Page 73 of Blacktail

“Banished…but did not kill?” asked Blacktail. “That doesn’t sound like the Old Kitty Mother I know. She’s got a short temper, that one.”

“No,” said Slighen. He gazed levelly at Blacktail. “It’s very unusual, to defy the Old Kitty Mother and live to tell of it. Everyone knows that.”

“Mm-hmm.” Blacktail swished his tail meditatively. “Tell me, Slighen, why do you think that is?”

“We do not know, lord,” said Slighen, “Perhaps the Old Kitty Mother was otherwise occupied. Perhaps she is biding her time. Or perhaps…”—Slighen glanced at the sky fearfully, then the water, and finally the earth—“perhaps she feared that she could not.”

“Is this witch—What did you say her name was?”

“She is called Larkspur, lord.”

“Yes, Larkspur. Is she so strong, then?”

“Terribly strong, lord.”

“How do you know this? I am not doubting you, you understand. I am only curious.”

This time Asah answered him. “You have tasted the inner flesh that is diseased, yes? When the liver is spotted with white and gray? When the brain inside is warted and foul? When each mouthful tastes of madness and rot?”

“Ah,” Blacktail said. “Yes, I know this thing. Where the waters are fouled, you see it often.” He paused for a moment, considering. “The witch did this to someone?”

“No, no. Quite the opposite,” said Slighen. “But that, I think, is even worse. At least from our point of view. It is easier to sicken than to heal. Before Larkspur came to this place, Mercy stank of sickness. Her insides had begun to rot. All who smelled her knew that she would die soon. We who are still of the hunt rejoiced, knowing that her blasphemy would die with her, and the order of things would be restored.”

“What happened?”

Slighen shrugged. “Larkspur happened. When she came here she was as fanatic as any of Old Kitty Mother’s coven. I had hoped that she might be an assassin. Perhaps she even was, at first. I don’t know what that pack of maniacs told her, what she saw, but it must have been quite convincing. Before the first cycle of the moon had come and gone, Larkspur renounced the old ways. She threw in with Mercy.”

“Mrrr,” Blacktail said. “She will be damned for that. She must know this. But…you say she cured Mercy of her sickness?”

“Cured and more,” said Slighen. “Lady Mercy is very old, you see, and very fond of booze.”

“Eh?”

“Oh, sorry—I forgot you’re not from around here. The boo—The waters-of-madness are a magic of the two-legs. It’s sort of like catnip.”

“Ah. Yes. I know this thing.”

“Slighen, you recall the acorns,” added Asah.

“Right, those as well. Just as men have waters-of-madness that bring singing and stumbling, so too do they have acorns that bring sleep, and smokes that pull the spirit into strange shapes. Lady Mercy is fond of all these, and more than fond. Even without her disease, by rights she should have been dead long since. But her scent is as healthy as that of a young cub.”

“That is the cat’s handiwork?” Blacktail asked.

“It is. They are all of a pack, you see. Just as Lady Mercy protects them against the perils of man, they save her from the forest…and, I suppose, from herself.”

“Please to you, Lord Hunter,” said Asah. “You might walk on, this night. You might pass over this hunt. In this world, there is much room. Room for many things. Perhaps even room for Mercy.”

Blacktail made no answer to this. He turned and padded back up the way he had come.

iv

Blacktail paused in the underbrush well outside the boundary of illumination cast by Mercy’s den. No, he thought. Not den, but House. This is House. This far south, House dotted every hill and plain. He had not stood so close to one since the night of Renren’s murder. He studied the sharp, unnatural walls of red stone and wood, the lights, and his lip curled back over his front teeth. His stomach churned.

In the clearing the cult of Mercy sat waiting. Their nostrils flared. Their eyes flashed, bright and watchful. They have awakened what fury they can find in themselves. He almost pitied them. The Great Dane was the only one tall enough to rise above his knee. They can’t seriously think to stand against me?

Nonetheless, the fact that they tried at all told him a lot about their mood. He was mindful of the warnings Asah and Slighen had given. Perhaps I’ll hunker down a moment. Take the scent of things. He moved in a bit closer, careful not to crack any branches or rustle dry leaves. House had many openings through which the inside lights spilled out. Milo sat in the puddle of light these cast upon the small clearing in front of House, together with two dogs and a cat. Blacktail recognized the Great Dane and the cat from their earlier meeting. He hadn’t seen the other dog last time. The rest of the pack waited inside of House, watching from the doorway and windowsills.

This time he gave the cat a closer look. It was hard to say precisely what, but something about her—perhaps the matted fur, or the glazed and unblinking eyes—reminded him of the Old Kitty Mother. That one is Larkspur, he thought. The witch.