Bread, Bone and Thunder

The shrill whistle of a tea kettle shattered the silence. A small, plump figure pushed through the swinging door that opened into the kitchen. Pot holder in hand, the snarf ran toward the stove. Muttering, "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grabbed a footstool. Once elevated, he punched a button on the power console, and turned off the heat.

The elder gingerly picked up the kettle. He made a precarious leap to the floor. The snarf forced his way back through the sturdy doors and sailed into the dining hall. Far shorter than the table before him, he placed the pot on a hot plate more by practice than by sight.

After he had freed his hands of their burden, he clambered up the adjacent chair. He poured boiling water into a brown mug. He repositioned the kettle, then tossed the pot holder onto the table. Finally satisfied, the snarf sat down to enjoy his well-earned cup of Berbil tea. "Ah, a moment's peace," he said contentedly as he blew on the steaming liquid.

"Snarf!"

The elder almost dropped the beverage onto his lap in surprise. The Thundercat, whom he had tried to evade all morning, barged into the hall with the vengeance of a wounded Mutant.

"Jaga's ruff, Tygra," the snarf cried, "I almost scalded myself! Was it necessary to shout my name so that it could be heard clear to the Wolo village?" Struck by the snarf's rebuke, the tiger came to an abrupt halt. The knowledge that his voice still had the force to curb a zealous adult, as well as any princely cub, pleased the elder immensely.

Snarf scrutinized the unkempt architect. Tygra had dressed in the grimy work clothes usually reserved for Panthro's use. Although not as tall as the architect, the grey warrior was more powerfully built. On the tiger's form, however, the tunic's sleeves and the trousers' legs fell short in length. The oversized clothing easily concealed his lean, but muscled build. The ragged piece of cloth that circled his brow and pushed his mane into a multicolored explosion completed the effect of total disarray. The elder suppressed a chuckle. If only your beloved mystic could see you now, Tygra, he thought gleefully, her love for you might be sorely tested.

"I'm sorry, Snarf," the tiger said meekly.

The apology curtailed the elder's critical assessment. Not betraying his unflattering thoughts, Snarf said plainly, "Apology accepted, Thundercat. Now, what is it that you want? You can't have finished your work already."

"Oh, but I have, Snarf," the tiger replied innocently. "The dusting, the laundry, the polishing, the--"

"Tygra!"

"Sorry, Snarf, but it is all done." Tygra dropped the feather duster that he clutched in his right hand onto the table. Bewilderment crept into his voice as he continued. "I wish I was not finished because then I wouldn't have the time to think about Talitha, and how very much I miss her." The tiger placed the mysterious metal tube that he carried in his other hand beside the cleaning implement. "I've tried to resume my normal routine, but I can't. When I do, all I manage to accomplish is to dream of her." Tygra sat across from the snarf. Setting his elbows on the table, he rested his chin on his hands, then sighed forlornly.

Poor Tygra. Seven suns without your mystic to pamper you have left you a melancholy wreck. What will happen to you when White finally takes Cheetara's place in your bed? Snarf wondered.

His conscience chided the elder. But you know how he feels, don't you, Oz'burt. You and he have traveled the same road. You know what it is to love only one, and no other. So very long ago, Oz'burt, remember. On a night painted with stars; A'mrina in your arms; you danced in the harvest together, but the silence claimed your heart with the dawn.

Go away! The snarf banished his memories. That damn cub has me brooding over something that happened when I was barely 20 seasons old. Well, I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense.

Snarf leaned over the table, and wagged a finger at the morose Thundercat. "With any luck, White and the others will return from Tabbia tomorrow, so let's not have any more moping, understand, snarf, snarf?" Ignoring the astonishment in the noble's eyes, he continued brusquely, "Now, are you going to tell me what in Jaga's name is in that metal tube, or not?"

The tiger brightened. "Ah, yes, of course! This is what I wanted to show you. I drew this last night. It is the plan for the remodeling of the kitchen."

"There is nothing wrong with the kitchen, snarf, snarf!"

As deftly as any conjurer, Tygra made a sheet of paper that was almost as long as the table appear from the canister. "Oh, yes, there is a problem, Snarf," the architect explained. "I'm ashamed to admit that I overlooked it when I designed the Lair. I've seen you struggle to reach cabinets and shelves set too high for a snarf. I want to rectify this. Here, take a look."

