Smiling at Morgan as he suggested a bit slower, Banglen-Yp turned to regard the window through which she could see the large cats which was the aspiration of the little kitten in her arms.

•• But • not • this • slow ••

It was half a question, half not.  She turned back to Morgan as he offered to pour her tea and nodded.

•• Thank you • Morgan ••

Another brilliant smile, and then she watched him prepare the tea, gently shifting the kitten to the nook of one arm, at which it stood up again the bend of the arm and rolled up on its head, then sank down to end up on its back with the head towards the hand.  It looked as if it was really enjoying itself.

•• Perhaps some milk for the little one ••

The Screen had shown cats enjoying milk, at least, although they did prefer something called cream even more.

 

"She talked in terms o' days, 'stead o' the weeks, or e'en months that others tol' me.  Three, maybe four, days, dependin' on 'ow yer travels.  Jer tol' me it's six days, or a week, by ship... which'd be one reason I di'n't believe  'er." the old cartographer replies, with a chuckle.  "Course, she never made mention o' anythin'... unnat'ral like, bein' involved, so I thought as 'ow she were jus' tryin' ter impress me, ter get a bit more silver out o' me, d'y'see?

He thinks for a moment, and then continues, "Talkin' o' which... bein' as 'ow yer friends o' Jer's, an' 'e's been such an 'elp ter me, I can let yer 'ave the map, in the mornin', fer just five shillin's, bearin' in mind as I'll 'ave ter work all night ter get it done."

"Right"  Morgan answers her, followed by "You're welcome."   Setting a saucer down on the table, once the cups were prepared, he tips a bit of milk into it.

"That's interesting." Morgan pauses, looking embarassed, and fetches a large gold coin from his purse.  "Would this be more than five shillings?"

"I'll see what I can... " Mayhew says, and stops, suddenly, his eyes almost bulging as Morgan shows the coin, "If'n that's gold, then it's enough ter buy yerself 'alf the shop, Lad.  I can say that fer certain."

He rubs his cheek, smearing the ink marks there, "I ain't sure I can give yer change o' that, it's been a quiet couple o' days.  Likely it'd be better if yer get somethin' a bit smaller, an' pay me in the mornin', when yer comes back."

"I'm mindful o' my repertation, d'y'see?  I'll not want word spreadin' roun' foreign parts that I charge too much."

Shrugging, Morgan digs out a few more coins. "Suit yourself. How about four, and you send a copy of everything you have, and what new you get in, to Julian in Amber by way of Jer? A recurring gift from me to him, as you get things copied. You seem an honest sort, and its rather easier for me to gift him than be cheated by another coins changer. Though I'd rather you test the coin before accepting."

In truth, Morgan feels himself at a bargain. He'd gotten more than the weight of the blades in various metals, and has long gotten past any guilt at selling some of the weapons. Factory issue to him, a trinket to others, and incredible value to yet a third. Enough to pay their trip back, certainly.

Somewhere overhead the wind increases its force, and there is the sound of a window shattering.

Banglen-Yp's kitten gives a start, and Mayhew glares up at the ceiling... "That'll be that bloody storeroom I s'pose.  The catch on the shutter's broke, an' the winder faces towards the sea.  Just lucky I don't use the upstairs rooms no more.  Specially the ones on the top floor."

His attention comes back to Morgan's offer, and he tugs at his lower lip before answering, "That'd be fine with me.  Yer'll get yer map in the mornin', right enough.  The others I'll work on as I can.  If'n I can't get 'em sorted out afore Jer goes 'ome, I'll send 'em with other ships, as an' when I can."

"Would that be good?"

Absently, Morgan's hand moves to tickle and soothe the kitten in Banglen's arms. He grins to Mayhew's answer, "Perfect! "  and lays the coins on the table.

 

Having set the kitten down on the table so it could have its milk, Banglen-Yp accepted the tea with yet another smile - she had smiled a lot when first they met, but that was more as if it was a reflex; these were warmer and seemed less automated, even if the old ones had been far from empty smiles.

Happy to savour the tea she once more appeared to zone out and not hear what was being said, although she did instantly reach out to pick up the kitten as it started, once more cradling it in her arms.

With the arm around him and the addition of Morgan's soothing and tickling the kitten appeared to quickly forget that something had startled it at all and Banglen-Yp herself laughed quietly and softly at it, as well as Morgan's hand coming to the rescue of the kitten.

