Glass Heart

[Istvan]

Istvan knew that he never should have left Nyika. The Mother knew what horrors she was experiencing at the paws of the heretics; he shuddered, remembering his own meeting with Tikora. And yet, what could he have done but die for her? Was the alternative discovering that Nyika had been killed while he was absent?

For all that he had faith that the Mother would protect her chosen, the past week had taught him that nothing was ever certain.

Tikora?s garden was situated inside a low wall immediately adjacent to her palace. Istvan judged that once they reached it, it would be easy enough to surmount. The difficulty lay in that the group had not yet reached it, and the wide street which separated them from the enclosure had the eyes of scores of guards trained upon it. Istvan turned to the marten and wildcat who huddled with him behind a stack of crates.

?Do either of you have any suggestions?? he asked. ?This type of situation was not something my priestly vocation has prepared me for.?

?One of the textbooks back at the Academy had a section about attacking an enemy fortress when you?re outnumbered, unarmed, and they?re expecting you,? replied the cat, Mekad. ?As I recall, their advice was ?don?t.??

?I think I remember that one. Still, I can?t believe that we?ve come this far to be defeated by the prospect of crossing a street,? said Zevka. She cocked her head and looked up. The sun was beginning its slow climb up the dome of the sky, and the scene in front of them was bathed in light.

?Istvan, what?s that painted on the crate in front of you??

??For the Use of the Guard Only.??

?I thought so. Can you get it open??

The otter had acquired a knife from one of Mekad?s ex-captors, a sturdy, serviceable tool that lacked the elaborate carvings of his previous blade. This he used to lever open the box, revealing sets of plate armor stacked inside.

?Perfect,? said the pine marten.

?I fail to see how this helps us,? said Istvan. ?No amount of armor can protect us from that many arrows, and even if it could they?d raise the alarm immediately.?

Mekad took out one of the pieces and examined it. ?This is very good steel? The palace?s entrance faces west. If we put this on, the reflection from the sun will prevent them from seeing our faces.?

?And they won?t look twice at any beast wearing guard-issued armor,? finished Zevka.

?Ah, I see. But there is a problem: Poko will not fit in any of this, and I don?t think that we can leave her alone again. It?s far too risky.?

?Good point. The guards aren?t looking for her, though. The only ones who they?re after are you and me.?

?Heard you talking about me,? came Poko?s voice from above them. The trio looked up, and saw the ferret?s striped muzzle staring down at them.

?You might want to get moving,? she continued. ?This building you decided to hide next to? It?s a guard post. Most of ?em are at the palace now, but I can hear some of them talking about going on patrol soon. If they come out they?ll spot you for sure.?

?We better get going, then.? Zevka handed a breastplate to Istvan and took one for herself, while Mekad struggled to buckle his on. The marten heaved a sigh, and her quick fingers went to work helping her friend.

Istvan, for his part, had never worn any kind of armor except the boiled leather that constituted a Guard?s only defence against knives, broken bottles, rocks, and the other hazards. He fumbled with the multitude of straps, a process made more difficult by the fact that the otter was still adjusting to life viewed through one eye. Eventually the chestpiece appeared firm, though he doubted it would hold for long.

?Thank the fates the Carrigul armory has an inordinate love for armor polish,? Zevka commented.

The wildcat stood up as Poko crawled down off the roof to join them. ?Everybeast here??

?Sadly, yes,? replied Istvan. ?Now all we can do is entrust ourselves to the paws of the Mother.?

The otter noticed Mekad shrinking back from him, and made a mental note to educate the cat on the proper teachings of the All-Mother. The last thing he needed was another beast to sow distrust against him, as Zevka had so long ago.

?Poko, stay behind me,? he ordered as he peered around the crates. ?I know that they aren?t looking for you, but I don?t want to take any chances.?

The ferret nodded. Zevka peered around the crates, gave her armor a half-hearted wipe with her paw, and stepped out into the street. The two males and Poko followed her, and the ferret stuck so close to Istvan that he feared that she might trip over his rudder.

The tattooed otter immediately realized the wisdom in the marten and the wildcat?s plan. He couldn?t even look down at his own chest without the reflection burning his eye. It would be supremely difficult for the guards on the palace walls or at the gate to even identify their species, let alone any distinguishing features.

?Oh, no?? he heard Zevka whisper. Following her gaze, he saw that a long pole was jutting out from the wall, and affixed to the end of it?

?Is there no level of barbarity to which they will not sink?? he thought aloud.

?No,? replied the marten. ?Mekad, don?t look. I don?t want you to only know him? like this.?

Istvan did not consider himself bound by her instructions, and so he let his gaze wander over the bloodstained, feathery mess that had once been attached to the body of his commanding officer.

