Flaming Summer!

A Most Atrocious Parody by Chetwynd

Author's note: Thank you to all you reviewers, you encourage me to write on. I enjoy writing this fanfic, but knowing that there is people out there reading it and liking it makes it really worth.

For those interested in our star cat, Salvador is going to have a relevant role in this nonsense of a story... He grows on you, that tomcat.

As always, thank you to Skull Bearer, my beta reader and comrade in suff... er writing. I'm sorry you don't agree with Salvador, but he has his own plans.

Chapter 7: Roaring jealousy.

Castle Uth Wistan had been decked for the occasion. It would be the first time since the foundation of the Order of Knights of Solamnia that not only one non-noble, non-Solamnic aspirant was inducted into the order, but two. For centuries, the norms and regulations had banned that kind of people ─riffraff, according to most of the traditionalists─ from joining their noble fraternity. Now, things were very different; the noble sons of Solamnia preferred a life of excesses and laziness at court to the exacting life as knights-in-training ─to reach the levels where the knights had access to true politics, the aspirants had to toil for a long time. Therefore, the ranks had been thinning for already several years, and that was the reason the two young men had been accepted. Of course, the fact that they were the sons of two Heroes of the Lance and had a letter of recommendation from Tanis Half-Elven ─honorary Knight of the Rose─ helped to cover that the order was merely desperate.

Raistlin had seen the knighting of his nephews from a high window. Mages, even White Robes, were not welcome into the order's extravagant initiation rituals. Not that the wizard wanted to be part of them; he had witnessed enough initiation ceremonies to know they all were ridiculously pompous and laughable. And so, he kept clear of the courtyard where all those moustached hackers were gathered.

It was unfortunate that the rest of the family was not able to attend, but it was all for the best. For those last weeks in Solace before setting off to Solamnia with his nephews, the wizard's relatives had been too occupied trying to maintain their mouths shut, so they could not annoy him, and Salvador took care of any of them daring to approach his pet. However, the Majere's debacle had produced a bothersome side effect: Raistlin was now considered a martyr that had suffered in silence the insanity of the two Heroes. And thus, the people of Solace wondered if they had misjudged the poor younger twin and if their casual reject and abandonment at the hands of those "heroic" nutters had not put the "poor" mage into the path of darkness. Some of them –Mirinda and her mother among them– had even created an association to restore his "good name."

As good as their intentions were, the archmage was not sure he liked the idle and belated signs of support. He had chosen to be evil and was proud of his free-willed choice. To even consider the possibility that he had been driven to take it because of others –especially his brother– irked him badly. In addition, he suspected he was merely a new victim of the populace's need for celebrities; even his notoriousness was apparently preferable to the crazy wickedness of the former local heroes. Dead, silent legends were redeemable; alive, truth-spewing ones were not.

For all that, Tanin and Sturm had been the ones to suffer the brunt of their family's disgrace and disintegrating honour. They certainly had been very relieved when left for Solamnia, leaving the madness behind.

And this was why the archmage was the only Majere present at his nephews' knighting.

Wistan's speech was soporific even without actually hearing what he was blabbering. Seated on the windowsill, Raistlin dozed to the sound of the voice of the leader of the Knights. He was ready to slip into true sleep when a deep growl awakened him.

There was a big white tiger standing in front of him, looking at him with what in a human he would have considered undisguised hostility.

"Tandar! Where are you!" came a voice from the next room, a voice that nearly made Raistlin fall from the window. "Ah, here you are, bad kitty."

The wizard swallowed painfully as he regarded the woman that entered the room. He knew her to be only a few years younger than him, but apparently her god had found fitting to continue tempting the forces of Evil with her raven-haired, white-skinned beauty. Years had been more than easy on her, they had enhanced her charms. His half-remembered dreams had been but pale shadows of the real woman, he thought wistfully.

"Whom are you bothering now, Tandar?" she scolded to tiger, who hung his head sheepishly.

"He is not… er, a bother," croaked Raistlin, cursing his suddenly parched mouth. "He seems hungry though, Revered Daughter."

Crysania frowned. "Your voice is familiar…"

"I'm Palin Majere, of the White Robes," then added no more, a little afraid of the unholy gleam in her blind eyes and the all too sweet smile.

"Today your brothers are being knighted. Why are not you with them in the courtyard?" the cleric asked while she approached him, slipping a hand under his arm. "Please, help me to walk. Tandar, quit growling."

