten, cynical abyss-dweller in me!" the Alae waved her hands. "They're just happy. Happy bathing in the rivers of light or in lakes of slime secreted by their beloved deity, partaking of eternal grace and singing its praises. Knowing nothing of sorrow or fear. But it's not enough for most creatures to simply consume something, even if this something is the height of pleasure. They want to act: create, destroy, learn, and so on. They need movement, change, many need struggles and even strife, and not this eternal cloying... languishing. There's no other way to put it! Their fate isn't much better than those who've been locked away in some stupid diamond."