Ice House's southern gate was much like Limt's northern gate. Just colder. All of the larger caravan companies had built permanent offices here. The 'alcove', an area that referred to the wide open space outside the gates where multiple caravans could load and unload, was well policed by both company and city watchmen. By the time we woke most of the staff was inside the A.S.C. barracks, catching some much needed sleep. Their compatriots, based here in Ice House, were doing the inventory and unloading shipments that the company was responsible for.
After much grumbling and groaning, we managed to emerge from our relatively warm cocoons. Will had thoughtfully provided a coat for me to wear over my cloak, a detail that I wouldn't have remembered. We joined the queue of people inside of the Advanced Scouting and Commerce warehouse, waiting for them to sign off on a job well done. Miles was there personally to shake our hands, and we were invited back any time. Once all accounts were settled and papers signed, our troop of four headed through the south gate and into the city proper.
When I first entered Ice House, I wasn't sure what I would find. I knew it to be a melting pot of sorts, and on that account I was proven correct. Predominantly, the city was populated by elves and humans in fairly even numbers. But sprinkled into the population was a fair number of every civilized race on Panos: Orcs of course, minotaurs, were-wolves, were-cats, halflings, lizardmen, and a host of other minor species. All of them bundled up against the cold, some of them looking wary, but nobody holding any obvious or open aggression towards me or each other... at least not in broad daylight or in the middle of Main Street.
What I was unprepared for was the architecture. The entire city was surrounded by icy mountain walls, save for the north and south gates which were hand-laid stone. As far as buildings went, there were four kinds of structures: Dusky gray stone mined from the mountain itself was a common building material for the older buildings. Lightly colored, almost white wood was the material of choice for the newer structures. Over a quarter of the city was, surprisingly, made of glass. The thick glass buildings (undoubtedly summoned by elven magic) were the basis of agriculture in Ice House, serving as the city's greenhouses. Finally, ice itself was the most common building material on the outer edge of the city. Often these buildings were natural formations of some kind, and extended into the cave systems to the east and west of the city. The sheer amount of ice and glass gave Ice House its crystalline look and feel.
I looked around in wide-eyed wonder. It was more ice and snow than I had ever imagined. The beauty, the purity of it all was unreal to me. More than once I had to be guided and tugged along by my friends. In short, I looked like a tourist. But in that moment, I didn't really care.
Just then, I swear that I heard Shaman's voice in my head. 'Is it wonderful?'
"Yeah."
Rick paused to ask, "What was that Sorch?"
"Nothing."
After walking down Main Street for ten minutes, we turned sharply and entered a narrow alley. A few moments later, our party approached the rear of one of the old stone buildings. The sign hanging above the door said, amusingly, 'The Spastic Vole'. Toby was smiling toothily. Rick and Will were grinning as well. Clearly this was a fun place of some sort.
After having entered the establishment, I had to admit that I was a little confused. Clearly there was a tavern aspect to the place. People were drinking and having a good time at the stone bar just to the left of the entryway. As I was led farther into the room by my friends, I became even more puzzled. It looked like the right hand side of The Spastic Vole was a fully functional restaurant of some kind. The scent of wood fired bread rolls and fresh roasted rabbit assailed my nostrils in the most fantastic fashion. My friends ignored my pleas to try out the local fare, instead dragging me deeper into the room.
We passed through some heavy wool curtains. They were the only opening that allowed one through the wood and cloth privacy partitions that stretched from floor to ceiling. Clearly the intention was to deaden the noise in this area so that it didn't reach the drinkers and diners near the front of house. This part of The Spastic Vole was less well lit. Only flickering torchlight guided us towards the back wall. We took a seat at one of the comfortable corner booths.
"I promise you Sorch, we can still order food here." Will assured me.
Toby snorted. "You can order a lot here."
Rick elbowed the big man. "Don't ruin the surprise."
"Fine, fine."
"Seriously, you'll scare poor Sorch, he's never been to the big city."
"Fine!"
I looked from the face of the minotaur, to that of the tall man, and finally settled on Will as the friendliest source of information. "Will. Why are there metal poles on that stage?"
He giggled. "Oh, well. You know, Sorch. They're props for our live performances."
I tilted my head. "What do you mean 'our' performances? You participate?"
My question cause Toby to snort and bellow out a helpless stream of laughter. Will started slapping his shoulder to try and get the minotaur to stop, to no avail.
As the small human tried and failed to calm the bull-man, Rick answered the question. "Not as such. Toby, Will, and myself are investors in this place. The main owner is our last adventuring partner, who I believe you'll be meeting shortly."
Will flagged down a waiter, declaring that the best way to shut up a minotaur was to stuff his face. Toby agreed. A round of fresh baked and buttered sage and thyme rolls appeared, followed by flagons of dark ale and a plate of roasted carrots and honey coated chicken legs. The food seemed to melt in my mouth. All due respect to Will and Rick's cooking, but this was the best meal that I had ever eaten.
As I sopped up the honey-pepper gravy with the rest of my bread roll, there was a raucous cheer. I popped the remainder of the meal into my greedy maw, and then looked around to see what the cause of this commotion might be.
Up on the stage was a were-cat. I had seen a few in passing as we entered Ice House. They were exotic creatures. The ones we had passed didn't make eye contact, instead cloaking their faces and moving quickly past. Then again, those creatures were more... heavily dressed than this one.
Rick slapped me on the shoulder. "Sorch, meet Ames!" He had to shout to be heard over the whooping and hollering.
Ames was dressed only in a thin gown of black cotton. The feline was covered in thick white fur from eartips, to tailtip, to toes. In addition to protecting the cat from arctic temperatures, it obscured any hint of Ames' gender. The were-cat moved across the stage with the kind of lithe grace one would expect from a feline species. Each step was deliberate, firm black footpads meeting the polished wood of the stage with gentle precision. I stared, transfixed by the performance.
