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I fell in love with that damn cat the second he walked in the door.

The door has little chimes on it, so if I'm in the back and there's nobody else out front to greet, I know when someone opens it. It's a simple little setup, just a hanging bell that rings when a little piece of metal on the top of the door hits it. But I've never had a better anti-theft device. Most would-be thieves hear the bells and scamper, thinking, I suppose, that someone has heard them. Which would be true.

When they rang this time I called out just a second and put a worn piece of string in the book I was reading, closed the old thing and set it carefully on the edge of the table. There was a curtain hanging in the doorway separating the front of the shop from the rear, and I had it tied with a cord so that I could see most of the shop from the back. The door was in view, but there was nobody there. I sighed, figured another young would-be had been frightened off by the noise of possible discovery. I decided to get up anyway, stretched, yawned, stepped into the doorway and had to shield my eyes against the glare of the sun on the polished top of the counter.

I stopped, suddenly, for there was someone there. He had apparently come in and moved just out of my line of sight, and he was currently looking through a collection of canes in a jar in the corner. He was holding one, had apparently been studying it before I appeared in the doorway. His ears flicked, and he turned to look at me, and I tried not to stare.

He was holding the cane in both hands, carefully; now he made a sweeping gesture with his left hand encompassing the whole of the shop.

"Yours?" he said.

His voice was deep, dark, beautiful, and dangerous, the way a mountain was all of those things at once and never failed at being any of them.

"Depends. Do you want something?" There were so many things that I could have said there, but I was at a loss. On reflection, that wasn't so bad as it could have been.

"I don't know." He turned his gaze from me back to the cane, seemed to be feeling it with his fingers. "This is very beautiful."

"Which is that?"

He looked back up at me, proffered the cane at me. I took it and examined the head and recognized it immediately, of course. It was just half my height. There was the head of a bird of prey as the grip, sharp pointed beak closed and curved under, eyes narrowed with focus. "It's a falcon."

"I don't recognize the type."

I kept the surprise from showing, I think. I had been selling things for a long time, and had learned the art of bargain a long time ago. Someone who could recognize the type of bird and didn't just see it as every bird; that was someone I did not encounter very often. "This is a bird from south of Makan, east of the Ji-Mahn Empire." That always got looks, always got strange, evasive questions.

He just nodded, as though he'd expected to hear such an answer, and took the cane as I handed it back to him. He ran a finger through the grooves of the feathers, down the long one that made up the beak. "It is beautiful. Masterfully made." He looked pointedly at me. "Yours?"

"Or yours." I shrugged. "If you want it."

"You would give this away?"

"No. But I would sell it, if an offer matched the price."

He looked again at the cane. "You'd sell something so beautiful?"

"Everything in this shop is for sale." I spread my arms. "Such as it is. I do not keep anything here I could not bear to live without."

"Huh." He looked at the cane for a moment more, and I wondered if he would be asking to buy it. Then, I wondered how he would offer to pay for it. He could not have been carrying too many coins in his clothes, such as they were: a loincloth, a sack around his leg and a sheath that held a plain-looking knife, the kind one uses for foraging. He wore nothing on his feet, nothing on his head, nothing on his arms. He looked as someone caught at an inopportune time, save for the decidedly feline grace with which he held himself. His meager clothing, though dirty, was starkly accentuated by his ebony fur and seemed to disappear into it.

I was staring; I looked away, at the wall on which hung three juki, one large, a smaller one, and one just larger than a knife. When I looked back, he was looking at them, too, a curious expression on his face.

"They're juki," I explained. "The Ji-Mahn use them for training."

"There are different sizes."

"Yes. The Ji-Mahn believe in balance. In fact, much of their culture is based on the principles of balance in all things. Would you like to hold it?"

"No. Thank you."

I tried not to let my disappointment show at that. "There are three because all Ji-Mahn warriors are supposed to learn how to defend themselves in any given situation, depending on how far away the enemy is. True Ji-Mahn soldiers carry one of each, though they carry the real blades and not these juki. The balance has to be perfect."

His tail was mesmerizing, the way it kept moving, but slowly, almost deliberately, like a snake. His whole body seemed somehow unreal. I was staring again.

"I'd like to see one," he said.

I reached up and took the large one down, handed it to him hilt-first. He took it carefully, as though it was a real weapon, and held it softly, eyeing the handle with particular interest.

"These markings." He traced one of them with a finger. "What do they mean?"

I realized he was still holding the cane, though he was making no attempt to hide it. He could have easily slipped it...where? He was wearing nothing concealing. "Their language is all symbols such as those, and the symbols are actually words. That says ‘balance.'"

"It is beautiful, too." The way he said it, I could tell he meant it. I tried not to let my pride show as he handed the juki back to me. "Do you make these for you?"

"What?"

He held the cane up. "These. Did you start making these for yourself?" He nodded his head toward my leg. I shifted my weight unconsciously.

"I make them to sell them," I said simply.

"Huh." He looked down at the cane, then turned and set it back in the vase. "It's still beautiful."

I wondered at that, then. What did that mean, ‘still beautiful'? That it was beautiful in spite of the fact that I was not using it? Brushed it aside, kept moving.

I looked out the window, and was startled to see a bunch of faces staring back inside. The faces disappeared as soon as they saw me looking, and it took me a moment to realize that the stares had not been directed at me. I looked back up at the stranger, who was also looking out the window.

"They have been watching me the whole time I've been here," he said.

I couldn't blame them. I'd not seen anything quite like him before. He was obviously a cat of some sort, that much was obvious; yet, he bore none of the characteristics of the large cats of the eastern continent, who dressed always in fine, gaudy clothing, who held themselves so high, as though they thought themselves the world above all around them, which they probably did. There were few felines in the city, and none of them with black fur. Of course, none would be seen carrying a weapon. That was indicative of savagery, barbaric mannerisms far beneath them.

