Page 103 of Blacktail

“An act of god?”

She blinked. “You know, Chester, you are not half the fool I took you for.”

Someone in the pack growled at that. Neither of them paid it any attention.

“Tell me, Chester,” the Old Kitty Mother said, “what was the proudest moment of your life?”

He called me “hunter,” the king remembered, but did not say. “It was when I was with him. When I was of his pack.”

“Yes. I thought as much.”

He only looked at her, waiting.

She sighed. “I apologize, Chester. Truly. I mean you no disrespect. I am old, and most of this life has been spent in the study of crafts that would be of little use in your hunt. Any hunt, really.” She paused, thinking of how best to phrase herself. “What I mean to say is that it is not wrong of you to miss your friend. The fierce times and the gentle ones draw strength from one another. That is his design. I don’t think he would mind that you think of him, that you miss him. I don’t think he would mind at all.”

“You misunderstand,” the king said. “I don’t miss him. Not anymore.”

“Oh?” said the Old Kitty Mother.

“He came to me in the night.”

She regarded him a long time, taking his deepest measure. When she spoke again, all the mockery had left her voice. “Call back your guards. I will listen to what you have to say. I will listen most attentively.”

The king bared a tooth. The dogs surrounding her drew back.

“In my dream the Forest God stood in his rage before a great gate—”

“Gate?” the Old Kitty Mother asked. “Was this a thing of the two-legs?”

“No. Not them. This was not a place made by men.”

“Was there an eye in the gate?” she asked, thinking of her own time at the gates of hell. “Was it dark there, and slow? Did…were there voices? Screams?”

“No. It was bright enough. There was no eye.”

“Very well,” she said. Not hell, then. Perhaps the fortress of the two-legs’ god? Heaven? “Continue. I will interrupt no more.”

“All the armies of heaven stood arrayed against him,” Chester said, “multitudes beyond any counting. The great choirs of angels circled in the sky overhead; ophanim and seraphim and the cherubim in their fours. On the field below the three spheres of heaven surrounded him, thrones and dominions, virtues and powers. Directly before him stood the Archangel Michael, who once bested Lucifer, making himself ready for war.”

“I have heard those names before,” the Old Kitty Mother asked. “But I am surprised that you have. How do you know them?”

“I—” Chester began. He stopped, tilted his head to one side, blinked. “I’m not sure.”

“Never mind,” said the Old Kitty Mother. “It is only a small thing—irrelevant in any case. Please continue.”

“Blacktail spoke then, saying, ‘Where is the one called Sariel of the Moon?’ No one answered, but there was a stirring in the distance, as if many heads had turned at once.

“Then Blacktail said, ‘Send him forward.’

“For a long moment nothing happened. I thought that they might defy him. But then the one called Michael inclined his head. Sariel came forth then. His knees seemed not quite strong enough to support him as he walked, and when he stood before Blacktail, his armor clattered and clinked with his trembling.” Chester, who had fought many hopeless battles but never trembled, said this with no small measure of contempt.

“Blacktail walked to Sariel and sniffed him up and down. A hush fell over the field, and the sky was still enough to hear a beating heart. ‘I do not know you,’ Blacktail said finally.

“ ‘I—’ began Sariel.

“Blacktail barked with great fury, saying once again, ‘I do not know you.’ The sound of his voice was very terrible. Hearing this, the angels nearest him fell to their knees. Others rushed to help them. A murmur flowed over the throngs.

“ ‘Silence!’ Blacktail advanced upon Sariel, who knelt now in the dirt. Blood flowed from the moon angel’s eyes, his ears. His fine robes were soiled, stained with red. ‘I do not know you,’ he repeated, softer this time. ‘You do not serve me. Yet when my eye fell closed, you took it upon yourself to strike at those whom I do know, those who served me faithfully and were true.’ His muzzle was only a whisker’s length from Sariel’s nose. ‘Do you think yourself so great as that?’