Noonahootin had been a good beast, the otter decided. He had killed, and not for the right reasons, but his devotion to the Guard had been second to none. And through the terror of their journey, his unwavering resolve had been an inspiration to all. He did not deserve an ignominious death at the claws of one whom he had respected all his life, nor this humiliation.

Tikora had spoken of wanting to bring verminkind into an age when they would no longer be encumbered by the delusions of past warlords, but she obviously had not fully abandoned such dreams either. A snake with golden scales was still a snake.

The group made it to the wall without incident, then sidled over to the left until they were out of sight of the sentries.

The three wearing armor tried to remove it as quietly as possible. They were not very proficient at it; Mekad again required Zevka?s assistance, and Istvan gave up on his mystifying tangle of straps immediately and simply cut his way out. Poko, meanwhile, scrambled up the wall to get a peek at the inside.

?That statue?s there, just like you said. And there?s only one guard. The garden?s all open, though. Nowhere for us to hide.?

?Poko, do you think you can get him with your crossbow?? asked the pine marten.

Mekad furrowed his brow. ?Is it really necessary that we kill everybeast that stands in our way??

?Well, I would like to avoid it if possible, but there?s no way for us to get in there without him seeing us and raising the alarm.?

?I think I may be able to do that,? cut in Istvan. The others all turned to look at him, and without another word he began climbing up the wall.

He managed to heave himself over before they got a chance to question him. They wouldn?t like his plan, he knew, but he had faith that he could succeed. And faith had seen him through this far.

The noise of him crashing into a shrubbery alerted the guard, who walked over to investigate. Istvan managed to pull himself out before the stoat could reach him.

?Hello,? he said, looking over the armored beast. He wielded a spear, and under his helmet was the face of one who had lived a life longer than their seasons. It was a look he had seen many times, often crime scenes. ?Might I ask your name??

"Don't even think about it, otter. Tikora's promised one hell of a bounty for whoever brings her your head."

The tattooed otter took a deep breath. This was a gamble, a test of his worthiness both as a priest and a Guard. ?No amount of money will bring her back, you know.?

The stoat?s bloodshot eyes widened. ?How- how did you-??

?A beast who has lost someone carries it inside their heart for a long time, and I can see it etched in the lines in your face and? your eyes are full of guilt.?

?What are you? You look like one of the priests, but you don?t talk like ?em.? The beast hadn?t lowered his spear yet, but at least he had ameliorated his tone.

?I am the true arbiter of the Mother?s will, and I know your sins. I will offer you forgiveness, under one condition.?

?And why should I listen to your prattling? I know what those priests do to you when you ?sin.??

?Do you enjoy poisoning your body every night, just to drown out the memories? Will you ever be able to hear her stop screaming? I offer you absolution, and perhaps peace of mind.?

The spear wavered, then was retracted. ?Fine. Fine. If you can really make everything right? What?s your condition??

?Only that you must leave Carrigul and never return, devoting the rest of your life to the proper will of the All-Mother.? After saying this, Istvan drew his knife.

The stoat held up his paws. ?Woah, I thought you said you weren?t like the others.?

?Only by returning the gift of life, which you have gravely misused, to the Mother can you be purified. Do not worry, I intend no harm towards you. This is just the way things must be done,? replied Istvan.

The guard hesitated, so the otter rolled up his sleeve and showed him the many scars and innumerable fresher cuts that crisscrossed his skin. ?I would not do to another beast what I am not willing to undergo myself. I have sacrificed for the forgiveness of many.?

?Just? make it quick. You seem more trustworthy than Tikora?s lot. They would never do anything like that to themselves.?

Of course they wouldn?t, thought Istvan. Out loud, he said, ?Then give me your arm.?

Slowly, trembling slightly, the stoat proffered the limb. The otter took it, and raised his blade, and sliced a thin line of red into the soft skin. The guard gasped, but held still. Istvan waited until the precious crimson had begun to drip onto the immaculately tended garden below before he released the arm.

?You are absolved; now go, and sin no more.?

The beast sprinted over to the wall, but when he reached it he looked back. ?...Thank you. I feel like you took a weight off of my shoulders.?

Istvan only nodded, though inside his heart leapt with joy. ?I am only doing my duty.?

He turned to the wall that he had climbed originally. ?He?s gone now; you can come over.?

They clambered over, all of them staring wide-eyed at him.

?So you heard everything,? said the otter.

?Yes,? replied Zevka. ?That was? amazing, actually.?

?How did you know what to say?? asked Mekad.

Istvan shrugged. ?When you spend seven seasons as a Guard, you learn how to read beasts. That type is all too familiar in a city where alcohol flows freely. His sins were plainly a burden on his heart.?

