Chapter 6

Quick squick warning. If the scene toward the end with Kashka and the Bull makes you uncomfortable feel free to skip it. There is no crucial information you will miss by doing so. I can’t say more here without it being a spoiler, but I tried very hard to make the scene palatable.

-Blu

Kashka slowly opened her eyes. Surprised she was even alive, the cat-girl reached down and gingerly prodded her stomach where the mage hit her. Curious why she wasn’t feeling any pain, the woman lifted her head and looked down at her body. Where she expected a huge bruise, the skin of her belly appeared normal. The cat-girl also noticed her belt was missing along with her sleeping potions, vials of poison, and lockpicks.

The bed she was lying in seemed ordinary, but the roof above her appeared to be canvas. The mage was supposed to be going out into the desert. Was this his tent? No, she wasn’t on a bedroll on the floor. She was lying in a bed. Though Kashka had never slept in a tent before, she knew they were mobile shelters, and a wooden-framed bed made no sense in that regard.

Flexing her legs, she guessed someone had given her an excellent healing potion. Bozun’s potions always left her a little sore, as though it stopped just before healing her completely.

That, or she wasn’t in pain because this was the afterlife.

For some reason, she felt the world beyond this one could do better than canvas tents. In her belly, light cramping reminded her it was empty despite her healed body, reinforcing the belief she was still alive.

She pushed the discomfort in her stomach from her mind. If she was alive, she needed to get back to Bozun before he determined she ran away. The assassin had a way of making sure anyone trying to escape him ended up dead. Though unsure how he accomplished this, she assumed it was similar to how he dealt with girls captured while on assignment. Whatever the mechanism, it often resulted in everyone nearby dying as well.

Moments later, she had the grim realization that if she returned, Bozun would kill her anyway. A small part of her mind entertained the idea he might forgive her and give her another chance, but she knew the man too well. Forgiveness was not something he did. The women working for him were disposable, and he reminded them of this constantly. As he said, he didn’t need broken blades.

The cat-girl closed her eyes. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. The only thing changing was how she chose to die. Remembering the feel of Bozun’s fingers digging into her scalp and the look of rage on his face made it an easy choice. He would make her death as painful as possible and use it to keep the other girls in line by showing them the price of failure.

Sighing, she realized the only thing left was how she chose to spend her last bit of time in the land of the living. She wished she could see her mother and sisters one last time, but that was impossible. Her mother died protecting her kittens from slavers. Kashka and her sisters were quickly rounded up afterward and sold off at the slave market here in Fazal. She hadn’t seen her siblings since then and probably wouldn’t recognize them if she did.

After a few months of intensive training, Kashka spent a handful of years as a young woman’s pet. As the girl approached marrying age, her father began looking for his daughter’s future husband and saving for her dowry. Days before she came of age, the man decided that a cat-girl was an unneeded expense. She was sold to Bozun shortly after.

Kashka scowled at the memory of training to become an assassin. The transition from a pet and companion to a living weapon was difficult, and the punishment for mistakes was severe. Bozun beat her nearly to death then poured a healing potion down her throat, reviving her so she could continue her lessons. She learned those lessons extremely fast and, combined with her natural abilities, became a stunningly good assassin in a short time.

While passing through an alley while returning from a mission, she heard music coming from a nearby inn. Though Bozun pounded most of her past life out of her, the sound reminded her of the songs sung by her previous owner’s mother, and she took a few minutes to listen before returning to the assassin. Afterward, she adjusted her routes across Fazal in hopes of chancing upon another inn with a minstrel. Somehow, Bozun never caught wind of her activities.

The songs and stories she heard fueled her imagination between assignments. Bozun had her and the other girls train in their downtime, but while the other girls continually honed their skills, something in her breed made her deadlier than even the other cat-girls. Bozun had her train about half as much as the other girls, and the lack of incessant practice led to many days laying in her room, letting her mind wander.

