Page 75 of Blacktail

“Call it courage rather than faith if you like,” the cat shot back. “They are one and the same. Do you know anything of courage, friend Sarge?”

“I know that it won’t be hard to find courage on that windowsill where you’ll be sitting when I’m—”

“Enough!” Milo barked. “Recall that we are all of a single pack, please. If both of you are still alive tomorrow morning you can bicker then.”

“As you say, Holiness,” the cat purred.

“Sir, yes sir!” said Sarge.

Milo glared for a moment to make sure they knew he meant it. “Larkspur, continue your lesson. If you see so much, why not just tell us what we must do?”

“It is not so simple as that,” answered Larkspur. “And why would it be? God wishes that we all be amused, and no one enjoys an easy riddle. There are many pasts, many futures. Some things are inevitable—on the day of the next full moon there will be a storm, and a nearby tree will be felled by lighting. But which tree? All of them, or only one of them, or many, or most, or none. Seeing too much is the same as seeing nothing.”

“Then what use are you?” rumbled Sarge.

“Perhaps none,” answered the cat, unperturbed. “When I look forward, I see many things. The wolf Blacktail will soon be dead, that much I know. Of that much I am certain. One way or another he is not long for this world.” The cat purred, amused by some private joke. “What matters—the only thing in all the world that truly matters now—is what he sees before he dies. The Old Kitty Mother was right. Something now stirs that has slept long and long.”

“I still don’t see why we didn’t just let him go on his way,” Sarge said.

“Eh? I’ve told you. That’s one of the few things that is clear. One way or another, this wolf’s journey will soon be at an end. Doing nothing is the same as condemning Mercy to death. We must act.” She examined her paw, licked it. “But…I will admit that exactly what to do remains a difficult question.”

The beagle’s voice came from the porch, surprising them all. “Why don’t we just tell him how much we love her?” he asked, trotting out to join the other four. The accent of his speech was exotic to Blacktail’s ear, musical. “Tell him how much she loves us?”

Sarge barked curt laughter. Larkspur gave a patronizing meow.

Milo glared at them, irritated. “Once that might have worked,” he said gently. “But love died in this one long ago. Now all that’s left in him is judgment.” He kissed the beagle gently on the top of the head. “Go stand guard at the back entrance, little fellow. We’ll need you to sound the alarm if he tries to sneak up on us.”

“But—”

“Run along now,” Milo said again. The beagle slunk away into House, tail low and unhappy.

What the cat said next was lost in the breeze.

“Well, I suppose we’ll know soon enough,” Milo replied.

Sarge barked out a nervous laugh.

“That’s all very well,” Milo said, “but it still doesn’t tell us what to do. Sarge, you are our tooth and claw. Can you hold him off?”

There was a long pause before the big dog spoke. “I don’t know. I’ve not seen the like of that one before. He’s not—” The dog hesitated. “I’ll give him a go, Holiness. I can promise nothing.”

“Is there anything”—the next part was lost in a rustle of leaves—“do?”

“If she’s to have any chance at all, we’ll need to stick to the plan,” said Sarge. “Try not to think so much, Holiness. Battle is always like this. You have done what you can. What matters now is that we shelter her from this thing…as best we are able, anyway. Just as she once gave shelter to us. As Larkspur says, this is a matter of faith.” He looked at Milo. “It’s not only our lives, or even hers. Hell is a real thing. Tonight our souls are at stake.”

A different cat’s voice came from inside House. “And if we fail…?”

Sarge turned, glaring. He might have answered, but Blacktail had heard enough. He pushed through the bush in front of him, making no effort to be silent. The dry branches popped as he moved, the sound like a thunderclap in the stillness of the clearing.

“He’s here!” The beagle’s bark rang out from the open doorway of House. “He’s here, he’s here, he’s here!”

v

Blacktail slipped from the underbrush, fur high, and faced them. Despite his size, Sarge was lean, muscular. The fur of his back was up. When he faced Blacktail, his eyes did not waver. They glared at each other across the clearing.

“Who is this that violates the empire of Mercy?” Sarge growled. “Go, stranger. You are not welcome here.”

“I am called Blacktail, as I believe you are aware. If you know that much, you also know I don’t take orders from slave dogs.”