Mickey Reichert: The beasts of Barakhai

Collins threw off the sleep shirt and tossed it on the bed, smoothing the blankets into reasonable order. Since the bedroom was on the top floor, no maids could enter to clean it. He wondered if the king also made his own bed or whether lower level royalty or children served as menial labor in these "safe" areas of the castle. He pulled on the clean clothing, fitting the shirt under the tunic and tucking his watch neatly beneath the sleeve. Now that the king knew what he was, he saw no need to hide the device; but he had no intention of trying to explain it to every curious guard and servant who noticed it. He pulled on the boots the king had given him, made of soft cloth stiffened with wooden battens.

By the time Collins exited, the guard had left; and only the strange woman remained. He excused himself to use one of the garderobes. Returning, he joined her on the spiral staircase. She fidgeted as he approached, and her hands moved into various positions before finding a haven in the pockets of her dress. She wore her chestnut hair short, and sunlight struck highlights of blonde, black, and red through the strands. She had brown eyes so pale they looked almost yellow, and they dodged Collins' with uncomfortable caution. "My name is Lattie. Could we talk outside?"

Collins nodded, glad to move from the stuffy confines of the castle to fresh air and sunshine.

"I'm sorry I woke you." Lattie led the way down the stairs, past a pair of guards who stopped chattering and watched them go. "It is late morning, and I thought-."

Collins tried to make her feel at ease. "I was up. Just hadn't bothered to dress yet." It was essentially true. He had awakened before the knock. He did not press her for her business, though curiosity pounded at him. He had only just become a welcome member of the royal entourage that night, and it seemed impossible that people in the king's employ would already seek out his advice. Of course, now is the best time. Once they have a taste of my uncanny wisdom, they'll all know to steer clear of it.

After passing several more guards and servants, Lattie and Collins departed the castle, through the open portcullis. The sun beamed down, too warm for the long shirt he had chosen to hide his watch. The sweet odors of grass and pollen wafted to Collins' nose, a pleasant change from the stale smells of old food, mustiness, and mildew. Horses in a variety of conformations and colors grazed the grassland, while dogs wound among them. A group of children squealed and giggled as they threw balls as much at as to one another. Gardeners weeded, joined by goats and geese who carefully plucked around the healthy plants.

Lattie stopped walking, glancing around to assure no one stood close enough to overhear. "Before we go any further, I want to apologize."

Collins' shoulders lifted in a questioning shrug. "Apologize? For what?"

Lattie looked down. Collins followed her gaze to the wood and cloth sandals on her feet. "II'm the one who got you… hurt."

Collins let his gaze stray up her thick legs, over the bulges of belly and breasts, to her round baby face. "What do you mean?"

"I reported to King Terrin when you went in his room." Lattie shuffled her feet in the dirt. "I didn't know you. I worried… I mean… the king's own room."

"It's all right." Collins reassured, needing to know. "How did you see me?"

"You… you…" Lattie's gaze fell back to her footwear. "You… stroked me. It felt… it felt very nice."

Stroked her? Collins pursed his lips as his mistake became utterly clear. The cat on the window ledge. "It's all right," he repeated. "You had no loyalty to me, and I'm sure the king believes you did right."

Lattie sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a slow, relieved sigh. "Thank you for your forgiveness." Her attention remained on the ground, and she continued to shuffle. "I'm going to switchform soon, and I wondered if you would… if you would…" She seemed incapable of finishing.

Collins smiled, believing he knew the rest. "You want me to pet you some more?"

"You must think me very forward."

"Not at all." Collins wondered what the cats in his world would say if they could talk. "Where I come from, once you choose to own a cat, your lap belongs to them."

Lattie finally met his gaze, her eyes moist with horror. "Own?" she repeated.

Oops. Collins laid blame the only place he dared. "Sorry, I'm new to your language. I meant, if you live with a cat, it gets your lap whenever you make one. Cat hair becomes an accessory and a condiment. When you're not petting them, they're rubbing against you, even if that means lying on your book, marching across the table, or standing in your plate."

Lattie's eyes fairly sparkled, and she asked not quite casually, "Where are you from?"

Collins laughed. "Too far for you to go, I'm afraid. I'm not even sure I'll ever get back there." Not wanting to explain, he returned to the original topic. "Actually, I find petting animals calming, so I'd enjoy it as much as you do."

"Really?" Innocent excitement tinged the word.

"Really," Collins replied, meaning it. He still had a lot of thinking to do, and experience told him he could do so in a calmer state and more clearly with a contented cat purring in his lap.

Lattie circled Collins with a sinuous grace, her earlier nervousness lost. "I know a place. A private place, in case some of the others don't understand. It's got catnip, too."

"Catnip. Hmmm." Collins did not know what to say, as he had no particular affinity for the stuff. In fact, he would not even recognize the growing plant; despite his science background, he had only a passing interest in botany.

Caution tainted Lattie's otherwise excited demeanor. Clearly, Falima had a point about the dubious propriety of petting Barakhain animals.

Collins raised his arm, allowing his sleeve to slide back just far enough to peek at his watch, which read 10:50 a.m. So far, everyone who switched did so on an exact hour, which seemed like an uncanny coincidence until he remembered he had reset his watch by Zylas' switch time. Presumably, Lattie would transform at 11:00, and he refused to take her into his lap until that happened. So far, he had remained faithful to Marlys, though he already planned to break up with her if he ever managed to see her again. Carrie Quinton's behavior suggested he might have a chance with her, and he had no intention of ruining that opportunity to appease a cat.

Lattie led Collins toward the inner gatehouse. Guards stood in the towers, looking over the outer courtyard. The doors were open, allowing free passage between the courtyards. A man led an oxcart through the passageway, the vigorous, young beast effortlessly hauling a load of hay. A sow slept in the pile, two piglets of varying sizes nosing around her. Lattie stepped aside to let them by, then gestured Collins through the gatehouse.

Collins paused, watching the cart creak and rattle toward the castle, not wanting anyone to think he was trying to escape. At Lattie's urging, he continued, looking up as they headed into the outer courtyard. The guards remained at their posts, giving him only a passing glance. He eased out a pentup breath, realizing that the king must consider both courtyards available to the castle staff. More horses and dogs occupied the inner areas, along with guardhouses, stables, and kennels to house them; but they moved freely between the two areas.

Lattie continued walking, leading Collins along a path through the grasslands, past mixed herds of sheep, cows, and goats, to a shaded garden filled with a mixture of flowering plants and covered by a fringed cloth canopy built against one stone wall. Tall thistles stretched into makeshift walls on either side, blocking the garden from general view and making it appear as if it had no safe entrance. Bees buzzed by on their way to and from the flowers, and butterflies flitted in colorful circles through the air.