The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

13. BODY, SOUL AND SPIRIT (part 1)

"...so, to summarize the above, we're faced with the uncanny alliance of a traitorous Veindor priestess, an Eale mind-digger and at least one dark mage. And that dark one is most definitely a Darlaronean – he's simply too good not to be. No wonder they gave us a hard time." Talia straightened the lens-less wooden glasses on her nose and stared expectantly at her guests, Mor Oddeye and Irera.

Besides the dolorous pair of Eale sitting at the large oval table in Miss an Kamian's living room, also present were Irson and a glossy whiskered otter (the otter being the latest "embodiment" of the former illusory fox). Enaor and Inon had stayed downstairs in the glass cube. His Ballsiness still entertained no thought other than that of digging right through the island of Briaellar, and Irson had to give him another dose of tranquilizer. Inon, on the contrary, was in such a deep state of sleep he was beyond waking.

"Faced with... hard time," Mor repeated pensively. "You lot, a Lindorg mage – the head sorcerer of Al Emanayit, and one of the best telepaths around – and a Veindor priest who, as far as I know, is hardly a slouch himself."

"Yep, and we paled in comparison to our opponents, to put it mildly," Talia made a face. "Although we did manage to get the 'waffle' and some info. So, I guess we're not completely hopeless."

"This is all really quite bizarre. First the couple in black in the basement, Question Candles, an attempt on Enaor's life, and now throw your... Veindor-haters into the mix," Irera said, clasping her head in her hands.

"That's just it. That's why I so badly want to know what Mor's going to dig up in the head of that old fox Restes! Perhaps we can head downstairs already and... get to work?" Talia suggested, practically jumping up and down on her chair.

"Absolutely. But before we spend our time and effort on Veindor-haters, we ought to find out what's going on in the cat-hater camp."

"What do you mean?" Talia and Irson asked in unison.

Irera rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I see Enaor's not the only one who's lost his grip on reality. The Rector of Lindorg announced that the results of the investigation into the 'Cahnerali tragedy' are going to be divulged today in the Hall of Many Voices."

"So, we're going to be publicly flogged," Talia drew her head into her shoulders.

"That's right," the Eale looked down her nose at Talia. "Catkiller will try, anyway."

"We should've sent poor Enaor there instead of the ambassador. He would have liked it." Talia said sadly.

"The ambassador would have been happy with that option, too," Mor chimed in and, leaning over the table, began making sharp waving motions with his hands. "You guys had better move over, otherwise you won't see much."

"What's there to see? There's no intrigue! Everyone knows who's getting their hide tanned."

Moving the chairs, the Alae, the Tanae and the otter all huddled together on one side of the table. Talia served them all kiali, pouring the fragrant mulberry-colored liquid from a brass tea kettle with a smile. It was a pot-bellied, four-legged teapot with a spout in the shape of a tail and little cat's ears on the lid. Mor glanced at the clock and snapped his fingers. In the same instant, a panorama of the Hall of Many Voices spread before them. They saw the huge stone cup, split into cells by low partitions.

Each of these sections belonged to one of the "Voices": ambassadors of different countries, representatives of all sorts of trade guilds, unions of transport workers, and, of course, the united mages' association. They were broadcasting from two points: the cell of the Voice of Briaellar, offering an excellent view of the central podium, and from the box across from it.