I had to ask, "Is Ames... I should say, what gender is-"
Toby cut the question off. "We don't know. And amongst their people it is exceedingly rude to ask. There's some ancient history involved best left to another time. They seem to know when confronted with another were-cat. But with others... let's just say they'll let you know if they want you to know."
I nodded. For the moment it would remain a mystery.
Looking back up at the stage, I watched as the cat stalked up to one of the metal poles. Ames rubbed their cheek against the cold iron. Then the feline did something that made the audience whistle and shout. The cat slowly opened their maw and dragged that long pink tongue several inches up the polished metal rod.
Such a display was more overtly lewd than anything I had seen before. I wasn't totally unexposed to sexual themes or expressions. When I was younger and times were better, there were nights with some of the unmated tribal girls. They definitely 'educated' me on the basics. But it was private, quiet. Nothing like this.
Ames scanned the room as they slowly circled the pole, one leg locked around it at the knee to serve as a pivot point. Will and Rick whistled and waved their arms. The cat's visage brightened, and they inclined their head towards our table. I found myself on the receiving end of an intense stare, those deep emerald eyes seeming to drink me in. I felt like I was being hunted, for a brief moment.
The dancer finished that slow 180 degree turn. With their back facing the audience, a single sharp claw was extended, and the laces holding that flimsy cotton garment together were sliced. When it fell away there was more shouting from the audience of course. Ames' fluffy white tail twitched and swayed above the fuzzy feline rump, which slowly shook and gyrated as the cat rubbed their body lewdly against the pole.
That was when I discovered that I loved pole dancing.
The rest of the dance was somewhat of a blur. I know that my jaw never fully closed, and I must have looked like either a country bumpkin or an idiot. Nobody seemed to mind though, particularly not Ames. At one point the feline locked eyes with me and resumed that intense stare, before slowly allowing their legs to part and sinking into a full side split. It certainly got a reaction out of me, and out of many others in the crowd as well. The dance ended shortly after, to a round of applause and catcalls.
Then, before I realized what was happening, Ames was walking over to join us. Far too late, I thought that maybe I should scoot in and make room. But the feline took the decision out of my hands. Without missing a beat, the exotic dancer slipped into my lap and wrapped those warm arms around my neck. "Why hello Toby, and Will, and Rick. I see you've brought me a chew toy, how thoughtful!"
I'm not proud to admit that I yelped when those sharp teeth briefly nipped at the green skin of my ear.
Toby snorted. "You have enough toys already, Ames. Sorch, as you might have figured, this is Ames. Ames, this is Sorch."
Will interjected, "He has a fascinating story. Absolutely riveting."
Then Rick chimed in, "And since we need you to babysit him for a couple of days while we make our deliveries and prepare for the expedition, you'll have plenty of time to hear it."
I must have made sounds of protest or objection. Certainly no words were actually formed by my swimming head. Ames shushed me, putting a plush digit over my lips. I sat as still as I could under their very close examination. After a few moments, the cat reached down to grab one of my arms and forcibly wrap it around their midsection. "Hmmm. I suppose I could do that for you boys. I'll show him the town." I'm not certain if the feline even knew they were doing it, but that fluffy rump was slowly swaying in my leather-clad lap.
Toby warned Ames, "Don't get him arrested. Particularly if you put me in the position to be the one arresting him."
The dancer stuck their tongue out at the minotaur, "Don't worry dear, I remember the last time you arrested me. There's no fun in it. It's just so boring in those cells."
A few things went through my mind. Firstly, my friends had just put me in the care of some kind of exotic dancer and felon. Secondly, they were partnered with this creature and for some reason, clearly they had a high level of trust in Ames. Third, I really didn't want to stand up right now. For modesty reasons, you understand.
But apparently I wasn't going anywhere. My friends were. They all rose and slid out of the other side of the booth. Toby spoke for the departing group. "Settled then. Sorch, enjoy the tour. Ames, we'll meet you here in exactly two days time. Dress appropriately." The ease with which the creature in my lap smiled and made an exceedingly rude gesture at the giant minotaur was disturbing.
That feline nose twitched, burrowing into my dull black hair as the creature explored my scent. Ames nosed their way over my left temple and then down to my ear. I shivered, feeling the whiskers tickle my lobe. In a sultry, breathy tone, the cat murmured something I'll never forget:
"I need to get downtown to fix a door. Come with me."
I didn't know if that was some kind of code, but it was just about the least sexy thing one could say in that situation. Mutely, I allowed myself to be led backstage. There were catcalls and playful jeers from the crowd as Ames took me to their dressing room. I closed the door behind us, it seemed like the right thing to do in any case.
The room was for more than just dressing apparently. It looked more like a tinkerer's workshop with an added bed and closet. Everything seemed quite tidy and well lit. Three oil lanterns hung from hooks in the ceiling, removing all hint of shadow from the windowless chamber. A bookshelf on the wall above the headboard of the bed was filled with both regional and global research materials. The bedding and pillows were all white. Given the potential fur shedding issues, that seemed to be a wise choice.
Ames let out a huge sigh of relief and rumbled, "Good show, I think. Grab my clothes and leathers from that chest would you?" The were-cat hurriedly started to assemble what looked like a custom lock picking and door breach kit, taking parts and tools from the drawers of their workbench.
A little disappointed that things took a turn towards the mundane, I nevertheless did as I was asked. Upon hearing the chest close again, Ames lifted one leg, balancing on the toes of their right foot with ease. I watched the lithe creature. Specifically, I watched that fuzzy rump and swishing tail.
Pausing from their tool assembly, the feline glanced over their shoulder. A hint of a smirk graced that white muzzle. "Pants?"
I was jolted out of my erotic revery by that simple one word request. Quickly I grabbed the golden hued breeches and helped my new adventuring partner to step into them. I've never been a body man before, but I think I did a fair job of dressing the were-cat. Their mind was occupied with assembling the kit required for this job, so I had to do most of the work. A simple linen undershirt, dyed gold to match the cotton pants, was slipped onto the creature when the opportunity arose. Then the brown leathers and boots followed. At that point, Ames had finished assembling their gear.
