Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [94]
Languorously indifferent, Ahlitah turned his head to scrutinize the wavering speaker. “I despise you, you know.”
“I—I’m sorry, great maned one. What have I done to so offend you?”
“Nothing.” The cat returned to the last of its chomping. “I despise the other two as well. I despise all humans. You are weak, and unattractive, and conflicted within. Not only that, the most robust of your males can make love only a few times a day.” He sniffed contemptuously through his whiskers. “Whereas the lion in me can—”
“Hoy, hoy,” Simna interrupted, “enough! We’ve heard all that boasting. But can you make a sword, or tie a fishing line?”
Supercilious brows aimed at the swordsman. Thick black lips drew back to reveal gleaming teeth, and claws longer than a man’s fingers sprang from their place of concealment within a massive forepaw. Alarmed, the timorous Knucker drew back.
“Here are my swords,” the litah growled, “and here my fishing line.”
“Stop it, you two.” When he wanted to, Ehomba could growl smartly himself. “It is time to go.”
“Hoy,” the swordsman agreed. “Let’s be away from here while my belly’s still full and my temperament under control.” He started toward the door.
Rising from his corner, Ahlitah padded after him, brushing against the apprehensive Knucker without so much as glancing in the little man’s direction. As he passed Ehomba, however, the ebon hulk snarled softly.
“One day I will have to kill that insufferable windbag. Then I will butcher him like a fat young kudu and eat him, starting with his tongue.”
“That is between you and Simna.” Ehomba was blissfully indifferent. “But mindful of your promise to me, you will not do so until I have finished what I have come all this way to accomplish.”
The great maned head turned to face the herdsman. So close were they that Ehomba could feel the litah’s breath on his skin. It was pungent with the bone of dead ox. “You are more fortunate than you know, man, that among cats the code of honor is stronger than it is among humans.”
Ehomba nodded his head ever so slightly. “I envy your character as much as your staying power.”
The litah grunted its satisfaction. “At least you, Etjole Ehomba, recognize that which is greater than you, and respect that which you yourself cannot achieve.”
“Oh, I did not mean that,” the tall southerner responded frankly. “By staying power, I meant your determination to remain with me.” So saying, he followed the swordsman out the open door.
Ahlitah hesitated, pondering hard on the herdsman’s words. Left behind, the little man looked on curiously. He had seen many things, but never before had he seen a cat pondering hard. Then the big carnivore emitted a series of short, pithy yowls, which, if Knucker had not known better, he might well have mistaken for laughter.
XV
The Parable of the Glass Golem
The four strangers paused to watch the ransacking of the house. Several soldiers broke away from their work to report the presence of the large black carnivore among the group of onlookers, but when neither it nor its presumed masters showed any sign of interfering, Proctor Cuween Bisgrath ordered them back to work.
They were an odd bunch, he decided as he studied them from his seat on the back of Rune, his favorite horse. Three men of radically different size, aspect, and color traveling in the company of the biggest and most peculiar-looking feline he had ever seen. Idly, he wondered if they would be worth interrogating, perhaps with an eye toward charging them a “fine” for traveling through Bondressey without a permit. No permits were necessary, but it was very likely they did not know that, and would pay to avoid trouble.
Contrarily, the wealthiest of them looked unconscionably poor, and it might not be worth his time to try to extract from them what few coins they might have in their possession. Furthermore, if the great predator accompanying them proved high-strung, he might lose a man or two in the process of making an arrest, and with little or no gain to hope for in return.
No, better to let