Shortly after the cat-girl came of age, she was training with a fluffy, white-haired dog-girl tasked with seducing and killing a particular man. The woman told her Bozun feared Kashka’s abilities. He worried that if she were allowed to perfect her craft, she would surpass his skills and become a threat to him one day. Kashka scoffed at the woman. Their Master’s skills were so far beyond hers, the idea was comical. She assumed the dog-girl was trying to be nice since she got to practice pleasuring human men nightly. Kashka and the other ‘blades’ only got to masturbate occasionally as a reward for successfully completing a difficult mission. Being with the Bull didn’t count. That was intended to be punishment and not as pleasant as her experience the night before last.

At first, Kashka envied the monster girls who became seductresses. Her jealousy evaporated when she realized the women never returned from their assignments. Information traveled slowly among Bozun’s charges. The girls were kept apart except when training, and the only reason it flowed at all was because the girls learned quicker when instructed by the others. Despite Bozun’s efforts, news would eventually trickle back to her that a girl completed her mission but was killed before she could escape. By the time Kashka noticed a pattern, Bozun’s other two’ blades’ had died and been replaced multiple times as well. When the assassin said she was disposable, he meant it.

She brought her revelation up to the other girls, but they dismissed her observations, fearful it might draw their Master’s ire. Unable to discuss her epiphany and unable to do anything about it anyway, Kashka retreated into the minstrel’s tales.

Each time the cat-girl heard a new story, she tried her best to commit it to memory, repeating it over and over in her head until she knew it by heart, albeit with the occasional misheard or garbled word.

She loved the tales of redemption, especially when a villainous character falls in love and the experience alters them fundamentally, turning them into a good person. But the stories that stuck with her most were of the valiant and honorable heroes. Crisscrossing the countryside, they helped the down-trodden, rescued damsels, and struck down the evil people of the world. There always was a part of these legends where the hero let a disarmed opponent obtain a weapon. After all, killing an unarmed man was dishonorable. Kashka frowned as her thoughts flickered to the beggar, but she pushed them away. Her time was limited, and she didn’t have the luxury of regrets.

Instead, she thought about the songs that came later in the night, where a rescued damsel or a group of younger single townswomen offered their bodies to their savior as a reward. Her thoughts often turned to the bawdy accounts of the men’s sexual prowess on the nights she was allowed to masturbate, imagining herself as one of the women gleefully impaling herself on the hero’s prick.

Looking around the canvas room to be sure she was alone, Kashka slid a hand over her belly and cautiously touched the top of her sex. When nothing happened, she steeled herself and moved her hand a little further. Again, nothing happened. The thought flitted through her mind that maybe she really was dead. The cat-girl sighed, of course she wasn’t dead, there was still a collar around her neck, but there was one way to be sure. Sliding her hand a little further, she pressed a finger through her folds and touched her clit. Wincing, she jerked her hand away, but the expected searing pain in her jaw never came.

Spreading her legs slightly, she began moving her hand down again but stopped. It was only a matter of time before Bozun realized she failed and wasn’t coming back. Was this how she wanted to spend her last moments? Yes, it was. But if this was going to be her last time touching herself, she wasn’t going to do it wearing this damn collar. Kashka reached up to undo the buckle, and a jolt of pain shot through her body when she touched the metal. Yowling, she wrenched her hand away, her eyes widening in surprise as she realized the collar was real.

“Aww, I was hoping you were going to keep going,” came a female voice from the foot of the bed.

Kashka’s head shot up, searching for the source of the voice. The mage’s sprite faded into view as she landed on the bed between the cat-girl’s feet. Kashka jerked her legs back as though the little avatar were about to burn her.

“No need for that,” said the small, glowing woman, “I’m not here to hurt you. Unfortunately, I am here to tell you that you are Kal’s prisoner.”

Kal, that was the mage’s name. After her first few assignments, she tried to forget the names of her marks. Knowing their names made the guilt of taking their lives more intense. It was easier when they were just a body whose heart needed to stop. After working for Bozun for a couple of years, forgetting her target’s name was second nature.

“I’m Ria,” continued the sprite, “and a quick rundown of the rules Kal gave you—”

“It won’t matter,” the cat-girl interrupted, her head dropping back to her pillow.

“Why not?” asked the avatar.

