The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

13. BODY, SOUL AND SPIRIT (part 3)

***

"Won't they miss you?" Talia asked Mor and Irera before lowering them into the cube.

"No. Selorn tasked us with investigating the theft of the Question Candles. And ordered us not to come back until the thief is found," Mor answered.

"And how's your progress?"

"No progress at all. It was obvious from the start that it was a fool's errand. There are no clues, no trail of any kind..." Mor grimaced.

"Why would Selorn part so easily with his best employees?"

"If you go ask him, we'd be much obliged," Irera pressed her black palm to her heart.

"Deal!" Talia politely sat down and turned to Irson. "Show them around, will you?"

"And where will you be?"

"You know very well that we an Kamians collect all sorts of things, including examples of voices. And I remember the voice of that renegade Veindor priestess, so I want to try comparing it with the others. Who knows, I might get lucky. Don't worry, those kinds of requests are status quo around here. No one will think twice about it."

"Was there something so extraordinary in her voice that it might have been included in the collection?"

"As if we have some sophisticated selection process," Talia scoffed. "Like you Tanae say, 'Every being is a chosen being. Every Path is of vital importance.' We're the same. We don't divide everything – well, everything that doesn't take up space – into ordinary and extraordinary. We just lug it all in and store it. We're a bit like magpies, come to think of it."

"Good luck digging around in the nest!" Irson slapped her on the shoulder.

Talia squatted down and began creating a "sluice."

Watching this strange process, Irera also cast sidelong glances at Mor. His brow wrinkled in annoyance, the telepath wasn't showing the slightest interest in starting the interrogation any time soon.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked Irera telepathically, seeing her wary expression.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Usually you can't wait to uncover the truth, but now – not a hint of enthusiasm."

"I don't need to be an Anaeis to guess who's 'waffle' it is. All the signs point to one creature."

"No need to jump to conclusions," Irera said reluctantly. "Enbri's conversation with his brother doesn't actually prove anything. And we haven't found anything else suspicious, even though we've listened in to his quarters for a good long while, you must admit."

"Doesn't prove anything?" Mor snarled coldly. "What if I told you that while he was reassuring Orin that our Council was planning to slip the plans for a defense against telepathic attacks under some flea-infested couch, Patriarch Selorn was lying? Lying through his teeth – calculated, cynical lies and nothing but, from start to finish."

Irera was shocked. "But... why? Why would he do all that?"

"That's what we have to find out," Mor twitched his ear, determined. "No matter how painful it may be."

***

"Is this Queen Amialis' Cat's Essence?" Shog asked, his flat nose nearly touching the bottle on the stand as he examined it.

"No, of course not. You can't simply see a spirit like that. It's... a kind of surrogate soul, a nutrient solution, an agent for the spirit. We need to preserve it somehow."

"Miraculous, Master!" Shog boomed obsequiously.

"Nothing miraculous. It's pure science," Shilor gestured nonchalantly. "Essentially, a spirit is a cluster of energy, only it obeys a most specific set of laws. We must also use very distinct handling methods. It's all much more delicate, complex and unpredictable, but... But we nonetheless managed to collect the spirit of that glorious patricidal specimen," the corners of his mouth betrayed a slight malicious grin as he glanced at Amialis' frozen features. "Moreover, they both feel wonderful. A magnificent future awaits them! The Cat's Essence, as befits a beast, will set out to hunt. We'll graft a couple of new branches to this tree, equip it with a new body and a semblance of intellect, and... and set it at its prey. As for the queen, the queen will rule... I need someone who can hold this whole meowing crowd by their tails!

"It's no miracle that we've been able to do this. In fact, the real wonder is that no one's tried to pull something like this off before! I don't understand their deference for these spiritual scoundrels! No research, no attempts to optimize the process of forming one's spiritual shell, to speed it up, make it more effective... nothing! Just let everything takes its course! Everything's under a sacred ban! Everything's going at a snail's pace, and no one cares how many creatures will have to suffer because of their scrupulousness and laziness. All these enlightened Enhiargeans remind me of barbarians burning doctors alive for supposedly playing god. Smug savages! And our tailed friends the Alae are no exception. It's ironic: the race that can see farther and deeper than all the rest voluntarily blindfolding itself. And they claim to despise all conventions! Even the Tanae went further than that, judging by what their goddess has done to our blue-eyed crybaby..."

The Master nodded to his servants, and the three of them together gently lifted Amialis and carried her out of the lab. Shilor shook his head, watching this "funeral procession." Apparently, the image of a lifeless woman dangling in the arms of servants evoked unpleasant memories. The young Master's face suddenly creased with wrinkles – not light traces of emotion but the kind of deep furrows that can only be forged by years of suffering and doubt. Shog looked at Shilor, puzzled.

But the Master's consternation didn't last long. He gave a barely perceptible shake of the head and stepped toward a wall where a thick curtain hung, blending seamlessly into it. His strong hand with slender white fingers pulled the fabric back and the Master, with faithful Shog following suite, entered the adjacent room. Shilor bent over the grey cat laying prostrate on the slab.

"Is this what you needed, Master?" Shog asked, staring at the immobile creature; the cat's sides heaved, but just barely – the only indicator that she was alive. "I thought you needed a bipedal Alae, not a house cat," he said, rubbing his rough fingers together.

"Look. Her eyes are starting to shine," he pointed to Nela's face. "She's becoming herself. After some fairly simple manipulations, I was able to force her body to begin the process of changing into Alae form. We need to help her with the building blocks just a little, and we'll soon have a real, bipedal cat with just skin, no fur. We'll work a little sorcery on the makeup of her brain, the chemistry of her body... and that'll be all. We'll be ready."

"But why did you have to take her alive? Wouldn't it be easier to just snatch up somebody's replacement body? Or, even betterm, borrow one from Amialis herself?" Shog pressed on, knowing that his boss appreciated attention to detail.

"Her soul needs to be here the entire time to... how can I put it... keep the bed warm for our bipedal guest. And besides, I want to see how Miss Nela will react when she finds herself in a remade body. How this will affect her soul, her thought processes, behavior, abilities and so forth.

Shog laughed wryly.

"Body, soul, and spirit... We have two parts of the key to open the gates of victory," Shilor mumbled, petting Nela's short grey fur, "we just need the third. But we'll soon have it. And everything might just go so smoothly that we won't even end up needing the first two at all. I predict that in the very near future, she'll be... eating out of my hands."