My efforts earned me a toothy smile and a peck on the cheek. "Thank you Sorch." the feline rumbled.
The cat belted on pouches and a sheath, then slid a meticulously cared for short sword from between the mattresses of the bed. It was sheathed and then peace-knotted. Once the gear was loaded into Ames' well used backpack, the two of us donned warm coats and slipped out of the room. We proceeded out the side door of The Spastic Vole.
We headed north using mostly side streets. This was a different perspective of the city, for sure. Debris was scattered amongst old shattered shipping crates. The homeless made their homes in whatever pile of warm material they could gather, usually backed up against a wall that had some sort of boiler, fireplace, or oven on the other side. Small gangs of 'citizens' were gathered around barrel fires, looking for marks that were either too naive or too drunk to understand the danger they were in. It should be noted; they always gave Ames a wide berth when we passed.
The cat opened up the conversation as we bustled. "So, you're an orcventurer are you?"
I had never heard the term before. I assumed it was just a little joke. "Indeed I am. Although I'm relatively new to the game. Most of my adventures revolved around survival until a few months ago. Actually seeking out danger and the unknown wasn't really part of my life as a tribesman. And you are a... catventurer?"
Ames seem pleased by the term. "I wish. I mean, I've been on a few of these expeditions, but my income comes from a lot of different sources. The Vole takes more than she gives sometimes, so I'm also a locksmith, a private dancer, and a body for hire."
I didn't need clarification to know that Ames wasn't talking about being a bodyguard.
The were-cat shrugged as we moved down a particularly tight little alley. "But I wish that I was a full time adventurer, at least when I'm not checking up on my business. I find it thrilling."
I laid a hand lightly on the white cat's shoulder as they deftly weaved through the cluttered alley. 'Just to help me keep up.' I thought to myself. "How much of the business do you still own?" I asked curiously.
The feline chuckled softly. "Seventy percent. Toby, Rick, and Will each own ten percent. It allows them to get free meals and drinks. They understand that they won't see any real profit for some time, if at all."
"It's an interesting place." I muttered, half to myself.
"Why thank you! " the feline rumbled. Damn cat ears.
Louder this time, I commented, "The booths are very comfortable. But some of those chairs look fairly dainty. I'd be afraid to sit in them."
The feline turned their head and flashed a sharp, toothy smile at me. "You're a big specimen certainly. Does that hold true everywhere?" At that particular moment, I didn't expect the brief but firm grope that my crotch received.
I blushed a nice deep pine-green and stammered, "W-well, I... that is to say, maybe y-you should-"
"Too late greenskin. We're here."
We emerged from the last alley onto a bustling main street. Ames led me over to what I could only describe as a pawn shop. The building was made of stone, possibly so that no jilted lover or angry husband could burn it to the ground. There were windows filled with strange and seemingly miscellaneous items, and a metallic shutter that could be drawn over the windows and locked down at night.
The human shop owner was waiting for us by the front door, which had clearly been tampered with. "Ames, thank the gods. Some idiot tried to break in last night, and my key doesn't work anymore. I think they poured acid in the lock or something, it's a mess."
Ames gave the tall man a toothy feline smile. "It's alright Mister Benson, we're going to replace the whole thing. When your message came in, I figured it was a lost cause attempting to repair it."
A few simple words from the feline made the man's countenance transform from stress to relief. "You're the best, Ames." There was a long pause as the gaunt man looked me over. "Ummm, who's your friend?"
I quickly offered my hand, a ritual that Will had drilled into me. "Mister Benson, I'm Sorch Stonebender. It is good to meet you."
A look of surprise bordering on shock passed over the merchant's face. Instinctively, the long-fingered, pale hand reached out to shake my green, calloused one. "Mister Stonebender. May I say, you're Common is quite a bit better than my Orcish."
I smiled a little bit at that. In Orcish I said, "Not even orcs speak Orcish if it can be avoided."
We both laughed at that. Ames looked up from their tinkering to mock-complain, "You've known each other for exactly one minute, and already you have secret jokes that I don't understand."
After apologising to the were-cat, Mister Benson asked me to tell my story. I've recited it so many times by now, I had a version of the entire thing that I could tell in a brisk hour and a half. The pawnshop owner pulled over a table and three chairs from the neighboring cafe, and ordered brunch for three while he was at it.
As Ames' handpaws were covered with grease, we developed a system. The feline would growl over their shoulder, and I would pop one of the cafe's tasty little meat rolls into an open and waiting maw. It was clear that the cat was listening to my story as they worked, ears flicking and swiveling when something of particular interest came up.
As I was covering the caravan trip, Ames was cleaning up. The were-cat was able to join us for the last fifteen minutes of the story, handpaws clutching a hot mug of tea. I tried my best to be neutral about both my role in the battle as well as my injuries. My two listeners were impressed nonetheless.
After I finished my tale, Ames chimed in, "The new double lock is in place Mister B." Two pairs of keys were slid across the table to the shopkeeper. "The majority of thieves won't even bother with this one. If you have any wards in place, make sure that the mage expands them to include the new lock."
The tall human pocketed one set of his new keys, and then tried the other set out on his brand new lock. The mechanism rotated smoothly, the shop door opening easily now. "You're a life saver Ames. Here you go, I know better than to offer you trade." He tossed a small pouch of coins to the feline. The pouch was deftly caught, and quickly tucked away.
I helped Mister Benson to move the table and chairs back to the cafe. A couple of handshakes later, and we were on our way back to the Vole. This time we were in no hurry, so we traversed the main streets. Ames played tour guide, and pointed out some of the important merchant and government buildings that were on route. By the time we made it back to The Spastic Vole, I had a better grasp of the layout and the management of Ice House.
Ames had to disappear for a while to attend to stockroom matters and to order some proteins. After a brief nap and performing my midday Enhancement spell, I looked around for something to do. I ended up in the back of the kitchen, helping to scrub and dry dishes. I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to chat with some of the staff members as we worked, which was a good way to try out my social skills in a casual situation.
