“Fine morning to you,” said the woman beside him. She also appeared friendly, though she seemed to be made out of porridge instead of rubber. All soft dimples and warmth. “On a journey with your . . . daughters? Servants?”
Abeke and Meilin shot irritated glances at each other.
Finn replied in his quiet, unaffected way, “Foster daughters.”
“Oh and oh,” the man said. “I hear in your voice you’re from the North too.”
The Hawker said it aggressively — a taunt or a dare — but Finn did not waver. “That’s where we are headed. They will learn to sing for those with troubled bonds.”
“A noble calling,” the woman said.
“Noble,” agreed the rubbery man. “Troubled bonds and troubled bonds, eh? How old are you lot? Old enough! Do you have spirit animals, little daughters?”
Meilin actually managed a blush as she turned her face away, looking too bashful to even think of answering. Abeke kept her head ducked and hoped they’d think she was too shy as well. She was beginning to change her mind about trusting the smiling man.
“Do you know the legend of the black wildcat?” the rubbery man asked.
Finn’s mouth thinned. Meilin shook her head imperceptibly. Abeke didn’t move at all.
“Going to the North and don’t know the legend of the black wildcat!” exclaimed the porridge woman. “For years, the North has had its stories of giant black cats wandering its moors. Wondrous things, these wildcats. Big as a horse. Fierce. Full of magic!”
Finn said, his voice flat, “There are no black wildcats in the North anymore.”
“Oh, you and you!” said the rubbery man. “Have faith! There’s a prophecy that says a boy will bond with the black wildcat and deliver the North from persecution and poverty! That will lead us all to a glorious, peaceful future!”
“Maybe one of you is the child of the prophecy!” the porridge woman exclaimed.
Abeke forgot to be bashful. She said, “I’m not a boy.”
The rubbery man grinned and pointed at her. “Well spotted. But we can sell you a potion that will force the bond! We don’t have to wait for the legend to come true — we can make it come true.”
Finn said, “There’s no such potion. And there is no black wildcat of the North. Not anymore.”
“Oh, that is where you are wrong, funny little man!” said the porridge woman. She grandly let the door to their small cart fall open, revealing a rainbow of bottles, books, and colorful flotsam. A caged black animal peered out. When it saw Abeke’s face, it mewled.
Meilin was unable to disguise her scorn. Her voice was anything but demure. “That’s a house cat.”
“It’s a baby black wildcat,” the rubbery man said.
“It’s a full-grown house cat,” Meilin insisted.
“It will get larger.”
She scoffed, “I think it’s plenty large enough for a house cat.”
The cat stood on its back legs and pressed the small black pads of its feet against the cage bars. Abeke’s heart and Uraza’s tattoo stirred.
“Oh,” Abeke said suddenly. “It’s cruel to keep it locked up. You should set it free.”
“And lose our livelihood?” the rubbery man said. “Indeed no.”
Abeke burst out, “Can we buy it from you? Not to bond with, just to have. It really is only a cat.”
Finn and Meilin stared at her. So did the rubbery man and the porridge woman.
“What will you buy it with?” the rubbery man asked.
Abeke had no money. They’d packed everything they needed, and anyway, back in Nilo, everything was bartered and traded for. There was no need for money.
Hesitantly, she said, “I will trade you for my bracelet. It’s made of real elephant tail hair, all the way from Nilo, and it is good luck.”
“Oh, Abeke,” Meilin said with disgust. “It’s a cat.”
Finn said nothing, just crossed his arms.
Rubbery man and porridge woman consulted. Abeke knew it sounded crazy. She couldn’t explain her affinity for the cat, but it felt a little like her bond with Uraza.
“All right and all right,” agreed the rubbery man. “For the price of your good luck charm. That seems fair.”
So Abeke handed over her bracelet, thinking, I’m sorry, Soama, I hope you will understand! The porridge woman unlocked the cage and gave the little black cat to Abeke.
As Abeke accepted it, the sleeves of her cloak slid to her elbows. For just a moment, her bare skin was exposed and her tattoo was revealed to the air. Hurriedly, Abeke shook her sleeve back down.
Maybe they didn’t see it, she thought.
But she knew from the rubbery man’s suddenly sharp expression that he had.
“So you have bonded,” he said, grabbing her wrist. Every ounce of friendliness had drained from his voice.
Quick as anything, he had a knife in his hand. The knife was the opposite of his smile in every way. It was thin and unforgiving and as black as a lonely night.
And it was pointed right at Abeke.
“Produce your spirit animal,” he ordered. “Or I will cut your throat.”
Abeke couldn’t give Uraza to these people, but she didn’t know what else to do. Finn was motionless, his gaze fixed hypnotically on the knife. It was as if the true Finn had gone somewhere else and left just his body behind. Abeke didn’t know what was wrong with him, but she knew she didn’t have a chance without the help of Finn or Uraza.
Suddenly there was a blur of motion. The rubbery man released Abeke’s wrist. He fell backward with a tremendous whoof as the air was knocked out of him.
Meilin stood over him, pointing his own knife at his throat. She was glorious and fierce, loose strands of her black hair snaking around her angry face. “It’s insulting enough that you sold us a stray cat. But this is beyond insulting. Here is my bargain: Give this girl back her bracelet and I won’t cut your throat.”
The porridge woman started to move and Meilin threw up her other hand. With a flash of blue light, Jhi appeared. The rubbery man and the porridge woman stared, mouths agape. The little cat in Abeke’s arms clung to her neck. It was a very clawsome hug.
“Here is a legend,” Meilin snapped, gesturing to Jhi. The panda looked imaginary and grand in the gray-green surroundings. “The Four Fallen have returned! We will defeat the Conquerors and we will be the ones to usher in a peaceful world. I suggest you find something other than lies to sell.”