Chapter 5: Finding Favor with Felines
Medis was in trouble. She was currently in the middle of a town square and tied to a large stake, which was surrounded by dry wood and straw soaked in oil. In front of her, a man over twice her height read out a list of her "crimes."
"Besides being a mockery of humanity, a horrendous chimera of woman and cat," the priest read, "she has dared to tread upon the domain of our beloved Myatrad, the God of Light, and the only source of righteous healing, with her blasphemous witchcraft and wicked alchemy. She is a charlatan and trickster who has preyed upon the gullible with her false cures."
His words stoked the anger of the crowd, who roared in anger at the bound feline.
Medis's mouth was bound, so she could not speak a word in her own defense. Not that they would listen. Her treatments weren't false, they worked. No better or worse than the holy healings of the church of Myatrad, who employed good healers, but they weren't everywhere. They stuck to the cities and bigger towns. Medis had helped the smaller towns and villages the church didn't consider worth the effort to help. Why was it a crime to help people? Why could only the church heal? Why was the god so greedy?
What was evil about witchcraft and alchemy? They were just skills that could be used for good or bad; it was the user that determined evil, not the craft. They should have based their condemnation on the results of her practice, not the practice itself.
And a mockery of humanity? Her form wasn't her fault; why should she be punished for it? If her mouth were not gagged and her life wasn't on the line she might have quipped that they were jealous of her night vision and ability to climb trees.
Medis was, indeed, an amalgamation of human and cat. She was feline in form, but stood and walked upright. She stood plantigrade, and when she extended her toes could reach about four feet tall, but usually stood closer to three and a half. She was covered in black glossy fur, with long, black, human-like hair on her scalp that hung down to her shoulders. Cat ears poked through her hair and a tail poked through a hole in the back of her dress. Her face was catlike, but flatter, with green eyes with vertical slits. Her shoulders and arms were more like a human's, and ended in paws that were more dexterous than a cat's toes but not quite as flexible as a human's fingers. When she flexed her fingers, the ends of claws could be seen poking through the fur.
"And worse," the priest continued, "she has taken the money of the poor for her scams!"
The crowd booed her again. Some began throwing vegetables at her. Charging for healing was one of the highest forms of blasphemy against Myatrad. The church healed all who came to them.
So they claimed. Medis knew that the church only established chapels with healers in towns that could afford to donate to the church. They turned no one away, but anyone desiring healing had to swear loyalty to the church. And all this after the sick or afflicted had walked for multiple days to a town large enough to have a chapel.
Yes, Medis charged for her services; the ingredients for her salves and tinctures had to come from somewhere. But she only charged if the person could afford it. She took payment in food and shelter more often than not.
The priest droned on, saying something about the glory of Myatrad and the Empire of Repan. They were probably going to use this to recruit for the army.
Medis didn't care. After spending so long dodging the church, they had caught her. After so many years helping people, she had been turned in by the very people she had saved. She tried to find consolation in the sicknesses she had cured, the newborns she had brought back to life.
The only thing that gave her any comfort right now was knowing that the paladin who had captured her would never be able to grow a full beard again.
She had failed to evade the patrols, she had failed to escape from jail, and there was no way to slip from her bonds with so many people watching. The only thing left for her to do was die with her dignity.
Fuck dignity, she wanted to live!
She had one card left to play, though she was hesitant to use it. A few years ago, Medis had delivered a baby to a halfling woman who asked Medis to pray with her after the birth. It was a difficult labor, and the mother had cried out to Shorsena, a fertility goddess revered by various and sundry small folk, for a safe delivery. Within an hour, Medis had arrived in the village and helped deliver the baby safely. The halflings attributed the safe delivery to the mercy of Shorsena. Medis thought it was lucky timing, along with her own skills of witchcraft and midwifery. She had joined the prayer, however, to make the women feel better; there was no use in upsetting a patient.
The new mother's sister-wives had gifted her a pendant of Shorsena, a stone carving of an excessively voluptuous woman, and she had accepted it to be polite. For some reason, she had never gotten rid of it. It now sat in the bottom of her satchel, which lay, full of valuable unused medicines, next to her feet to be burned with her.
Medis had never been religious. As far as she knew, she was the only cat in the world with the mental capacity to even comprehend religion. She knew the gods existed, of course, but they had never done anything for her. In her experience, all they did was claim all good deeds for themselves and burn anyone who disagreed. At least, that's what Myatrad did.