When Ames caught up to me however, a slightly annoyed look spread across the feline's face.
"Sorch. You're a guest. Stop that."
I grinned at the were-cat. "Idle hands are the plaything of the underworld." I was unapologetic, but I did stop the voluntary work now that my host was back.
The feline threw a towel at me. "Dry up. I think we've both earned some supper."
After saying goodbye to the staff, Ames led me to a small booth along the northern wall that was equally distant from the bar, the stage, and the restaurant. The booth bordered on the privacy wall, but the first wooden post was inward from the booth. That meant that this particular seat could draw the privacy curtain back and check out the action on stage whenever they liked. Still, it was the most secluded spot in The Spastic Vole barring employee-only areas.
I commented, "I saw that you have snake on the menu tonight. Assuming that isn't too rare or expensive in these parts, I wouldn't mind seeing how you folks prepare it."
The cat tilted their head. "Well. Aren't you full of surprises. I suppose being from the swamp you used to have snake from time to time."
"From time to time." I affirmed.
Ames nodded. "Consider it done." The feline flagged down a waitress and ordered two portions of the BBQ snake with a root salad. I added an ale to the order, and my new companion asked for the same.
After the server departed, I quietly asked Ames, "Would it be too bold to ask you about yourself and your people? You heard my story, but I'm afraid I know next to nothing about your past."
The cat considered. "I guess it would be better if you heard it from me and avoided any embellishments, outright falsehoods, or other tall tales." The feline cleared their throat, and then launched into their story as we waited for our dinner.
"So. A thousand years ago, my race was once a lot like your own. We had smooth skin, and no tails. As I understand it, we were somewhere between orcs and elves in terms of body type. We were not really welcome in either society though. So we maintained a tribal culture, generally in cooler areas that weren't as desirable."
The feline lightly traced little circles on the tabletop with a claw tip. "But that all changed with the coming of the First Great War. The elves and the humans fought on a massive scale, and the elves were searching for any advantage that they could get. They figured if they could transform my people into full blooded elves, their armies would grow."
Ames paused to thank the waitress as our ales were delivered. They took a long sip before continuing.
"So in exchange for all of the benefits that elven society had to offer, the leaders of my people agreed to have our race magically and divinely transformed. There was a great gathering, and a ritual, and a planned celebration as tens of thousands of us were about to be reborn."
Ames glanced up at me and smiled, toothily and yet grimly at the same time. "But then something went wrong."
"In their attempt to divide our natures, the elven wizards and clerics created two races. The were-cats were the more independent and aloof creatures, while the were-wolves were more social and yet more violent in nature. It was chaos. My people, wolves and cats alike, treated it as a betrayal rather than an accident. They scattered to the four winds. Some of them even joined the human side of the conflict, when they were allowed."
I nursed my drink as the feline spoke. When they paused to take a sip, I asked, "And they were called were-creatures because they had the power to transform their natures, yes? Like modern day werebears and wererats?"
Ames nodded. "Back in the day, hundreds of years ago, yes. They could transition into humanoids, or even tap into their animal natures. That was how many of them came to serve in the human army... they simply posed as humans. But as the generations churned, it became more and more difficult to make that transformation. As of a couple hundred years ago, there's been no record of any of my people or the wolf people being able to transition."
I nodded back, then made a polite gesture to indicate that Ames could continue the story in their own time.
"Soon after the war was over, my people became hunted by slavers. Specifically the were-cats... the wolves were beasts of combat and didn't make for easy prey. My people, however, were known for their 'delicate skills'. Specifically the females. The males were known to be ornery, petulant, and violent; they weren't desired at all in the slave trade. In order to confuse the slavers and make them waste their time, my people used their transformation powers to take more androgynous forms. Everything that differentiated the males from the females of my species was either hidden under a thick coat of fur, or internalized. Now a lone were-cat on the road might be a male, useless to pursue and of no value to them on the open market."
"As I mentioned, transformation was getting more difficult with every generation. So eventually we became locked in this kind of a form. Androgynous in appearance. Not human or elf or orc, and not animal. But we retained a lot of the traits of our animal nature. In the case of were-cats such as myself, that included some fairly sketchy parenting skills. I was left to fend for myself at an early age, when perhaps a wild cat might be considered mature and ready, but frankly not a reasonable age for civilized humanoids."
I must have looked sad, because Ames reached across the table and took my hand in their forepaw. "It's alright. I learned quickly. Once my parents moved on, Ice House became my home. I know these streets, these caves, and this land as well as anyone alive. When I was hungry I could forage. When I was cold I could usually charm my way into some curious traveller's bed for the night. When times were tough, I stole what I needed. And that's how I met Toby."
I smiled a little bit at the mention of the big minotaur, and the smile was echoed in the were-cat's own face. The feline continued their story.
"Toby caught me stealing from The Order of the Snow. I robbed their main temple, over in the western quarter. He threw me in jail, and when I yelled at him he started to cry. Of course with a minotaur, that could mean they're about to take your head off. But in Toby's case I found out that he was genuinely sad. I had come to his attention weeks before. He had decided that the just thing, in my case, was to allow me to do whatever I had to do in order to survive. As long as I wasn't hurting anyone in the long term. But an affront against the Order of the Snow couldn't be ignored."
Ames tapped the tabletop with a claw, absently. "I was in jail for two full seasons. But whenever he was around, Toby would visit. I went from hating him, to thinking he was crazy, to loving him for caring so much. Once I got out, he helped me to find the right people so that I could learn a legitimate skill: Locksmithing. Eventually he would introduce me Rick and Will, because their adventures sometimes involved traps and locks that they weren't equipped to handle."
The feline gestured around. "After a particularly profitable expedition a couple of years back, I financed this place, and those three hopeless optimists helped. And here we are."
I thought that 'here we are' meant that the story was over, but Ames had actually noticed that food was arriving. The snake meat was still sizzling on the plate. I thanked the waitress as the main dishes and the salads were placed on the table.
