Imorelda had gone uncharacteristically silent and still in his lap.
Apparently put at ease by Tae’s gesture, Matrinka continued, “I always just secretly hoped the magical bond between us would extend her life as long as mine.” She kept her gaze locked on Imorelda, surely alert to any signs of discomfort.
Imorelda remained in place, but her lengthy quiet, particularly when the conversation revolved around her, told Tae the words did affect her. He did not reveal his knowledge to Matrinka, however. If she thought she was causing Imorelda any distress, she would stop speaking; and Tae wanted Imorelda to hear the information from someone other than himself, someone she trusted. He knew Imorelda loved him, but she also knew he would not hesitate to lie if the situation warranted it.
Matrinka added swiftly, clearly as comfort, “She lived at least twice the lifespan of any cat I know of, so it did seem to have some effect.” She reached cautiously toward Imorelda. “And Imorelda looks absolutely beautiful, as always. You’d never know she’s almost eighteen.”
Tae had to say it. “Already older than most cats ever live.”
Matrinka cringed, but nodded. She stretched out a cautious hand to lay it on Imorelda’s back.
Imorelda nearly spit. *So, I’m not a kitten anymore. I’m no crone, either. I’m in my prime.*
Matrinka snapped back her hand, though Imorelda made no attempt to scratch or bite, misinterpreting the cat’s abrupt movement. “She’s still mad at me?”
“No.” Tae stroked Imorelda, though she seemed not to notice. She stood stiffly in his lap, her fur bristling. “She thinks we’re calling her a withered old hag.”
Imorelda whirled on Tae, eyes flashing. *I never said “withered”.*
Tae deliberately ignored her. “She thinks she’s too old to make babies.”
*That’s a lie!* Imorelda fluffed her silver fur and arched her back. *I never said that! Tell her you’re just lying!*
Tae considered it payback. When he had sprawled on the beach too weak to speak, he had tried to convey his dying words to Matrinka. Imorelda had deliberately twisted his wishes, making it impossible for him to die without assuring their defeat in the war. *You tell her.*
*I will.* Imorelda stepped gingerly from Tae’s lap to flop onto Matrinka’s. *I can too have babies. I just don’t like them.*
A brief silence followed as Imorelda turned her complaints on Matrinka.
Apparently wanting to draw Tae into the full conversation, Matrinka responded aloud. “I promise I’ll help you in every way possible.” She ran her hands along Imorelda, scratching the places cats love best. “You won’t have to do this alone.” She put her face right up to Imorelda’s ear, speaking softly, encouragingly. “Mior knew you would have her gift; that’s why she gave you to Tae. If you have a kitten like you, will you . . .” Her words turned into a silent breath. Then, abruptly, she grinned. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Imorelda.” Matrinka hugged the cat, burying her face in the soft, stripy fur.
“She said ‘okay’?” Tae guessed.
Matrinka laughed, “Not exactly.” She lifted one eye over the cat, as if worried she might betray a confidence. Tae could hear Imorelda purring ever so slightly. “She said something like she certainly wouldn’t trust anything precious and impressionable to you.”
Tae said sarcastically, “How sweet.”
*I actually said I wouldn’t trust anything of any value to a sorry excuse for a human like you. You’re not even worth the skin you’re printed on.* The tabby rubbed against Matrinka’s cheek. *Why does she always have to add sugar to everything?*
*Because she’s that rare person who really is nice and kind all the time. She’s practically made of sugar.*
*Poor kitten.*
Tae did not point out the obvious irony. Just a few moments ago, Imorelda had stated her avowed hatred for all things kitten.
*Mior adored her. I think if she had had any idea of her own mortality, or that it would take you eighteen years to agree to start a family, she would have given you to Matrinka instead of me.*
*Gods save me.*
Tae knew Imorelda did not mean it, that she reserved insults for those she cared for the most. He suspected she would have turned out much differently, probably much better, had Matrinka raised her. However, Tae had a feeling that raising two opinionated, communicating cats simultaneously would drive any human crazy, and Mior had known that when she gave Imorelda to Tae instead. She had also known he would have the capacity to form a bond with her, an ability few humans shared. As far as he knew, only he and Matrinka among the humans on the continent could do so.
