The bookshop's brass bell spell failed to jingle as the door closed behind the customer with the black cat in her arms. Zialle looked up from the counter only when the green suited woman was poised before her.
"Oh, that is so dear," Zialle began as she walked around the gray counter, "you take your kitty shopping with you. Is she a reader, too?" She glanced at the front door. She would have to call for cantrip service.
The young woman smiled and adjusted her glasses, no glance at her armful companion, "Yes. He is a reader when he's not sleeping. I understand you have acquired a River tablet of the early period. Ancient marker stone? I'm interested in purchasing it."
The expression on the forty-ish bookseller changed from bemused charm to enthused pleasure. She glanced around the shop, then leaned closer, in a lower voice, "Oh my, I'm not sure how you knew that! We just sent the broker notices out this morning. I hadn't expected the university to be buzzing with the news yet. What department do you represent, dear?"
"None. I represent myself. I'm visiting professor of the Athena Chair. Beatrice Dea."
The shopkeeper paused, "Yourself? But, my dear, the auction we were intending--"
"One hundred and twenty thousand francs is what I'm paying."
The woman gasped and the professor nodded, "I take it you find the price acceptable. I'd like to see the tablet." She smiled and let the black feline drop to the floor as it began to squirm in her arms. It landed with a light pat on the hardwood floor.
The shopkeeper's face showed fading confusion, then flushed with pleasure again, she gestured to the rear of the long narrow shop and walked briskly ahead. "I can't say that we would sell for that price, of course, my husband would make the final decision. I'm sure you understand. I can't commit just like that! We have sent out those notices and were expecting to auction the piece."
"Yes." The professor nodded because it was expected.
"I'm not the money mind here." the woman went on as she walked, her voice taking on a rapid rhythm, "Heaven knows, I'd be giving things a value based on how smart they looked with my drapes." She laughed at her own joke.
"Would you?" was the bemused reply. "That seems a trifle silly."
Laughter was the reply. "That's why I leave things to my Random. He's so clever with money. Why--"
The professor blinked. An unusual name and one that had associations. "Random?" Interested, the black cat looked up and made a face of caution.
The bookseller looked back over her shoulder, "Yes. He's got quite a head for figures. Why when we bought this shop, it was worth twice as much as what we paid for it after some hard work and sprucing up."
The cat quick-footed along ahead of the chattering guide.
"And I didn't get your name?" asked Dea.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Zialle. It's French. Named after my great-grandmother on my mother's side. She was an escaped noble of the Revolution. Quite exciting. As a girl, I read everything about the times. Quite a dramatic thing for a young girl to be absorbing." Her hands illustrated excitement with a flurry of waving motions.
"No doubt." Dea smiled. Her thoughts went deeper into the strange ways of rhyme and space. She decided it was just one of those little quirks of travel. An old couple with similar names to famous people in another land. She was used to eccentricities, even looked forward to them sometimes.
The walk led them through an ajar door, into a back area stacked with books, boxes, and crates. A man at least ten years the senior of Zialle sat at a rolltop desk repairing a bookbinding. His white hair lay lank and long, part of it falling across a snowy eyebrow. He glanced up.
"Randy, this is Professor Dea from the university. She wants to purchase the tablet now and not wait for the auction. Professor, this is my husband."
A grin split the old man's face, giving him a predatory look for an instant, "Charmed."
Dea returned the smile, in a softer version, "I'm so glad to meet you." Her hand was extended to him and he rose and took it, bowing over it and brushing his lips across the knuckles. She raised an eyebrow, hoping that would be sign enough.
He straightened. "I'm hoping you won't be angry if I say you may have wasted your trip here. I think we are a bit obligated to hold the auction. You'll have an invitation, of course. I'll get you on the list. How did you hear of it?"
The black cat jumped from the wood floor up to a table on the other side of the room. His tail twitched as he took two steps and looked over the edge of a small crate with its lid set aside.
"I 'm hoping you won't be angry if I don't mention my source." replied the professor.
The man laughed. "Not a bit." He winked, "It will be quite fun to have you in the bidding."
Zialle laughed along with her husband, "Well, I must watch the front. I'll leave you two to discuss business." She took the nod from her husband and left shutting the door.
Randy rubbed his hands together; "Having given you the bad news, will you stay for tea?
""Certainly. Thank you for asking." She returned the nod of her feline companion who had swung his head around to her, having confirmed the box's contents were interesting enough. She took a heavy seat with a leather cushion, cracked with age as he fiddled with a foreign-made tea contraption on a upended crate in the corner by his overloaded desk.