?You said the entrance was in the statue, right?? Poko gestured towards the large marble figure of Tikora. ?Well, quit jawin? and get over there.?

The other three obliged; as soon as they reached it, Istvan and Mekad set about levering the spikes out of its carved paws. Thankfully, they came out easily enough, and the pair toppled the statue over. Istvan took a certain amount of pleasure from the sight of Tikora?s stone head rolling in the grass. It was a grave injustice that so despicable a beast had received so fine a statue; the artist had even gotten all the piercings right.

Zevka grasped the handle that had been revealed by the sitting figure?s fall and pulled it open, revealing a dark, ill-smelling hole. A series of rusty bars provided pawholds, though they looked to be quite old.

?She certainly didn?t expect to be using this anytime soon,? remarked the marten. ?I just hope those handles will hold.?

?I?m the heaviest, so I?ll got last,? said Istvan. ?Mekad, if you could go in after Poko? I need to have a private word with Zevka.?

The wildcat looked to Zevka, who nodded, and after a short pause he followed the ferret into the passage.

?So, what is it you need to tell me? We are on a tight schedule here, as I?m sure you?re aware.?

He fiddled with the strap of his eyepath before asking, ?Are you sure we can trust Mekad??

Zevka gave a quiet growl. ?What kind of question is that? Of course we can. He?s been my best friend for years. What, are you getting jealous??

?No, no. Why would you even suggest that? But until a week ago I would have considered Aster the beast most loyal to Yew in all of the city, but it seems that Tikora has the ability to turn him against those he worked so long to protect. I just hope that the same thing hasn?t happened to your Mekad.?

?Oh, Istvan? The pine marten cupped her paw under his chin, and looked him directly in the eyes. ?I understand your concern, I really do, but? I know Mekad. And he hasn?t changed. Aster was a prisoner of Tikora for a long time, but Mekad was held by Beechton. For all that he was a despicable beast, he at least treated him better than she would have.?

?As you say, then. I trust your judgment. Now, after you.?

***
The four emerged from the tunnel covered in dust and sneezing. The brightly illuminated room was a painful contrast from the dark passageway, and it was a few seconds before they saw that they were in a library. It seemed that ferret jill?s information had been completely accurate.

?Do you know where they?re holding her?? asked the wildcat.

Zevka snapped. ?Damn. No we don?t, and we don?t have time to go wandering around.?

?This was something my Pa always told me to do when you were tryin? to outsmart a beast,? piped up Poko, ?You have to imagine yourself in their shoes, and think about what they would do.?

The pine marten and otter looked at each other. ?Bedchamber,? they both said simultaneously, and the group ran out into the hallway as fast as their paws could take them.

Poko took the lead then, helping her companions sneak past the numerous guards who roamed the hall all the way to Tikora's receiving room, and thusly her bedchamber, without alerting the armored beasts who rushed through the halls. The lone guard they met on the stairwell fell easily to a combination of Istvan?s fist and Mekad?s knee, and soon they stood before a beautifully carved door.

Zevka tried the handle, and found it locked. From the inside, they could hear voices, too low for any words to be picked out. Then one sound rose unmuffled to their ears: a pained, high-pitched meow.

Istvan didn't remember much after that. He was dimly aware of himself ramming the door once, twice, thrice with his shoulder before it finally gave way, the hinges bent and broken from the wood. As he ran into the room, he saw only Tikora, unable to stop himself as his paw came up to grasp her throat, disregarding the knife that she plunged into his shoulder.

Before she could raise it for another strike, the otter knocked the blade from her paw and then punched her in the face with all his strength. For the moment the sanctity of the creation of new life meant nothing to him, his vision clouded with red as he rained down blow after blow. The weasel snarled and sank her teeth into his wrist, locking her jaws into the flesh. He pulled back, but her grip held firm, and in a frantic effort to free his arm Istvan lifted her up and smashed her head into a mirror.

The sound of breaking glass brought him back to his senses, and when he saw Tikora?s bleeding, abused face he dropped the weasel onto the floor and finally gave in to Zevka and Mekad?s efforts to pull him back. He could see his features, twisted by rage and shock, reflected a thousand times in the red-stained mirror.

No, no, no, not again?

And then he saw Nyika lying prone on the floor, her face and paws and her colorful robe all dyed by the most sacred red, and he kneeled down to embrace her, tears pouring down his face as he buried his muzzle in her neck. She smelled of blood and fear, but her body was the only one not trembling.

When he finally pulled back, he noticed the whip lying on the ground next to her, and the bloody, mangled stripes on her back, and the collar that wrapped around her neck, and it was all Istvan could do not to break down again.

Her eyes flickered. ?It?s okay, my priest,? she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I knew you would come back."