The tiger reached over and pulled the snarf onto the table's surface. Pointing to the blueprint, he said, "According to my calculations, we have plenty of raw materials in storage to effect repairs. If we get started after lunch, and tear down this section first--here--I estimate that between the two of us--"

"Tygra, you're not breaking down anything, snarf, snarf! For seven suns, I have patiently helped you clean and organize the Lair from the storage units to the cat head. I have survived with the kitchen the way it is. I appreciate your concern, but I am not going to let you start a major renovation. We have both worked hard since White left. Don't you think that we have earned a day off?"

"No need to shout," Tygra muttered as he rolled up the paper. "I'll leave you alone."

Jaga's toes, now I have hurt his feelings. Unsure of what to say, Snarf suggested in desperation, "The weather is beautiful, Tygra. A fine spring day. Why don't you go for a walk. The fresh air will make you feel better."

The tiger shrugged. "Maybe later, Snarf."

"What about practicing your healing? Didn't White say that you should continue with your exercises during her absence, especially now that you can enter a healing trance?"

"Snarf," the bored tiger responded, "I addressed that matter this morning. I even reviewed the one healing vibration that I have learned, although I have yet to be tested when it comes to mending a broken bone."

"These things take time, Tygra. I'm sure you'll soon move on to more complicated procedures."

"I know, Snarf. I'm not complaining, but I don't believe that I will ever have a great future as a healer. Even a simple practice is draining."

"You can't be perfect in all things, Tygra, but at least you are trying your best."

A slight smile settled on the tiger's face. "Thanks for the encouragement, Snarf." He tapped the canister gently against his right hand. As he turned to leave, he added, "I'll be in the recreation hall if you need me. Perhaps I will find something to distract me there."

Feeling responsible for dampening the cat's spirit, Snarf said, "Don't go, Tygra, snarf, snarf. I'm sure there is something that you can help me with in the kitchen."

The architect raised an eyebrow in curiosity. The snarf marked the characteristic expression. Fine Oz'burt. Now that you have his interest, what in the seven hells are you going to do with him?

The tiger snapped his fingers, and answered the unspoken question. "I've got it, Snarf. Although we are past the vernal equinox, why don't we make some spring bread to celebrate the change of season. In all the time that we have been on Third Earth, we have never cooked a single seasonal delicacy. Imagine how surprised the others will be when they return, and find such a treat."

"Gods, Tygra, snarf, snarf, what an idea! Makes me hungry just thinking about it. But what do you know about making bread?"

"Honestly, Snarf," Tygra huffed, "I wasn't raised in a palace. My father saw that my education was complete. He taught me how to cook. I will have you know that I make an excellent tiger bread."

"Who says?"

"Well, there was Taija, and--oh never mind!" The tall cat began to pace as he became more enamored of his idea. "We will have to inventory the spices. I'm not too sure that we have the local equivalents to reconstruct the original recipe for spring loaf or tiger bread. If we do need more seasonings, I must confess that I do not know many of the common names for what we might require."

"Well, Thundercat, snarf, snarf, I suggest that you follow me into the kitchen and learn," Snarf commanded.

For the next hour, the elder and the tiger ransacked the spice racks of Cats' Lair. They studied the pitiful collection of jars that they had arranged on the table. Snarf tapped his tail thoughtfully. "Well, Tygra, looks as if we lack the one crucial ingredient to making both types of bread: sweet brown bark."

"Snarf, no one in the vicinity of the Lair possesses that rich spice." The tiger lifted his hands in defeat.

"I know someone who has it, Tygra."

"Really," the architect said with derision. "Mumm-Ra, perhaps? Are you trying to tell me that he has been away on a spice expedition these many suns since last we saw his evil face?"

"If you're going to act so--"

"I'm sorry, Snarf...I was really looking forward to preparing something special for Talitha, and the possibility that we could not succeed was disheartening. Now, please tell me, who has what we need?"

"The unicorn master," Snarf replied confidently. "In the first place, he is actually an expert on natural flavorings. More to the point, I know that he has traded with the Tabbots for the spice in the past."

"The spice must be brought from the east to Tabbia by a seafaring vessel. All right then, let us go to see Aidan and his mate. I'm sure there must be something that we can offer in trade."

"Bring your flute, Tygra."

"What! I can't do that, Snarf. It was my father's, and--"

"You can play for them."

"Oh...as simple as all that, Snarf? I can't believe--"

"They enjoy good music, and you play a fine flute," Snarf said evenly as if trying to lecture a slow cub.

"Talitha plays a better harp."