Matrinka released Imorelda, who butted her hand for more petting. “She’s telling me her conditions.”
Tae nodded. Now that Imorelda had something Matrinka desperately wanted, she would use it to her advantage.
“She insists I castrate all the male cats in the palace except the one she chooses, then cast them all out of the castle.” Matrinka went quiet for a few moments to commune with the cat before explaining aloud, “Then she wants me to work with the elves to find a way to permanently sterilize the females and send them out as well.” Matrinka’s brow furrowed, and she went silent again, her attention fixed on Imorelda.
Tae waited patiently. A scrawny, black-and-white tom crept closer, tale waving. Clearly, it wanted attention but was wary of Imorelda. Tae wriggled his fingers toward it, and it approached to investigate.
Matrinka spoke again, as if she had never paused. “I’m worried about cats raised in a castle surviving outside. Imorelda believes they’ll do fine but gave me permission to build two large containment areas, one for males and one for females. She’s promised to help me find all the cats.”
Tae ran a hand along the young tom, and it snuggled against his leg. “How do you feel about Imorelda’s demands?”
Matrinka sighed. “I love having them around, of course; but she’s right. It’s not fair to Griff or the servants.” She lowered her head, still stroking Imorelda. “I’ve been selfish, Tae. I’ve always hoped that if I keep breeding Mior’s offspring, eventually another Mior or Imorelda will emerge. Clearly, that’s not going to happen by random chance. Imorelda’s my only hope.”
Tae pursed his lips, uncertain what to say. He wanted to comfort Matrinka, to promise her that everything would work out in the end. To do so, however, would be a lie she did not deserve. Matrinka hoped that whatever allowed Mior and Imorelda to communicate was passed like the bardic curse, in some fashion from parent to child; but they had no real proof that this was so. Matrinka’s grandfather, King Kohleran, had discovered Mior as a grimy kitten in a sewage ditch. No one knew her origin and, as far as they knew, no previous cat had ever displayed her intelligence or talent.
“Of course, Imorelda has every right to pick the father of her children. She’s asked for nothing unreasonable.”
Yet. Tae gave Imorelda a stern look that she pretended not to see, becoming suddenly engrossed in cleaning a hind leg. “Imorelda knows better than to take advantage of a friend.” He emphasized the last word. “Especially one who saved the life of her master.”
*Companion,* Imorelda corrected without losing a beat in her cleaning.
“Companion,” Matrinka said nearly simultaneously.
Tae thought he saw a catty smile behind Imorelda’s busy tongue.
“And it’s not as though you’ve never saved my life.” Matrinka patted Tae’s knee. “When we traveled together, I seem to remember some hairy encounters that would have ended badly for me if not for my competent companions, including you. I was the only one of us who had no ability with weapons.”
Tae did not bother to mention that many of those dangerous clashes would never have occurred if not for him. He had initially joined Matrinka and her friends because he needed help battling his father’s enemies, deadly men with a penchant for murder and a mission to d
estroy him. Matrinka’s sojourn into memory brought him back to the real reason he had wanted to speak with her alone. “Matrinka, do you think we’re too old for adventure now?”
The look Matrinka gave him was measured. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
Tae sighed. There was no easy way to broach the subject. “I’m supposed to start teaching spies the language of our enemies, but I know of only one other person who can actually learn it.”
As Imorelda finished her bath, Matrinka went back to stroking her. “Who?”
“You.”
Matrinka’s hands stilled. “Me?” She frowned in deep consideration. “I’m not bad with languages, but I’m certainly no . . . you.”