When I glanced back at Ames, there was an set of expectant emerald eyes staring back.
"Umm, Sorch?"
I blinked and answered, "Yes?"
The cat glanced downwards and nodded. "I'm going to need my paw back to eat."
I hadn't even noticed that after Ames' comforting gesture, I had never untwined my fingers from their forepaw. We had been holding hands for minutes. I flushed a bit and mumbled, "Oh, sorry." Then I disengaged my fingers from that silky paw.
Ames canted their head to the side and offered a toothy grin. "Are you?"
The question hung in the air as we dug into our well spiced meal. But in my own mind I had already answered: 'Absolutely not.'
My host informed me that these snakes were actually farmed and bred in some of the caves that bordered the city. Not only were they a good source of meat, but the snakes served as effective pest control for the city.
After the meal was over, Ames mentioned, "I'll probably be going out for a few hours tonight. You still look tired from the trip up, maybe you can get a little extra sleep."
I canted my head to one side. "Is it anything I can help with?"
The were-cat shook their head. "I just... I can't do my normal evening activity that brings in some extra cash."
I stared at the feline, blankly.
"Turning tricks, Sorch."
"Oh! Oh."
The cat rolled their eyes. "So I'll be engaging in some unsanctioned bounty hunting instead."
I eyed my host. "You mean vigilantism."
Ames stuck one fuzzy thumb up in the air. "Now you're catching on."
I shook my head. "Not alone. I'm coming with you."
"No. You may be what passes for stealthy in the swamps, but we're talking about sneaking up on professional thieves. You aren't equipped."
I considered. "I have a spell that creates a zone of silence. I could prepare it."
Ames was already shaking their head. "A void of noise is even more suspicious than too much. I'll be fine. Promise."
After dinner, we went our separate ways. I retired to Ames' room and performed my nightly rituals. But the feline had been correct, some extra bunk time after three weeks on the road was all too welcome. My fatigue overrode the vague sense of worry I was feeling for the were-cat's dangerous nocturnal activities. Sleep came quickly in that big, comfortable bed.
I awoke when a chill ran up my spine. It took me a few moments to realize, there was literally something bitingly cold pressed up against my spine.
I groaned, "Ames, you're freezing."
The shivering feline wrapped frigid arms around my body and placed cold paws on my chest, pressing in close. "Thrown into a snowbank. Warm me."
I whined, still half asleep. "Noooo, why?"
The chattering of feline teeth an inch from my ear was quite the disturbing sound. Ames rumbled, "Don't be such a baby."
I grumbled, but it was only a few minutes of frigid torment. Quickly the blankets, the feline's fur, and our shared body heat did the job. Ames was once again warm, and I could get some much needed rest.
In the morning, I was the first awake. It took a surprising amount of effort to escape Ames' grasp, as the cat grumbled about losing their orcish heat machine. After a few minutes I managed to get out of bed. Still in my underwear, I grabbed the magic pot, soap, and a towel. Then I made my way to the kitchen. Ames was asleep again before I even closed the door.
No fires had been lit yet as breakfast wouldn't be served for another hour or so. As I suspected. I filled my cooking pot with water from the hand pump and then activated it with the command word. "Blaze." I placed it on one of the stone preparation counters, and then transferred the hot water into a bucket. Properly armed, I went to the garderobe for a warm clean up, allowing the soapy water to flow into the sewer hole when I was finished. It would be the cleanest thing that happened in that room all day.
When I came back, I found a full gaggle standing around the side counter that I had recently used. The kitchen staff was amazed by my self-heating pot, and took advantage of it for the full duration. They added water for tea, for coffee, and finally to boil some eggs. As the provider of the heat, which seemed to be my role in general as of late, I was encouraged to sample all of these things.
By the time Ames woke up and stumbled out into the kitchen, I was perfectly clean and on the tail end of a nice little breakfast. The feline groaned. "No. Not a morning person. We're doomed."
Eventually the feline caught up to my level of civilization, though Ames chose the simpler breakfast option of black coffee and bacon rashers. I was told to go bundle up, which meant an outing of some sort. "Backpack. No valuables. No weapons." was the stipulation, which made me think we might be going to some official government building of some sort. Properly dressed and cloaked, the two of us headed out into the city.
It was snowing lightly in the streets of Ice House. The overcast sky and towering mountains blocked quite a bit of the natural light. Compared to the morning of our arrival, the place looked like a ghost town. Wisely, those who could stay indoors did stay indoors. We plodded west along the promenade.
As we approached the gaping cave known as the West Gate, I started to have a sneaking suspicion that we weren't going to a swanky government building after all. Torches greeted us rather than attendants garbed in silk robes. Those who passed us in the other direction generally wore scowls rather than rehearsed smiles.
We proceeded to exit the main cavern, which was generally occupied by mineral, gem, and coal merchants as well as their entourages. A narrow, serpentine passage brought us to a smaller cave. Perhaps the word 'den' applied. Den meaning 'den of thieves' in this case, rather than the home of a particular animal... though I wouldn't be surprised to see a semi-tamed wolf or two in someone's possession. If anything, our arrival inspired even more scowls. Ames ignored the vast majority of people, and they didn't get in our way. The were-cat knew exactly where we were going. I hoped.
We arrived at a small nook on the southern side of the den, where there was a were-wolf wearing an patch over his left eye, sitting behind a large table of wares. The lupine's gray fur was patchy in places, likely the result of old burns of some sort. His bodyguards were massive, muscled humans. Each of the guards was holding a studded iron kanabo in front of them. I had no doubt that these brutes could go from leaning on their two handed clubs to swinging them at our heads in a split second. Needless to say, I was on my best behaviour.
"Ames." drawled the lupine merchant. His tone was a study in disinterest.
"Malachi." rumbled my companion.
The two were-creatures eyed each other for a few pregnant moments. Then the lupine sighed. "What? What do you want?"
"Striped corobane. Adder venom. Coca leaves."