Perhaps it was a good thing she had not hugged it to her generous bosom, or someone might have been slapped.  Then again, maybe not, as she had yet to receive such advice.  Now, the universe would never know, as the kitten was merely in the nook of her arm.

•• Cat person ••

A simple, nearly normal sounding statement - yet lingering was this slightly odd tone that still set her apart from most others, if not all.

 
This message was last edited by the player at 05:59, Mon 28 May 2007.

"Yes."  The word is almost as abrupt as some of her statements. It takes no thought for the agreement.  He had spent the last  year? or more with them his only companions, not that they'd been far from his affections before then. And if she referred to herself, he has no reason to argue.  He has seen her become one.

He sips at his tea, and smiles at its warmth spreads through him. "Should we let you go, with things to do in the storm?" He tries his best to make the question courteous.

"Ter tell the truth, I'd be glad o' the company." the old mapmaker replies.  "Stay an' finish yer tea, at least  I doubt there'll be many customers comin' in, because of the weather, an the fact that we're gettin' less travellers in jus' lately."

Another gust of wind seems to rattle the whole building, and howls somewhere in the upper floors.  Mayhew sighs, "Like I said, I don't use the upstairs rooms no more.  Too much trouble ter clean, an my legs can't manage the stairs so well now.  Need ter keep some strength fer climbin' the ladder down 'ere."

As he talks, he starts sorting through some of the jumble of maps and charts, checking the attached tags, unrolling the maps and studying them, holding them to get the advantage of the light, before rolling them up again, and sorting them into several stacks.

"I'll pick out the good ones ter send first, with Jer.  The really interestin' ones.  The rest I'll send later."

Morgan nods his approval.  "I'll thank you for that. Those wheels.  I've seen them elsewhere, from time to time. Whence your inspiration?"

"What's that?  Yer've seen 'em?  With yer own eyes?" Mayhew looks more than a little shocked at this revelation.

"Well I'll be buggered... a glance at Banlen-Yp, "Beggin' yer pardon Miss."

"I were told of 'em by a seafarin' man what came in 'ere a few weeks back.  Captain o' the... the... what were it called again?  Ah, yes... the Porpoise.  Spun a yarn, 'e did, about seein' one o' these things in a place a ways east o' Cadiniagart."

A shake of his head, and Mayhew continues, "I thought nought o' the tale, at the time.  Sometimes people come in 'ere an' try ter sell me wild stories o' far off lands, so I jus' added the things in as a bit o' decoratin' on a map I were workin' on.  But now yer've confirmed 'is story, an' with all yer talk o' magic, an' such... "

"Yer not pullin' an ol' man's leg, are yer?"

Morgan vigorously moves his head in denial.  "No joke, and if you see any yourself, I'd suggest keeping as much distance as you can. The most of them are lethal, even dying. 'struth, seeing is believing, and I've seen more than I'd care to. If you'd pen what you remember of the tale in with that map you send, I'd appreciate it. "

He would almost smile, but the memory of that devastated battlefield keeps it from his face.  "Its naught to do with your purpose, I know. But call it an extended version of legend for the main work. As you can see from my friends in the window,  much that might be dismissed as story is cold fact."

"What?" Mayhew turns, and walks across to the window, where tha panthers look back at him, with just as much interest as the man displays in studying them.

With a stunned expression, he swivels on his heel to face Morgan and Banglen-Yp, "They're cats!  An' did they start out that size?" he asks, one finger pointing out Banglen-Yp's small friend.  "What'd yer feed 'em on?"

Looking out of the window once more, he shakes his head.  "I've seen it all now."

"I'll do what yer ask, an' send along what I recall of the tale ter yer friend."

Morgan grins. "They're born not quite the size of a four-year child."  The first question answered, he responds to the next, "Would you believe they like oranges? They actually eat much the same as I do, just usually a bit less cooking, and a lot more of it. "

Winking at Banglen-Yp, he adds a bit of tale to the telling, "I'm told the little one aims to grow up their size, though."

As the man agrees, another smile light's Morgan's face. "I'm obliged."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:35, Sun 03 June 2007.

