The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

8. HATE-YOU-ALWAYS (part 1)

"I'm sorry, Talia, but I don't know how otherwise to get across to our friend that given my Elidanite taste, his suggestion calls up feelings of - "

"It calls up the bitterness felt by every living creature who's ever had to humble himself for a higher cause," Talia said quietly and seriously.

Speaking with the priest, the audacious an Kamian dame was utterly civil and sharply meek. She patiently endured his reproaches, striving with all her might to keep the conversation constructive. This selfless devotion to their cause touched Irson right down to his core. The Merciful's follower's reaction was just the opposite. The humbler Talia was, the more furious the priest became. It was as if he ached to expose her, to prove to all that she was not in the least what she wanted to appear to be. So many venomous words were on the tip of Irson's tongue, he felt poisoned having to bite it.

However, Talia's self-deprecating tactic once again turned out to be fruitful. The priest resigned himself to his fate or, as he himself had put it, he made up his face, fastened some pom-poms to his shoes and took the stage.

Presently he and Talia pretended to be fighting, exchanging looks that could kill beneath the statue of Veindor in plain sight of a large crowd of Briaellareans. And Irson, a guest at the young an Kamian's house, sat and observed all this through an enchanted tabletop. He envied Talia a little her chance to blow off steam in such a benign way.

"In, I can't even recognize you anymore!" Talia cried (the spectacle was approaching its finale). "Won't you let the cat out of the bag! The Merciful's followers must stop abusing innocent creatures! How long can we sit quietly and just suck it up, suck it up, suck it up?! We need to act, no matter what the fallout might be! If we get it bad, then we get it, and I'll put my tail between my legs, and you... whatever it is you've got between your legs! Ooh! I'm ready to head to the Cliffs myself and shout into Veindor's ears: it's time for a change!"

Inon mumbled something unintelligible, trying to take her by the arm. Talia tore herself free.

"No! Enough! There's Veindor," she pointed at the statue, "and there are his filthy ears!"

Talia leaped up onto the base of the statue, where, according to their ruse, she would have continued her accusatory monologue (for which Inon would have reprimanded her in his inimitable manner, and Talia, hanging her tail, would have retired to "cry in the bushes" in anticipation of a Veindor-hating conspirator, who would hardly have missed such an opportune moment). But then everything went wrong.

A long, pale sparkling flash from the Merciful's scales struck Talia in the side. The Alae gasped from the shock, flailed her arms awkwardly, doubled over and dropped to the ground, where she lay with her tongue out and the bottom of her foot twisted unnaturally. A haze as thick as cream enshrouded her body - dark grey, and radiating a cloudy silver color.

Inon dashed towards her and diffused the haze with quick movements. It dispersed in all directions in little clumps, as if thousands of metal flies had flown off Talia's face, chest and legs. The priest swiftly took the Alae into his arms and brought her to the temple.

Irson didn't know what to think. Either the eccentric an Kamian had decided to enhance the drama of the moment, or...

Finally, there came the soft breath of a portal opening in the next room, followed by footsteps and a muffled arguing. Talia appeared on the threshold - pale and disheveled, but decidedly alive.

"Well now, that does it! How's that for improv! I almost thought..." Irson slapped her on the shoulder and she fell at his feet with a groan.

"Improv my tail," the Alae hissed, stretching her vest with a jerk.