"Children will stare," I said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He seemed to think about this for a moment. "I don't know," he said at last, and he turned his brilliant green yellow eyes to me. "I've only just arrived here, and I don't really know my way around. Would you be able to let me know where I could find a place to stay for the night?"

"It's midday."

"But it will be night eventually."

"Um. Of course." I walked closer to the door, closer to him, and got a nose full of his scent. I tried to keep myself from breathing in too deeply. "If you go up this street," I said, needlessly indicating which direction I meant by ‘up, "you'll reach a split in the road. If you take the path to the right, you'll pass one more road, and then you'll see a large wooden inn on the left corner. It has a sparrow above the door." I added, "Ask for a room."

"That sounds good. Will they have food?"

"They should have food, yes."

"Huh. Thank you, kind wolf." He bowed shallowly to me and then turned and started out the door. A thought occurred to me.

"Wait." He stopped, turned. "Will you be able to, uh. Pay?"

He looked confused for a moment, then smiled and patted the pouch on his leg. "Before I came here, I passed some wagons that were trading shiny things for fresh caught rabbit. I hope it will be enough." He smiled warmly at me, and my breath caught. "Thank you for your concern. I'm sure I will be fine." And he turned and was out the door.

I have a very good sense of people. I can tell when they're going to cause me trouble. He blindsided me.

Curiosity nagged at me for the rest of the day, so much so that I found myself pacing distractedly to and fro in the back room. I tried to sit down and read, but even that was not enough to occupy me, not enough to keep me from thinking of him. I'd never before seen a creature like him. I was willing to bet that most people in the city had not seen a creature like him before; a cat with black fur? I wondered if he would be considered an ill omen.

I went back out to my shop and sat myself down at the bench. I picked up the piece of wood I had been working on earlier in the day, and the knife next to it, and began making shallow cuts with the grain. This one was going to be a fish.

I worked until the sun began to set. There were a few more visitors to the shop, only two of whom purchased anything. By the time the sky turned red with dusk, I had nearly finished the fish. Only the bottom back of it remained a block. I set it down carefully and secured the front door with a lock and a piece of wood across the frame, then shut the windows, bringing a premature night to the place. The fish I moved from the shop to the back, where hopefully it would be safe from thieves, and moved myself back there after checking that everything was in order.

Where was he from? Most of the world's big cats were from the eastern continent, except for those that made Ji-Mahn their home. There were certainly very few felines up this far north. Perhaps he was a native to these lands. Though, if that was the case, there was the question of exactly where he had come from. Most of the natives had moved, been moved, or else kept quietly to themselves, never coming to Redmountain. Unless, of course, he was from the forest.

That thought sent a slight shiver down my spine. I was making my way up the stairs in back that led to the loft I called my home, the wood creaking beneath my feet as I did so. I lived precisely above the shop, my bedroom sharing the street side with it so I had something to look at in the mornings. If he was from the forest, the forest through which even our city guard was afraid to walk, a forest said by many to be haunted or alive; a forest which, by the reckoning of a few, was unhappy or even angry at our presenceâ€"if he was from that forest, I thought, what business has he here?

The landing at the top of the stairs creaked like the rest of the place when it got my weight. I thought about his strange, somewhat alien expression as I walked into my room. There was something off about it, something I wasn't quite able to pick out, something I didn't even really notice until hours after he left. It was prevalent most when he talked about my selling the cane. Beautiful, he'd called it. Was it for me, he'd asked.

There was something else that was bothering me. How had he known I was injured? I didn't walk with a limp, hadn't for years, now. And, though a scar was visible on my leg, I was wearing long, baggy pants that came down to my ankles. He hadn't said that he knew, but the way he'd said yours...something rang with that. Those eyes of his hadn't missed a thing.

I started to take my shirt off, got the top button off, and I looked at my bed, thinking. It was early. I didn't need to go to bed this early. There was still light outside. I'd be up for hours thinking about him, anyway.

Damn it all.

I buttoned up, then turned around and went right back down the stairs. I grabbed my jacket from the stand (something else I'd made; this one was a tree trunk that morphed into a dragon near the top), then I was out the back door.

My shop had two doors: the front, through which the customers came, and the back, which exited into an alley. I usually avoided leaving through the front when I could, as it was a pain to lock and unlock from the outside. My shop was in the middle of the street, so it really didn't matter if I went right or left.

I emerged into the waning evening light, pouring red over the city's white stone buildings. Also into the wind: being on the mountain had its downsides, one of which was the constant wind which the city's narrow streets seemed to amplify. Another was the constant cold. I had more than enough fur to keep me warm in cold climates, my ancestors presumably having been from mountainous regions themselves. But I had never really been a cold-weather wolf, and the wind bit right through sometimes. Tonight was not too bad, but I kept my jacket on just the same, and kept my ears down slightly.

In the evenings Redmountain experienced a sort of lull in foot traffic, as the day's traders wore down and the night lifers just awoke. There was an avid nightlife, though not in this part of the city, which was essentially streets devoted to the selling of material goods and services. The real nighttime happenings occurred higher in the city, which followed the generous slope of the mountain in every direction, so that the part of the city in which the official royal residences sat lay much higher up than the gates of the city, which had been built strategically between twin peaks in the only passable part of the mountain. The street that held my shop was, like the rest of the merchant district, near enough to the gates that passerby would not be too inconvenienced if they wanted to peruse Redmountain goods. My destination lay up the mountain, up this street, then to the right...

Before long, a red sparrow was soaring above me, and I stepped into the inn.

