The Cat's Portrait
It was quiet on the lonely hill, separating the Southern Continent from the Eastern one. It was still quiet when the Emeritan hovercraft touched down, because centuries of Emeritan research had developed non-polluting vehicles which did not sacrifice speed or make noise. The front door opened, and a young, light yellow Feline stepped out. She blinked to get used to the bright summer sun, and turned to thank her Lapine guide. "No problem," the brown Lapine cheerfully replied, "but when you want to come back, just come back here and push the button I gave you. It's faster than trekking though the mountains, and these things don't have windows so travelers won't know the way there and back on foot. Remember: if anyone mentions the Lost City of Light, just laugh at it." The demure female Cat nodded, hefted her backpack, and said, "Thanks, Leyha. What do I do if I lose it?" "Write your name on it or something. Probably nobody will recognize it on sight except you. Well, bye Faelan," she added, "my shift's almost over, and I'm gonna go party tonight!" She turned around, and her legs began to wobble. "Ooh, not yet... I'm gonna go sleep tonight..." Leyha limped back into the hovercraft in a knock-kneed fashion, and shut the door. Faelan looked back as the hovercraft, coloured a perfect sky blue, lifted silently into the air, ceased to be visible, and sped off with but a warm downdraft. The Cat looked down the hill, her gaze following the meandering river Meritorious, and came to rest upon the sprawling city-state of Ca'vul, the largest on the Southern Continent. Faelan gulped, wishing she had asked Leyha some more about the city she would soon visit, and set off.
A big black Rat scurried through the dungeon. Normally, Rats had to frighten or intimidate, and thus strode or snuck. However, as the most experienced and powerful male Torturer in Ca'vul's system of institutionalized slavery, Nightshade decided to allow himself the occasional scurry, especially when some urgency made itself clear. He ran through the corridor until he spotted someone, stopped to catch his breath, and strode up to the cage with the helpless Leopard in it. He slammed his fist down on the top of the cage and snapped, "One, where is Matriel? Two, where is Gallowtail?" The imprisoned Panther shook his head. "N-no, Master. Are you going to punish me tonight?" Nightshade gave a snort through his small Rodent nose, his eyes narrowing in contempt. "I have no time to deal with the likes of you; if Ireline makes hirself shown to you, then tell-" "I try to make myself shown only after I become informed," Ireline interrupted, slinking up beside hir male counterpart in the Trinity. "Matriel is still in the cage in which you left her, and I have sent Dunstan to alert Gallowtail. She is with her newfound charge today, so once my slave interrupts them, she'll be along shortly. I must, however, say that having our likenesses out for all to see would detract from our reputation, and would cost us some surprise. I would no longer be able to wear the chains of a prisoner and seed rumors." Nightshade laughed and struck a haughty pose. "All that was said in her letter was that an artistic Female wanted to paint a portrait of the three who rule Ca'vul's loathsome system of imprisonment! She must have decided to come here for personal reasons, maybe to prove herself brave enough to make an appointment with the contemptuous and mysterious Trinity. If it turns out the 'portrait' isn't her true motive, it would make everything much easier." Ireline nodded. "Agreed. Once Gallowtail finds the time to converse, we should decide how to greet this portraiteer, if at all."