Malachi made a 'tsk tsk' sound. "Oh my dear kitten. Being naughty again." The merchant opened a small trunk under his table. "This drains your account with me, and then some. You gonna pay the balance the usual way?"
Ames grit their teeth and remained silent for a moment. Just as I was about to say something that I might regret, the cat nodded curtly. "Fine. But you'll have to send them over after the expedition. And if I die, they can too for all I care."
The wolf shrugged. "You're a survivor. I trust you to save your own hide first and foremost." He brought out a series of packages wrapped in some kind of thin vines. "Contact me when you're back." Something about his dry tone implied that he would know even if he wasn't informed by Ames. I was catching on quickly: This was the sort of man to have eyes and ears in a lot of places, particularly in somewhat seedy clubs and bars such as The Spastic Vole.
Not another word was shared between them. Ames passed half of the packages over to me, and I quickly stowed them in my backpack. The feline stowed away their half, gave Malachi a curt nod, and then led me back the way we came.
"Can I assume those were poisons?" I asked, once we were somewhat closer to civilization. I couldn't help but allow a slight tone of distaste to creep into my tone.
Ames didn't seem to care about my feelings on this particular matter. "Two of them, yes. Another is a healing and pain relief drug. It can be addictive however, and must be used in moderation."
I grunted. "And the 'usual way' that you plan to pay him?"
The feline sighed. "He has clients in an out of town on a regular basis. I entertain a select number of those clients in bed."
I nodded. "I figured as much." I tried to keep my tone neutral, but possibly didn't succeed.
Ames pressed, "You don't approve? You can call me a whore you know, you wouldn't be the first."
"I never said that."
The cat practically snarled at me, "I enjoy sex. I'm good at it. And if that particular talent helps me to keep the Vole open, I'm going to use it."
I remained calm in the face of Ames' anger, "I'm not belittling you."
Ames pushed me up against one of the cave walls, and put that fuzzy white muzzle right in my face. "Good, because this is my city, and you're just a guest here. It isn't your place to pass judgement on our ways. Bad enough I have to babysit without you getting out of line."
"If I'm being a bad boy, maybe I deserve a spanking."
The slightly bewildered expression on the were-cat's features was quite satisfying. Ames grumbled and then took a step back, freeing me from being pinned against the cold stone.
I murmured, "It's your life Ames, I'm just trying to understand it."
The feline nodded slowly. They took me gently by the shoulder and led me back out of the cave system. The sun was doing its best to cook away the clouds above Ice House. So far it had turned the snow into a light hail, hardly an improvement.
Rather than make our way back to The Spastic Vole, Ames lead me south, towards the huge greenhouses that helped to provide food for the locals. If I had any doubts that these structures were summoned by magic, close inspection laid those doubts to rest.
The front of the structure had no door as such, just a rectangular gap. Wooden frames had been constructed just inside and outside of the greenhouse, and thick carpets hung down to provide a sort of barrier between the outside air and the inside of the building. As I ducked under the first set of rugs, I glanced off to one side. Impossibly, the glass wall was about half a pace thick.
Once we walked into the place, the sheer absurdity of the existence of such a thing struck my mind. It could only be created through the ancient magical building rituals performed by the northern Elves. Tons of thick, perfectly formed and perfectly clear glass encased us. It was over two hundred paces east to west, and over one hundred north to south. The only gaps in the structure were the east and west entrances, and a small square gap in the very center of the roof. A spiral staircase led up to the gap, so that the workers could clear any snow or debris off of the roof.
"It allows for proper airflow as well as maintenance. We even have gutters. The stairs actually spiral around a pipe that we use to collect fresh water when it rains or snows."
I quickly shifted my gaze back to ground level to see who had addressed me. Standing before us, garbed in a bright orange robe and open toed sandals, was a blonde elf. He was short for his race, and dare I say quite a bit more friendly and outgoing than the elves I had encountered thus far.
Ames asided, "He's not a mind reader, he's just been answering the same questions and giving the same tour for twenty years."
The elf shuffled right up to the feline. He stood on tiptoes to kiss the cat on the cheek. "Twenty three now. And with nary a complaint. It's good to see you Ames."
She returned the gesture with a little nuzzle across the elf's left temple. "Good to see you, hierophant Petrinoth."
The man dropped back to his normal height, weight rocking back to his heels. "Peter is fine, please." A hand was extended in my direction next. "And this is?"
I quickly took and shook the proffered hand. "Sorch, sir. Might I say that this place is amazing."
I still hadn't gotten used to that reaction. The surprised, often pleased or bewildered reaction when someone hears an orc speak in complete sentences. Peter's face went through half a dozen levels of surprise and amusement, before settling on a broad smile.
"And you are perfectly welcome to tour it, my dear Sorch. Please, both of you, walk with me for a while. I'm just checking up on the little ones."
As we walked, the hail could be heard 'tick'ing off of the thick glass. Hierophant Petrinoth's 'little ones' were potatoes. As he explained, "Each greenhouse is assigned a crop that they should focus upon over a two year period. Other then the small herb gardens you see dotted around the place, everything in here is potatoes. We use vertical planting tricks with certain crops to increase yields. For example, you'll see that we are building wooden potato 'towers' all along the edge of the greenhouse. When the plants poke through, we add another layer of soil, which makes another layer of potatoes grow, and so on. We need to make very efficient use of space, since we have a whole city to feed."
I couldn't help but smile. The elf reminded me of Shaman. They shared the same enthusiasm for nature. Shaman would have loved the duality of this place. Outside was frigid and hailing, but in here you would swear it was a warm summer's day. Outside was lifeless, but inside it was teeming with plants and worms and insects. I realized that I was missing what the elf had to say, and made an effort to hear the end of his speech.
"When our two years of potato farming is over, we'll shift to carrots, and then beans, and so on. With the proper fertilizer processed from the city's sewers and garbage, the soil is kept in peak condition for our chosen crop."