“My master has a way of killing those who get captured,” she explained while staring up at the canvas ceiling. “Once he figures out I’m gone—”

“I’m certain Kal already took care of that,” Ria butted in, returning the favor with a smirk.

Kashka propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at the sprite, “What do you mean?”

“After Kal put that collar on you, one of your back teeth popped open and started leaking green gas. He nullified the poison and removed the tooth before healing you up. Kal was worried when you didn’t wake up but guessed it was because you were already exhausted by the time you two fought and let you sleep. He’s at the Grand Bazaar picking up some things for tomorrow’s journey.”

“What about me?”

“First, you are going to take us to your former master. Money isn’t a huge issue for Kal, and he wants to buy out the contract on his head. If possible, he wants to find out who put a mark on him to begin with.”

Kashka sighed, “If Bozun finds out I’m alive, he will kill me. The only way out of his service is death. I don’t know if he will accept the mage buying out his contract since he has never spoken of a target doing so.” She paused for a moment to run her tongue over her teeth. There was definitely one missing. “Am I really free of him?” she asked.

“Kal? No. You’re stuck with him until he feels you aren’t a threat to him anymore. As for your previous master? Yes. I think you are.”

“From slavery, into slavery,” she mumbled.

“Not quite,” said Ria, “Kal spent part of the morning learning about the laws concerning slaves. If a slave breaks the law, the owner’s claims to it are suspended until the slave serves their punishment. If the slave was merely following their master’s orders, they are returned to the slave market for resale. Attempted murder is certainly illegal, and I think it is clear you were working on your prior master’s orders.”

“So, I’m returning to the slave auction once the mage’s business with Bozun is finished?”

“Another option is to give the victim ownership of the slave as compensation.”

“As I said before: From slavery, into slavery.”

“Again, not quite. Kal doesn’t want slaves and has rescued them in the past. He would much rather see you set free.”

“Does that mean releasing me out in the middle of the desert so I can die of thirst?”

Ria flitted up above the bed and glared down at the woman, “You’re ‘little miss doom and gloom,’ aren’t you? I’m telling you the man who captured you, who you were trying to kill, would prefer to set you free, and you lie there making up worst-case scenarios. Do you want to die?”

Kashka frowned, “No.”

“Good, then let me tell you about the rules Kal set for you. You cannot leave this room without being escorted by Kal or me. As you can see, there are no chamber pots in here. If you need the restroom, let one of us know so that we can take you over there. Outside this room, not being close enough to one of us will trigger the collar. If Kal calls me and I fade away, you have a ten count to get back in this room if not here already.” She thought for a moment, “I think that’s all the major rules.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want more?”

“Uh ... no.”

“As you already experienced, the standard, ‘slaves can’t touch themselves,’ no longer applies to you and never will unless you request it.” Ria rolled her eyes at Kashka’s expression, “Don’t give me that look. Some people are into that kind of thing. You can now speak whenever you choose and don’t need my or Kal’s permission. That reminds me, you speak the Common tongue better than most in this city. Why is that?”

“Part of my job is to gather information on targets. Knowing the city’s two biggest languages made it easier.”

“‘Was your job, ‘“ corrected the sprite, “I suggest you start thinking like that. Unless Kal is wrong and you enjoyed being an assassin.”

“No ... I didn’t enjoy it,” Kashka’s voice fell, taking on a hint of desperation, “I never enjoyed it. I just stopped caring. I had to stop caring. The blade in your hand kills but isn’t evil. I’m not evil.”

“That’s what Kal thought from your conversation on the roof,” said the sprite, hurriedly trying to interrupt the dangerous path the girl’s thoughts were heading down. If her mind broke, Ria could do nothing to help in her current state, especially if she became suicidal.

Kashka mentally stepped back from the yawning chasm of guilt and self-loathing she had ignored while trying to survive life as an assassin. There would be a time to deal with those thoughts later. Right now, she needed to keep her wits about her.

“Why am I still alive?” the cat-girl asked.

Ria opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. “That’s for Kal to tell you,” she said a few moments later, “I could give you an answer, but hearing it straight from him would be best.”

“How long will the mage be gone?”

“He left earlier this morning, and it’s just past noon. He picked up some lunch a little while ago, so it shouldn’t be long.”