Some hours later, Faelan found herself standing just inside the mighty city, at a complete loss as to where to go. The Meritorious went from meandering to criscrossing with the city surrounding it, so the streets rarely went in straight lines, even with the added bridges. She looked down at the paper with the information of her appointment on it, and stared around. There were more Canines and Lupines than she had seen before, more than any single other Kind she had known. Any Felines she saw were following someone else, sometimes with a leash. Eventually, she swallowed her fear and tapped someone who looked knowledgeable on the shoulder. "Excuse me," she asked him, "but where can I find the corner of Westbank Street and Pillory Crescent?" Her ears started to droop when the Canine gave her a suspicious frown, and then perked up again when he asked her where her collar was. "Um, I don't have a collar," the Feline nervously replied. "Am I supposed to have one?" The Dog gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Westbank St. is a block or so to the west, in that direction. Either you have a really careless Owner, or this is your first time in the Southern Continent. Which is it?" Faelan thought for a moment, deciding which response would get her in the least trouble, and finally said, "I'm here on business. I've got to meet my, uh, contacts there. Could you give me directions?" The Canine looked at her for a while longer, then started to grin. "Sure, it's right down that way. It's the big, dark building that takes up a whole block. I hope your 'business' turns out alright!" Faelan gave him a worried sidelong look, and turned down the street. After a few minutes, she saw the building and headed towards it and went inside. Immediately, someone grabbed her arms. "Ah, so kind of you to come straight in," a Vulpine voice hissed. "We'll get you a nice collar in no time. Would you better serve a male, or female Owner?" Faelan nearly mewled with fear, but rallied against her instincts and remembered the warning Leyha had given her before she left: "Those Torturers are practically paid with power trips, and they know how to get them; when one of them tries to scare you, act like they aren't worth your time. If they do frighten you, don't try to hide it, 'cause it only lets them keep it up. Try to keep them off their guard, so they won't be able to get at you. But be polite to most of them, 'cause in the Southern Continent, there are lots of rules about how to be polite to everyone. They'll probably lock you up for not saying "thank you" 'cause they didn't lock you up before!" Faelan took a deep breath, tried to wriggle free from the Fox's grip, and said, "I'm here to paint the portrait of the Trinity. Either go and get them, or leave me alone." "Oh, that's rich! A Feline, here to paint the image of Those who no-one is worthy to lick their- I mean, Those who's hindpaws may not- Er, I don't believe you," he finished in a mumble. "Then bring me to them and ask for yourself. Or," she added, proud at her cunning bluff, "you could just lock me in a cage; when they come storming in, asking why they didn't get their frightening beauty immortalized, you can tell them." The frazzled Fox gave an angry grunt. "Don't talk that way to me, Cat." He settled back to the usual standard, "but afterwards, you're mine." Faelan found it easier to act demure, even as she was marched down the hallway and across a room of cages and pens. She refused to look to the side, reminding herself that whoever was in there was in there for a reason. Most likely. To help take her mind off of her surroundings, the Feline took a sheet of canvas from her backpack, and fumbled around a side pocket for a pencil. After casting around for what kind of doodle to do, she turned back and saw that her 'guide' had left her alone, with no hint at which direction to go. She looked around the hallway, she began to feel the fear build up again. "Hmm," a voice hissed softly, "a new one..." Faelan pricked her ears up and heard the newcomer walk towards her. She tried to put on her most righteous expression, then turned to say, "Ah, finally. Where can I find the, er Triumvate?" The Stoat, clad in a corset, gloves, and a pair of baggy pants, gave her a critical stare for just long enough to feel uncomfortable, then started to laugh harshly, mockingly. "A young Feline such as yourself has the gall to walk straight into Ca'vul, head into the dungeons, ask for the Trinity, and furthermore, get it wrong? I'm sure we can find a nice cage for you." Faelan backed away, shaking off the Torturer's imaginary grip. "I don't have the gall, I have paints. I was supposed to paint their portrait, but I can't do that if I'm in a cage. You'll have to get them to deal with me directly." The Musteline was obviously not fazed by Faelan's attempts to act haughty. "That was very cute how you browbeat that trainee. I think I'll indulge you since you're so amusing. Come with me, and we'll see what we can find." Faelan, who had never dealt with anyone like this before, soon found herself what that Stoat would do next. The female (or quite possibly male, due to the rough voice) led her on for a while and then stopped in front of a door. "Oh, they're through that door?" Faelan inquired. "I am Ireline, Keeper of Woe," the Stoat explained, "but you may call me Keeper. You must always use the proper connotation when referring to a Torturer: in my case, Musteline. You, lowly Cat, will have the honour of watching the rest of the Trinity at their work. Once they have finished, if you still remain standing, you may begin your... portrait..." "No thanks, I can just wai-" the door opened a crack, and