Tae flexed a hand in dismissal, nearly waking the tom who lay against his leg, purring steadily. The cat opened one eye, yawned, and stretched out for more access. Tae had never met anyone who picked up languages as swiftly and thoroughly as himself. Surrounded by his father’s associates since birth, he had assimilated their many dialects and tongues. As a toddler, Tae had overheard and interpreted conversations for Weile Kahn. People spoke freely in front of the very young, who could also squeeze into small spaces unseen. “There’s an important component to the alsona’s language that I haven’t told anyone yet.”
Matrinka caught on quickly. “It’s similar to what we share with Imorelda, isn’t it?”
Tae nodded.
“Like the elves’ khohlar?”
“Not exactly.” Tae considered the differences and how to put them into plain words. “As I understand it, khohlar has two forms. In the first, anyone within a certain range ‘hears’ the communication. It doesn’t matter if the listeners are elfin, god, human, or animal. The second form can be directed at any individual, and only that one receiver ‘hears’ the khohlar.”
Matrinka continued stroking Imorelda, though shed silver hairs now covered her dress and blanket.
Tae tried not to think too specifically of his encounters with the alsona and their language. None of them had turned out well for him. “The alsona and the Kjempemagiska have a common language: spoken, written, and mental. They have absolutely no experience with other languages or dialects. Their brains are so hardwired for a single tongue they have no concept whatsoever of linguistic differences. No slang. No local color. No intermingling or mangling of other culture’s words.”
Tae paused to give the concept time to sink in. It had taken him a long time to puzzle out the situation. The imprisoned alsona had actually believed the peoples of the continent were animals because they could not “speak” in any manner the alsona recognized as language. That allowed them to behave more ruthlessly than most people on the continent could comprehend.
Matrinka nodded thoughtfully. “Can they also choose whether to send their . . . mind-words to all or only one? Like the elves?”
Tae had the experience to answer. “When they want to converse in private, they have to use spoken language. Their mind-speech invariably goes to everyone who can receive it, that is, all alsona and Kjempemagiska within a certain distance. Without Imorelda’s help, I can’t ‘hear’ it; and, as far as I can tell, neither can anyone else who is not one of them. Apparently, that’s another reason they consider us animals.”
Matrinka nodded thoughtfully. “That explains something I heard some of the soldiers saying.”
Lying on his deathbed through most of the war, Tae had never set foot on the actual battlefield. “What’s that?”
“They said the pirates worked together extremely well, without needing to shout at one another. I heard someone suggest that acting unpredictably might foil them, since they clearly choreographed their battle plans.”
“It didn’t work, did it?”
Matrinka took her hands from Imorelda long enough to make an uncertain gesture. “You would know better than me.” She had watched most of the war from the safety of the castle tower. “What does the pirate mind-language . . .” She groped for the proper word, “. . . feel like?”
“A lot like khohlar and our communication with Imorelda. The words get thrust into your mind, often with lots of surrounding emotion, impressions, and visuals that helped me decode their spoken language a lot more quickly.”
Matrinka seemed deep in thought as she continued to stroke Imorelda absently. Finally, she asked, “If we can’t hear it, how did you discover this mind-tongue?”
Tae sighed. He had difficulty explaining the concept, even to himself. “Remember how Imorelda discovered she could communicate with you on a different . . . mind-hearing level?”
Matrinka smiled and nodded. “One of the happiest moments of my life.”
“It’s like that. Apparently, all alsona and Kjempemagiska mindspeak on the same level. Imorelda discovered it shortly after she found your mind-hearing level and realized it was different from mine.”
*Clever cat,* Imorelda inserted.
“Clever cat that she is.” Tae worked in Imorelda’s point, knowing he would find no peace until he did. “I can only hear and communicate with them when she carries my mind to their level.”
“So . . .” Matrinka licked her lips, her hands stilling on the cat. “. . . it might be possible . . . for Imorelda to hook us together? With her help, we might be able to talk to each other . . . without talking?” She looked at Imorelda. “Would you try that for us?”
Tae waited for Imorelda’s complaints. Instead, a touch of foreign curiosity entered his head, followed by Imorelda’s full and silent presence.
