Scarborough Fair and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

Mustard repressed the urge to growl himself. That hole was so deep it made the sound of his breath and heartbeat echo back up to him. And the edge was very very close.
    Sister NL sat back on her haunches and swatted at his rump. “Kindly move forward, please. The Master must not be kept waiting. Do you think you’re the only soul he must counsel today?”
    â€œWho said I wanted counseling?” Mustard asked, but proceeded around the hole and the bell, hugging the wall as tightly as he could, since his exhaustion made him tremble. He was far less than his usual balletic self. Fine first impression he’d make. He could not help but hope the Master was a cat-loving human with kind hands and some nice tidbit and a bit of sympathy for a cat as ill-used as himself. He would love to feel warm fingers stroke his fur now. He didn’t actually like cats, if the truth were known. He was a people sort of cat. He called his own person a personal attendant, just to keep it clear to others that he knew she was probably an inferior breed—especially since she had always had more time for his housemates than for his own excellent self, but he had loved her touch nonetheless.
    He could see the other side of the bell hole now. A chair—a plain, straight-back chair with a bed-pillow on the middle, was the only bit of furnishing in the tower. On the pillow reposed another cat. This cat was a male—an old male, even more orange than Mustard himself. The old cat was absolutely rusty around the stripes actually.
    â€œPeace, my son,” the old cat said.
    Sister Paka put a paw on Mustard’s neck to force his head down.He bit her hard on the right leg and she fell beside him. He could tell she wanted to hiss but instead she lay there, submissively, on her side, though he could have torn her throat out if he’d wished.
    â€œPeace, I was saying,” the old cat said again. “Paka, see that bit under his cravat? He missed a spot. Get it for him will you, my child?”
    Sister Paka put the paw of her wounded leg onto his chest, and, carefully leaning forward, gave the spot a lick and a promise. “There now,” she said. “Much better.”
    The Master purred. “Yes. And that is a nasty looking bite you have there.”
    Mustard hurriedly gave it a lick, causing Sister Paka’s fur to partially cover his fang marks.
    â€œMuch better,” the Master said. “And so are you, my son. We had nearly despaired of seeing you on your pins again. The damage to you was great.”
    â€œDamage?” Mustard asked. “I don’t remember.”
    â€œYou no doubt slept through much of it, as our kind tend to do. But when Tony and Jeannette brought you here, it was after they had put you to sleep to spare you pain. They thought certainly you were dead, but as they were readying your earthly shell to return to ash, you stirred. Already you were beyond their knowledge and your lady had been told you were dead. They did not wish to raise her hopes only to have her lose you again, so they brought you to us.”
    â€œAnd you are?” Mustard asked, tapping his tail against the edge of the hole. He stopped that at once. It hurt.
    â€œ
I
am Mu Mao the Magnificent, spiritual leader of this order. Sister Paka you have met. The order is the Spiritual Order of Our Lady of the Egyptian Bandages. We are an interdenominational feline monastery and convent for the spiritual enlightenment and growth of our kind. While the non-celibate may study here, only the surgically celibate may take vows. Otherwise—well, we
are
all cats, after all.” He twitched his ears in a humorous way. “Any vow taken by a more corporeally unenlightened cat would be meaningless in the face of our natural compulsions. But once altered, we may concentrate on higher matters.”
    â€œSo, then you yourself are—?“ Mustard asked.
    â€œYes. You see, in many of my former lives I was a human