I yawn. Twitch my tail. Yawn. “You might as well tell me about this Ailbe of yours.”

Conall, the black wolf-hound, settles more comfortably into the straw, head high and front paws crossed. Kappa, the soldier-dog who came downstairs to check on him, drinks some water and curls up nearby, his ears perked. A breeze drifts through the narrow window, redolent with the scents of grass and rain and rabbits. (Unfortunately, of the hopping variety, not cooked rabbit.) It’s dim down here, with various nooks for sleeping, plenty of soft straw and blankets. There’s fresh water for drinking, and a slow-gurgling bath of warm spring water in one corner.

Trencoss always treats his animals well, giving them a place to stay that best suits their needs and instincts. In a very few teeny tiny ways, I have to admit that the needs of dogs and cats are not always entirely different. 

In other words…it’s kind of nice here. And I do like stories.

“I begin,” Conall says, his voice that particular low velvet in my head. 

I hop down and find a corner of a fluffy wool blanket, and knead it to make the perfect shape—it’s not like I’m perched so high because I’m afraid of the dogs or anything. One blow of my knife-like claws, and they would all cower in terror! It’s just more comfortable down here. And easier to listen to the story. 

Conall waits for me to get settled, more polite than terrified. Oh well—he and I have known each other for a long time. He knows I very rarely rip anything to bloody shreds…other than socks and balls of yarn and dry leaves.

“Ready.” I clean my front paw, then tuck it under my beautiful furry chest, turning my ears towards Conall.

“I begin,” he repeats, and this time he does.

***

When I first met my Ailbe, I freely admit that I was a bitter, selfish, git. 

Sorcerer Trencoss had captured me five years before, and as the months crept by, my hopes and my compassion slipped away with them. Over time, carrying out his tasks and learning his logic, I became more and more like Trencoss expected me to be—or perhaps more like Trencoss himself. 

That winter, he had received an invitation to come and treat with the young king Fionn mac Cumhaill, with the opportunity to cement the alliance with marriage. So when we arrived at Fionn’s castle, I saw the young women as players in the same cynical game as Trencoss and Fionn—trading wealth and security for loyalty; an heir for a battalion; a position at one castle in order to be queen at a new castle. A better castle. Ailbe was the head lady-in-waiting at Fionn’s castle, which meant she had battled her way to the highest ranking position for an unmarried woman. I assumed that she was, therefore, more cunning than any of them, and I assumed we were all calculating and selfish. Myself included.

Trencoss immediately set his sights on Ailbe. He had not decided whether he would accept an alliance when we traveled to Fionn’s castle, but he made up his mind as soon as he saw her. At the time, it wasn’t clear to me exactly why, although of course we all know by now. 

However, she was the most senior Lady, for the queen was not in residence, and Fionn had invited a great many lords to treaty with. So Trencoss did not have the least guarantee of getting Ailbe, and I was looking forward to watching him struggle. Here at the Castle of a Thousand Doors, he gets whatever he wants, but one of the lords there might give him a set-down.

So I was watching carefully, and noticed when Trencoss went down to the village. He came back with a servant child, dirty and disheveled. They went into his room, and I smelt the magic. 

I did not see the child again. I assume Trencoss turned it into something small and quiet. We know that he only gets power from the living animal, so he has no incentive to harm them. At the time, I had seen it happen so many times that I thought nothing of it. 

When Trencoss returned to the negotiations, the other men were only too eager to give him what he wanted, so the extra jolt of power must have helped. I was annoyed to see him get what he wanted so easily, and took a nap in the corner while they made their bargains.

That night, there was a spectacular feast. Bob, you will like to know that Ailbe organized it all. Fire-roasted salmon with fresh onions; wild pig served on a bed of apples and greens; fragrant broth soup; and all served with perfectly-turned flatbread and four varieties of cheese. As always, Trencoss was generous in sharing with me, which I considered my due. It was the most excellent meal that I had tasted in a very long time. The tender flavors reminded me of home, laughing with my brothers as we shared flat bread and roasted meat.

I was up early to patrol in the morning. It was not my castle, of course, and I could have left it to the resident dogs. But however bitter I might have become, I did not shirk my share of the work, and I stood for patrol shifts just like I would at home. The local head dog appreciated any who would help, for the castle was full of humans, and that makes extra work for the warriors. 

I was watching, of course, for any threats. Soldiers or brigands sneaking through the forest. Or within the castle itself—one king plotting against another; a maid creeping to the village to purchase a supply of poison. But everything was quiet.

Except for two women. 

Who were the last ones I expected to see.

continued tomorrow....

The Little White Cat and the Dog Who Wasn't

What you are reading today is a bonus companion story, only delivered to my newsletter. The story that Conall is telling is also available from Ailbe's point of view as "Escape to Peaceful Valley" in the Feisty Deeds anthology. They focus on different moments, so neither story is a spoiler for the other.

THE LITTLE WHITE CAT AND THE DOG WHO WASN'T is a complete and stand-alone story, but many readers enjoy other glimpses of the same world and characters.

Escape to Peaceful Valley (in Feisty Deeds anthology)

All proceeds from Feisty Deeds go to the Women's Fiction Writers Association scholarship fund.