"I have a figure in mind." Behind the old man's back, she made a motion with her head towards the cat, who shook his head no and jumped into the box. She frowned. Straw was pushed aside.
"Do you?" answered Randy, in good spirits, "What would that be?"
"One hundred and twenty thousand francs." He turned, his eyebrows twitched. No other sign.
"Hmmm." He rubbed his hand along his elbow. The machine behind him smoked and started in whistling.
"Of course, if you have already agreed to an auction. Named a time and place."
"Hmmm." He turned and prepared cups. The tea went into silver strainers. Water was tilted in.
"I imagine I'll be gone by then. I'm traveling out of country next week." She studied the black tail waving above the edge of the crate, the only sign the cat was inspecting his prize.
"Actually, I haven't set a date. Just mailed out the solicitation." Randy turned around and handed her the small white cup. She nodded thanks and responded, "Then you and I might negotiate a fee now?"
"One, five, zero." Randy smiled and sipped his tea.
"Done." The professor smiled and sipped hers.
He frowned, taken aback. "Eh?" His cup trembled in his fingers.
The black head popped up above the crate edge, "Bhangbadea! This is it! Come look at this! The glyphs are here, including the personal glyph of the leader of the expedition!"
The old man jumped up, his eyes widening and locking to the excited eyes of the cat. His cup of tea hit the floor, splashed all over the professor's stockinged legs. She gasped and jerked, spilling her cup high on her lap. "Bishop!" she exclaimed leaping to her feet with upset cup in both palms, too late to fend off the damage.
Randy pointed, "He talks!"
"Drat!" was the cat's chagrined comment.
Dea set the cup down, flicking her fingers once and then wiping at her lap. "So he does. Quite upsetting, isn't it?" Her expression was resigned.
The old man took a step towards the offending feline. "Has he always talked?" He paused, "I mean, does he--- that is to say---" He gestured at the cat but looked directly at Dea, "Did you say, Bishop?" He quickly turned his head to keep the cat in view.
"Yes. I did. His name, Bishop." She moved over to the box, stepping past the bookseller. "Now my loudmouthed friend, what have you found?"
Bishop made one glance at the man and turned back to the stone he was standing on. "Macaverty's name isn't here as I'd hoped, but there is a list of team members. They must have arrived in the Riverlands decades before this stone was put up to honor them." His slight voice held much excitement still; "The leader was called RumpleTeaser, a name I'm not familiar with from the legends. My people were definitely helping the Riverfolk with math and astronomy. Look here and here."
"Yes. I see. Ancient Thari glyphs used to frame the main panels of River script." mused Dea running her fingers up through her copper hair. "The Kit glyphs used as decorative frames."
Randy moved up slowly behind the two. "That stone is still my property!" he growled. "I'll have to ask you two to explain yourselves!" He felt a little dizzy and tried to hide it.
Bishop glared at the interrupter impatiently, "We just did. I talk. She talks. You talk. I'm not a cat. I am, in fact, a superior intelligence from beyond the stars. If you're very nice to me, I'll let you keep the one hundred and fifty thousand francs for which you just sold this stone to my overly tall companion."
Dea chuckled, "Now, Bishop. Don't bark."
The feline's eyes widen a lot as his head snapped to look at her. "I beg your pardon?"
That changed the mood. The old man began to snicker. Dea's smile widened. Bishop practically knotted his tail, zigging and zagging it back and forth in wordless exasperation.
Then he stood perfectly still. Poised.
"Humans." he sniffed. Dea began laughing in earnest. The old man joined her.
Randy wiped at his eyes, which were tearing slightly. Then he noticed the professor's stockings were melting, the front of her skirt unraveling, her white slip already showed in several spots. He gaped. Looked at the tea machine, looked back at the widening holes in her skirt. "You-- your--"
He stopped sputtering and started laughing. The slip was melting now too. "I've slipped a cog," he laughed. "I'm delusional. Talking cats and pretty young ladies with dissolving clothes!"
She raised her eyebrows in a question and kept laughing. Then she and the cat looked down.
"Mother's Blood!" she hissed. She twisted one leg slightly surveying the spreading damage.
Bishop nodded smiling rakishly, "Now I recall. We picked up your clothes in that disposable culture two Shadows back. Remember, with the 'use it once and throw it away' enchanted blades?"
Dea groaned. Randy muttered, "Splendid legs, I should get a camera. The fellows at Gordo's won't believe this."