The Red Sparrow, which was one of the bigger and busier inns in the cityâ€"and, therefore, my thinking had been, more anonymousâ€"was packed with patrons. There was not a single open table, and of course the bar was full. Nobody seemed too intoxicated just yet, but there were a couple of patrons on their way there. The keeper behind the bar was an old friend of mine, badger who looked as if he could hold his own in a fight with several persons at onceâ€"and had done so one more than one occasion. A white scar striped across his nose, and another two cut down across his eyes, put there by a mutilated cougar who was missing one of his fingers. In that particular fight, both I and the offending cougar had learned just how sharp a badger's teeth were. The scars were from the cougar's surprised counter-scramble, one of the last things it ever did. Whenever questioned, I know for a fact that my friend said it was from a bar fight. It would have been an amusing lie, had it not been a necessary one.

He saw me as I approached, gave me a slight nod to let me know he'd seen, and finished pouring the mug he was working on. A young fox who could not have had more than fifteen years and wearing smudged and baggy clothes hurried to the counter and took the mug, then hurried back out into the crowd, holding it close so it wouldn't spill.

I rapped on the counter with my knuckles, impatient-like. "Horrible service," I said over the din.

"Ya can wait your turn," the badger growled, but he limped over to me, anyway. He had not fared as well as I in the struggles we'd endured.

"Lino." I tapped my claws on the counter rapidly, stopped. "How've you been?"

"I've been good," Lino said. "So have you. What do you want?"

I smiled to myself. Lino's rather strictly-business attitude had irritated plenty of people who had mistaken brusqueness for ill manners. He just didn't like not knowing what was going on. "You seen a black cat come in here, recently?"

"If by recently you mean ever, then yes." He glanced aside, making sure nobody was eavesdropping, then lowered his voice slightly. "I wondered if you sent him here. Made quite a fuss when he showed up. I told him to go to his room before he attracted too much attention."

"He made a fuss?"

"No, but one was made, don't doubt."

"By attention you mean trouble." I sniffed. "Something smells good."

"Don't change the subject."

"I don't think he's trouble."

Lino gave me a steady look that brooked no nonsense. "He's a great black cat, brother. You're not going to be anything that out-of-place and not attract attention. Not least around here. You know where he comes from?"

"No." I looked around at the patrons, noisy as they were. "Doesn't seem to have stirred things up too much."

"He came by earlier. There weren't too many people here, and when I told him to get, he got."

So, I thought, he came here straight after he saw me. "He came into my shop earlier," I said. "Looked at stuff, bought nothing, left. He asked for a place to stay, I told him here."

"Thanks for the trouble."

"Was he able to pay?"

Lino snorted, and I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, he paid," Lino grunted, dark amusement in his eyes. "He came in, asked for a room, handed me two gold coins."

That made sense, given he was obviously from somewhere else. He obviously didn't have a firm understanding of our currency. "You didn't take it?" I asked.

Lino shrugged, and I gaped, caught myself, stopped. "I tried to give them back," he explained. "He told me to keep them, that he didn't need them." He looked at me steadily, ignoring the weasel down the bar who was trying to get his attention. "You may be getting yourself into trouble. You shouldn't."

"I know."

"No. Listen, brother."

"I know, Lino." I lowered my voice further, trusted him to know what I was asking. "Where is he?"

"Second floor, back, twenty-three."

I nodded my head toward the weasel, who was now waving both hands, one of which was holding an obviously empty mug. "You've got people to get drunk."

"Lead with your reason, brother."

I was turning away from the bar, stopped and turned back around. "What's that mean?"

"You know what that means." He was no-nonsense again. "I saw him. I know you. Don't do anything stupid for the wrong reason."

I blinked. "Thanks for the warning, Lino."

He shrugged and turned to the weasel who was evidently dying of thirst. I turned and walked through the people between me and the stairwell, which was mercifully empty. I don't mind people, and even crowds of people, but there is a time when too many people do make me rather uncomfortable.

The second floor hall was quiet and deserted. The noise from downstairs masked any that might have been coming from the rooms. There were slow-burning candles between the doors of the rooms, scorch marks on the walls behind the flames.

Twenty-three was ensconced in a small hall just off the main one. The room was actually located behind the bar, just above where Lino's room was situated in the back. Good old Lino; the window of this room would be in an alley, and the second floor was not too high off the ground; not to mention that the floors were not thick enough to keep the sound of something, say a scuffle, from seeping down into the innkeeper's alert ears.

I stood outside the door, debating whether or not to knock, and decided I had already committed myself to doing so. I rapped lightly on the door and waited, my heart beating faster than usual and feeling a little lightheaded with nerves.

There was no click of the lock, and I started when the door opened silently. There was no candle in the room, but he was outlined by the very slight light from the window and highlighted by the light from the hall behind me. His eyes registered something that might have been surprise, but it was so slight I could not tell for sure.

"Hello," he said quietly.

I opened my mouth to say something, realized that I had nothing to say, that I was just going to stand there gaping like an idiot. "I didn't get your name," I improvised lamely, and realized with another start that it was the truth.

It didn't help that he was not wearing anything.

He blinked, then smiled. "I'm Ember."

Now I blinked. "Ember?"

"Well." He grinned a bit. "My name is actually Mekikt, but that means ‘ember.'"

"Ah."

I stood there, distinctly uncomfortable and aware that I really had nothing to say. Why did I come here? I was making a fool of myself, just staring like an idiot.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I realized that he was mocking me; yet there was nothing hostile about him, nothing mean-spirited about even the way he said it.

"I, uh. I don't really..." I indicated nothing with my hands. "You're new here. I was wondering if you'd want to get something to eat. I didn't know if you had found anywhere to eat," I finished lamely.

"That's kind of you, but I've already eaten. The man downstairs gave me some...interestingly-prepared meat."

"That'd be Lino." He would, I thought, have fed his unusual guest to keep him from going out too much and attracting too much attention, lest he bring it back to the Red Sparrow with him.

"Are you hungry?"

"No," I lied. "I ate just a bit ago." All at once I realized I'd just destroyed my own reason for being there. I mentally hit myself.