At this point, we were in a more secluded corner of the greenhouse. Potato towers surrounded us on two sides, and crates of potatoes ready to be shipped were piled up behind us. Ames asked, "Peter, will you be able to keep shipments up to my staff while I'm away? I'll make payment in full upon my return."
The small elf waved his hands, as in if batting away any lingering concerns. "Of course. Don't worry about a thing. Let them know that they should come see me if they have a rush on something, I'll coordinate with the other managers to cover any emergency shipments required. Oh, you're still available to pose for my next painting upon your return?"
The feline nodded. "Yes, I look forward to it"
Hierophant Petrinoth rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. The order has already given me permission to let you use the Autumnal robes. It will be lovely." He flashed a smile to each of us in turn. "Well, I must attend to my duties. Please show yourself out the back when you're done. Del-Nekbenth's blessing upon you both!" He gave us a deep bow, and then wandered off.
Ames and I looked at each other for a moment. Then I said, amused, "You'll look good in orange."
The fluffy feline smirked, sharp teeth flashing from just one side of their muzzle. "I will. But it's actually a big deal to them. Each druidic dioceses has a seasonal painting that they hang in their grand temple. I was flattered to be selected."
I reached out to stroke the fur of Ames' neck. "They could hardly go wrong in selecting you as an example of natural beauty."
I hadn't seen a were-cat blush until that moment. The inside of Ames' triangular ears turned a nice shade of beet red, and then folded back as in if to hide the reaction. "Thanks." the feline rumbled. "Um. We should get going. The hail has stopped, but who knows for how long."
As we were heading out the back door, as instructed, we were stopped by a greenhouse acolyte. The young human girl curtsied, and then presented a small package to Ames. "Compliments of the Order. May Del-Nekbenth bless you and keep you." We thanked the druidic lass, and then ducked under the curtains to make our way back out into the cold.
Before we walked through the outside curtains, Ames took a moment to sniff the cloth covered package. Those feline eyes widened, and their pupils narrowed to thin slits. "Oh... oh my." the cat murmured.
I blinked. "What's wrong, are you alright?"
Ames swallowed. "F-fine. This isn't just a normal package of herbs. I... it has catnip. It might be all catnip."
I frowned, then leaned in for a sniff. It smelled like old mint to me, nothing more. "OK. Should I carry it for you?"
The feline quickly gave me the package. "Yes, that might be best for the moment."
I slipped the little bundle into my backpack, and then we made our way back to the Vole. The lunch crowd was just starting to arrive. Ames didn't have time to protest as I offered to help out in the kitchen once again. The cat had to quickly get ready for a matinee performance. I heard the whistles and catcalls from the rowdy crowd as I scrubbed pots and flatware. I felt a surge of something that I couldn't quite place. Envy? Jealousy? Maybe something else. I pushed it to the back of my mind and set about the task at hand.
When the midday rush had ended, I was more than ready for my afternoon nap. Ames wanted to blame my soporific habits on the fact that I was an early riser. But the cat knew full well that rest was required to recharge magical capacity.
I awoke to find Ames rummaging through my pack. My hazy mind slowly remembered: The cat's packages were in there. I grumbled and sat up slowly.
"Hello there sleepy head. Do your ritual stuff, then come join me for dinner. Same booth."
The cat punctuated the statement with a cheeky little tail flick, and then left me to sort myself out.
After meditating and casting my intellectual enhancement spells, I joined Ames at the table. The were-cat was chatting with their head chef. I took a moment to appreciate my new companion in their natural environment. The fluffy white feline was so relaxed just then; completely in their element.
The chef glanced up at me, and then excused herself. Ames treated me to a bright, toothy smile. "I've already ordered for us. Hope you don't mind. We had some extra meat on ice from the entre a couple of days ago, so I'm having Sylvia prepare something off-menu."
To be honest, the smells coming from the kitchen were driving me crazy. I would have eaten whatever was put in front of me at that moment. But I tried to be more suave than just admitting my voraciousness. "Oh? That sounds wonderful, thank you. Shall I get us some rolls from the back?"
Ames reached across the table and grabbed my hand in their paw to restrain me. "No! Rolls are on the way already. You're not working, you're done for the day. We leave in the morning. Time to relax."
I covered the cat's paw with my free hand. "OK."
Emerald green eyes held my hazel eyes. There was a moment of comfortable silence. This time I knew that I was holding that paw, and I wasn't letting go. Ames treated me to a gentle smile, fangs mostly hidden this time.
The dividing curtain was drawn back so that Ames could keep an eye on both front and back of house. There were no obvious troublemakers tonight.
I murmured, "I know you had mentioned loving to adventure. But running a place like this must be quite intense. When the Vole is financially stable, will you actually end up doing this full time? You seem to be a natural. At running this place and leading these people, I mean."
Ames' claws extended and retracted a few times so that I could feel the clawtips prick gently against my palm. "You're right of course. Success might cost me some freedom, and I'd have to manage this place most of the time. That's OK. I love running this place, and dancing. I even like fixing a lock or picking a chest open from time to time. But I think my vacations will still be adventuring, no matter how profitable this place is. Toby once said, 'Living is what you do when you're not tending to life.' That really stuck with me. I don't just want to be comfortable, I want to be alive."
I squeezed the were-cat's paw gently. "Shaman told me something similar. He said that if your life is just feeding an engine over and over again, that isn't living, that's slavery."
My feline companion nodded in agreement. "A wise man, your Shaman. Right now, this is my engine. I'm rigging it so that, in time, it will be feeding me. Then I'll be free, just like you."
I broke eye contact. "I'm still a slave to copper and silver."
Just then the rolls arrived, still steaming. They had already been sliced down the middle and coated in butter. I had the presence of mind to let go of Ames' paw so we could eat.
After the servant left, the were-cat commented, "Everyone is a slave to money, Sorch. It might be more literal and urgent for you, but everyone has debts to pay or mouths to feed. Nothing to be ashamed of."
That made me feel better, oddly. I grabbed a buttered roll and tore into it. Ames did the same.
