Chapter 5: What a scoundrel you are

"Can you repeat?" gently asked Ssyba, but her eyes betrayed shock and her voice trembled in utter bewilderment.

"You heard me Zibby," Fagan rolled his eyes. "My wish is to establish a cohesive nanza troupe, an elite force similar to the Cultelari, but more specialized and unified with the aim of advancing our position in the social hierarchy. Lastly, my dream is to see a future full of hope for the younger nanza of Yasha'Lafiq, where we won't have to cut ourselves open for mere rotten scraps of food from the docks."

There it was, realized Ssyba with a blinking startle, Fagan's deranged ambition (for it was deranged in Ssyba's opinion, because he couldn't truly understand the depths of human spirituality and heavenly power the way she could). It reduced her to silence. Ssyba looked around, feeling a sort of anxiety surging in her, uncertain as to what to reply. When the silence stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time, she gasped under her breath:

"How do you plan to even do that?"

"I'm glad you asked," said Fagan Stabs with luminous eyes. "What we must do is acquire capital and have a foundation upon which to build influence. A pity so many of us rot away on these dirty streets."

"And what foundation do you envision?"

"Our future shall be built upon a foundation of ruthlessness and blood of course. We, the nanza, are perfect natural killers."

Ssyba was getting sick of his dramatic act. She narrowed her eyes and nodded hesitantly. Everything he said was true so far.

"I'd rather be dead than see our race go down in history as pets and mice chasers."

Ssyba took a deep breath in, closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the initial incredulity was replaced with a cool glint. Fagan loved that about her, this ability to control one's emotional response and regain composure. He needed this into his team.

"I'm not a killer," said Ssyba, unperturbed by Fagan's studious glare after everything was said and done. "And of course I can emphasize with you, Fagan."

"I won't need you to kill, we have others," casually dismissed Fagan.

"Others?" asked Ssyba. "Don't tell me you already talked to big bro."

"I sure did," said Fagan with an easy, confident pride oozing out. Even amongst hardened nanza, their older brother Ran was a vicious monster, closer to a tiger than a man.

"And he agreed to come in?"

Fagan snorted.

He gracefully took Ssyba by the waist and prompted her to further follow him, walking side by side like lovers, with him as the guide. He could somewhat feel her sinking further and further under his influence. With Ssyba and Ran's brawn and claws at his side, Fagan knew he could accomplish much. Blood is thicker than water, after all.

"Fagan, did Ran agree? And what about Rauuka?"

Fagan laughed somewhat bitterly.

"The trick with killers," he said gently, "is outright eliminating those with too much love for their lives."

Ssyba understood at once what he meant. Rauuka was their youngest sister, born shortly before their mother's death, and was considered merely a cub. She was carefree and yet unburdened by the weight of life. Fagan innately wished to protect those too weak, innocent and foolish, because this alpha behavior was too deeply ingrained into his flesh and mind. Simply put, he couldn't easily step out of this destiny unless something truly extraordinary happened to him. And to accomplish what the leader of the pride must, he needed to become a monster and have utter command over monsters. The Yasha'Lafiq environment demanded such sacrifices of certain individuals. It was a dangerous thing what Fagan lived through, Ssyba knew, but faced with the acid ill feeling of the humiliation of being weak, Fagan seemed rather at ease with the idea.

"You'll make many enemies of yourself," said Ssyba just to prod on his emotions, but instead, an expansive calm settled over Fagan like powdery dust.

"I know," he cooed like a distant thunderstorm.

Ssyba went completely silent for another moment, before revealing a full toothy smile, saying:

"I just wanted some money, big brother Fagan…"

The truth was, Ssyba wanted to keep a low profile and work away from any association in order to keep prying eyes off herself. But since she came asking her brother Fagan for help out of her own volition, it would be inappropriate to simply deny him now under his watchful eye. Either he would think that she joined another mysterious faction once the money started rolling in, or he would insist further, without even leaving place for a breather. Then how would Ssyba keep her secret safe?

At once, Fagan rolled on his feet with a master pirouette and slapped Ssyba across the face with his paw, claws sheathed. It wasn't painful in the slightest but Ssyba was startled and jumped back, guard ready

"Little sister Ssyba, it seems you aren't fully convinced by me," said Fagan amicably

"And you're gonna force me?"

"That's the nanza way, after all," replied Fagan, his eyes glowing with violent intensity.

