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Cat's Eyes Ch.1 1/5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Cat's-eyes
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© 1994 Tenebra
Part 1.
It's an interesting city, Corelis is, I'll give it that. Never seems to
be time to get bored around here, as one of my old tracking-partners
said once. Me, I say there's never enough time to have a peaceful cup
of ale and a sound night's sleep.
What makes Corelis so different is that it's a port city. People of
countless lands and countless races turn up here. It's not at all an
ill place for one human guide to linger and wait for a job.
Or to find a tavern and stop for a swallow or three of ale. Not the
finest of taverns, certainly, but the drinks are less watered than
some I've endured, and the minstrel at the hearth has some degree of
skill, at least. Nor is it overly crowded, a few mercenaries, other
guides like me, a stray whore or two. One of the guides I've seen
around before, he's handsome enough, I wonder if he's any use in bed.
Or, for that matter, if he has any interest in women. I settle down
to enjoy my ale and the view and my musings, and consider speaking to
the good-looking dark one in the far corner.
I've barely managed the second mouthful before I hear the chaos outside.
"Catch him! The little bastard's a thief! Damned mhaurri...."
Someone darts into the tavern, someone small and quick. He or she
pauses for a heartbeat, scanning the room, not even long enough for
anyone else to take notice, before diving under a table near the wall
and effectively disappearing.
Close behind comes a man, a merchant to judge by the wealth of his
clothes, and two fighters who are probably his. They look around the
room, scowling such similar expressions that I almost laugh. So-ho, a
little thief has managed to sting one of Corelis' merchant-lords, hm? I
have no love for them, arrogant haughty fools for the most part.
One of the guards notices me noticing them, from my corner table, and
snaps, "Did a thief come in here?"
"No one's come in here since me." And I've obviously been here more
than a few seconds. They have no reason to believe me, I know, but
their kind tend to be quite sure no one would *dare* lie to them.
They glare around suspiciously a little longer, then leave, plainly
feeling some loss of pride for having let a thief escape. The merchant
is, anyway, because he's berating his guards as incompetents.
Stillness, then the thief wriggles out from under the table,
straightens, and comes straight to me.
"You lied, you knew I was therrre. Thank you." A soft tenor voice, a
slightly odd accent, and that 'r' sound is a strange sort of trill.
The thief is wearing all dusty black, dirty gray -- simple tunic and
breeches and a hooded cloak that only reaches knee-length. From under
the hood the most startling eyes gaze up at me -- feline, slanted and
slit-pupilled and green with more than a hint of gold. Mhaurri, they'd
been screaming. Well, they'd gotten that part right, at least. Male
or female? No way to tell, really, mhaurri are all short and mostly
very slender. This one may be a little over five feet, but not much
more, and has a typical mhaurri build. Tawny hair, deep gold with a
hint of red to it, falls long and loose on both sides of a face I could
almost call elven, save that it is dominated by those fascinating eyes.
No way to reliably tell age, either, but he or she *looks* like a human
of sixteen or so.
I shrug, and answer. "I won't pass up the chance to let one of those
pompous fools with their noses in the air stumble a bit."
A mischievous grin crosses that all-too-attractive face. "He was not
pleased with Amberr. He saw me and prromised silverr forr me to mate
with him." The grin widened. "He did not know that Amberr be *male*
mhaurri, not female. He did not like that."
I can't help but laugh. Oh, there are a few merchant-lords, and others
for that matter, who call same-sex pleasure unclean. The image of
one-such finding out that the pretty feline 'girl' he'd hired wasn't a
girl at all....
"That deserves a drink. On me."
He -- Amber? -- slid gracefully into the seat across from me. A whore?
They're common enough here, both sexes. Maybe, but I wouldn't lay money
on it. "My thanks again. What name calls you?"
"Kiriel."
The bar-wench makes an appearance, waits expectantly. Amber thinks for
a moment, looks at me, and says, "Mulled wine?" in such a wistful tone
that even though it costs a bit more I haven't the heart to say no. I
nod, and the wench flounces off to her work.
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End of Part 1.
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