The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

6. DEATH'S ASSISTANT (part 2)

"What kind of impression?"

"Bolstering my affinity for the Merciful. No matter how much Veindor's priests may brush me off, we serve the same cause. Our ideals are very much alike, and that means our spirits are, too. If I changed into a human body, I could easily fool a follower of the Merciful, passing myself off as a senior lay sister at one of his temples. They sense that I'm one of them."

"And they no longer sense an Alae?"

"That's just it – no. But I could drown the 'stench' of my true feline nature by making the 'follower of the Merciful' part of me smell stronger. And how do you make a mint leaf smell more?"

"Rub it between your fingers?"

"Exactly. The same is true in our case: we've got to poke at it, that is, do something pleasing to Veindor. Kill a necromancer, deliver a baby, preach a sermon on the merits of death, cure a cold, something of that nature. And it's in the bag. That aroma positively hypnotizes Inon... Hmm, no, that's not the right word – it has a sobering effect on him. He begins to see me as I am, and not as the vile Alasais' spawn those hypocrites from the Elidanite gentry make me out to be."

"But doesn't your spirit's reaction depend on your purpose in all this?"

"Oh, it does! But isn't our other purpose connected to the same serving of Veindor's ideals?" Talia smiled slyly. "Like it or not, we're helping one of his priests remove the curtain from his eyes and serve his merciful master more effectively. Without us, liare only knows how long he'd run around in circles with this investigation. And not a mouse's claw would come of it."

"What about the good old Alaean brain-curling method – that wouldn't work?"

"Nope. Inon has such incredible spiritual armor, I couldn't break through it in a million years," Talia flashed eyes of great distress.

"And so you must resort to all manner of perverse manipulation, poor thing," Irson teased her.

"Yup. The hair on my tail is blushing now!" The an Kamian grinned like the Cheshire cat and suddenly threw up her hands. "Oh, indulgent Tialianna! We're in luck!"

Spotting something in the water, she jogged sprightly to the nearest suspension bridge. Irson struggled to resist the temptation to grab her by the tail and exact an explanation from her before she sprung the next surprise on him. Following some pale warm spot with her eyes, transported by the canal's slow-moving waters, the Alae hopped from terrace to terrace. Irson caught up with her at the wide ramp connecting one of the houses' backyard to the canal.

"This has to be Tiana's doing. What luck!" she laughed, squatting by the water and dangling her fingers in the water impatiently. "Is this what it's like to be in on the same investigative crew with a Tanae?"

Irson blinked and finally saw the object of her captivation: a corpse floating in the canal. A fresh Nalarite corpse, practically still warm.

"Can you help me? If he drifts off to the right, he'll be out of my reach," Talia asked, extending the gaff to Irson.

Pressing his chest to the low guardrail, the Tanae hooked the deceased and pulled him closer. He wasn't able to pull the Nalarite up onto the small bridge – something was preventing this from underneath. Talia splashed around in the water and grabbed the dead man by the scruff of the collar.

"More than likely something is sticking out his chest. I forgot to tell you."

"Hold this, will you," Irson handed her the gaff. "One second." He rolled his sleeves back and moved his fingers, kneading them.

"Let's just turn him over onto his back."

Irson grinned.

"Did you want to get soaked or...?"