 

Getting busy playing with the kitten again, Banglen-Yp seemed to zone out and get lost in her own little world while Morgan and the mapmaker talked.  She would tickle his tummy and he would grab her hand and kick at it, gnaw on the tip of her fingers and try to look as intimidating as he could where he was in the nook of her arm.

She only looked up at the old man with a light laughter as he apologised for his language, and then refocused on playing with her little friend.

However, when he pointed to the kitten after looking out the window, both of them turned to regard him - she with a big smile and the kitten with a mewl as he stood up, trying to look as big as he could.

It seemed to almost nod at Morgan's statement about it growing up to the size of the large cats.

•• Yes • he will • one day ••

She replied on behalf of the kitten and ruffled its head gently, at which the fierce predator flipped over and clung to the hand while trying to chew on the tip of yet another finger.

 

Morgan doesn't really believe Banglen, but ... stranger things have happened.  He certainly isn't going to correct her. The sight of her and the kitten brings back warm memories, though he tries to avoid inching his gaze upward, to prevent other untoward upwards movements.

The old cartographer studies the kitten for a moment, before looking from Banglen-Yp to Morgan.  From his expression it is clear that he's not really sure  what to believe.

So, instead, he returns his attention to the strange sight beyond the window.

Suddenly he gasps, and turns back, his eyes wide, looking as though they will fall out of his head at any moment, "They've got saddles!  They can be rid, then, fer all the world like 'orses?"

Its Morgan's turn to look a trifle confused.  "umm.. yeah. "   Perhaps bemused might have been a better term.  Their size shocked people. He hadn't considered the riding part as unusual recently.

 

Unaware of the struggle she is putting Morgan through, Banglen-Yp continued to play with the kitten, bending her head down to let her long hair fall over it, where the kitten began to try to catch all the strands at once, by the looks of it.  As she lifted the head a little the kitten came up with it and she laughed, lifting a hand to help support it as it began to chew on the golden locks, taking a rather wobbly stance at the fabric that spanned the gap between the very things Morgan tried so hard not to look at.

She looked up some more when the old man mention saddles and nodded eagerly, making the kitten sort of dance like a puppet on strings, framed by a, to some, distracting border.

•• Oh not quite like horses • much more fun ••

She laughed as the kitten suddenly lost it grips and fell down in the make-shift balcony between her fronts, where it sat up and looked over the edge at Morgan and the old man with the expression that only cats can have when they try to imply that they meant to do what just happened, no matter how absurd it might seem.

•• You can not stay there silly ••

She laughed again and the kitten looked up at her now, as if to ask what was wrong with his current, comfortable location.

 

Morgan chuckles, looking at the kitten sitting there so proudly, then turning away.  Little girl in big body. Can't take advantage. Damnit  "Since his cousin is giving you a lift, he obviously feels entitled!"

Mayhew turns to see what is happening, and his face starts to colour.  He finishes his tea, and hastens out of the room.  A moment later he returns, without his empty cup.

"Well, it's been nice talkin' ter yers, and I do 'preciate the business.  But I should be gettin' on, if'n yer want yer map by mornin'."

Setting down his cup, Morgan moves his head in cheerful acceptance. "I won't keep you, then. Shall we ride, Banglen-Yp?"

He goes to the door, making ready to hold it open for his companion, and waves through it. "A bit wet, but we'll make the hostel all right, I'm sure."

 

Having fished out the kitten, Banglen-Yp smiled brightly enough to nearly dry up the storm outside, and nodded to Morgan.

•• Thank you for the tea ••

She looked over to the mapmaker and made a little curtsey to him before turning to walk towards the door which Morgan was holding open.

As she walked she somehow faded or shifted into what looked like sturdy a raincoat with a hood, but at such a pace it was hard to tell for certain it was happening or if the light was playing tricks on the eye.

•• A little rain never killed anyone • except under very specific circumstances ••

A clear statement aimed at Morgan along with another smile as she tucked the kitten under her coat - but not between the distracting parts.

 

The door closes behind them, and the old man watches from the window as they head across the square and through the alley to the street.

There is another noise from upstairs, this one sounding more like the slamming of a door, and a moment later, a blast of cold wind turns all the maps in the store into a whirling, frenzied, dancing maelstrom of paper.

"I s'pose yer think yer bloody funny, eh?" Mayhew yells towards the ceiling.

With a sigh, he starts the process of tidying up.  Again.