Ember turned away from the door suddenly and walked over to the window; turned about, casually, looked at me. I realized he was waiting for me to come in, so I did. I shut the door behind me. "You should lock the door when you're here," I said, and showed him how to slip the bar into place. He regarded me with unblinking eyes as I did so. "It's safer, nobody will just wander in and steal your stuff. Especially, ah." I tried to find a diplomatic way to say it. "You're obviously not from around here. You'd be a good target."

"Huh." He continued looking at me, unblinking. It was getting very difficult for me to focus on things other than what I wanted to. "I'll make an effort to be safer."

"Good, then." I looked around the room, at the straw bed, at the simple table that served as a nightstand; at the curtainless window, the narrow alley on the other side.

"You don't seem too perturbed by my presence."

If only you knew, I thought. "I've seen many things, been many places," I said. "You're strange, but only for this place. If you're like most strange things, you're not strange somewhere."

"Ha. I like that philosophy." I looked up to find him staring straight at me, small smile playing around his face. "Yet you seem unable to meet my gaze for too long."

"Well," I fished about, "even I have my limits, I suppose."

"Is that so?" His ears dipped a bit.

"Well, not really." I wanted to slap myself so hard, maybe put some sense into my addled and increasingly bloodless skull. "Maybe I am a little hungry," I admitted.

"Well, would you like to go downstairs to get something to eat, then?"

"Yeah. Perhaps I should do that." I turned and unbolted the door, grateful to have an excuse to look in another direction. I got it open and stepped out into the hall, then got hit with sudden guilt and turned back. The cat was still standing by the window, watching. "Um."

"Don't worry," he said, and he smiled a soft smile. "I've already eaten. I'll be here when you're finished, if you would like to come back up."

"Okay. I'll be back later, then."

I cursed myself the whole way downstairs, all the way to the bar, which was as busy as it had been when I'd first arrived. Luckily, the ferret who had been sitting in the corner seat was getting up to go. I waited until he'd stumbled a few paces away, then took his seat, to the consternation of a coyote who looked like he'd been going for the same seat. I tapped the bar loudly, said, "Ale," loudly.

Lino was nowhere I could see, but the young fox hurried up to me and said, "Hai, sir, what c'n I do for ya?" I noticed he was favoring his right leg, and recalled that earlier he had not been, or, if he had been, not to this extent. He was wearing the same baggy shirt and pants as most every other resident in Redmountain, along with the green band that signified the station of assistant. His dialect I also recognized, and, after an extremely fast internal debate, I slipped into it as easily as an old, familiar glove.

"Hai," I said. "Who're you?"

"I'm Nevin, Sir."

"Where're ya from?"

"Er, Kussok, sir." He looked around, but there was nobody demanding his immediate attention, so he returned it to me. "It's a small town in the South, to the east, too."

"Near At'kuk?"

"Er, yes, sir." He squinted at me. "How's it ya know of this? Ya from there, too?" His tone of voice made it rather obvious what he considered the likelihood of that to be. Still, my accent was good enough to give him doubts, and that made me happy.

"Let's just say I've been around," I said. "At'kuk's quite a ways 'way from here. How'd you come to be here?" Someone on the other side of the room was waving for service. "Ah, nevermind. Nevin, I want an ale. The good kind, too."

"Nevin, go see what that damned annoying coyote there wants. Go on."

Nevin's ears drooped slightly, but then sprang up again as he slipped lithely through the crowd to the waving coyote. I turned back to the bar, to Lino, who was just emerging from the back room, arms full with a barrel that I had no doubt was also full. As strong as he looked, he was always deceptively so, much stronger than anyone would think without seeing him in action.

"You've got a fox from At'kuk working here." I raised an eyebrow. "Rather fair weather animals for the mountains, aren't they?"

"You're one to talk, brother." He hoisted the barrel up to the shelf, picked up the tap and hammer and tapped it, filled a cup and handed it to me. "This is the good stuff, by the way. Don't tell no one, unless they ask, in which case, tell them."

"Right. Thanks." I took a swig, shuddered as it burned down my throat. "Ow."

"You've gone soft," Lino commented. "Still got the tongue, though. I heard you talking with Nevin from back there. I wouldn't be surprised if you could still talk to him in his own tongue, too."

"I'm hungry."

"You need some food. Hold on, let me get that for you. Nevin!" The little fox came scurrying back. "Get this white wolf a steak, and be quick about it."

"Right." He scampered off into the back.

"You know," I said. "Most innkeepers use their daughters as wenches."

"Go to Hell," Lino suggested.

I grinned, and he grinned back, then went about tending to other customers.

The steak, when it came, was steak worthy of an inn or tavern, and the company the same. As the dusk turned to dark, and the temperatures dropped and the wind picked up, the patrons either left for more exciting places or else sidled up to their rooms. Within the hour, the room was mostly empty, with just me, Lino, Nevin, and a couple of other patrons in the back at a table. Nevin scurried about with a wash rag, cleaning the tables, keeping a watchful eye on the patrons in the back in case they needed refills.

Lino leaned on the bar in front of me, eyes on Nevin. "He gets the job done."

"I did say the thing about daughters and wenches, right?"

He gave me a sideways look, and I kept a straight face. "He's good enough."

"Wenches have duties besides the cooking and cleaning and serving of food and drink," I pointed out. "That's one of the mainstays of inns, such as it is. I can't imagine you use him that way."

"No. Not that there aren't those who ask."

"Do you know yet where his interests lie?"

"He's fifteen," Lino said, looking at me now. "Hardly an age to know, isn't it?" I shrugged. "Of course, he spent the whole last week telling me about some vixen his age he keeps running in to when I send him to the market for things. Daughter of one of the weavers, apparently. Keeps accidentally stumbling across her."