"Don't." the lady warned. She bent over and shredded what was left of her skirt, pulled down her eaten-away slip and unfastened the half-gone stockings. Stepped out of her shoes, then the tatters, then back into her shoes with no-nonsense quickness.
The door to the back room opened, "Is everything alri--?" Zialle lightly shrieked halfway through the door, reversed directions immediately, slamming the door closed again. The sounds of her steps quickly retreating vanished to the front of the shop.
The three in the room looked silently at the closed door.
"Pity that," offered Randy and sighed.
"No doubt," quipped Bishop grinning.
"Sorry," whispered the professor. "I'll straighten it out on leaving."
Randy smiled, "Oh, please don't. I'll have some fun with the story. Do you have the francs, or did I imagine that? I hope they aren't the disposable kind?"
"I do and they aren't." She reached inside her suit jacket, a thick purse seemed to be arranged below her arm and tight to her side with hidden straps. Randy remembered seeing guns carried in such a fashion in the cinema. She pulled a heavy wad of large denomination bills out of the purse and passed them to him.
"Are you--" His question was cut short by the back door of the shop opening quickly, a slender man entered. Narrow of face and clothed in a rich purple suit that was almost black once the back door was closed. He blinked in the lesser light.
Randy looked startled. He knew the back door was locked and spell warded.
The intruder looked annoyed, "The scrying showed no one in here." He took in the two faces looking at him, passed over Bishop, and held up a hand, "No one move."
"See here," began Randy gesturing.
A popping arc of purple lanced into the old man, stiffening him like a chunk of wood. His balanced spoiled; he pitched to the floor with a crash. "You moved," grinned the fellow. He eyed Dea, "Daughter?"
"No."
"Ah, I see.""I doubt it." She studied him.
"Step back to the desk there and take off the rest of your clothes, little eve."
She backed up to the desk, shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and began to slide it down her arms. The narrow man's eyes traveled around the room, sizing up crates, boxes. He glanced twice at the cat in the crate, but not for long. Bishop was washing his paw.
"The Riverfolk artifact. Where is it?"
The door to the front shop opened again. Zialle stepped through with a shiny little derringer pointed at the professor. Dea noted in passing that it was marked with arcane glyphs. She caught Zialle's eyes and nodded every so slightly to the narrow man. Zialle whirled towards him but a second later the purple lance struck her in the shoulder. She kept whirling, stiff, and crashed to the floor with an even louder sound than her husband.
Bishop sprang from the crate. He cleared the table, spanned the air, and landed on the head of the narrow man, who shrieked. Claws flashed, but the man was pounding on the feline with both fists.
Dea reached behind herself, unerringly found a heavy book, and pitched it sidehand in a spinning whir across the room. It struck the narrow man in his throat.
He gagged, convulsed. Bishop leaped away.
Dea crossed the room in two strides. Very quickly.
The man tried to point at her; she grabbed his hand, squeezed. Bones broke.
He squealed. She smiled, lowered her hand, he followed helplessly, lowering himself in her merciless grip. When his face was level with her waist, she belted him.
He slumped. She studied him for a moment, then satisfied let go of his hand and he slid to the floor.
"Nice." Bishop allowed, "There are some advantages to size."
"Thank you. Such praise from a warrior of your talents is quite flattering." She grinned.
"Don't mention it."
"I won't."
"Can we go now? Before something else happens?" Bishop bounded across the room and back onto the table with the crated tablet of stone.
She bent over and touched the narrow man's head, scrambling his reserve of spells. She turned then and stopped at the expression on her feline friend's face. "We'll leave in a minute. Just a few loose ends."
Bishop looked pointedly at the bottom of her suit jacket, which stopped short of the silk briefs.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Thanks for taking him on," she added. She bent down, checked Randy, then stepped over and examined Zialle. She pulled enough strands on the magic holding them, that the spell would collapse within minutes. She stepped back to Randy, took the money from his frozen grip and slid it into his pants pocket. Then she used the telespeaking on the desk to call the constables. They assured her someone was already on the way, having been called by Zialle Amberson. She replaced the receiver while they tried to get her name.
"Ready." She walked over to the crate and lifted the stone out.
Bishop watched eagerly. "I appreciate this Bhangbadea. This is a trace of home. A message from my ancestors."
She ran her free hand down his back, a rare moment of physical touch between them. "Or a Shadow of a message, my friend."
They left through the back door. She walked the length of the alley, the brick becoming a rough texture she had foreseen. The day brightened.
"Just a few loose ends." Bishop giggled.
"Oh, get fluffed," she laughed.