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"Can I offer
you tea and moldy bisquits?"
"No."
Cathe waived his hand. "To taste your tea is--moldy bisquits, did you say?" He smacked his lips again.
"Why,
yes, wouldn't think to give you any other kind."
"Why,
yes then, coz, if I could just lick the mold a little, to complement the
taste of the tea...You are most kind." I gave him some of Cristo's
old bread. "Green--oh,
how truly saucy." He kept holding the crust to his tongue and
removed it.
"You
wouldn't happen to have a spoon, would you?"
"A
spoon, now? As a matter of
fact, I did have a spoon. Lovely little thing until the rats ate it.
Sent it back to your master sticking out of a hard little rat with my
love. Mentioned your name and
how we were the next best thing to family, now that I think about it.
Suppose that clears the day, hmmm?"
"You
know something, coz of my heart? I do find that your very presence makes
waking worth the day. In fact, the instant I woke this morning I said to
myself, 'Wouldn't it be a fine thing now if my good friend Cathe should
happen to pay a call? Haven't seen him in a while and I do wonder how
the old boy is keeping his life and spirit up.'"
"Did
you now? Did you really say that?" He sat up excitedly and leaned
on his staff. "Well, the dear Lady be damned and damned again. May
she bless the seeds of my baggy tumors and damn my own heart to
blessings besides. May She hang cracking like a bloated leech upon the
outer reaches of inner thought! Well, well." He smacked his lips.
"And here I was in all my squashy shyness thinking perhaps you had forgotten
me. Sour mother of goats!" He leaned back against my pillows and
started tracing patterns again.
"Forgotten
you? I'd sooner forget myself. How blows your precious life?"
"Neatly
and full. Thanks for asking." He gave the bread back to me, sticky
with his saliva. I threw it in the fireplace to burn. "Aah, you're
scalding my tongue!" He held his tongue out in the air between his
fingers and gasped and sweated until I put the fire out.
"Ashes,
ashes, and don't we all fall down?" I sang softly. "So, tell
me truly, coz, how does your precious wife?"
"Ah,
Habundia the Lady--"
"I
mean Caethne."
"So
did I. Caethne does as she does. North and south. And that, of course,
is why I am here. Caethne needs your help."
"Then
Caethne can ask for it."
"Well,
she can't ask for it if she doesn't know she needs it. You see--"
he waived one hand around in the air--"sometimes life is logical
that way."
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