Faelan's face was pushed against it: inside the room, she could see a tall, muscular Equine female with a dark, ropey mane and tail standing over an almost-as-tall Canine, who was naked, bound to a table, and snarling curses as loud as he could. A female Cat like herself was cowering in the corner of the room, and a black Rat stood behind the snarling Dog. "This prisoner is here for harmful negligence," Ireline hissed. "A few days after he had purchased this Cat - without bothering to learn the necessary rules and precautions - a trainee Torturer came to check up on them; she looked through a window and found her chained to his bed, with obvious signs of physical injury on her. We think he may have done such things before, with other slaves and perhaps a false name or two: nobody can hide for long from us." "But Ir- Keeper," Faelan whispered, "If you treat other living, thinking beings as property, then why-" "They are living, thinking beings and property," the Keeper interrupted. "and respect for property is a cornerstone of civilization. Anyone who would break their own property and continually abuse someone else, be they Feline, Canine, or whatever, they need the kind of education that can only come of suffering. Now be quiet, they're about to begin!" The Feline looked through the crack again, and found the Canine had his tongue lolling out. He took a deep breath to begin swearing again, but the Equine hit him across the face with a short whip. "I'm glad we've learned to hold our tongue in the presence of our superiors," she said, in a way that made clear that she was far from glad. "Now apologize to this Feline, and perhaps your punishment will be lessened a bit." "I'm not saying anything to a Cat, Horsebitch!" the chained Dog snarled. "If you want me to concede anything to an inferior-" The Equine struck him again. "That's 'Lady,' not 'Horsebitch,'" she snapped, "and I daresay you're in a position to dictate who's inferior to whom. But if you insist..." The Torturer walked over behind him, and rattled one of the chains on the walls. As the two Felines could only watch in fear, the black Rat leapt on the male's exposed rear, while jerking as if on a leash. "Ooh, thank you, Mistress..." The Equine slapped her whip against her palm; the Rodent gave a brief squeak. "Only my personal slave may call me that! That's 'Lady' to you, Ratboy." She rattled the chain again, sounding as if it had dropped on the ground. The Rat jerked forward; the Equine shouted, "Hold, Ratboy!" The black Rodent leaned slowly over and began to drool near the Dog's ear. "Mmmm. Fresh. Meat..." The Torturer walked leisurely over to face the now-silent Dog again. "Quite interesting, Rats. They can be trained, in a fashion, but there are some instincts that they just can't be rid of." The Rodent threw his pair of black shorts over the Dog's head, and landed at the Equine's feet. "They have very good hearing," she continued, "with an excellent sense of touch, and taste. They are naturally drawn to helplessness, and are quick and efficient, if somewhat messy." The Rodent opened his maw and gave a quick nip to one of the quivering Dog's ears, making him yelp out. "I said hold!" the Torturer shouted. The Dog began to pull at his bonds in a futile attempt to break free, but was interrupted by the stone-grey Equine. "I don't suggest you move, as that would certainly agitate him. Fear makes them bold; blood makes them hungry. All it would take is one little thing, and not even I could hold him back. Now then: is there anything else you would like to say, you bad Dog?" "Ooh, let me have him, Lady... Let me have him now..." The Rat began to grope him obscenely, his saliva mixing with the drops blood from the Dog's ear on the floor. The Dog, now a quivering mess, looked up at the Equine and gasped, "P-p-pleease..." "Oh, I'm sorry, that is not what I wanted to hear." The Equine frowned, raised her hand as if to snap her- "No!" a voice cried out. All turned to see it was the Cat in the room, shaking with fear at everyone else in the room. "No!" she repeated, "No, not him; do it to me! To me!" The Equine gave her a sidelong glance, then sat in front of the Dog and raised his chin. "Now then," she stated, "it seems this Cat, this one of an 'inferior Kind' has come to your rescue, though you don't deserve it in the least. This slave, who has endured sloppy and uncontrolled methods from your paws, now wants to take your punishment for you, even if it means facing a hungry Rat. Well?" she forced him to look at her mocking gaze, "Shall you decide?" Every muscle in the Dog's body tensed as his mind wound against itself, every urge and instinct screaming out at once: the Feline's inferiority; the black Rat's desire to leave him a broken, half-eaten mess; the Equine's power over them all; his pack instincts, with a desire to both supplicate and dominate; and the driven-in fact, enforced by long hours of torture, that he did something wrong. "NO! Let her be!" Then the Canine, near-mad with terror and conflict, slumped against the table and fainted. The Equine snapped her fingers twice and blinked. "Hmm, he certainly has passed out, but he might reawaken shortly. How fortunate; now we have less explaining to do." The big black Rat stood up and frowned. "Very expertly done, Gallowtail, but we could have kept him going for a while longer. You know how I love the touch of a terrified male, thinking I'd deign to putrefy my own flesh by association with his." The Horse gave a single chuckle, turned to the still-frightened Cat, and said, "You may return to your cage for now; that was very convincing on your part. For now, however, I'd prefer he woke up alone." Faelan