"Um, of course, Revered Daughter," he acquiesced in Palin's meek tone. So near to her that he was shrouded in her perfume, Raistlin felt at the same time blessed and cursed. Cursed because he had to get out of this jam without being discovered; blessed because he had now more first-hand material for his dirty recreational dreams.

"I remember that you usually used my title only when you wanted to mock me," the Chosen of Paladine commented offhandedly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It seems that, for once, you are sorely disinformed, my dear," she smirked, arm tightly around his. At his silence, the woman added, "My, and short of words. The world must be coming to an end."

"My lady, I don't know…"

"That would be a first, you not knowing anything, wouldn't it, Raistlin?" Crysania whispered into his ear. The mage's eyes widened in surprise.

At his side, the tiger growled threateningly.

"How did you know?" he murmured, ignoring the animal. The beast would not dare to attack him whilst his master was in his hands… or the other way round, it did not matter. The wizard did not like at all the jealous glare the oversized cat kept throwing at him though. It bore watching, the feline. However, he was distracted as Crysania was now caressing his face with her free hand.

"Your voice, your odour, the aura of power that surrounds you like a mantle," she said softly, her sweet fingers memorising his features.

"Really?" Raistlin asked, amazed. No one else had noticed those details, he had covered them carefully, particularly his aura.

"No," admitted Crysania with a sheepish smile. "In truth it was your weird behaviour as Palin. But of course, you couldn't know I knew him, only Revered Daughter Albertus knew."

"Did you know Palin? And what's this about 'Revered Daughter'? How can a man hold the title for a woman?"

"All the members of Mishakal's church are 'revered daughters' regardless of their gender. Goldmoon decreed it to be so." She shrugged, as if the senseless edicts of the Chosen Prophet of Mishakal were something usual and of not matter. "As for Palin, yes, I knew him; quite well indeed, since I was his therapist."

"Ah, Caramon mentioned some therapy or other, but I'd never imagined that were you the one to conduct it… You've said only Albertus knew." The archmage frowned.

"Yes. Your brother wanted Palin to receive counsel about his 'weird behaviour'. He was sent to old Albertus in Solace, but the old man soon realised that it was too much for him –in fact, he is an inept; a kind-hearted one, but inept nonetheless– and turned to me for help. I was delighted to, you nephew felt… er, looked so much like you… However, that was the main problem. Poor boy. The 'weird behaviour' Caramon alluded to was that Palin didn't act like you. According to Albertus, it seemed as if your twin wanted his son to become you."

Raistlin merely nodded, his wounds still too fresh.

"And then there was his mother, pulling him in the exactly opposite direction, and his sisters making his life an abyss because they were jealous of him."

"No one wanted him to be himself," Raistlin assented, full of sadness. "I didn't come to know him, but I would've liked to. I know he was not the unimpeachable man he pretended to be, no one can be, living in that madhouse. I've seen some pictures…"

"Yes, those pictures were part of the therapy, they helped him to express what he really felt. They were truly terrible. However, Palin was a good boy, but his exemplary performance was both a cover for the resentment that boiled within and a way to be contrary to his family, particularly Caramon. He seemed too afraid of his mother and preferred to assuage her paranoia instead. In addition, Palin suspected his family thought he was a homosexual and he didn't want to side with them."

"So, he was?" Maybe his nephews were not as blind as he had believed.

"Yes, he was. He told me he corresponded with a secret lover, but never revealed his identity."

"I didn't found any letter," said Raistlin frowning. That's all he needed, a mysterious boyfriend lurking who knows where!

"Palin told me they had a quarrel, something about his friend not wanting to disclose their relationship, and he burned them in a huff. It was a hard blow for the poor young man, he was so hopeful about his lover. As a matter of fact, that relationship had been what allowed him to get better, so much that, for our last session, he was ready to confront his family. He explained that Dalamar had invited his father and him to visit the Tower of High Sorcery, so he would first go there because he was looking forward to it and then he would tell Caramon to get lost. He was to leave home, to confront his lover face to face and not over letters."

Crysania's blind eyes seemed to regard thoughtfully the depressed wizard.

"Palin always regretted not being as brave and determined as his uncle, the one who had been able to abandon his crazed twin to die in the Bloodsea of Istar. He didn't approve of your despicable treatment of the rest ─his words, not mine─, but he supposed that, if your live had been even only a little similar to his, the constant torture could draw the worst of a person, however strong he was. For Palin, you were his hero and role model."