Staring at him, Ssyba's eyes widened and she uncoiled into laughter. Then suddenly she was on him. Ssyba unleashed a flurry of cutting motions, but Fagan danced in the space between her attacks, until he entered her guard and caught her paws. Grinning like a roaring lion, he headbutt Ssyba directly over the still swollen wound across her right eyebrow. The pain was so intense that she went blind for a moment before recovering for another attack. This time her claws hissed by Fagan's face, missing by only a hair. Her eyes glinted with intent as she turned continuously to cut, but Fagan jumped back lightly on his feet, skipping with perfect footwork. And when he struck again, his closed fist sent Ssyba toppling back and she pathetically fell on her butt.

It was a clear insult for a nanza to slap another nanza with the open paw. An even bigger insult was to punch. The nanza were most deadly when they used their claws, fangs and powerful legs, so for Fagan to punch Ssyba in the nose, it simply meant that he did not consider her a threat.

"Stand up," growled Fagan and Ssyba immediately rolled on her feet, guard ready.

This time, Fagan jumped at her first. He kicked her in the knee, completely taking Ssyba by surprise because she expected him to lead with his claws. He kicked low again and when she tried to dodge, Fagan scythed at her hamstrings. Down once again on the ground, Fagan dropped his knee on Ssyba's stomach, then slammed her face with his fists, while holding her arms under his knees.

With barbed pains in her limbs and head and Fagan's fists clouding her vision, Ssyba started to laugh. No doubt they looked like two funny cats clawing each other over some scrappy bird feathers.

"Are you bonkers? Why do you laugh?" asked Fagan, standing up and helping Ssyba to get up.

For nanza-cats, fighting was nothing more than a way to settle an argument or a debate. A human might pose logical facts and counter-arguments, while a nanza might jump to cut with their claws.

"Because we're silly," said Ssyba.

Fagan stepped back and smiled easily, eyes crescent of laughter. This kind of violent display was too common in the nanza society, Ssyba was only very slightly ashamed because Fagan defeated her without even cutting or wounding her with his claws. He did so, of course, to get rid of her arrogance and have it easier to command her in the future. Ssyba knew it and was fine with it. In truth, she couldn't stand up to such a monster as Fagan.

The lives of nanza-cats were full of obstacles and it was difficult on their body and mind. Thus, the strongest, boldest and smartest nanza usually had the highest form of authority where such a position was even recognized at all. Generally speaking, the nanza simply followed the strongest if they had no other choice, and those who did not were almost always beaten into submission or outright killed. Fagan could be considered to be slightly below the human masters, purely in terms of influence.

Fagan Stabs looked at the sky above, saying:

"It's already getting late, it's time to go to sleep, wouldn't you say?"

Ssyba nodded silently, it was actually still very early into the morning. In reality, Fagan needed to assure himself that he could depend on Ssyba, especially in the beginning section of his plan, and he needed to clearly make the distinction between his role as leader, and Ssyba's lore as follower.

"Let's go," said Ssyba lightly, taking the initiative to move back towards the dock where they met.

A chilly wind blew directly into their faces accompanied with a strange electrical charge in the air, which made their fur stand up. At times the two nanza-cats leapt in grandiose flips, whistling through the air like arrows, and sometimes they sidestepped from wall to wall, traversing the narrow city streets in a skillful manner. At times, crowds of people would get in their way and they had to squeeze and pirouette and dance, or they had to cross directly over the roofs in order to avoid the agglomeration.

When they got back to the dock, it was already late morning. Fagan turned his head towards Ssyba and praised with a forced smile:

"You are really fast, have I ever told you that?"

Ssyba snorted coldly in her heart, but nodded instead. In fact, Fagan had intentionally hastened back to the dock and tried to lose Ssyba on their run, so that he could bully her and suppress her further through embarrassment. He already proved to be the better warrior, and next he needed to prove that he is also the faster nanza. Being strong, being agile, being cunning or simply ferocious, being fast, those were some of the most important attributes for any nanza-cat of some renown. But Ssyba was already clear of Fagan's tactics the moment he beat her to the ground, so she merely smiled and remained silent.

Fagan's mouth twitched. Ssyba's indifference towards his performance and praise made him look foolish, merely a laughingstock. Was she not actually beaten and suppressed? Then why was she so smug now, just because she could run?

"We gotta collect some money, that's our first task. Think you can fight?" he said, forcing his grin through creaking fangs.