*It’s probably easiest to take me to her, since I’ve made mind-level trips before.*
The curiosity warped to disdain as Imorelda made it clear Tae had stated something so obvious that remarking on it would only make them both look stupid. The connection itself took effort, so Imorelda would not be able to speak to either of them while she made the attempt.
“Say something in your mind,” Tae suggested.
Nothing happened.
Tae closed his eyes, concentrating, focused.
A faint flicker of excitement touched him, then a hopeful, tremulous, *Hello?*
*Hello!* Tae sent back with such vigor it had to seem like a shout.
*I can hear you!* Then, Matrinka spoke aloud, “It works. Tae, Imorelda, it works!”
*You can just think that,* Tae reminded Matrinka.
*It works!*
*Apparently.* Though fascinated, Tae had enough experience not to share Matrinka’s runaway excitement. *Nice work, Imorelda.*
Matrinka’s exhilaration disappeared from Tae’s thoughts, replaced by Imorelda’s voice, *Can I stop now?*
*You already did.* He turned his attention to Matrinka. “She’s dropped the connection. I can’t hear you anymore.”
“I said, ‘That’s amazing!’”
“It is amazing.” Tae grinned at Imorelda.
The black-and-white tom rolled to his feet, butting Tae’s hand, then rubbing his slender body across it.
“Do you think,” Matrinka started carefully, “that maybe everyone has a voice level? Perhaps it’s only because we found ours that we could talk to Mior and, now, Imorelda.”
Tae had considered many possibilities. “I’ve asked Imorelda to try to communicate with other people, but she’s had no luck with anyone else from our continent.”
Matrinka shifted her legs onto the bed, forcing Imorelda to move. “Do you suppose it’s possible that, if we found the right levels, every cat could talk to every human?”
Imorelda got up delicately, yawned, stretched, and headed for Tae. *Other cats aren’t like me. They’re stupid.*
Imorelda doesn’t mince words. Tae relayed the thought to Matrinka. “Imorelda believes she’s unique.”
The answer came nearly simultaneously again: *I am,* from Imorelda and “She is,” from Matrinka.
Tae chuckled. “Well, yes. Every cat is spec
ial. I mean Imorelda believes she’s the only one who can speak with humans.”
*They’re stupid,* Imorelda repeated. *They can’t put words together or ponder the universes. Comparing them to me is like comparing you to Ivana.*
Tae understood but still knew Matrinka did not like the word “stupid” applied to anyone. “She thinks her ability has more to do with intelligence than . . .” Than what? To what does Matrinka attribute this communication?
“Magic?” Matrinka guessed.
“All right.” It was as good an explanation as any, though not terribly useful for speculation. “It’s pretty obvious most cats really don’t understand more than a few words of our language. And while they obviously have ways of communicating with one another . . .”
Imorelda hissed at the tomcat snuggled against Tae, growling deep in her throat. The tom returned a higher-pitched growl, then clearly decided he was not up to the challenge. He sprang from the bed and darted beneath it, tail twitching wildly. Immediately calm again, Imorelda placed her front paws into Tae’s lap and started kneading.
“. . . it’s not nearly as sophisticated.”
Matrinka smiled as Imorelda and the black-and-white tom played out Tae’s point. “But it’s possible all humans could speak with their minds, if we could only find their . . . their voice level.” She used Tae’s awkward terminology.
Tae and Imorelda had already discussed this. “Possible. But I think there’s more to it than that. I think a whole combination of features come into play, some innate and some learned. For example, I learned to speak with Mior by first knowing about and believing in your ability to do it. You didn’t need convincing because you were a child who still believed in magic.”
Matrinka looked stunned. “Magic is real. You’ve witnessed it.”
“Obviously. But prior to the Ragnarok, before the elves came here, we had no magic and few people believed in it. The Cardinal Wizards lived centuries ago. Most considered them legendary creatures, their stories exaggerated to make a point. Even the Kjempemagiska, who watched us for decades, didn’t think we had any magic.”
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