"Poor, miserable boy," Raistlin sighed, feeling very miserable himself. The fall of the Majeres had been satisfying, but any gratification he experimented at their disgrace could never erase the harm they had done.

He sensed Crysania's touch on his arm, consoling. "Sadness is drowning you. Don't let it," she said softly, her firm caress conveying her support, the fact she was there to hold him. Then, as an afterthought, "I won't charge you."

Still afflicted and hurt by the truth learned not so long ago, saddled with the knowledge that his nephew ─so like him─ had suffered the same fate, Raistlin broke down. Amid shaking sobs, clinging to Crysania, he told her the abyssal life he had led as Palin and the discovery of the sham his own life had been. Had he been alive, had he known of his nephew's suffering, of history repeating itself, he would have adopted Palin as his own, and would have pampered him without stifling him, to make of him a proper evil wizard ─or at least one able to blow to pieces annoying relatives.

Crysania comforted him with soft words and gentle hands caressing his hair. Nestled against her, she held him close, until the sobs lessened and then stopped. Then they resumed a little more as the mage snuggled against her warm bosom. Grieving he may be, but opportunistic he remained. The priestess did not seem to mind anyway.

He didn't even paid attention to Tandar's grumble.

"Oh, but you're such a prize case," she sighed.

Remembering he was supposed to be a mighty evil archmage and not a pathetic, desperate man, he stepped back to regard the Chosen of Paladine with a cool gaze. Then he remembered she could not see him and that her beastly guide was not likely to squeal, so he allowed himself to look at her wistfully despite the fact his voice sounded aloof.

"How did you become a shrink? Was bossing around the church of Paladine not enough for you?"

The woman hid a smile at his obvious intent of keeping his distance after his show of 'weakness.' "Why, Raistlin, you're to blame."

"Me? Pray tell how it came to be."

"After our… enlightening journey back in time and into the Abyss," it seemed that sarcasm was contagious, "I was at a loss about why you had not succumbed to my… er… had not seen the light of Paladine's grace," Crysania began to explain.

"I did see his light," the wizard grouched in a mutter. "How could I have not? He was painfully blinding, the flasher. No wonder Takhisis cannot best him, she probably sees not a bit looking at all that floodlighting…"

The priestess elbowed him into silence with stunning accuracy taking into account that she was blind. "If I may continue my tale of woe?" she growled, peeved. "As I was saying, I didn't understand why you didn't turn to the Path of Goodness under His influence but under a lout's, so I thought something was not right in your head." Raistlin was to protest, but a well-placed foot stepping on his –who would have thought someone so delicate-looking like Crysania would weight so much?– robbed his breath from him. "Determined to understand the reasons behind your mental derangement, I studied the secrets of the human mind through a mail crash course by the Brotherhood of Majere, and spurred on by the knowledge of how much good I might have done to Krynn healing your suffering mind, I became the premier psychologist of Ansalon."

"Well, and which were the reasons?" he sneered.

The Chosen of the God of Light seemed ill-at-ease, then steeled herself. "The only logical explanation was that you were not attracted to the fair sex…"

"So I didn't fall under Paladine's sway because I was homosexual, you say?" the exasperated archmage cried, startling the cleric. "That's just brilliant! Good for the servants of Majere and their useless crash courses!"

"Don't be nasty! Your lack of interest on me prevented the God from reaching out to you through me…" countered the woman.

"Lack of interest! How could you not notice my… my… rampant interest!"

"You call 'rampant' to act interested one moment and disgusted the next? To me, it seemed that you wanted to seduce me but were too repulsed to achieve it!"

Raistlin sighed, despondent. This argument was leading to nowhere but to further misunderstanding.

In addition, the tiger was growling threatening and throwing him the evil eye.

"I would've loved to take you but…" he stopped, horrified by what he had just babblered.

"You don't have to be ashamed, my friend," Crysania said softly, her hand comforting again. "Palin accepted it and his life got much better…"

"It's not that! I could not because I was not myself! I. Am. Not. A. Homosexual! I was under a pernicious influence," he hissed, eyeing balefully the Staff that stood against the wall. "I did not want to travel back in time to supplant Fistandantilus, nor repeat his idiotic journey towards self-destruction! I did not want to defy Takhisis and become a god," he finished with a haunted murmur. He remembered vividly the moment of awareness he had experienced in the Abyss, free for the first time of a control he had not realized he had been under, the horror of discovering that he did not know why he had done the actions that had led him to that very point.

And, above all, the horror of discovering his mind was full of dirty knowledge he had never wanted to learn.