"Well, White isn't here, snarf, snarf. They will just have to settle for your talents," Snarf said with rising irritation. "Now go and change out of those ridiculous clothes, for Jaga's sake. I'll wait for you outside. Once we cross the bridge, we can retract it using Panthro's gadget--whatever he calls it--and so, secure the Lair."

"The L.S.D....Lair Security Device, Snarf." The tiger hesitated before continuing. "There is one other matter we have to discuss before we leave, Snarf. I'm not taking the shortcut through the Forest of Silence."

"But, Tygra, it will add--"

"I don't care, Snarf. That spelled wood is unnerving. I'd rather carry you the extra distance to Aidan's home if necessary."

"That you won't have to do, Thundercat, snarf, snarf. I'll let you lead the way this time. Better to get you out of the Lair before you scrub it away!"

*****

Snarf plodded silently behind Tygra. They had proceeded at a leisurely pace to the northeast, and now skirted the Forest of Silence. Although the unicorn master lived but seven miles from the Lair along a direct line, the more circuitous route that they had taken had tired the elderly snarf. Well, Oz'burt, he mused, you have to keep going. Be thankful you don't have to cross the River on this trip. Besides, you aren't about to let that Thundercat carry you like a kitten, are you? After all, you are only 64 seasons old. You should be able to--oomph! The snarf collided with Tygra's calves. "What in Jaga's name made you stop!" he demanded.

"I heard you puffing, Snarf. I thought that you might like to--"

"You aren't carrying me!"

"--rest for awhile." The tiger set his hands on his hips and glared.

Snarf sat back on his haunches. "You win, Tygra," he gasped, "but let's sit by the trees. I feel uncomfortable out in the open. As long as we are not inside the forest, the spell of silence won't trouble us." The tiger concurred with a growl that reflected his reluctant agreement.

Selecting a tall tree, which had only begun to bud, Tygra leaned against its smooth bark. Snarf stretched out on the thin carpet of grass. "Aren't you going to sit?" he asked the tiger.

"It is not necessary."

"You mean that you would prefer not to soil that fine robe."

Ignoring the gibe, Tygra folded his arms across his chest, and looked to the plain. "Gods, Tygra, if White, or for that matter, Cheetara, saw you right now, I doubt that either one could resist you," Snarf teased. The Thundercat frowned. Enjoying his fun, the elder added, "You cut quite a heroic figure, but let's hope the Mutants don't appear. You would have a hard time fighting in such dress. What made you decide to wear a robe?"

The tiger answered as he removed his flute from a pouch secured to his waist sash. "You said that we could both use a break, Snarf. I decided that today I did not wish to play the role of Thundercat. Also, since our visit to Aidan is purely for pleasure, and the hope of acquiring some cin'na'mon, I thought it better to dress in a more informal fashion."

"It's pronounced 'cinnamon', Tygra. No pauses," the snarf corrected. "But what if the Mutants do descend upon us?"

"We will worry about that if they are foolish enough to attack us, Snarf." The tiger patted the bolo-whip secured to his sash. "My weapon is flexible, even if I am not. Now, heed your own advice, and rest." Without any further delay, the architect began to play his flute. Although his mood had seemed to lighten, the tune that he had selected had a mournful quality. After the last solemn note drifted across the glade, he hissed, "Enough of this nonsense." The tiger tapped the flute against his thigh. After several minutes, Tygra said, "Snarf, I have never properly thanked you for supporting my questing."

Stunned by the sudden revelation, the snarf sputtered, "B-but, T-tygra, t-that was many suns past! You and White have recovered from that time of trial. Why bring it up now?" The tiger locked his gaze onto him. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his dark amber eyes, Snarf turned away.

A hand delicately stroked the elder's crown of blonde fur. "I did not mean to upset you, Oz'burt, but I think that we understand each other far better than either one of us cares to admit. Your passionate defense of my questing meant a great deal to me."

The snarf fumed in silence. He knows! By all the gods, if he knows my name, he knows about A'mrina. The snarf spun about, and said harshly, "All right, Tygra, who told you?"

The Thundercat admitted cautiously, "Queen Alina--by accident, of course. But the name fits you. You are one of the most virtuous people that I have ever known, Oz'burt. Is it so terrible that I know your true name?"

Is this all that he knows? Snarf wondered hopefully. Unsure of how to read the pensive Thundercat, the snarf decided to leave the matter alone. He shouted, "I've rested enough, Tygra," as he bounded on all fours across the plain. "Best we get moving, or we won't have the time to bake bread!"

The tiger laughed heartily as he placed his flute back within its silken case. "Well said, Oz'burt. I defer to your domestic wisdom."

