FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"It is a curious thing," a slow, deep, purring voice said. "Curious indeed. What could a girl like you want with a dangerous implement like that?"

Keyla looked up and around, but she was alone in the store save for the grey tabby that watched her with solemn yellow eyes. "Hello?" she called. "Who's there?"

"Not who you may expect," the tabby said. "But then, that depends entirely on who you expecting to expect in the first place."

Keyla looked at it, her mouth falling agape. "You . . . you're a talking cat," she said finally. "Or I've gone crazy."

"And you're a talking fox," it replied with a nonchalant flick of the tail. "Am I really that strange?"

Keyla blinked in surprise, and it was gone.

"Puzzled?" the voice of the cat purred in her ear, close enough for its warm breath to tickle. She whirled around to see the cat sitting on the table nowhere near her, calmly washing a paw.

"What are you?" Keyla demanded.

The cat paused and considered one of its claws. "Better to ask what I am not," it said with a dismissive flex of its talons. "And the answer to that is, not anything, really."

"Do you have a name?"

"I have many names." The words came from behind her again, softly spoken in her ear. She turned quickly to see the cat where it had been to begin with, laying among the jars in the cupboard. She looked back to the table, and the cat paused in its washing to blink at her.

"Are there two of you?" she asked the one in the cupboard. Which was no longer there, when she turned to look.

"There are none of me." The voice came from what seemed like everywhere, the cat on the table nowhere to be seen. "And there are all of me. For you can't really have one without the other. Now pray, tell me about yourself. Have you a name, my girl?"

"My name is Keyla," she said, turning in slow, wary circles. "Keyla Greyson. Where are you?"

"Where I wish. Which is someplace very hard to get to, for most. Oh, were they not blind, the things they could see . . ." The purr trailed off into a wistful sigh. "But enough of me. Where are you from, Keyla Greyson? Why are you here? Your trace feels of the southern wind, and your eyes tell of your flames."

"If you know that, then you must know why I am here," Keyla said carefully, putting the surprise off for later. It was odd enough as it was.

"Perhaps I do know why you're here. The true reason, that is. But what you may think is your reason may not be your reason at all, reason enough though it may be. If you follow my reasoning."

"Not really," Keyla growled, becoming impatient. "Now show yourself, blasted cat." In that moment, she became aware of a slight weight on head, like a hat that she had been wearing and had ceased to notice until just now.

"Very well," the cat said, kneading its claws between her ears. "I am here. And there. But you have yet to tell me your reasoning of your reason of being here."

Keyla reached up and gingerly plucked the cat off of her head, wincing as it playfully batted with half-sheathed claws at her ears. She held it out in front of her and looked it in the eyes. "I don't think I will," she said. "My reasons, whatever they are, are my own."

The cat grinned a toothy smile, one that reminded Keyla of a sickle moon rising. "Are they, then?" it asked. "That remains to be seen."

Keyla frowned. "And to think that the fact that you talk no longer seems as absurd. Don't you say anything other than riddles?"

"I've never been very good at games of wit," it replied with a twitch of an ear. "But answer me this: what star lies in the raven's eye, flying ever so high unto Naught and Nigh?"

"I don't- look, that's not even a proper riddle."

"And that was not a proper answer." The cat evaporated- there really was no other word for it- and left Keyla clutching at a draft of air. "Perhaps you should be on your way." The voice came from behind her, of course. "Unless you really fancy the crossbow. The man you should see about that should be along soon. Now farewell, my girl." The voice trailed off into nothing.

Keyla was left gazing at her hands, her mind in a befuddle. She moved her fingers slightly just to reassure that they weren't going to turn into smoke and disappear as well. Did I imagine that? she had to wonder. I almost wish I did . . . though, in a way, I hope to the gods that I didn't.

The bell to the door rang behind her, announcing a visitor. She glanced up to see a young man walk in carrying a canvas bag of what looked like iron rods, hooked at the top. He set his burden down on the counter and turned to her, his eyes grey and bright, his dark hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Hello there," he said with a small smile. "I was just out picking up supplies for my projects. Who are you?"

With a jolt, Keyla realized that she might have been trespassing. "Er, I'm Keyla," she stammered. She quickly put the crossbow back on the shelf. "S-sorry for being here, I didn't see a sign . . ."

"Not to worry. Anything in this shop is unique enough so that I'd be able to track it to Leldon and back, were it taken." He nodded at the crossbow. "Interested in that old thing, eh? Good, it could use a home."

"Oh, no, I-I was just looking."

"Hm. Looking at ghost, I'd say from the looks of you. What spooked you, anyway?"

