13 Legend of the Peacemaker

"That cat," Nel said slowly, "can explain better than you."

"Look," I told her, "I honestly don't even know what the hell's going on. But Nirir seems to, so… ask him."

"Nirir?"

"The cat."

"Me," Nirir said. He fixed his eye on Nel. "Your friend is the Peacemaker."

Nel looked back at him, and I could tell that she had no fucking idea what that meant or how a cat could be talking to her. It was just written all over her face. "The what?"

"The Peacemaker," Nirir said. "Or sages have identified him as such. For many generations, we have awaited his coming."

There was a pause, and then Nel looked at me. "Am I having a stroke?" she asked.

"If you are, then I am too."

"Neither of you is having a stroke," Nirir said. There was a box someone had left out in the alley, and he hopped onto it and perched there like he was on a stage before a captive audience. "While you humans go about your lives, fighting wars with one another and other creatures like yourselves, you remain ignorant of the struggles that go on in your own backyards. For centuries, my people have been engaged in a blood feud with the rodent peoples; the rats and the mice. The dogs have sought to keep our tensions and skirmishes from spilling over into outright war, but even their vigilance is not enough to prevent bloodshed."

"You're really throwing a lot at us right now," I muttered.

"Many among our peoples have fought and died in battle against one another," Nirir went on, "but full war has not broken out for many generations. However, now the mice threaten what little truce there is with their foul demon-magicks."

"Yeah," I said, "what was up with that one mouse's shadow needle sword thing?"

"Shadow needle sword thing?" Nel asked.

I shrugged. "There was a mouse last night," I told her. "Well, there was a whole shitload of mice. But the leader one held out a paw and summoned a tiny sword like the size of a needle, except it was made out of darkness or something."

"Chakren," Nirir growled. "He has risen up among the mice in recent times. They see him as a prophet, come to lead them to glory. But he is naught but a scheming warlock!"

"He said a name," I said. "Something about my blood being offered up in glory to someone. Zago? Zargava? Zilargo? I don't know, something like that."

"Zaga'ra," Nirir said. "Lord of the 47th Hell. The Dominator. Maestro of Uprisings, the Festering Discontent."

I whistled. "Those are some titles."

"The Doom of Old Cyria, King of Chains, The Tyrant of Tyrants, He Who Holds the Strength of Legion, Scourge of Hestania."

"Oh there were more."

"The Looming Nightmare, The Prince of Barbs, Speaker of Imperial Wisdom, First Among Thousands, The Walking Citadel."

"Gods," I muttered. "How many titles does one demon need?"

"...And the Lord of the Lamenting Masses," Nirir concluded. He looked at me and Nel, and when neither of us said anything, he stated: "that was the last one."

"Sorry," Nel said. "I want to see if I'm getting this straight. You're telling me that there has been an underground pact between the animals of the city to keep them all from going to war with each other, and now a mouse backed by a demon lord is trying to break that peace?"

Nirir nodded, which was an odd gesture to see on a cat. "Essentially, yes."

"And Corvus fits into this because he's…?"

"The Peacemaker," Nirir told her, "destined to be a bringer of peace."

"And you know this because…?"

"Our seers have seen the signs of the prophecy made manifest, and looked upon the mark of destiny on his soul."

"Yeah, Nel," I said dryly. "It's all very simple. Try to keep up."

She glared at me.

"Well, I'm sorry," Nel said. "I'm just having some trouble processing that apparently one of my best friends is some sort of godsbedamned chosen one, and he apparently needs to stop an evil mouse with the power of the Hells behind him--"

"One Hell," Nirir corrected. "The 47th."

"--Fine, a Hell behind him. A mouse has demonic powers, because I guess that's just something happens in the real world now. And, what, did the mice try to drop a bunch of shit on you?"

"No," I said, "I think that was the Serpentfolk."

Nel's shook her head with the fervor of one who thinks that they can dislodge the experience from their mind. "Why are there Serpentfolk after you!?"

"They, uh… They also said something about seers and marks of destiny,"I offered. "I really don't know why beyond that."

"Likely for the same reasons the mice hunt you," Nirir said. "The Peacemaker is an ender of conflicts and bringer of harmony. I do not know much of the Serpentfolk or their empire, for you bigfolk are, frankly, strange and nonsensical peoples, but I would assume that they, like the mice, would feel threatened by such a prospect."

"Sorry," I said. "I'm supposed to what now?"

"End conflict," Nirir repeated, "and bring harmony."

"I have never done either of those things."

"Well now is a good time to start." <I will do what I can to help. I only hope that I do not fail you, and you do not in turn fail us.>

That damn voice thing again. I closed my eyes and sighed. "Whatever," I said. "What do you want from me, Nirir?"

"I want the same thing I wanted moments ago," Nirir said. "Come with me to see King Mraw."

With that, he turned and continued walking down the alley. Nel and I exchanged glances.

"So, uh, do all the cats have names that sound like meows?" she asked.

"Nirir. Mraw. Those are the only two I know, but I guess?"

"Oh." She watched Nirir as he continued on. "So, we going or what?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a delivery to make?"

Nel shrugged and grinned. "It can wait," she said. "This seems a hell of a lot more interesting."

...Well I couldn't fault that logic.