The Non-Human Society

Chapter 37: Chapter Thirty Six – Vim – Letters. Scents. Heartbeats.

"Lord Vim!" Montclair entered the room quickly with a huff.

Looking up from Amber's letter, I nodded to the panting squirrel. If not for having known him for over a hundred years, I'd have worried something was actually wrong.

"Your guest is taking a bath, sir," Montclair said.

"Cats do like to keep themselves clean," Trixalla said, entering the room from behind him.

Montclair quickly stepped aside for her, and bowed caringly at her as she entered.

"She smelled of blood," I said. Amber's blood.

The thought of it made me angry again, so I did my best to toss the thought aside.

"I shall prepare her room now, Madam," Montclair said eagerly, bowing once more before leaving.

"Thank you Montclair," Trixalla said as he left.

She watched him go for a moment, and once he was down the hall she went to closing the door. Giving us a little more privacy.

"She's a large predator, Vim. One of the great ones," she said as she went to sit.

"A large cat of some kind, yes," I said. The fact she was not just some normal cat, but a true one, was evident by the way the cats around the farm treated her. They were terrified of her.

Going back to finishing Amber's letter, I patiently waited for Trixalla's true purpose in appearing.

I made it half way down the last page before she cleared her throat. Looking away from the letter, to her, I found her giving me a gentle smile.

"What is it?" I asked her. She was looking at me as if I was sitting in her study and acting as if I owned the place.

Granted I was in her chair... and she now sat in what should have been the guest's spot...

"Mork told me what your conversation had been about," she said.

Of course Mork had heard our conversation. Maybe I shouldn't have brought Renn back here before hearing the whole story.

Trying to go back to Amber's letter, I realized I wasn't going to be able to. Not because I couldn't focus enough to read while speaking, but because it wasn't courteous to the one who had wrote it.

It was her last words to me... they were precious, and deserved my entire attention.

Putting the letter down on the small table in front of my chair, I sat back and nodded to let her know it was fine to continue.

"It is a miracle she is still alive Vim," Trixalla said.

"Isn't it? I've become very adept at restraining myself," I said.

Her eyes narrowed at me. "She's a real predator. All those like her die quickly. For their families. For their young. For those they cherish or the land they grew up on," Trixalla said. She said the last bit a little more seriously than the others.

"Hm."

Trixalla sighed, obviously upset that I wasn't taking this conversation as seriously as she wanted me to.

"The fact she didn't pursue those human nobles is a testimony to her personality. She's overcome the limits of her bloodline," Trixallsa said.

"Or her bloodline is simply that thinned out," I countered.

"Does that matter anymore Vim?" she asked.

"To some," I admitted.

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"All the same. What do you plan to do?" Trixalla asked.

"I promised to negotiate for you. I can't do anything until after that," I said. Yesterday an attendant from the noble of Bordu arrived, to confirm that the Lord would visit next week.

"What do you plan to do about her?" she asked with a glare.

"Ah. Then as of now, nothing. You know me well enough to know that if I was going to punish her I'd have done it already," I said.

"I do know you well enough, but it's because I know you that I know you'd withhold your judgment until you knew the full picture. Mork's hearing is second to none, but not even he can hear the written word," Trixalla said as her eyes left me and went to the letters on the small table before me.

"Not ones already written at least," I said, smiling.

Trixalla didn't smile, and instead waited for my real answer.

She was worried the letters would seal the cats doom.

I couldn't blame her for it... but at the same time...

"I'll return to Ruvindale. To confirm that our members are safe," I said after a moment.

"And if they aren't?" she asked.

"Then more blood than Amber's is on her hands, and she must pay for it. Those drops of blood are precious beyond reason," I said.

Trixalla held my gaze for a moment, and I wondered if she'd fight me on this.

"What if I demand she stays here? She'll be safe here. Welcomed. You saw how happy Lomi got upon seeing her," Trixalla said lowly.

"You'd invite a stranger into your family, one who arrived smelling of blood?" I asked her.

"I would."

Looking away from the elderly snake, I wished she hadn't aged so drastically since her youth. She looked old enough now that I felt as if she was older than I. As if she really was my elder.

The fact she wasn't made these moments even more difficult than they should be for me. Sometimes when she spoke I still heard the young girl, doing her best to protect her parents.

"I'll not budge on this Vim. If she really wasn't the cause of Amber's death, nor any others, I'll not let you cast her from our Society. Even if I must endure your anger," she said.

"If everything is fine, so shall she be," I said, agreeing.

"Yet you are upset."

How could I not be?

Amber was dead, and not because she had simply grown old.

I had saved her mother. She had been a saint, and not just in name. One of only a few that throughout all these years had been willing to betray their holy church. One of only a handful that had chosen us over the religion they believed in.

Such allies were more valuable than...

Than what?

Amber hadn't been a saint herself. She could have become one though. Her bloodline allowed it. My plan was to take not her, but her children to the Cathedral. Once there had been enough generations born and lived within our Society. Maybe, if lucky, once a member of that bloodline had blended with one of us.

Yet my schemes never really bore fruit did they? Though one could argue that was because I didn't actually enforce them. I didn't nurture them.

I hoped certain things would happen, but never forced them to. I didn't force Amber to do anything. I didn't force her mother to do anything. I wouldn't have forced her children. I had simply hoped that was what would happen, someday down the line.

"Leave her here. When you return," Trixalla then said.

"No."

If she was the cause or had enabled disaster to poison our Society...