I laughed quietly. The open market, one of the grandest of its kind that even I had seen, was loosely organized by its own merchants, so that generally clothiers did not set up shop next to meat sellers. "Quite accidents, I'm sure."

"So, your friend," Lino prompted.

I emptied the cup, set it down on the counter. Lino moved to refill it. "Says his name's Ember."

"Where's he from?"

"I don't know. I didn't get that far."

"Oh?" Lino set the cup down in front of me, full again. "You really are going soft. I can't imagine you not getting that far. Or farther."

"Maybe I've just learned restraint in my old age."

"Yes, at the ripe old age of, what, thirty?"

"Like I said." I took a drink to give myself time to think.

"You did come back down pretty fast."

"He..." I made circles with my hand inarticulately. "When I went up there, he wasn't wearing anything."

"Oh. So what you're saying is, something did happen, you just didn't have to take the time to disrobe him?" He was grinning.

I took a fake swipe at his face. "No, I'm saying I left before anything could happen."

"Hells, you really do have something for him, don't you?" I shrugged. "Remember what I said."

"What's that?" I asked.

"About thinking with your thoughts and not your desires."

"Oh, I do wish you'd get off that."

"Tell me I don't have a point," he countered. "You went up there, after having talked to him in your shop earlier, and you still can't tell me where he's from, what he wants here."

I shrugged again, took another drink.

"Would you like me to go talk to him?"

I choked. "What? Why?"

Now Lino shrugged. "I'm immune to his decidedly masculine charms."

"Just like you're immune to mine?" I asked, tilting my head invitingly at him and blinking cutely.

"Yah, just like I'm immune to yours. Besides," he lowered his voice somewhat. "If he tried anything, I'd just show him that he couldn't possible deal with me."

I snorted into my cup.

"Well, all that aside, I needed a breath of air." I put my finger in the cup and swirled the liquid, watching the flimsy reflections of the candles on the ripples. "Now I need to find out just what he wants, what he's doing here."

"Why?"

"What?" I looked up, caught off-guard by the simple question."First the one way, now the other. Make up your mind."

"Why do you need to know anything about him?" Lino asked frankly. "You're not responsible for him. And you're not going to be doing yourself any favors by getting involved with someone like that."

"Like what?"

"Oh, come on, brother. He's a big panther who happens to be the only one that most everyone around here has ever seen. You don't think others besides yourself are going to notice this? If you get involved, there's a good chance you'll be noticed, too."

And neither of us wants that, he didn't add. But he didn't have to, because we both knew it.

"He could be trouble." Lino shrugged. "Or he could be nothing. Still, do you think it wise to risk the former for the sake of the latter?"

"Maybe I prefer the optimistic side of life."

"My tail you do."

"Okay. But...damn it all, I'm curious."

"Don't let curiosity be the end of you. Nevin! Come here and wipe off the counter."

I knocked on the door with my boot, and this time was pleased to hear the bolt being removed before the door opened. The room was still dark, and this time there was no light from outside to help matters. I could see by the light of the candles in the hall that he was at least wearing his loincloth this time.

"I brought drinks," I said, proffering him one mug of ale. He took it and thanked me, backed into his room to let me in. He shut the door behind me, secured the bolt.

"Ember," I said. "I can't see anything."

"Here." I felt his touch on my arm, light and firm, guide me around the bed and to the table next to it. I set my mug down, felt behind me to be sure I wouldn't make a fool of myself, and sat down. The floor creaked slightly when I did so.

"Thank you," I said.

"I was beginning to think that you had decided to go back to your home for the night." There was no accusation in the statement.

"I thought about it," I admitted. "Really, I just needed a bit of time to clear my head." I took a deep breath, smelled him there, waiting. "I've got to tell you something, though."

"What's that?" He was standing by the window again, and now that my eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark, the wan light of the nighttime still outlined him. He was holding his hands in front of him, watching me. I couldn't see his eyes, but I was sure they weren't blinking.

"I need to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was rather rude, and then I kept you waiting for a long time. I owe you an explanation. I find you attractive, and when I came in earlier, well." I shrugged, then realized he probably couldn't see.

"I know."

My head jerked up. "What? How's that?"

I could hear his grin as he spoke. "I may not be from around here, but people act the same in many respects, it seems, no matter where they live. You'll notice I put my clothes on this time."

"Ah." I was very glad of the darkness, as it kept the blood that was rushing into my cheeks from showing. Had I really been that easy to read? There was a time when I'd made it a point to be hard to read, to keep my opponents and possible adversaries guessing. "Well."

"The one downstairs, you said his name is Lino? Is he your friend?"

"Yes, he's my friend. We've known each other for a long while."

"Huh. Wait here for me." There was a click as the bolt on the door was drawn back, then he was silhouetted in the dim light of the hall, then the door shut and he was gone, and I was left sitting on a stranger's bed, in the dark, with some less than savory thoughts going through my head.

Okay, so that hadn't worked. I thought back to my conversation with Lino, to what he'd said. He was right, but then, so was I. I was curious, and I did want answers. So what was I doing? Besides making a fool of myself.

The door opened, and he was a shadow again for a brief instant. Then the door was shut and latched. There was movement in the dark, and then the bed depressed as he sat next to me. He was incredibly close to me now, and he put his arm on mine. I opened my mouth to say something, stopped because I couldn't think of anything to say. He wasn't moving anymore, either, letting his hand rest on my forearm.

"You found me attractive," he said. "You still do?"

"Iâ€"well, I can't see you, now."

"Ha."

"But yes, I imagine I'd still find you attractive. Ember, why don't you light a candle?"

He removed his hand then, stood up, and I cursed myself. "I like the dark," he said. There was a rustling, then the flopping sound of something like fabric hitting the floor. "My home, when it is night, it is dark. It is not so hard for me to see in the dark as it is for you, apparently."