stepped back, sickened by fear and confusion. She tried to calm her heartbeat and comprehend the entire scene she just saw at the same time, and felt her knees buckle. Ireline held her up with one paw, and opened the door with the other. The other Cat bowed quickly before walking off, and the Rodent closed the door behind them. "Hmm, that was the first time I have ever seen the two of you try something like that without me. Expertly done, nonetheless. Oh, and this is the artist who wanted to come here," Ireline added, gesturing towards the still-shaking Faelan. "We could find someone to get you some water, if you need it." "No, no, that's fine... W-why did you - what was the point of that?" Faelan started to feel more stable, but her thoughts still changed from what she should paint to when she should run. "Oh, we could explain things to him or lock him away for days or months," the Equine explained, "but in the end, he'd just tell us what we wanted to hear and return to his old ways. With our expertise, he will eventually learn some manners, and might even make a good Torturer himself." "What? You'd let a sadist like him work for you? With other... prisoners?" The Rodent nodded, and extended his paw. "Of course. I was once a fool like him, believing that anything beneath me was only to be exploited. Then, I found out there were other ways to satisfy my thirst, again and again, and be respected for it. I am Nightshade, Lord of pain. While I am within earshot, you may call me 'Lord'." The Equine grabbed Faelan's paw and placed a long, slow kiss upon it. Faelan made a face that can be illustrated best with the letter 'o' in upper and lower case, with a period between them. "I am Gallowtail, Lady of the collar," she explained, after finishing. "I am very glad a foreign Feline artist will render us in paint. Those stuffy Lupine artist can never get anything right." Ireline stepped around them, wearing a sarcastic expression. "And I am Ireline, Keeper of woe, as I've told you before; but I must warn you, Felines have never been accepted very well in Ca'vul society. In any case, you may begin your painting now." The Cat blanched again, then rallied defiantly. "I think you've given me enough inspiration now, so just give me some place to sit and set up. Someplace quiet, where I can think to myself. Er," she continued, "if I need another look at any of you, where can I find you?" "Just follow the loudest screaming, dear, and you'll find at least one of us," Gallowtail joked. When she saw the expression it put on Faelan's face, she quickly added, "but since the week has been slow, that won't be much of a problem. We will generally be able to model for you, emergencies and paperwork permitting. What kind of painting did you have in mind?" "Well," she thought to herself, realizing her plan was more fantasy than design, "something plain, nothing sexual..." Ireline scoffed. "Didn't you know? Torturers never mate with each other, and besides, we find each other unattractive." A pair of snorts echoed the Stoat's statement. "All we demand is to look at what you're painting, and accept or reject it at any part of its progression. If the portrait takes more than one session to complete, you will have use of one of the unused private chambers here; for meals, whatever fare is being fed to the prisoners, most likely bread and oatmeal. Come along, and you may begin." Faelan's initial disgust began to fade as she set everything up: the Trinity was eager to strike a variety of poses, and dress in a variety of ways. Occasionally, they would bring someone in to give suggestions, though a disturbing number of those suggestions ended with a "personal invitation to their chambers". On the occasions where they didn't, Faelan would talk with them, and learn more about Ca'vul: its influential philosophers; the neighbouring city-states that it had conquered, in times past; the origins of its short fight against a village of Panther and Feline "Resistance Fighters" and its subsequent attitude to anyone of those Kinds; and, of course, their modern system of institutionalized slavery, where transgressors were brought to pay back their debts to society or each other. She learned, much to her initial surprise, that some even sold themselves into slavery: they would get a percentage of what they were bought for, they were usually taken in by someone who needed help in their work, and that only one slave could be held per household. Sometimes, someone would agree with their mate to be "bought," in case they preferred the privileges granted by Owner and slave instead of mates. As her time passed and her private, tentative sketches changed, Faelan found herself growing more comfortable. Twice in the week in which she drew and painted, Nightshade would dress in an innocuous way and walk around the city with her, showing her what Ca'vul looked like from the inside. The Ymi fruit, which grew plentifully on trees in the small fields and parks in the city had a filling, almost meaty taste. Sometimes, passing or playing children would smile at her, or ask her something, while the adults paid her as much attention as they would most furniture. There weren't as many Kinds as she'd been used to, and took things much more seriously: money was earned and used, bought and sold, as if it was a thing itself and not just a means of keeping track of favours. Ireline liked to show her the inside of Ca'vul's governance, and even brought her to the City Hall once; she had to wear a collar and wasn't supposed to talk to the Marquis or the Privy Councillors, but she was so awestruck and interested at her first visit that she only listened and watched in wonder. She got