The Snarf wheeled about eager to deliver a caustic reply, but a movement in the forest distracted him. "Tygra! Look out!"

Three unicorns bolted from the trees. The tiger swiftly sidestepped the frightened animals. Startled by his action, the unicorns changed direction, and ran toward the snarf.

Unprepared for the assault, the elder froze. In the next instant, he found himself rising out of the path of danger. "What!" he howled as the unicorns raced past him, and disappeared across the rolling plain.

The thunderstruck tiger who held him bellowed, "Whatever in the seven hells terrified them?"

The air exploded with an answer. The white-furred mutant astride his one-man fighter flew toward them with deadly intent. With snarf still in hand, the Thundercat vaulted out of the way of the flying machine. The tearing of fabric sounded over the whine of engines. A shower of gold rained upon the architect's head as he set the snarf safely aside. He drew his bolo-whip in preparation for battle. "Stop!" Tygra shrieked to the mutant.

"Catch me if you can, Thundercat!" the ape-man hooted.

In answer to the mutant's challenge, Tygra extended his whip. Although the magical weapon responded flawlessly to his movements and his thoughts, the metal spheres at the end of its cable barely reached the ascending flier; however, the fire they released on contact with the machine was sufficient to damage the engines. As Tygra retracted his weapon, the Mutant vehicle bucked madly.

"Tygra!"

The preoccupied cat scarcely dodged the bag of gold that the mutant had dropped as he wrestled with his craft. "By the will of the gods, he'll crash, Snarf!" Tygra cried triumphantly. Although the sky was clear, thunder rolled across the field. "What in the seven hells--"

"Boosters, Tygra!" Snarf called. The vehicle shot high into the sky and far beyond the range of Tygra's whip. Although the craft flew like a wounded bird, the mutant succeeded in controlling it. He soon sped out of view as he veered toward the south.

"Damn! To think that I almost brought him down," Tygra cursed.

Snarf tugged at the Thundercat's garment. "Forget the monkian, Tygra."

"Jaga's ruff! My robe! That clanless--"

"No use fussing about it now, Tygra, snarf, snarf." The elder studied the tears that split the gown from ankle to thigh. "Even a weaver of White's skill couldn't fix this," he said sadly. Hoping to make the Thundercat feel better, he added, "At least you got the monkian's stolen gold. Look. The stamp of Tabbia." He flipped a small coin to the architect who caught it easily with his left hand.

The tiger grunted knowingly as he studied the coin. He scanned the edge of the forest. "And where there is Tabbot gold--"

"--there is always a tabbot. Are you thinking what I am, Tygra?"

"I'm afraid so, Snarf" the tiger sighed. He quickly surveyed the glade. "Let the gold be. I doubt that the mutant will return anytime soon to retrieve it. We can follow the unicorn tracks. Hopefully, that trail will take us to the tabbot who owns this treasure. He may be injured, so let's move, Snarf."

"But that means--"

"We have no choice, Snarf. We have to enter the forest, so let's try to get this done as swiftly as possible." The determined Thundercat strode toward the wood.

As he loped behind the tiger, the snarf watched the tattered ends of the tiger's robe whip about his legs in the rising breeze. The elder shook his head with resignation, and muttered, "At least Tygra had the good sense to don underwear."

*****

It did not take long for the pair to find the fallen tabbot. The short, porcine merchant slumped against a tree. The gay clothing and plumed hat that he wore contrasted sharply with his pained expression. The large, squat beast before him placidly chewed the grass. Sacks and saddle spilt across its broad back.

Snarf felt a touch at his shoulder. He glanced up at the Thundercat who proceeded to speak to his mind.

*If you will roundup the ox, Snarf, I will look after its master. I want to leave this accursed place as soon as possible.*

Snarf knew that, unlike white tigers, the architect could not receive the thoughts of a non-telepath. He nodded in agreement, then immediately set to his assigned task. Despite it size and long curving horns, the ox cooperated. When Snarf took the dangling reins in his mouth and tugged, the beast followed without a struggle.

The unfortunate tabbot winced every time he squirmed in Tygra's arms. Although the merchant's distress concerned the snarf, he thought, Tygra will know what to do as soon as we leave this blasted silence. I am as eager to be free of this forest as he.

As he dutifully trailed the Thundercat, the elder slowly became aware of the tinkling of bells. "What, snarf, snarf?" His high-pitched voice was music compared to the deadly quiet of the wood. Snarf marked the rows of bells that decorated the beast's saddle and harness.