"Ember, Iâ€"" I stopped, then. Not because I wanted to, but he had taken my hand again, only this time he brought it to himself, and I realized where. "Ember," I said again, quieter.

"You can move if you want to," Ember said, and he let go of my arm. I didn't move, and he stepped closer until he was practically chest-to-chest with me, face-to-face. I could smell his breath along the short fur of my eyes and ears, and could feel the short fur of his sac in the palm of my hand, his sheath warm against my wrist. He brought his short muzzle down to mine, sniffed, then licked my cheek. I responded with a moan, then caught myself and almost pushed away when he kissed me, softly.

I didn't quite make it.

I readily admit that I have absolutely no idea how he managed to untie my belt, but he did, and then he tugged and there I was in my shirt and my undergarment, and nothing else...where were my boots? He was still kissing me, and now he was trying to unbutton my shirt. I realized he was having trouble, and some disconnected part of my brain made sense out of that, put that together with his attire, and I let go of him to help. Before long, my shirt was lying on the bed behind me, and then I was lying on the bed and he was kneeling next to it, kissing me in a way that, had I thought about it, would have seemed awkward.

He put his hand on my stomach, then down, and I gasped through the kiss as he closed his hand around me. My undergarments, which had been getting more and more uncomfortable by the second, were suddenly much tighter, and I had to adjust my position to bring both hands to bear to get rid of them. Ember was not helping in the slightest, not moving his hand, making me work around it. I could feel him grinning.

He broke the kiss suddenly and stood up, withdrawing his hand and allowing me to finish undressing. He put something on the small table and there was the sound of a lid being removed, and then my mind returned to reality beyond the immediate.

"Um," I articulated. "Ember. I don't know...I mean..."

"What?"

I turned my head to look at him, but he pushed at me with one hand, edging me toward the center of the bed, then up against the headboard so I was almost sitting up. I spoke even as I moved. "I don't know if I can do this. This is..." But even I didn't know where I was going with that.

"What is this, then?" He was doing something that I couldn't follow in the dark, movement that didn't involve direct contact with me and so was lost in the periphery of the whole of the event. "Where I'm from, if two people are attracted to each other, this happens." He reached back to the thing on the table, and though I was still adjusting, the sound of moving straw in my ears, I heard the sound of liquid. "And," he continued, and I gasped as his hand came back to me, slick and cool, and I was lost for a moment, "you already told me that I was attractive."

"Yah," I breathed.

Logically I knew what was coming. Still, part of me was surprised when the panther climbed onto the bed and straddled my waist on his knees. He leaned forward and kissed me again, and I got lost in the sensation of his lips on mine, of his rough tongue in my mouth; the heat of it was melting me, and I suddenly reflected how long it had been since I had been with anyone like this. I'd completely forgotten the intensity of the sensations, just from the kiss alone.

Ember broke the kiss, then, and his hand was behind him on me. He was grinning as he leaned back, then he positioned himself above me and sank down, and then I was on fire.

I'm sure I moaned loudly enough that anyone listening could hear. I forgot where I was, forgot everything except the feeling of being inside someone so warm. He even sighed as he sank onto me. He let go as soon as I was partway there, grabbed onto my shoulders and lowered himself with what I would later and more coherently recognize as subtle and great athleticism. Then I was completely inside, and he just stayed there, gripping my shoulders tightly, his muzzle next to mine. And then it was on mine, and our tongues were dancing, and the world was hot, hot! For several minutes it seemed like, he just sat there, and I was content to let him, to bask in and within him, to feel the strangeness of his tongue against mine, rougher than mine.

He pulled back from the kiss, then, and whispered, "Just stay." And then he started moving, and I couldn't help the moan that crept between my lips.

Hells, Lino was right, I was getting soft.

I didn't care.

I sat there and allowed him to do the work. His mouth reconnected with mine and more fire flowed into my body. He grabbed onto my hand, and I felt the cool slickness of what was left of the oil there; his other hand around the back of my head, grinding us together. I let go of his hand, let him use it to cup my face, and I put my hand, now slick with oil, on his member. He started thrusting into my paw, breathing hard as he did so, and I let the sensations carry me away to I don't know where, I don't know how long. Soon I shuddered and couldn't hold the kiss anymore, and he let go, too, and pressed down on my knot, hard, and I pressed up, hard, and popped into him. I tried to keep my jaw closed and utterly failed to be quiet as I emptied myself into him, shuddering.

Ember. I realized belatedly that I'd said his name aloud as I came, and he planted a kiss on top of my muzzle. My climax lasted for an unbelievably long time, several heartbeats of mind-numbing pleasure. My whole body shook.

â€"Then I came down, and landed back in the covered straw bed with this beautiful black panther on top of me. He was still moving, thrusting slowly into my paw, which was somehow still gripping his member. I moved my hand slightly, and he purred, just a bit, and growled quietly, hands on the headboard on either side of me, still planting kisses on my muzzle. I nudged him out a bit, looked up to meet him in a kiss again, and I was taken to a different sort of high when he tensed and trust one final time into my hand, covering my chest and then my arm and then my wrist with his warm seed.

He pulled back from the kiss and smiled at me, and I smiled back. Thenâ€"

"Ow!"

He stopped in the middle of trying to get up, surprised. "You're..." He looked at a loss for words, for the first time since I had met himâ€"which, I suddenly reflected, had only been earlier that day.

"You can't go yet," I said. "Have to wait for a bit. You'll be able to move easier in a few minutes."

"Huh." He twisted his body in the impossible way that only cats seem to be able to do to look at his rump. He looked back at me. "I'm going to turn," he said. I didn't have time to say "what" before he twisted around, his foot very briefly above my head giving me a spectacular view and tugging at my sensitive knot and making me grunt. Soon he was turned around, and, carefully, we were able to work together to lower him to the bed. I put my arm around him, and he tilted his head up to lick my nose again.