Ssyba's expression was peaceful and calm, as she merely acknowledged him and nodded.

Fagan started to swear in his mind, his simple and injured inhuman ego flaring up with pure brutish anger.

Ssyba didn't give a damn about it though. She had already decided: get a vraja potion and make use of her true power, of mana and her soul, ascend past the fleshly evaluations of her fellow nanza and achieve what no other nanza-cat had ever achieved. She had never thought of staying on these streets all her life to slog it all away under her brother's claws. To these ignorant beasts, the attributes were the most important thing. But to Ssyba, they have become less than dirt.

"Alright brother Fagan, if that's all, then I'll take my leave."

"Good, we will see each other within the next couple of days."

Fagan Stabs then spied on Ssyba for a few streets’ worth afterwards. Heartache boiled in him whenever he saw the nanza as less than pets, when he saw this beautiful creature reduced to curiosities and tools. Due to this, he had a modicum of admiration for his sister Ssyba in particular, despite her angering him from time to time. Theirs was a good ancestry and his brother and two sisters were as genetically gifted as his very self. But where Ran inherited savagery and strength, Fagan had already ascended into the Perfect Vengeful Spirit path and Rauuka was as pretty as a picture, cute and soft-spoked, Ssyba's main quality was her intelligence and creeping calmness. In fact, Fagan could almost swear that at times he felt a stifling quality about her presence. It was as if reality itself was creaking in unknown torsion, as if the pressure of holding her was too great for the earth.

She seemed more than nanza by far, almost human one could say.

***

Mid-day arrived with the sun reaching the eventual zenith, and the strange chilly wind stopped. After leaving Fagan Stabs, Ssyba walked slowly back to Tisila's house.

"So that's it," she thought.

Fagan was trying to humble her into servitude through the usual hard-boiled nanza methods, of which Ssyba was much too aware. She laughed. If she succeeded in acquiring the necessary means, her power would increase by orders of magnitude and she would ascend beyond the realms of nanza-cats. To do that, there were two crucial steps, each being extremely important.

"The first step is to acquire knowledge about the creation, brewing and use of vraja potions. The second is amassing sufficient wealth and resources to aid me in my endeavor. Neither is more important than the other, as both of these facets complement each other. Leaving aside Fagan, I can complete, or at least start working towards completing the first step through Tisila."

Ssyba walked to and entered Tisila's house. In the entrance chamber of the house, the sun shone brightly against the various wall decorations. The low greetings table was filled with cold dishes and cold nad'm wine, and Tisila was sitting patiently. The moment she saw Ssyba entering through the window, her calm expression turned upset.

“What a scoundrel you are!” said Tisila through gritted teeth, seeing Ssyba dustied and disarranged.

Although this was the result of Ssyba’s amiable fight with Fagan Stabs, Tisila couldn’t have known that, and so she rightfully assumed that Ssyba had sought problems with the gremlins once more. The room was too bright for Ssyba’s senses, causing her to be awake and irritable. But she quickly checked her own mood, not wanting to deal with Tisila right now.

Regardless of her schemes, no human in their right mind would start talking vraja potions and business with mere animals. It was like asking one’s dog for opinions. Ssyba evaluated her own ability and knew it would be too much to ask Tisila for information, so she knew that the only other choice was to get mister Izzmahil, the renegade badau, to talk.

“To get whatever I need, I must first get Tisila off my back, but also somehow gain free and unsupervised access to the potion’s kitchen. Helping her brew another potion simply won’t do at this point. However, Tisila keeps it under a tight watch and lock, and only mister Izzmahil, when he comes to count the supplies, can gain entry. But to get under Izzmahil’s skin is no easy task, though safer than with Tisila. Izzmahil is a badau regardless of what others say, and he has grown accustomed to the abnormalities of the world.”

Thinking of this, Ssyba sighed. She had momentarily lost attention to her surroundings, and walked right past Tisila without even acknowledging her presence or inquiries. Losing her patience for a moment, Tisila jabbed her bamboo stick up on Ssyba's head. Caught unaware and startled by the hit, Ssyba hissed. Tisila jabbed again, but this time Ssyba caught the stick with a flashy movement of her paws.

"You forget your place!" the woman said with a severe voice, violently snatching the stick out of Ssyba’s paw.