?I was too late,? he sobbed. ?I?m sorry. I failed again.?

?You did all that you could, and it was good,? she replied, the frowned. ?You have no haunts...?

"I sacrifced for them. For myself."

Nyika closed her eyes and smiled. When she opened them she ran a shaking paw across his eyepatch. ?Your eye...?

"Tikora cut it out."

"You gave up half the light of the world in order to save it..."

Zevka stepped forward, clearly uncomfortable with the scene in front of her. ?Nyika, I have somebeast for you to meet."

The wildcat looked to be in a state of shock, but still he came forward and extended his arms around the other of his species, disregarding the blood that smeared over his clothes.

"Nyika? I...I'm Mekad. Zevka just told me that--" The wildcat was choking up visibly. "She just told me that I'm your brother." He made no attempt to hide the tears in his eyes.

Nyika?s arms wrapped around his neck and tightened, and the corners of her eyes moistened.

"I'm so glad," she whispered.

This embrace lasted until Mekad noticed the terrible scar that lurked under the pure white paint on her face, and as he put her down his ears flattened and he grimaced.

?Oh, yeah?? said Zevka quietly. Istvan cocked his eyebrows, and the pine marten sidled up to him and whispered, ?Mekad?s father was one of those who? Risk put that mark on, and made him watch.?

The otter nodded, and wondered what the ferret?s spirit was doing right now. Did he remember the kitten whose life he had forever altered? It wasn?t likely. Istvan bitterly regretted that he had lost the chance to speak with Risk about forgiveness while he still walked among the living. If he enlisted Nyika as a medium and attempted to do so, would the famous killer repent even now?

Poko poked her head around the space where the door had once been, and announced that she could hear beasts coming up the stairs. As if on cue, Tikora groaned.

?How are we going to get out of here?? asked the ferret.

?We really didn?t think that part through?? admitted Zevka. She turned her head towards the bloody weasel. ?But I think I have a plan.?

Istvan and the pine marten approached the ?High Priestess,? while Mekad busied himself with freeing Nyika from her humiliating bondage.

The muzzle-full of glass had not done much to improve Tikora?s features; the new cuts blended with her tattoos and Istvan was painfully reminded of the significance of the lines. He felt his mind being dragged back seventeen seasons, and leaned on Zevka for support. She gripped his paw, and together they faced the bleeding, pregnant beast whose very existence was an insult to everything the Mother had created.

?Gag her,? he ordered Zevka. She ripped a piece from the weasel?s robes and raised it to her mouth.

?Just try it, and I?ll- mhpf!? Tikora?s trauma had apparently not diminished her fighting nature, and Istvan knew that if she spat out another blasphemy he would not have been able to resist adding more bruises to her face.

The pair lifted the Tikora onto her paws, and tied her arms behind her back with more strips of robe. Then Zevka raised her knife to the weasel?s throat and shoved her out the door, Mekad and Poko following close behind.

Istvan hesitated a moment, realized that Nyika lacked even the strength to pick herself up off the floor, and he lifted her in his arms.

"She beat me," she said, a shudder passing through her body as she pressed her face against his chest. "Ever since Noonahootin died. I've displeased her. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"It is nobeast's fault but hers," Istvan said as he carried her out of the room, leaving behind one broken, bloodstained mirror.

***

The group ran into the first party of guards halfway down the stairwell, but after Zevka pressed her blade into Tikora?s throat hard enough to draw blood they realized that she wasn?t bluffing. After some heated negotiations, the Carrigulites agreed to give them safe passage out of the city in exchange for their ?High Priestess?s? life.

The six beasts walked down the street towards the city gate, followed by the eyes of the innumerable city-dwellers who lined the avenues and leaned out of windows and balconies. Istvan had a hard time believing that Tikora would be able to retain her iron grip on the city. Without the glue of her false All-Mother holding it together, Carrigul would likely collapse. It seemed a fitting end to the story.

The otter was allowed the luxury of these thoughts only until he noticed the sun above him blotted out, followed by a familiar feathery figure landing in front of him, who was quickly joined by a large crowd of soldiers.

?Aster,? Zevka growled, ?We?re leaving this city, and there?s nothing you can do to stop us.?

?I disagree with that, my dear,? replied the falcon. ?Zander, if you would??

A huge weasel, even taller than Istvan, shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He was carrying a beast over each shoulder, who he deposited ungraciously on the ground.

The effect this act had on the group was immense. Zevka swore, Poko gasped and covered her mouth, and the tattooed otter could feel Nyika tense in his arms as she hissed.

?I believe you are familiar with these two? Just in case, allow me to introduce the beasts whose lives you hold in your paws: the famous Captain Flax and Ms. Pyracantha Dewhurst.?