"Nothing," Keyla muttered. "Well, that is . . . you wouldn't happen to keep a cat, would you?"

"Ah." The young man's smile sharpened. "You met Naught then."

"Sorry?"

"Naught. Or, at least, that's what he likes to be called. Had a little run-in with the little wisp of wit and mist, did you?" The black-haired boy sat on the counter and casually crossed his legs. "My name's Griffin," he said. "No surname, no fault of mine. What brings you here? Keyla, was it?"

"Yes. A friend of mine asked me to come here and pick up a package of his."

"Package? Oh, that must be Darick. He sent his hidden blades in for repair a few days ago."

Keyla frowned. "What are hidden blades?"

"Concealed wrist-blades of my own design. Not a very original name, I suppose, but I couldn't think of anything better." Griffin hopped down from his perch and motioned for Keyla to follow him. "They're in the back."

She followed the man through a doorway in the corner of the shop, leading into a storeroom of sorts. It had no windows and was dark, but she could see perfectly in the dim. Things glowed with reflected light, becoming surreal and slightly distorted in her night eyes. She looked around, noting the cluttered workbench along one wall and the various tools and crates of parts and pieces of metal, leather and wood.

A loud bang pierced the dark and Griffin swore. "Sorry," he apologized through gritted teeth. "Blasted boxes everywhere . . . Where's my torch?" At his question, a row of pitch sticks in iron brackets flared into life, throwing a yellow tinged, flickering light onto their surrounds. "Thank you, Naught," Griffin said, weaving his way between crates. "Now I can see."

Keyla's eyes widened at the unexpected phenomenon. "Is he a fire-summoner?"

"From what I understand, more than likely he is the fire." One of the torches flared bright, and in the flames Keyla caught a glimpse of the cat's yellow eyes and grin. "Naught is a very odd creature," Griffin explained, rifling through an unlabeled box on the table. "Why he prefers the shape of a cat, I don't know, or what else he could be."

"But what is he?"

"I haven't an clue in the slightest. I think he may be a living idea. Or the physical embodiment of nothing."

"That sounds like it shouldn't exist," Keyla pointed out.

"I don't think he does. Not like we think things do. Aha!" he cried suddenly. "I knew I had them somewhere." He withdrew two odd-looking devises and set the on the table. "Here they are," he said proudly, pushing them towards her. "Hidden blades at their finest."

Keyla picked up one of the contraptions. "I didn't know Darick had these," she said, examining them closely. "How do they work?"

"I'll show you. And besides, they wouldn't be very good hidden blades if they were seen. When you give them to him, tell him that these are the new and improved design. Fully automatic out the front and back in, all with a twist of the wrist." Griffin pulled on a tightly braided hemp cord and with a click, a slim blade slid out of the front on well-oiled tracks. The man went on. "These are slimmer, lighter, easier to hide under those vambraces of his."

"I've often wondered why he keeps those on all the time."

"He prefers to be prepared." He pulled on the cord again, and the blade slid back in with another click to lock back into place. "Anyway, to business. Do you have payment?"

Keyla hesitated and set down the wrist-blade. "Well, not exactly . . . Darick didn't give me money for you."

Griffin made a tch noise with his tongue. "Of course he didn't," he sighed. "I don't think he realizes that random payments in odd increments won't feed me much through the months. I make novelty weapons for a living; it's not exactly a large market."

"How much are these?"

"Ten silvers for the pair. Worth every ounce, mind you, and I could use the money." Keyla thought about the coins Resyl had given her. He'd told her to get something nice for herself, but he'd understand if she had to use it for this . . .

Griffin seemed to sense her hesitation and take a guess at its cause, and he said, "Ah, don't worry about it. I'll find the blade-miser later and shake him down. Just take these. But, if you're interested in anything here?"

Keyla wouldn't mind getting one of the odd pieces of weaponry here, and she was sure that between Resyl and Banile, the supply would be pillaged when they heard word of the shop's existence. "I do have some money my friend gave me. What do you suggest?"

Griffin scratched the black stubble on his chin, which had yet to develop to fully cover his jaw, and leaned against the table. "Well, let's see. There's something for everyone in here . . . all fighters, that is. Anyone else would be out of luck. An old lady came in one time wanting to buy Naught, who she thought was merely a sweet, handsome tomcat . . . I laughed and told her that I might as well try to sell her the sky or the moon . . . Tell me, are you trained in any of the arts of combat?"

Keyla smiled and nodded. "I know how to use a sword and bow," she said, adding with a hint of pride, "I'm also a fire-summoner."

"My god!" Griffin cried, leaping to his feet. "In that case, I have so much to show you! Come on!"