18. Tale a tale from the perspective of the Tashlan side in The Last Battle.
The humans amused him.
Ginger sat in the tree and watched them, whispering and muttering in their "secret council." It did no good, trying to keep a secret from a cat. The very first night, Ginger had stolen into the stable—the silly Calormenes forgot to watch the roof, and the roof was easily reached by a tree branch, if one was light enough and could jump. And there had been no Aslan—Tashlan—only stupid old Puzzle chewing some hay.
So now Ginger knew what was happening, and, on the whole, he liked it. The Calormenes brought with them certain…opportunities. And they would always underestimate a Cat, which brought even more opportunities.
Only, Ginger had to make his way into their councils, rather than sitting above them. And if he wanted to do that, and still be underestimated, he would have to remove the only Narnian from their council, or at least make his opinion unheard. That was why he was here tonight, to make sure Shift was here as well. The cunning, lazy Ape sat across from the fire, explaining the rate at which Calormenes could be brought into Narnia (Ginger could double that, easily, by bringing in soldiers to help prepare sacrifices—but that would be later). Ginger turned on the tree-branch with a flick of his tail and made his way to the tent where the Calormenes stored their food. It smelled delightfully of fish. Any other night, Ginger would be helping himself to a bit of their food, but tonight's raid was not for himself. No, he followed his nose to another strong-smelling portion of the tent, the smell of sugar, vinegar, and fermented grapes. Luckily the Calormenes kept the alcohol in flasks as well as barrels, and it was easy for the Cat to slip one flask's strap over his shoulder and haul it to Shift's lodging. There, he only to fill up Shift's cup and leave the flask, opened, beside it.
He knew the Ape. He knew the Ape's greed, unchecked by a cool head, and how the Ape loved mimicking the ways of the Sons of Adam—as if it was not more useful to have four hands than two! Or four paws, in the Cat's way of thinking.
Ginger knew Shift, once tasting it, would demand more and more alcohol.
And who would listen to the opinion of a drunken Ape? Would not a clear-thinking Cat be better?
Ginger left the tent for the nearest tree. The council was dismissed, the Calormenes went to the stable or their tents as their jobs demanded, and Shift shuffled into his own place, and Ginger heard soon after the sound of gulping and of smacking lips—and of liquid pouring.
Well satisfied, the Cat vanished into the night.