"Vim..." she shook her head, closing her eyes in grief.

"These letters confirm her words. She spoke the truth. Lughes, Crane and Shelldon are fine. Disturbed. Distressed... but fine. They don't blame her for Amber's death, but they do blame Renn for endangering them. Her actions could have possibly put the Sleepy Artist at risk, thus their banishment of her," I explained.

Trixalla breathed a sigh of relief, nodding in thanks for my telling her of the truth.

"As such I doubt I'll find anything different upon arriving there. So you do not need to panic," I said.

"What will you do with her then? If you won't let me keep her here," she asked.

"It's not your choice," I said to her.

Trixalla blinked, and then slowly smiled. "Ah. Yes. You'll let her choose, won't you," she said.

"Freedom," I said plainly.

She nodded, glad to hear it.

"Though she may be the first to be banished from the Sleepy Artist, isn't she?" Trixalla asked gently.

"That I know of." Many had been told to never return, but none had been officially banished. Lughes's letter had three signatures, his, Crane's, and Shelldon's. All confirming it.

"Am I allowed to invite her then?" Trixalla said.

"Obviously," I said.

She nodded, glad to hear it. Though I worried her... gusto will be the cause of Renn choosing not to. Sometimes such enthusiasm had negative effects.

Trixalla looked at the letters again, and I wondered if she'd ask to read them. I'd not allow it, of course, but it would be interesting to know her thoughts about them all the same.

"She'd be safe here, Vim. She'd not have to bare her fangs, thanks to our agreements with the Lords of Bordu. She can fit in with Porka and her family easily, too," Trixalla said.

"You need not sell me the idea, Trixalla," I said.

She hesitated, and then smiled. "I was trying, wasn't I?"

"What does your husband think?" I asked.

"He worries you'll have to take the life of one of our family once again," she said.

Of course he was.

We sat in silence for a moment, and the silence continued as we heard the sound of hurried footsteps.

Trixalla smiled at me as Montclair hurriedly knocked on the door. The knocks sounded odd, as if a child was the one doing them.

"Come on in Montclair," Trixalla allowed him in.

The squirrel happily entered, smiling as he lowered his head in a quick nod. "Lord Vim's guest is about done with her bath. I've come to ask if you'd like one as well, sir," he said.

"Me?" I asked.

He nodded, hopeful.

"Do I stink?" I asked Trixalla, wondering if I did.

"Oh! No sir! You've never smelled of anything, ever!" Montclair hurriedly spoke, his eyes going small as if in worry.

Glancing at Trixalla, she smiled and nodded. "It's true. Mork's made it clear that you neither have a scent, nor make much noise. Only your heartbeat is noticeable sometimes," she said.

I frowned, and wondered what my heartbeat sounded like. Sure I felt it, and heard it on occasion, but nothing like Mork probably did.

"I'm fine Montclair, thank you," I said, deciding to let it be.

"Hm..." he seemed troubled, and I wondered if there was some other reason behind his request. Maybe he had already prepared the bath for me, expecting me to say yes.

"Which room did you give her Montclair?" Trixalla asked.

"The south corner," he said.

"Good. Ask if she's hungry, and then let her sleep. She's undoubtedly exhausted," Trixalla said.

"Of course," he nodded. I could tell by the way he didn't rush out right away that he had most likely already begun preparing a meal for Renn.

"How come I never get a nice room?" I asked.

Montclair's pudgy cheeks became more normal, shrinking in as his eyes went a little wide.

"Because a bed is wasted upon you," Trixalla said.

"That's true," I admitted.

Montclair relaxed a little, but didn't say anything.

"Don't let him tease you Montclair, he likes his room," Trixalla said.

"I do," I admitted again.

The squirrel visibly relaxed, becoming more comfortable.

"I do have a favor to ask of you, however," I said, before the squirrel could escape.

He stood up straighter, which somehow made him seem even shorter. "Yes sir?"

"The cat, Renn. I need you to let me know if she tries to leave," I said.

"Leave sir?"

"He means if she tries to run away in the middle of the night," Trixalla said.

"Ah! I see..." Montclair went into thought as he pondered my request.

"Just keep an eye on her for me, please. An extra set would be helpful," I said.

"Of course sir. I'll do so! I will!" he nodded quickly, and hurried out of the room... probably to do just that.

"Hopefully she isn't too observant or it'll unsettle her," Trixalla said.

"She probably is. But that's the cost of her actions," I said.

"Would you stop her? If she did try to leave?" she asked.

"Would you?"

She nodded.

"Then hopefully if she does, it's you that notices and not me," I said simply.

Trixalla's expression grew worried... and then degraded into sorrow. "You're our protector Vim, but sometimes I wish you weren't," she said.

"I know," I said, and reached over to grab the letters. To return to my task. I wanted to finish them before Renn appeared before me again. Although she had been exhausted, since she hadn't slept once this last week... there was a chance after her bath, and some food, she'd come and find me.

I needed to read the rest of the letters before she stood before me again.

Before I found myself hating the woman who was so desperate for forgiveness.

With letters in hand, I sat back and went to sorting them. Somehow a few of the pages had gotten mixed up.

Trixalla understood my meaning, and stood from her chair. Without a word she left the room, but left the door open... as if she wanted to imply I too needed to leave the room. Or maybe, she had left it open out of kindness to the woman who might soon be searching for me.

Choosing to start Amber's letter from the beginning again, I read her first sentence.

"Mother loved you until she died," Amber started.

"I know," I whispered.

I know.