to watch a gruff Lupine Privy Councillor argue with Ireline for an hour over who-meant-to-insult-whom, and wished she could paint that scene, or at least take a photo of it. After the visit, and a barrage of questions directed at Ireline, she ran to her canvas, pulled out her sketchbook, and hurriedly scribbled down all she could remember, not wanting to ever forget it. Faelan's sessions with Gallowtail were the closest to what she had originally expected from a Torturer of Ca'vul: she would bring a white female Lapine with her, usually dressed up in a revealing black-and-white outfit. At random intervals, the strong Equine would pull her over or kiss her, and would sometimes drag her out of the room on some flimsy pretext or other. When Faelan asked Ireline why the female part of the Trinity made a point of taking advantage of another female over and over again, the Stoat responded, "Gallowtail has a very strict policy regarding purity and innocence in her presence. In the knowledge that you are a visitor who is doing a service unto us, she would rather defile someone she knows she can. Enter the Rabbit, whom she keeps near for such reasons. Hmph," shi grinned sardonically, "a beacon of virtue in appearance; a bawdy harlot beneath. 'Twas as if she was meant from birth to kneel at the hooves of Gallowtail, Lady of- if you keep making that face, young Feline, you might just end up making it naturally, out of habit." Her whole experience influenced her painting, turning it from an angular rejection of everything soft and pleasant to a simple contrast of light and darkness, with each of the Trinity standing in their own postures against a monochromatic background: it was as if they were standing in front of a soft, subtle light, with nothing but darkness behind them. After she was sure her work could not improve any further by her methods, she stood before Ca'vul's Trinity and displayed her portrait to them. They each thought about their comments, and gave them in turn: "This was your best effort?" Gallowtail snorted. "You've made us look like a wicked, scheming band of fearsome tyrants. Though I must say, it didn't completely fulfil my expectations. I do believe you've botched Nightshade's, well, shading." Nightshade gave a scoff in Gallowtail's direction and turned his permanent glare onto the canvas. "Bah! You should thank this Cat for the work she did. It seems she was better than even I thought she would be." Ireline swept the portrait with hir eyes, and gave a slow nod. "It is acceptable, so you are due some measure of our gratitude. A steward will present you with your modest fee on the way out. Be thankful we gave you anything at all in return." "Oh, but I didn't expect an-" "Now leave," Ireline interrupted. "You are trying our patience." Faelan started to walk in the opposite direction, confused again. She continued on, alone, until a Lupine walked up and stopped her. "I have been ordered to give these to you," she said coldly. "This might be the first time the Trinity has shown favour on a Feline, so feel grateful." The Wolf tossed a small bag at the Feline, who caught and opened it. "Uh, but why couldn't they have just given this to me?" Faelan asked. "The Trinity are not known for their generosity," the Lupine continued just as coldly. "They have to maintain a certain standard of rudeness or contempt in order to keep their fear established. A nod of thanks and a few baubles are the only gratitude they'd allow themselves to give; do you think you'd have immortalized them any differently had they coddled you the whole time?" Faelan thought to herself, as she looked through the various coins she found in the bag. "I don't think I'd be able to get these transferred electronically," she thought. She touched something different in the bag, and pulled out a black collar with a small ring on the front. "That is in case you want to return to Ca'vul without being harassed," The Lupine explained. "The ring is to hold a tag with your name on it, so everyone will believe you to be a resident. Besides, I believe it would look very attractive on you." Faelan started to give her that usual surprised look, and then stopped. Some time ago, she would have turned down the collar, but now... She put it down to their methods, of their own subtle ways of changing how everyone thought. "Tell them, no, give them my thanks. I hope to return later, but I don't think I'd be able to, for a while." The Lupine nodded quickly. "I will direct you as far as the city limits; if you need to steal anything from our larders for the trip home-" She caught sight of Faelan smiling and shaking her head, and just gave another nod. * * *
It was quiet on the lonely hill, separating the Southern Continent from the Eastern one. It was still quiet when the Emeritan hovercraft touched down, because centuries of Emeritan research had developed non-polluting vehicles which did not sacrifice speed or make noise. Faelan picked up her knapsack and waved at the vehicle's opening door. Faelan looked disappointedly at the Hamster who peeked out of the door. "Oh. Leyha isn't on duty today?" The Hamster shook his head. "Nope! She's out partying again. You'll probably find her if you check the gutter next morning!" Faelan rolled her eyes at another report of her friend going off to drown her troubles in another night of sleaze. "Well, when she gets back on the job," the Cat smirked, "Tell her she should find me; I've got stuff she'd like to see and hear!" She followed the Hamster inside the sleek, metal-and-rubber vehicle, wondered what her friend's reaction would be to the copy of the painting in her pack, felt the collar in her pocket, and closed the door.