The tiger laid the tabbot against the same tree, which had provided them earlier with a place to rest. The snarf dropped the reins, and approached Tygra. "Well?"

The merchant grunted as the architect carefully examined his left leg. "Not a compound fracture, but clearly broken," he replied. Addressing the tabbot, Tygra asked, "Was the monkian responsible for your injury?"

The portly merchant complained, "By the horn that springs from my brow, yes! I was walking alongside my ox. I felt only a slight change in the wind before the monkian attacked. I leapt out of the path of his infernal machine, but my leg buckled beneath me. That wretched barbarian ripped the gold sack from my beast as he flew past. He vanished amongst the trees like a phantom. I tried to give chase, but--" The merchant flung a stone in anger. "All my wealth taken, and my body broken! That creature has laid to waste my profitable journey!" Cursing in his guttural tongue, he shook his fist at the clouds.

"Peace, brother, ah--"

"Orin."

"Your gold is here, although scattered about," Tygra admitted.

"How can that be?"

Snarf commented coolly, "How do you think Tygra rent his garb, tabbot? Although the thief escaped, Tygra captured his booty."

Forgetting his injury, the tabbot crawled along the ground in search of his treasure. "Easy, merchant," Tygra said as he restrained him. "If you promise to sit quietly, Snarf and I can quickly gather your gold." The tabbot gave a grunt of approval.

Tygra knows that the tabbot won't cooperate until his gold is safely back in his possession. I don't like it, but I guess it falls to us to clean this mess, Snarf thought.

Tygra soon dropped the last coins into the new sack that he had obtained from the merchant's supplies. He set the bag before Orin, and proclaimed, "Your gold, sir." Orin opened the sack, and ran his hands through his gold. "Undoubtedly, the monkian did lose some of your treasure, but Snarf and I recovered what we could," the tiger remarked apologetically.

Orin fingered his wiry mustache. "I suppose that I shall have to count the coin to assess my losses," he grumbled.

Shocked by the tabbot's greed, Snarf barked, "I should think that your leg would concern you more, snarf, snarf!"

Tygra said calmly, "Snarf is correct, Orin. I'll splint your leg, and then you can come back with us to Cats' Lair. When our healer returns, she can--"

"Tygra!"

The Thundercat's snarl clearly conveyed his displeasure. "I know what you are thinking, Snarf, and I have never tried what you ask of me. Talitha can safely heal him when she returns home tomorrow."

"'To ease the suffering of others, I--'"

"Don't quote the Mystics' Code to me," the tiger growled "I am well aware of what it demands. It also requires that the healer do no harm by undertaking something that he is not ready to do."

"Which is not the case here, Tygra," Snarf retaliated. "White said that you know how to heal broken bones. Only a patient was needed to test your skill. Well, here is one who should be helped. Would you have him suffer unnecessarily because of your fears, snarf, snarf?"

"I would try if Talitha were present. What if I make a mistake?"

"If White had really died, you would have had no choice but to--yeow!" The snarf found himself once again flying above the ground. The architect held him firmly in his strong grasp. Tygra's eyes glinted with rage. Unhappy with the view, Snarf decided, I'd better gamble on his honor. He said quietly, "She would want you to try, Tygra." For an instant, Snarf wondered whether the angry cat would toss him across the plain. Instead, the tiger set him down carefully, then stalked away.

Goddess, let him calm down, Oz'burt, he thought. You have won this contest, but Tygra doesn't know it yet. Snarf sat next to the merchant, and noticed the effect that the tiger's display had taken upon Orin. The tabbot had worried the plume on his hat until it had grown quite limp. To defuse the tension between them, he said, "There is really nothing to fret about, Orin. Tygra can mend your leg."

"An untested healer work on me? Absolutely not!"

Struggling to keep an even tone to his voice, Snarf said, "The sooner you're back on your feet, the sooner you can continue your journey back to Tabbia. Think of all the fine goods your new wealth can purchase in that rich port."

Fingering his chin hairs, Orin observed, "Indeed, Snarf, maybe I should reconsider." Moving slightly, the uncomfortable merchant asked, "How long do you think that it will take before he decides? My leg is beginning to throb."

Snarf shrugged. It might take some time before the tiger saw reason. Unexpectedly, the architect returned before he could answer the tabbot. Faster than I had dared to hope, Snarf thought with relief.

Tygra avoided the elder, and looked only upon the tabbot. He said, "Orin, I believe that I can help you, if you will allow me to try."