How could he have done all those things he remembered doing but not wanting to do? Now he knew it had been the Staff's doing, but he wondered how he had managed to get free and why at that very untimely moment. And now that he thought about it, he also wondered what had happened to that knowledge that had shamed him so, since it seemed to not be in his mind anymore.

"Oh," said Crysania. Her face brightened. "Then you freed yourself from that influence and sacrificed yourself to save Krynn?"

The archmage nodded, forgetting his companion could not see his gesture. It had not been exactly like that, but what use was to disappoint the priestess now? When he had realized that he had been somehow coerced into doing that senseless plan of Fistandantilus', he had been too stunned to think properly, thus he had merely reacted. He did not imagine he had it in him, to act the tragic anti-hero. It had been the most thoughtless, foolish thing he had done in his two lives. He should have taken Crysania and left the slob locked in the Abyss with Takhisis. And maybe finish off Dalamar too, just for fun; a posh dark elf less would not have been missed. Probably only by his tailors.

"In truth, all I wanted to do was to wait for Fistandantilus to travel forward in time to take over. I was going to make him get a big surprise…" Raistlin sighed. Then, once he were whole –or as whole he had ever been anyway–, he would go and get Par-Salian. Ah, he had envisioned himself appearing amid a plenary Conclave session, the mages and wizardess of all colours fleeing in terror, and the old coot rooted in his throne-like seat in mortal fear. With a new sigh, the nostalgic archmage merely kicked with his heel the snout of the annoying oversized cat when the beast was ready to growl once again, instead of transforming it into a frog.

"So you're not." Her expression was between ashamed and hopeful.

"I am not. I know perfectly well where my preferences lay." The wizard had wanted to give an impression of harshness, but he somehow ended sounding husky. And damn his youthful body, horny.

Again that bright grin, now accompanied by a pat in his hand. "Well, since no knight has charged in to my rescue, I suppose you must be wearing red or…" Her smile turned wicked. "Ah, you must be then the 'handsome White Robe' sir Roderick kept prating about…" she snickered.

"Now I'm the chosen of Solinari, yes," Raistlin growled. Not that he had any saying in the matter. He narrowed his eyes. "You are enjoying yourself."

"About time," Crysania replied. "I'm sorry I misunderstood you, but what with your behaviour, your brother's insinuations, and the rumours."

The two last shall be dealt with, he thought. "It seems my brother has been spreading those since I was a boy." He shrugged, but remembering she could not see him, added, "It doesn't matter."

"Well, it should," the priestess protested, a frown on her dark brow. "Everyone thinks Caramon a paragon of virtue, but he's a very disturbed man. I should've suspected it when you were… put to rest, and he came to mock me. He told me that he had received a vision of you sleeping peacefully, a vision sent to stop him from killing himself."

"I assure you it was not sent by me," Raistlin stated sternly. No, he would have done the world a favour encouraging the despicable swine to commit suicide. "Paladine's doing, no doubt."

"When will you learn that the gods' ways are inscrutable to us mortals?"

"That's what you clerics keep saying whenever you haven't the foggiest idea about why your patrons act idiotically," the wizard snorted.

The woman laughed softly. "Ah, here it is a glimpse of the Raistlin of old," she sighed, stroking his cheek. "Without Paladine's intervention, your nephews would have not been born. Would you have preferred that?"

"Now your god has sway over Zyvilyn's portfolio too?" he groused. "No, of course not. I'm fond of my nephews, I thought it was evident."

"Since you haven't frightened them off, it is. And now what, ah, are your plans for the future?"

"Truth to be told, I have no plans." Only half plots. "Since I left Solace with Tanin and Sturm I've been ─amusing myself, I suppose. It has been lots of fun adventuring with them and watching as they became true knights. That has allowed me to temporarily forget all the hurt suffered back at… their home," the archmage sighed. Of course, he took good care of not adding that it provided him with time to scheme his inexorable vengeance. "Nevertheless, I suppose that one day or another I'll have to reveal my true identity to the world."

"Try to not to make that day the last of Krynn," the priestess mocked. She kissed his cheek. "I like this version of yourself better than the past one. The megalomaniac homosexual was challenging, but a bit overdone. I like this Raistlin better. And remember that it doesn't matter what others say about you, you must remain strong. If you are in need of unburdening, my consulting room is always open for you, and for free." With a last lingering kiss, she left, leaving him confused.

What had she meant? He did not know, but he felt elated and did not mind. He would work it out later, after a headache remedy and a little staff-handling.