“I am sorry lady Tisila,” immediately replied Ssyba, though her mind was nowhere thinking about being sorry. She turned to leave, but Tisila pinched her ear.

“Never mind this, you half-witted vella. You think too much of yourself. I shouldn't have shown you so much leniency when you helped me brew the healing potion.”

Tisila’s face was too nasty and her mood darker than night, Ssyba had to stop for a moment and get out of her own mind-space.

“I’m sorry lady Tisila,” Ssyba kept on repeating, a bit louder this time, though her expression turned grim and her eyes emitted a cold gaze.

“Take a step back and have a good taste of yourself."

Ssyba scoffed and turned to go, but Tisila pinched her by the ear once more and dragged her in front of the mirror in the entrance hallway. She was a sloppy mess. There was of course dirt and dust all over Ssyba’s fur, her langota was stained and her head wound reopened sometime during or after the fight with Fagan. She looked pathetic and beggarly, if nothing else.

“Hold on for a moment, you’re always itching to be somewhere else. Do you really want to give me chest pains for worry of gremlins knocking down on my door looking for whoever is your master? What is it that you’re doing all day and all night long?”

"I want to be alone," Ssyba said.

“All you do lately is come home to eat, then you’re off by yourself! Where? Well the River-god knows. I shelter you and feed you and I don’t know. Not that I care, but if I’m to wake up with gremlins in my house, I’d rather not!”

As she talked, Tisila stabbed painfully with her finger against Ssyba’s head wound, and coupled with the barrage of scrutiny, it fairly started to drive Ssyba wild.

“I bet you’re running all over the city looking for stuff to snatch or kill, looking for problems. That’s what you nanza-cats do, am I right? For what? For what?”

“I have things to take care of,” said Ssyba but her face already clenched into a fist of animalistic fury.

“That’s a grand one, things to take care of. You don’t even own anything, not even yourself, you haven’t earned a single rotten fish that wasn’t for yourself. I won't have my care for you rewarded with indifference and threats!”

Tisila was in too much of a neurotic mood for Ssyba to say anything.

“Do you know that I can’t sleep at night because the image of gremlins haunts my vision?”

Ssyba was too on edge to give a damn about Tisila’s nightly adventures. She stirred restlessly from side to side listening to Tisila’s endless tirade, until finally her patience snapped. Ssyba throwed her whole weight against and pushed Tisila back. It wasn’t a catastrophic event in and of itself, more comparable maybe to a dog biting the hand that feeds him, but mere animals shouldn’t dare respond with violence against their masters. At this, Tisila's fury turned into immense sadness. It happened so quickly that a silence snowed upon the room, leaving the women waiting for a few moments.

Ssyba felt a clear, if not distant, sense of humiliation, and a long-suppressed moan got out of her. The unfair rebuke from earlier simply went on for much too long and, if truth be told, Ssyba did not see herself inferior in any way to Tisila. Her pride and disdain got the better of her.

It was all over now! If Tisila ever bothered to notify the police, Ssyba would get a crushing beating, or she'd get hanged in a corner. But most humans wouldn’t care enough for that, they’d simply kill the animal on the spot. To avoid this, she would have to leave the house, stay low and hidden. Like a stray! And worst of all, her plan to get understanding and mastery methods on vraja potions was for now ruined.

What sort of icy-cold, cruel and complicated game did the Unstar play on her? A strong wave of nausea hit her. Intense tiredness assaulted her. She mustered strength and forced herself to think but couldn't, so she simply swung past Tisila and went to the stairs that led up to the roof. Tisila leapt back as if suddenly startled awake, and made a River-god protection sign with her thumb and ring finger, muttering solemn invocations.

On the roof Ssyba took a deep breath and thoroughly managed to ignore Tisila's calls. Beyond she saw the roofs of many houses and buildings from the neighborhood, and the streets below were unreasonably crowded with waves after waves of people and beasts, with the erect and titanic wall looming over them all like a protector god. It gave Ssyba at least a vague sentiment of reliability and might, that the world somehow still made sense. She leaned down and gazed forlornly on the barely visible desert. The bright blue sky suffused with an abnormal glow silently raging on the southwestern horizon, a view most uncanny. She stared for a long time at that spectral bubbling cloud in thought, and gradually an impotent sense of anger opened inside of her, with cries that could fine no way out of her heavy heart.

In the house, Tisila threw up her hands in frustration.

“How long is this going to last? Well, I don’t care, she’s on her own now, I’m not going to let her gnaw away at my health.”