“You said he was at the Bazaar.”

“He is.”

“Then how do you know he picked up lunch?”

“He put it inside me a little while ago.”

Kashka glanced at the sprite’s crotch.

“In my bag, he has it with him.”

“Are we next to the Bazaar?” asked the cat-girl. Looking around, she expected to hear the noise of the Grand Bazaar’s crowds, but the room was silent except for them.

“No, we are at the inn where you and Kal fought.”

“Then how are you still here?” Kashka asked, wondering how the avatar could be so far from her bag.

“That’s a long and complicated explanation. Suffice to say, I’m special,” replied Ria as she twirled in the air.

The room’s canvas door fluttered inward as the air pressure inside the tent changed.

“Ria?” came the mage’s voice a moment later.

“We’re in here, Kal.”

“Bring her out. I have food.”

The sprite turned to Kashka, “Come along.”

The cat-girl sprung out of bed and stood stiffly in front of the sprite at the command. It took a moment to realize there was no immediate jolt of pain like from Bozun’s collars.

“Whoa there, girl. What was all that about?” asked Ria while flitting backward in surprise.

“I thought the collar was going to punish me.”

“You have a few seconds to do as asked before the collar starts working. It starts mild but gets stronger the longer you resist. Of course, there are things like attacking Kal, trying to escape, or trying to remove the collar that will bypass the gradual increase.”

“Oh ... sorry I startled you.”

“No worries. Even with your claws, the most you could do is send me back to my bag. Let’s get you fed. Your stomach was getting noisy before you woke up,” said the sprite, popping through the edge of the canvas door.

Kashka followed more slowly, her eyes widening at the large area outside the room. Near the edge of a marble fire pit, the mage knelt on the green carpet covering the rest of the floor. After speaking a few words in an unknown language, two wooden plates appeared on the white stone in front of him.

“Ria, our lunch, please,” he requested, looking up and smiling at the sprite. When his eyes shifted to Kashka, the smile became strained and forced. “I’m assuming Ria informed you of your predicament and my plans for you.”

The cat-girl nodded.

“Good, take this and have a seat,” he said, offering up a plate. On it was a piece of thin bread wrapped around a small mountain of cooked meat with a few veggies thrown in for good measure. “Is there anything you know you can’t eat? I left out anything that could harm a regular cat.”

“No,” she replied, meekly taking the plate. Kashka was only allowed to eat what Bozun gave her, which generally consisted of only water, bread, and a few scraps of raw meat. She was also only allowed to eat in her room at the hideout. Being out in the city during mealtimes was torturous some days with the wonderful smells of cooking food all around her. Kashka wiped a little bit of drool from the side of her mouth as she breathed in the heavenly scent coming from the bread-wrapped bundle. “I can eat this?” she asked the mage. Humans ate this kind of food, not slaves. Even as a pet, she wasn’t fed like this.

Kal tried to mumble something around the food in his mouth but resorted to nodding and indicating she should do the same. Sitting down a short distance away, she followed his suggestion.

Seconds later, she stopped as one of the mage’s hands rested on her shoulder. Looking up in fear, she saw Kal smiling down at her. “Put it down on the plate and chew what is in your mouth,” he directed. “You will make yourself sick eating that fast.” Looking down at her hands, she discovered she had already eaten half of her wrap. She also noticed her cheeks were bulging out from all the food in her mouth. Peeking at Kal’s plate sitting on the marble, Kashka saw the human had yet to take another bite. Her body jerked as her collar gave her a tiny jolt. Kashka slammed her remaining lunch onto the plate, causing some of the meat to shoot off onto the floor.

Kal grunted in displeasure as he returned to his meal. “The collar saw my words as an order instead of a suggestion. I may have to tweak it. The thing is still too sensitive.”

“You really don’t like having me as your slave?” the cat-girl asked.

“It’s nothing personal against you. I just don’t like the idea of slavery.”

Ria piped in, “I bet if she hooked a leash on that collar and handed it to you then turned around and stuck her ass in your face, you’d be singing a different tune.” Seeing the look on his face, she promptly collapsed to the floor in fits of laughter.

