Two Cats

Chapter 2

Hmm. Secrets.

Straight away I've encountered a bit of a problem, something that didn't occur to me when I set out to write this, and I find myself needing to sort it out before going further.

We all have our secrets, knowledge that we do not want others to become privy to. Doubtless some things that I wish to keep secret will make their way into this book, and become someone else's secret upon reading once I've died and this volume is handed down to ... whoever it is that eventually gets their hands on it. It's a rather disturbing thought, really, putting secrets and knowledge into a book without knowing where that information will end up.

I have, to some degree, accepted this as an inevitable consequence of anecdotal journal keeping. If someone learns my secrets after I die, I shall not really care. I'll be dead, after all.

Someone else's secrets, though? Shared secrets, held in strictest confidence? My right to share those could certainly be debated.

I find that I must share this one, despite my misgivings. The alternative is to cease writing this story, which I’m actually quite enjoying all of a sudden.

So ... there I was in the basement of my own keep, staring at the very Lord who had confronted me in the streets just moments ago. Looming large and dangerous, he regarded me from across the room, waiting for me to respond.

“Joking, Theo? About what, exactly?” I furrowed my brow at him in a puzzled manner, and then gestured behind me. “Wine?”

“Please,” he nodded, stepping lightly across the stone and wood floor nearly as swiftly as he had crossed the street, but much more calmly.

I retrieved a bottle of Truvian red and two glasses from the small table that was recessed into the wall beside the door, extracting the cork from the bottle's neck and pouring two half-full glasses of the room-temperature liquid. Upon finishing, I re-corked the bottle and placed it back upon the table, holding one of the glasses out to my visitor.

“So - joking?”

“I beat you down here; back to my own keep and down through the tunnels faster than you could walk straight here. I told you I would, last week, and you said that I was crazy.” He grinned, rubbing his chin. “I swear, I should have put money on it.”

“Oh, had there been money involved, I can guarantee there would have been a different outcome,” I smiled. “You might have found the hidden door a little more difficult to open. Good work, though. Are you still running?”

He nodded. “Lost nearly a full eight pounds, too. I still have my doubts about my ability to 'cat burgle' as you call it, but I'll give it an honest shot. Any resulting failure will not be because of my shortcomings, I guarantee you that much.”

“Trust me, my friend,” I said, “you’ll see. I don't maintain this toothpick-like build for the sake of fashion, you know.”

“One thing I've always wondered is how you're able to maintain that weight while employing one of the greatest cooks in all of Harael.”

“Bah, I can't be telling you all my secrets, can I? Oh, and by the way ... one of your boys must have dropped this,” I tossed the dagger towards him gently.

He snatched it out of the air with practiced ease, inspecting it briefly before rolling his eyes.

“Show-off. I was watching, too. When did you manage to grab it?”

“About the same time that adorable little child with the sword pretended to accidently plow into you so he could steal this,” I said, tossing Theo's purse of coins back to him as casually as I had the dagger. “I managed to nick it from the rascal as he was bolting away.”