And then I felt nothing more for the night, except warmth.

I woke not knowing where I was, confusion accompanied by a momentary rush of adrenaline, a relic of the life I used to live where waking up in strange places was not uncommon. There was a sheet beneath my side, straw beneath that; I was in a room, light sidling in through the window in the alley to inadequately illuminateâ€"

Ember. I still had my arm draped around him, felt the warmth of his chest and the fur between my fingers. I was naked, and so was he, and the memory of the night flooded back to me and I felt my pulse jump, felt my blood warm my body again. He shifted in his sleep, pressing his back into me; not helping me stay calm. I breathed lightly on his ear and watched the patterns it made in the fur there.

"You slept well." So. Not asleep after all, but still as to be. How did I not notice?

"I did. Did you?" I turned my head slightly to catch the window in the corner of my eye. "You woke early."

"I don't sleep until daybreak."

"Oh? And how do you manage that, then?"

"I always wake before the sun. It's...tradition, I suppose."

"Mm." He wiggled back into me again, and I scratched lightly at his chest. "Were you waiting for me to get up?"

"You seemed so comfortable. And..." he trailed off. He was silent for a moment, then shrugged.

"You don't have anything pressing that you need to do today?" I asked casually, continuing my ministrations.

He was silent, and I could feel the muscles tense under his fur, not enough to leap or run, but in slight distress. He was contemplating lying, I realized.

"Actually," I said. I figured now was as good a time as any to ask what I'd intended to ask the previous night before I'd gotten distracted. "I wanted to ask you about your business here."

I expected him to argue, to playfully avoid the question by pointing out how the untimely nature of the question. Instead, he sighed, and he said, "I'm here on behalf of someone else." He rolled forward and out from under my arm. I heard his feet thump lightly on the floor, saw him stand and stretch, and my blood rushed again. I sought to pull the covers over myself before I realized we hadn't slept under any. He looked over his shoulder at me, saw me looking and smiled toothily. "Would you like to?"

"Like to?"

He turned and looked pointedly at my crotch. "You seemed to enjoyed last night very much," he said.

Something caught in my head, and it took me a moment to realize that it was the way he'd phrased that. Seemed to enjoyed.... Amazing, I thought. For what was nearing on a whole day now I'd known him, and never once had I guessed that this was not his first language. No accent, no odd slip-ups, until just now. I cast about for an answer to cover my thoughts. I'd ask him about it later. Or maybe not. "I did enjoy," I said. "You were wonderful."

He smiled wider. "Thank you." He crawled back on the bed on his hands and knees, then kissed me with that impossibly soft mouth. I closed my eyes. He pulled back and I saw that he was as excited now as I was.

"Come up here," I said, hands on his lower back, and pulled him toward me. He obliged, slid atop me as I turned onto my back; slid forward until he was sitting my chest, and I brought my muzzle forward, and we enjoyed being lost in sensations again.

I sat at the counter with my head in my hands.

"You get anything out of him?" Lino was leaning on the counter again; Nevin was in the back, and wonderful smells were drifting out front.

"Shut up," I said.

"I'd make some snide comment about getting anything out of him if I were a lesser person. In fact," Lino said, "were I a lesser person, I'd be making lewd jokes about him getting something out of you. Or you into him. Or himâ€""

"He's here on behalf of someone else," I said to shut him up. Suddenly, something completely unrelated snapped into place and I nearly choked on it. "Whoreson."

"What's that?" Lino asked.

I looked accusingly at him. "You gave him oils last night. I didn't even..." I didn't finish the sentence, too ashamed at having not realized something so simple, however inconsequential it may have been.

Lino grinned. "You really are getting old. He came downstairs last night, asked me if I had any." He shrugged, feigning helplessness. "Who am I to get in the way of advanced interrogation techniques?"

"You're lucky I like you."

He scoffed. "You're a big fluffy puppy now. Getting slow in the mind." He dodged the quick swipe I threw at him. "You really got nothing? And here I thought you were setting me up for something surprising and revealing."

"I was distracted." I tapped my claws on the counter, traced little circles in the wood. "It's not like I'm going to lose him, obvious as he is. Besides, I'm not done. Says his name is Ember."

"Congratulations. Is he the one?" Dodged another swipe. "I haven't seen you like this in a good long while." He was studying my face as he spoke, gauging my reactions.

"Like what?"

"Like this. Like you're infatuated." He paused, thinking. "It's nice."

"I'm not infatuated. And what do you mean, it's nice?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and I realized where he was going, knew exactly what he was going to bring up. Something of my feelings must have shown in my face because he closed his mouth without saying anything. Then he said, "I do care about you, you know. I don't like seeing you miserable."

"I'm not miserable."

"But you're not happy. You've not been truly happy for years."

"Hells, Lino! I've only just met this guy! What kind of uncanny, unnatural sense do you possess that is telling you that I'm in love?" I got a shiver up my spine and realized I had cut into the wood with my claws.

"I didn't say you were in love. I didn't say that at all. What I meant is I think it's rather obvious that you like him more than you like the average whore on the street."

"What?"

He shrugged again. "Never seen you bring breakfast in bed to a prostitute."

At that moment Nevin walked out of the back carrying two plates with eggs and bacon. He put them on the counter and I scooped them up quickly. "I don't have any cash," I said, and turned and went back up the stairs, actively ignoring anything the badger might have been trying to say to my retreating back.

The door was cracked open, and I pushed it with my foot. Ember was sitting with legs crossed on the bed, back to me and facing the window. Outside it, dawn was getting brighter, and the shadow of the inn was still covering most of the building next to it. I kicked the door shut lightly, and he turned, saw the food and smiled. I handed the plate to him. He was sitting near the foot of the small bed, so I plopped myself up at the head so I could rest my back against the board, crossed my own legs.