So in the clouds he was that he did not notice Tandar, eyes agleam with hate, re-entering the room and fixing him with a murderous glare.

An unholy scream tore through the festivities of Castle Uth Wistan.

The traditional rowdy celebration that typically followed the knighting of new members of the Order had been somewhat fogged by the "incident of the mage and the tiger" from which Raistlin came out just with a big scare thanks to his swift reaction, and the beast with several teeth short. It had been the talk of the island, and would be for weeks to come, so uninteresting life was there.

"How are you feeling?" Tanin asked his uncle. They were aboard a ship, on their way to Palanthas. The mighty wizard got seasick and, until the Revered Daughter had not approached him with a remedy, he had spent his hours vomiting. Now he merely lay drowsy and drugged on deck until it got dark and he crawled to his cabin.

Raistlin yawned. "Fine, only a bit sleepy now. It's dark already?"

"Yeah, it's dark. Time for the baby to go to bed," Sturm joked good-naturedly. "You aren't as pale as you were in Sancrist, or as green as you were the first day aboard."

"Well, I suppose you would have been pale if a tiger nearly had your manly parts for dinner too," growled the archwizard.

The two brothers winced simultaneously.

"I swear that beast hates you, Palin" Tanin said. "Have you seen how it glares at you? Luckily, Lady Crysania keeps it muzzled whenever she ventures outside her cabin."

"She seems real concerned about you, little brother," added the other Majere knight. "She didn't seem as worried about Sir Markharm's broken leg."

"Please, don't compare a broken leg with my reproductive organs," groused the mage.

"As if you used them for anything…" whispered Sturm.

The archmage chose to ignore that comment momentarily, taking a note on his nephew's entry.

"Of course she is more worried, I was attacked by her tiger after all. Sir Markharm, however, deserved it; he was drunk when he charged down the stairs." He yawned again. "I think I'll retire now to bed. Good night."

"Night, Palin."

Raistlin regarded sleepily the doors leading to the cabins. Last night he had been dragged in by one of his nephews, so he was not sure which one was the correct, until he saw the piece of parchment with his name ─well, Palin's─ in bold letters nailed to one of them.

"How thoughtful of those boys," he murmured. Without any further coherent thought, he entered the cabin. He stopped short on his tracks as a feral growl cut through the mists of drowsiness.

Quick as a fox chased by hunters, the wizard dodged the tiger's pounce, and slammed the door shut behind the animal, leaving Tandar on the corridor. Immediately after, he weaved a powerful spell to lock the door and then other to silence the roars of the enraged beast. How had that nasty piece of work got into his cabin? He had to talk seriously with Crysania about her "guide"…

"Who's there?" asked a feminine voice, the above mentioned priestess'.

Raistlin turned to regard her. She was on the bed, clothed with an extremely flimsy nightdress that insinuated more than it managed to hide. Had not anyone told her that such clothes were very inappropriate for being worn on a ship ─in fact, anywhere?

"Er… I… It seems that I've mixed-up my cabin with yours," he explained, his mouth dry and his eyes roaming over her lovely form. Although I'd swear I saw a parchment with my name in this door, he said to himself. "I'll leave now."

Nonetheless, before he had even time to think about how he was going to deal with the infuriated tiger at the other side of the door, he was tackled.

"Don't be silly, this is undoubtedly a fated encounter. We are destined to be together this night."

"Crysania, please, let me go before I ravish you!"

"That's what I want, you moron! I've been waiting for this too many years," the priestess grunted as she pulled him onto the bed.

"Isn't that the Revered Daughter's tiger? Why's it pounding her door?" Tanin asked as he and his younger brother were on their way to their cabin. "And why don't we hear its roaring? It opens its jaws enough."

"Dunno," Sturm replied, his hand reaching for his sword.

The beast, however, had no problem hearing others and regarded them with a glare that just seemed to say 'What're you doing there? Get a move on, you idiots!'

"Maybe someone is attacking Lady Crysania!" Sturm exclaimed. He would swear the oversized cat had nodded emphatically. "This stinks of evil wizardry! I think that a wicked, mad mage might have spellocked the door and taken Lady Crysania hostage! We must rush headlong into peril as the true Knights we are!" And he charged against the battered door.

"Wait Sturm! I'm not sure that… Ooops!"