The halflings told her about Shorsena, that she watched over small folk of any race. Mostly she helped with love, conceiving, and pregnancy. They also told her that there were rumors that if one was in trouble, they could pray to the goddess for deliverance, but they could only do that when they were beyond all hope, because the goddess would take them out of the world and all they knew.
They never said anything about Shorsena controlling an empire and burning anyone who tried to help others under any name but hers.
Medis had never prayed on her own before. She did not know if Shorsena would even listen to the prayers of a cat. But she was supposed to hear the pleas of small folk, and Medis was a little smaller than a halfling. And she was beyond all hope of mortal salvation.
"Goddess Shorsena," she muttered around the gag in her mouth, "the halflings told me that you answer the prayers of the small and desperate. The also told me that I came in answer to their prayers to you. Since I've done your work for you, I figure you owe me. Take me wherever you take your faithful. Surely they could use an apothecary." She paused, hating to show humility, even to a goddess. "Please, save me. I don't want to die." She fought to hold back the tears that made her eyes hot. Even at the end, she wouldn't show weakness to her enemies.
Through her blurred vision, Medis thought she saw a light. Was it Shorsena? She blinked the tears away. No, it was just a gem around the neck of someone in the crowd reflecting the light. Was that a bard? He was dressed flamboyantly enough.
Her suspicions were confirmed when he reached behind his back and pulled out a lute. He started picking a light tune that Medis could somehow pick out over the roar of the crowd.
The priest stopped preaching and stared at the bard. The bard took this as his cue and stepped forward, never stopping his music. The crowd quieted down until the only sound heard was the music of the bard's lute.
"This is a beautiful gathering," the bard said, loud enough to be heard at the back of the assembled mass, "you have a beautiful flock, priest." He stood next to the priest who was still watching him and, for some reason, hadn't interrupted. "Before you continue, I have something to say: When I see a crowd like this, I feel in my heart that no gathering of this size should be without music," he strummed a few chords, "and song," he strummed a few more, "and dance!"
He strummed harder and louder, and the sound of the lute seemed to penetrate through the crowd and reach to the back. He strummed an infectious rhythm and the crowd began to sway with the music. The rhythm became more complicated and he added extra notes in, combining a tune with his strumming. The crowd began to dance! Before long, even the priest and his paladin guards were moving to the rhythm.
The music filled Medis's mind.
"Kitty cat."
She longed to join the crowd in the dance.
"Hey, Kitty cat!"
She strained against her bonds.
"KITTY CAT!"
The best she could do was tap her feet and sway her head to the beat.
Something jabbed her in the side and she was startled out of her reverie in pain.
"Yeowch!" she cried, or tried to around her gag. She looked around. In front of her was a goblin with green skin and black hair wearing dark goggles. It was short, maybe half a foot shorter than Medis, but it was holding a dagger. She pulled back as far as she could from it. She wasn't going to die in a fire, she was going to be stabbed by a goblin!
"You no move," said the goblin, who then cut her ropes.
Medis watched in fascination as her bonds fell to the ground. "W-what?" she stammered.
The goblin grabbed her paw. "Come, kitty cat," she said, "we go now."
In her shocked state, Medis allowed herself to be dragged a few paces before saying "wait, my satchel!" and stepping back to retrieve it.
The goblin tapped her foot impatiently. "Hurry, kitty cat, we need run!" The goblin led her around to the back of the stack of wood, where a gnome stood with a strange looking rod. "Okay Clavery!" the goblin called.
The gnome nodded. The end of her rod lit up bright enough to leave an afterimage in Medis's eyes, and the pile of wood and straw caught fire.
They ran. Fortunately, most of the town was dancing in the town square (and Medis still felt a tug to go back and dance), so they didn't encounter many people. Only one person recognized her.
"Hey, you're that cat!" called a town guard as they passed. He reached for the bell on his hip, but the gnome touched him with the end of her rod and the man spasmed and fell to the ground. Medis smelled burnt linen and urine on him.
The gnome took off her cloak and put it on Medis. "Here," she said, pulling the hood up, "cover your ears and tail."
After a few more minutes of dodging through back alleys, they came to a dead end with a small stone house. It wasn't much bigger than a shed, and looked out of place between the wood buildings on either side. A dwarf in armor and holding a big hammer stood in front of it.
"Have you got her?" asked the dwarf in a feminine voice.
"Yep," panted the goblin, "here kitty cat."
The dwarf turned to Medis and gestured to the door. "Come," she said, "you'll be safe here."