"You're being kind," he said.

"I'm being practical," I corrected him. "You attract attention."

He tilted his head. "Are there many people down there?"

"Not really. It's not the busy season, despite the number of people you may have seen last night. There are a few."

"Huh. You're still being kind. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Strange saying."

"So," I said, chewing on a piece of bacon. "You were going to tell me what you're doing here."

"Was I?" He watched me eat. "I told you, I'm here on behalf of someone else. I'm here doing something for them."

"I know." I bit off another piece. "I asked what it was that you were doing."

He was silent.

I sighed, put the bacon back down. "Look, I don't mean you any harm. Unless you're here to kill someone, I don't think that I'll have a problem with whatever it is. Besides," I added, "I may be able to help you. Depending on what it is."

"I'm not here to kill anyone."

"I didn't think you were."

He looked down at his plate and picked up a piece of bacon. He sniffed it, then bit off a piece, chewed it thoughtfully. He swallowed it. "I am...nervous, telling anyone."

I didn't say anything, but when it became apparent he was having trouble continuing, I shrugged. "More than likely you're going to have to tell someone sooner or later. And I've already told you that I actually want to listen to whatever it is."

"Yes. And I feel I can trust you." He looked up at me, and I didn't say anything, just looked back. "I'm from the forest."

I put my plate aside, went to the door and out, looked up and down the narrow corridor, didn't see anyone. I went back into the room, shut the door carefully and latched it. All the while, Ember watched me. I sat back down on the bed and picked the plate up again. "Go on."

"Is there something wrong?" he said slowly. I could see tension in his shoulders that hadn't there before.

"As a general rule, people are wary of the forest. I assume you mean the forest to the south of the mountain?" I bit the end off of an egg; keep eating, try not to make him too nervous.

"Yes. Why are people wary of the forest?"

I shrugged. "Superstitions, wild imaginations. There are many who say the forest is haunted, that its otherworldly inhabitants are...antagonistic."

"Otherworldly!"

"Well." I grinned at him. "You didn't do anything to disprove that."

"Thank you."

"In more ways than one, though. You must have noticed you're the only one who looks as you do. And people tend to be frightened of the unfamiliar."

He nodded. "I've noticed that they seemed wary of me. I didn't know it was because of where I came from."

"They don't know where you came from. Unless you've been telling other people."

He shook his head. "No. You're the first one I've told. Really, you're the first one I've spoken to."

"So," I prompted.

He kept quiet again, and I waited for him. Finally, he spoke. "I live in the forest, near the river. You know the river of which I speak?"

I nodded. "It comes from the ice on the mountains, gets pretty big down there. Yes."

"Well, that's where I get my water from." He paused again, and I again waited for him to continue. Revealing necessity was not something done in trade deals, for obvious reasons. We were into a different kind of relationship now. "There's something wrong with the water," he said. "It's...bad, now. Makes you sick."

"You don't look sick," I observed.

"I'm not the only creature who gets his water from the river," he countered. "I've watched the others, seen how they fall ill after drinking, act strangely. I've seen how the river is red."

Wait. "Red?" I put down the measly stub of bacon I still had left. "You're saying the river is red?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

Well. So. That was a new one. I'd seen lots before, even a river on fire. Never one that was red on its own, though. "And you think that it's coming from here?" I surmised.

He nodded affirmative. "This city, it's new. It has not been here for too long."

"Long enough."

A tilt of the head. "For?"

"Redmountain has been here for years. It's a new city, but that's relative; it's certainly been here longer than I have. You see the problem, don't you?"

"There's a problem? Besides the river?"

"With your story. You're just now coming, talking of a poisoned river and believing it to be the doing of Redmountain when it's been here for so long. What's changed?"

His expression remained neutral, but I saw that telltale tensing again. "You believe I am lying."

"Are you?"

"No."

I spread my hands. "Well, I don't think you're lying. But someone else will. Lots of people, probably."

"But why would I lie about this?"

"Don't know. But let me go out on a limb here and guess that the real reason you're here, the reason you've suddenly come from nowhere, is to talk to somebody about the river, to see if they'll stop whatever they're doing to it."

"To find answers." He nodded. "I just want answers, for now. Perhaps it's nothing to do with this cityâ€"Redmountain, you called it? You're right, that it's been here for a long time, and that this problem arising only now does not support the city as being the cause. Neither does it disprove it."

I waited while he chewed on a piece of bacon, thought: what else was I going to do with my time? Open my shop when I got back, sell things, close up and go to bed alone, that's what. Or, in the off-chance, go uptown at night and buy company. For the past few years, my life had been so utterly predictable, so rote; I needed a change. Maybe this would prove to be nothing, and maybe this would be over by tomorrow morning. But it was at least a chance to do something different, to be active once again, even if it only involved talking to someone new. It beat sitting in the shop with nothing but my wood and animals and jewelry.

"I'll help," I announced. I picked up the last piece of bacon and tossed it into my mouth, savored the flavor. "I'll help you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you," he said, bowed his head to me.

"First thing first: where did you say you were from?"

"The forest."

"No, you said you were from the east. Past Kantig, I think."

He tilted his head. "But that's notâ€""

"I know. But I told you how people regard the forest, yes? You don't want to be from the forest to everyone you meet on the streets. You've got to be from somewhere neutral, somewhere that doesn't make people nervous. Well, more nervous than they'll be anyway, anyway." He nodded slowly. "So, you're from the east. Past Kantigâ€"which, by the way, is where most cats seem to hail from, anyway."

He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded anyway.

"Another thing," I said, standing and holding my hand out for his empty plate, which he gave after a second. "You need to not give anything away for free." Off his look: "Your name. You told me your name, but you never asked me for mine."

He thought about this, looked down at the bed, then back up at me. "What is your name?"

I grinned toothily. "Avin. Come, let's get you some proper clothes."