There was a rumour going around among the sailors that the mage's familiar was not a common animal, but an abyssal spawn. It could not be another thing, since it had beaten single-handedly a tiger ten times its own size and a full-fledged Knight of Solamnia. The seafaring folk would have loved to throw the wizard and his familiar to the sea, as it was tradition, but they did not care to rouse the wrath of the Revered Daughter of Paladine as the two victims of the demon had somehow done. Anyway, every one of them, from the ship's boy to the captain, thought that they were doomed all along. A woman aboard was bad luck; a woman and a wizard was a disaster; and a woman, a wizard, and a demon was... well, surely Zeboim was gleefully awaiting for them in her murky depths... Therefore, the men gave a wide berth the sobbing young man crouched behind the main mast and the hissing menace he squeezed in his arms.

The 'demon' in question, none other than Salvador, was sad and angry at the same time. The former because his pet was inconsolable, weeping and moaning nonsense about 'not meant to be' and 'cursed' and 'the gods'. No amount of licking would stop the tears of his miserable pet. The poor two-legs hugged him harder, hid his damp face on his fur, and went on his lamenting. As for the later sentiment... well, his pet's brood-brother had been nosy and misguided in his intentions as his kind was wont to be, and he had interrupted that moment that should have been his pet's alone. As for the oversized pussy that dared to call himself tiger... That was different business. The cowardly feline hated his pet, and Salvador knew quite well the reason: jealousy. The tiger wanted for himself the female two-legs, even though she was not of his own breed. Two times already that dunce of a tiger had attacked his pet, and not even with getting rid of him in mind, but only maiming. Enough was enough. Salvador had decided, taking into account the treacherous nature of that vicious beast –that attacked when his pet was most vulnerable–, to tackle the issue himself.

Ignoring his pet's nonsense, the black familiar looked at the elder brood-brother, and narrowed his single yellow eye when he heard the voice of the meddler.

"Is the Revered Daughter on deck?" came a hushed voice from under the wooden floor. It rose a little to reveal the distraught and beaten-up face of the younger metal-fur.

"She's not here, brother. You can come up," the elder sighed, watching as his brother climbed painfully out of the hole on the floor. He had a black eye, the face full of scratches, and more than two or three bumps on his head.

"I didn't know a blind woman could be so accurate with her fists." The busybody glanced cautiously in Salvador's direction. "Is he angry with me?"

"Un... er, Palin?"

"No, that beastly cat of his," he whispered. As the feline hissed at him from his weeping prison, he cringed. "I take that as a "yes". I can see that our little brother is not angry, at least not yet."

"More like depressed, I would say," replied the other with a frown.

The offender sighed. "Poor Palin, he tries to prove himself he's a man –not that I think a gay is not a man, mind you– and all he achieves is an appalling failure and a big scare."

"Yes, that Tandar brute hates him. It went straight for his…" Both brood-brothers shuddered at the memory. "Luckily, Salvador came to his rescue. He taught a lesson to that nasty beast!" The elder snickered, and the little familiar did as well in his catlike way, remembering as he had cowered that big pussy.

"It's not funny," the youngest growled, his hand going to the nasty scrapes on his cheek. "That cat scratched me too! Anyway, I think that down within, Palin wanted us to interrupt what was to become an embarrassing and painful experience… just like it happened with… you know who in the past." At his companion's doubtful glance, he explained himself, "C'mon, the door opened just when I charged! And there was no one opening it, and it had been locked with magic too! What's that, if not a cry for help from our poor little brother?"

Salvador wondered how his two brood-brothers could be so wrong as for his pet's intentions. How could they mistake foul play for a plea for help? Obviously, something or someone wanted his dear two-legs out of the loving action, at least with the blind female. The foremost suspect would have been that craven, oversized kitty, but he was so hopeless at anything apart from either growling or biting your tender parts when you were completely unaware, this kind of misdeed was beyond his means. This whole situation reeked of... magic.

"I think we should've accepted Sir Roderick's invitation," the miscreant was saying. "His castle is near Throt, where we might've hunted goblins and ogres while our brother was… otherwise occupied."

"I don't think Palin is ready for Solamnic romance just yet."

Plainly, as far as his pet's brood-brothers were concerned, his two-legs was not going to father any cub for Salvador to watch over; they persisted in matching him with the wrong specimens. That was, to his eyes, unacceptable. His pet had chosen a mate, one agreeable to boot, and the resolute cat was determined to get them together –jealous tiger, idiot brothers, or opposing, mysterious forces notwithstanding.

This black tomcat always got what he wanted.

Next: An ill-fated voyage, a horrible crew, and entertainment for the masses!