Kal let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m trying to be serious here, Ria.”

“So am I,” said the sprite, her wings fluttering as she lifted into the air. “Look at what you did playing around with those cow-girls. Give her a good romp and she may end up like that girl from yesterday, Chae ... Chell ... Chia ... whatever her name was.” She turned to the cat-girl, “From the way Kal tells it, if he got the collar off the woman, she would still be his pet for life as long as he kept putting his dick in her.”

“No,” said the mage, shaking his head, “She tried to kill me three times and nearly succeeded on two of those. It may be possible in the future, but that’s going to take some time to forgive.”

“She was working under orders,” growled Ria.

“She stuck a knife in my throat,” he shot back. “I can still remember the feeling of pulling it free and the blood running into my lungs and stomach. Those memories won’t fade quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” apologized Kashka, her voice quiet as she stared at the floor.

“If I died that day and we never had this conversation, would you still be sorry?” asked Kal, his tone icy.

The cat-girl was silent for a long time, “No.”

“I didn’t think so,” said the mage as he sat down and picked up his plate again. “Finish your food but go slower this time. No need to choke yourself by eating so fast.”

Later in the evening, Ria and Kashka chatted by the fire pit as Kal sat in his library reading when the sound of wind rustling through the trees filled the tent.

“What’s that?” asked the cat-girl looking around for the source of the noise.

“The elven version of an intruder alarm,” said Ria, rolling her eyes.

Kal stepped out of the library and looked toward the tent’s exit. The canvas had changed color to show a fuzzy image of the area outside, but only revealed was the door to his room. Their guest must be on the other side.

Using the telekinesis cantrip, Kal summoned his vambraces from where they sat on the library’s table and met Ria at the exit. Kashka trotted up behind the sprite. The cat-girl wasn’t willing to find out how far away she could get before the collar activated.

Stepping outside, Kal opened the room’s door to find Shakri standing there with a serving tray containing a bowl with a domed lid, slices of the white, slightly-tangy cheese the mage was quickly becoming fond of, and a small loaf of bread. He waited a moment for her to greet him, but the server kept her mouth firmly shut.

“This is new,” he said finally, ending the uncomfortable silence. Tilting his head forward as though inspecting the tray’s contents, he instead looked into the woman’s eyes. Shakri was on the verge of tears, and it was clear to Kal she was terrified of something.

“Y-You missed supper,” the brown-skinned woman finally stammered. “S-So they told me to b-bring it up for you s-since you paid for it,”

Kal leaned forward and lifted the lid off the bowl. Shakri shrieked when she saw the steam rolling out from beneath the dome and flung the tray and its contents to the side.

The mage heard a man down the hall mutter, “Idiot,” just before a tiny dart appeared in the side of the server’s neck. Kal’s speed rune flared as he reached up to grab the small projectile, but his fingers closed on empty air as Kashka’s black skinned-hand swiped it first.

Though only able to see Bozun’s scarred face out the corner of her eye, she whipped the tiny dart in his direction. With the dart’s speed and Kashka’s unerring aim, there was no way the assassin could dodge in time. Mage and cat -girl both watched in surprise as the air around the man fold in on itself before snapping back into place with the assassin appearing a full pace to the side. The dart sailed through the space his head was a moment earlier and struck one of the inn’s support posts. Bozun’s shift put him closer to the stairs, and he used the opportunity to leap down to the first floor and run out the inn’s front entrance.

Kal’s attention returned to Shakri. He already had the cure poison rune primed before he lifted the lid on the bowl, and the projectile’s toxin was nullified before the dart left Kashka’s hand. Seemingly oblivious to how close she was to dying a moment ago, the server sobbed as she clutched at his clothing, “My boy. Please. He said he would kill my boy,” she cried, then hurriedly explained she lived with her sister and brother-in-law. Her sister looked after her son when Shakri was at work.

The mage now understood why the waitress insisted on running home to get her own gondas weed when they spent the day together. “Tell me where you live,” Kal demanded, but her answer meant nothing to him. He hadn’t been in Fazal long enough to know the names of the city streets.