After chewing a muzzle full of fluffy, buttery bread, the feline rumbled, "And I'll share something with you. This expedition is hot. Normally we're working off of old rumours and dusty tomes. Sometimes we get lucky, sometimes we don't. But as of around 10 days ago, a hunter reported strange activity in the area we're going. Noise, vibrations in the ground. I don't think we'll have a boring time on this one!"
I wouldn't have minded just finding a lost treasure deep underground somewhere. Bored and rich would be a fine result as far as I was concerned. But I forced a smile anyway and said, "Outstanding."
Ames nodded in agreement. "I can't wait really."
We polished off the rolls just in time for the main dish to arrive. It was a plate of beautiful red-brown steak of some sort. I sniffed it, but this wasn't cow or horse meat. We were each poured a glass of red wine as well.
Seeing my look of confusion, my companion supplied the name. "This is an elk steak on a bed of fried potatoes. Enjoy!"
And I did. The slightly gamey taste of elk went well with the light cider sauce. I hardly had the patience to cut it up with my knife, though I knew that exposing my swamp etiquette to Ames wouldn't be very impressive.
I paused. I was trying to impress Ames? Our back and forth had been entertaining, but the cat's job was to be entertaining.
"Ames?"
"Hmmmm?"
I set down my utensils. "The sitting in my lap, the teasing. Is that just part of the job, or is that you being friendly, or... something else?"
The feline smiled, showing bright white teeth. "Something else." my companion assured me.
I had to ask. "Why?"
The feline bought some time to think by popping some of the delectable meat into their maw. There was some thoughtful chewing, and then a shrug. "You look like you're a lot of fun."
I snorted.
"And..." the feline added, "You're unique. I may be a relative rarity in this world, but I can honestly say that I've never met anyone else like you. There might not _be_ anyone else like you in the world, Sorch. The last genuine orc magi was a figure in ancient history. But you haven't let any of that go to your head. You're still sweet, and sensitive. That's quite attractive."
The number of compliments heaped upon me in just a few seconds was too much. I took a long pull of wine to collect my thoughts and hide my blush for a moment. "Thank you. "
We both ate in silence for a while. Then Ames dropped their utensils to the tabletop and asked, impatiently, "Well?!"
I jumped a bit in my seat. "I'm sorry, what?"
The cat threw their paws up over their head. "This is the part when you tell me why you like me!"
I blinked. "Oh!"
"You are _so_ bad at this."
"I am. I'm sorry. When it comes to relationships, there isn't this much ritual back in the swamp."
The were-cat tapped their claws on the table, waiting.
I cleared my throat. "Well you're beautiful of course, that goes without saying. And I like that you have goals. I have goals, and I think being driven is very attractive. But..."
Ames tilted their head to one side. "But?"
"But mostly I appreciate your candor. People are always trying to hide stuff and things. They're afraid feelings might be bruised, or they think it will be an advantage later on, or they just want to feel superior. But you say what you think, and that's incredibly attractive to me."
The feline smiled. "Well. Not half bad for a boy from the wetlands." I took that to mean Ames approved. I let out a half-held breath in relief.
We were mid-way through our meal when I noticed the cat sprinkling something into their wine. "Is that the..."
Ames glanced up at me, looking perhaps a shade guilty. "Catnip, yes. I figured I shouldn't take it on the road, and this is my last night here for a couple of weeks."
I smiled reassuringly, "Sure, go ahead."
The change that overcame the feline was quite dramatic. The strong wine was having a little effect on me, but to Ames the impact was magnified sevenfold. My companion alternatively looked like they were falling asleep and melting into their chair, or wide awake and hyper-alert.
I had to smile. "You really like that stuff don't you?"
Ames licked their lips with that long feline tongue. "Y-yeah. It's very relaxing. Harmless in the long term. No hangover like you get with alcohol." The were-cat devoured their steak and potatoes voraciously. I was impressed.
"Does that catnip stuff enhance appetite as well?" I asked.
I jumped a little bit as a felt a soft feline footpaw running up and down my leg under the table. "It enhances _everything_ dear." was the rumbled reply.
We finished our meals in relative silence. I couldn't help but make some fairly unmanly sounds as that feline foot wandered, of course. But I wasn't complaining.
I continued to not complain when Ames shifted over to sit on my side of the small booth. I truly and steadfastly did not complain when the feline ended up in my lap with their arms looped around my neck.
With my arms encircled about the were-cat's midsection, I gazed down at the smaller creature. "This restaurant has the best service that I've ever experienced."
The cat sighed a little bit. "I'm glad you think so. However..."
"Hmmm?"
"I need to go dance soon."
I growled. My teeth found the tip of of one of those inviting triangular ears and nibbled firmly.
Ames squirmed and mewled. "Sorch! Stop. I can't... I can't be too worked up before I dance."
I murmured into that twitching, captive ear, "You're high on catnip and tipsy from the wine. I don't think it's safe for you to dance right now." My armed squeezed the squirming creature in my lap, possessively.
The were-cat growled and assured me, "It's safe to dance."
I relented and gently helped the cat back to their feet. "Fine. You can dance if you want to. But I'm not helping you to get dressed afterwards."
Ames winked at me. "I don't think I'll want to get dressed afterwards." With a practiced half turn that included a dramatic tail flick, the feline padded to their dressing room in order to get ready for the show.
I flicked the dividing curtain closed. Slowly I finished my wine, feeling that pleasant burn spread from my belly to my chest, then throughout my entire body. As the show was starting, I paid a visit to the kitchen. I took a couple of damp hand towels and a small vial of oil, ferrying them into Ames' dressing room and leaving them on the nightstand by the bed. Always best to be prepared.
By the time the feline joined me, the bed was turned down and my clothes were already in a pile alongside theirs. The cat quickly closed the door. I lifted Ames, and those nimble legs curled around my back. Taking this as a good sign, I held the fluffy white creature in my arms and kissed the cat, feeling that long feline tongue curl dexterously around my humanoid organ.
That night, I learned everything there is to know about the mysteries of were-cat anatomy.