After waiting for Ssyba, perhaps unconsciously, the woman sighed and left for her potions laboratory to tinker a bit on the healing vraja potion recipe. had a notion, after learning some from her experience with working together with Ssyba, that she could somehow improve upon the original recipe and brew grade four potions more reliably. The secret, she concluded, was all about the boiling temperature. She swiftly poured some of her white cloud mana into the water, and set the black kettle on a flame, ready to brew. Tisila always had something brewing, or ready to brew, in her laboratory. Because there was still a chance of failure, however small, when brewing vraja potions, Tisila couldn’t rely on a single attempt every time. She lifted the top off the kettle and let the steam swell before checking the infusion.

“I need to reduce the intensity of the flame a little,” spoke Tisila.

She selected two sacks from a cabinet, inscribed Ground Glassheads and Yellow Moss. She sprinkled a measured quantity of both into the milky mana-infused water and this whole process helped calm her nerves. She absentmindedly reached for another silvery container marked Bleeding Chips and she realized, with a dull sense of weariness, that she’d like for Ssyba to come back and help her brew this potion. To work together with Ssyba was one of the most stimulating experiences in Tisila’s recent memory, and that was part of the reason why she had been so strict and discomposed.

“Why does she have to be such a reclusive animal? If only she were my daughter…”

Tisila styled herself to be a good mother and Singau’s departure made her all the more attached to Ssyba, though she never would have admitted. But as the situation stood before her, Ssyba was an unobedient beast and Singau, her only child, was absent from her life.

“It’s all your fault,” murmured Tisila speaking to Ssyba, Singau, Izzmahil or perhaps even her own separated husband, the father of Singau. These were the only people in Tisila’s life and out of four, three were gone or going.

***

The previous day had used up all of Ssyba’s spirit and willforce. She fell soundly asleep on the roof, thinking about various topics and plans and actions, and slept unperturbed until sunset. She opened her eyes into the twilight of dusk and felt her body and soul instantly recovered. She inwardly checked upon her mystical gate and saw the white cloud mana amassing within, gently swaying like a pure mist. She undulated to her feet and stretched the way most cats do, then turned to leave in order to meet up with her brother, Fagan Stabs.

Instantaneously, Ssyba’s predator senses screamed unwanted company! There was definitely someone else on the roof with her, right there and then. She sensed that it wasn’t Tisila nor was it a nanza-cat, but rather a shadowy and threatening presence, a nearly imperceptible vibration in the air. Ssyba deliberately flexed every member of her agile body, straining like a crossbow ready to launch a bolt, each muscle holding much tension in her bones. It was getting dark, sure, but not for her cat eyes.

Then a movement melting into existence, and a form jumping from a corner. Ssyba flashed her claws out like a set of razors, but before she could even raise her paws, something powerful crashed her into the wall, forcing a thick forearm into her throat and a metal spike ramming painfully into her ribs. Before her assailant managed to stab her, she arched her back, heaved her claws up like two hooks, and brought them down with a lioness roar. Her claws bit into and went through flesh. Hot, steaming blood sprayed and dripped. Her assailant relented and Ssyba pushed against the wall, leading a wide kick into the unseen. It missed. Then the assassin had her, wrapping a chain around her neck and pulling her to his chest.

"How I've longed to do that, wench," growled a low buzzing voice.

His breath smelled of garlic and wet earth. It was the largest, thickest and ugliest gremlin Ssyba had ever seen. His green-gray skin was marked by the characteristic bumps, scales, various tumor-like growths and ridges. Worst of all, there was a third eye on his cheek, under his otherwise normal left eye.

Ssyba had surrendered her breath, fought only to protect the fragility of her neck. The gremlin wrenched twice, but the third time Ssyba managed to hook her fangs on his trapezius muscle, biting a good chunk off. Howling in pain, the gremlin manhandled her up and smashed her head against the floor. As he yanked her up again, Ssyba struck with her foot, puffed the light off his normal left eye with the point of her claws.

The gremlin staggered for just a second and at once Ssyba slashed low on his stomach. He caught her arm and brought his colossal hammer-like fist down on her head. One strike. It caught her unprepared. Her left eye socket crumbled like an eggshell.

Ssyba collapsed on the floor and blood seemed to chase the edges of her form.

"Soft," nodded the gremlin as a man's voice called from the house below.