“I know where that is,” said Kashka. “Give me my things, and I will take you there.”

“Why should I give you your equipment?” growled Kal. He knew he couldn’t reach Shakri’s son and sister in time to rescue them without the cat-girl’s help. But he was having a hard time trusting a woman who had tried to kill him.

“Because this time I can be the hero,” said Kashka, her pleading eyes shimmering in the low light of the hallway.

Picking up Shakri, Kal gently tossed her into the tent, where she stumbled and fell onto the green carpet. “You’ll be safe in there if he doubles back to finish you off,” he told her as she scrambled to her feet. Ignoring her crying pleas to bring her along, he sealed the tent as she dashed back toward the door. Turning to the cat-girl, he gritted his teeth and growled, “Ria, give the woman her equipment.”

When Kashka’s belt appeared in her hands, Kal had a few choice words for the sprite over the two daggers that appeared in their sheaths.

“You told me to store her stuff!” Ria snapped back.

Unable to retort since he said precisely that, he walked to the window of his room and threw it open before holding out a hand to the cat-girl. “You just need to point me in the right direction.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as he pulled her out of the window, and they began rising into the air, her body becoming extremely light as the white rune she saw last night began glowing once again.

A little higher than the roof of the inn, Kal stopped. “Where to?”

Kashka scanned the rooftops for a moment before pointing the way.

The mage shifted his hold from Kashka’s hand to under her arms and took off in the direction indicated. A few seconds later, he cut the featherfall rune he was using on her and poured more magic into the flight rune before pushing the excess into Kashka. They immediately sped up now that she was flying with him instead of being carried along.

It wasn’t long before she pointed again, this time at a house. “There’s the place, but he’s going to beat us there,” she said, pointing lower and bringing his attention to a shadow darting along the side of the street.

“Can you stop him?” Kal asked.

Reaching into a pouch, she pulled out a set of throwing knives and loosed one at the assassin. As it was about to strike, Bozun once again shifted to one side. The man looked around in surprise as he continued running toward Shakri’s home. Spotting them dropping out of the sky as he came up to the house’s door, he hesitated for a moment, as though considering coming back some other time. Looking up, he flashed them a malicious grin before slipping inside.

A woman’s choked scream was closely followed by the terrified shriek of a young boy as Kal and Kashka’s feet touched the ground. The mage charged through the door with his magic shield up, ripping it off its hinges. One of Bozun’s daggers bounced off it before his leading foot touched the floor inside.

The cat-girl followed him in, stepping out to Kal’s left side as soon as she had room. On his right, the woman Kal assumed was Shakri’s sister was holding her stomach and kneeling in a growing puddle of blood.

“Ria, give her a healing potion,” said the mage.

“Do it, and I’ll cut the boy,” said Bozun.

Peeking over his shield, the mage saw the assassin holding the Shakri’s son in place by the hair as a dagger rested against his throat. The boy looked to be five or six summers and had a slightly lighter skin tone than his mother. Despite the look of fear on his face, the young man was surprisingly calm.

“That boy is currently keeping you alive,” snarled Kal. “Slit his throat, and we have no reason to let you live. Give her the potion, Ria.”

“Tough words,” spat the assassin. “You can’t even touch me.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” said Kashka, the calmness in her voice sending a shiver down Kal’s spine.

Kashka’s unexpected accolade turned Bozun’s attention back to Kal. The mage had survived three attempts by his best assassin, defeated the cat-girl, saved her from his anti-capture measures, and somehow turned her over to his side. Though the slave collar around her neck could explain some of that, Bozun was worldly enough to see she wasn’t there just because the mage ordered her to be.

Shakri’s sister dragged herself up onto a bed and promptly passed out after drinking the potion. A smaller bed lay against the wall on the other side of the cat-girl, lit up by the fireplace’s glow in the middle of the house. Bozun and Shakri’s son stood to the right of the fireplace near a steep set of stairs leading to a sleeping loft. An open doorway beneath the stairs disappeared into the back of the house. The Left side of the room was mostly taken up by a large but short table where the family took their meals. On either side of the room were windows the assassin appeared to be eyeing as possible escape routes.