The tabbot winced as he grabbed his leg. "Do so," he gasped.

Tygra's stern expression softened as he marked the merchant's pain. Ready to commence the healing, he knelt beside his patient.

I never doubted you, Tygra. You have always been the bravest, Snarf thought warmly. He touched the tiger's shoulder in a gesture of support.

The cat's powerful muscles tensed under his hand. Tygra said with resignation, "By the Goddess, I hope you are right, Snarf."

"Can I do anything to help, Tygra?"

"Pray, Oz'burt." The Thundercat turned his attention to his patient. He rolled up the tabbot's trouser leg. He explained his plan. "Orin, I will place my hands on your injured leg. By entering a trance state, I can raise the power necessary to perform a healing. Blue light will flow from my hands, but don't let this alarm you. When I have finished, the light will fade. May I begin?" With Orin's curt nod of approval, Tygra positioned his hands, then closed his eyes. As his breathing slowed, faint blue light trickled from his fingertips.

"Goddess," Snarf whispered in surprise. It was the first time that he had actually observed the tiger's gift.

The architect furrowed his brow as the strain from his effort increased. The light emanating from his hands suddenly intensified. It sprinted along the tabbot's bruised flesh like controlled lightning. Almost as quickly as it had brightened, the light began to fade. As Tygra pulled away, several wisps of blue patterned the air, then disappeared.

Orin cautiously bent his leg. He poked the pink flesh. "I feel no pain," he said with amazement. He scrambled to his feet. "By the Holy Sow! It's completely healed!"

Sweat dripped from the tiger's nose and chin. "Goddess be blessed," he murmured with weary astonishment.

"You did it!" Snarf shouted. "I knew that you could do it, Tygra."

"A fine job, Thundercat," Orin oinked happily as he covered his leg.

The tiger rose slowly, and supported himself against the tree. "I would prefer not to have to repeat this healing, Orin," he scolded. "Take care. Talitha has said that new bone must not be treated so roughly, as--" Unable to complete his statement, the tiger slid to the ground.

"Tygra!" Snarf called in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"The world spins, Snarf." The Thundercat fell onto his side in exhaustion.

"Orin, help, snarf, snarf!" Despite their small stature, the tabbot and the snarf managed to bring the cat to a sitting position.

Slumped against the tree, Tygra moaned, "Water. I need water."

Without delay, Orin scurried to his beast, and retrieved a waterskin. Returning to the Thundercat, he fumbled with the cork until he freed it. The tiger drank from the skin, but immediately began to cough. The bag fell from his hands, and drenched the earth with its contents.

"Water," Tygra snapped. "I said water, not wine!"

"No!" The panicked merchant ran in circles as the skin emptied. He shook his fist at the Thundercat, and shrieked, "Look at what you have done!" A growl from the weakened lord silenced the volatile merchant.

Snarf pulled Orin away from the stricken cat. "After all that he has done for you, you ungrateful swine!"

"There will be no fighting!" the tiger wheezed. Another episode of coughing seized him. Snarf held him until the attack subsided. Tygra croaked, "You must go to Aidan, Snarf. He is but a mile from here."

"I'll not leave you alone, Tygra, snarf, snarf."

"Excuse me," Orin grunted quietly. "Allow me to help. I can ride my beast to that dwelling. I know the master is at home, for I visited him earlier this day." He pulled nervously at his hat. "I would offer to place you upon my ox, but he is already too burdened."

"You can just remove your treasure, snarf, snarf!"

"No. The tabbot has a right to protect that which is his, Snarf. We will accept his kind offer."

"Tygra--"

"Please, Snarf," the tiger begged through his coughs, "I need to conserve what little strength remains to me."

Snarf turned to the merchant. "All right, tabbot, you go to Aidan's home, and you'd better make it quick, snarf, snarf."

Orin bowed, then headed for his beast. Snarf cried out as the merchant mounted the large animal, "And before you leave, you'd better leave us the right waterskin!"

*****

Snarf watched the Thundercat sitting across from him. Leaning over the master's sturdy table, Tygra cradled his head against his hands. He had not touched the plate of food before him that Aidan had prepared. Except for the water that he had drunk while awaiting rescue, the tiger had refused any additional fluid. The pounding headache that now plagued him was the price that he had paid for his obstinacy. I have little sympathy for you, Tygra, Snarf decided. Aidan has tried to help you.

The snarf's gaze drifted to the fireplace. The white-robed master of the small cottage sat quietly in a comfortable chair beside the blaze. Although he was only slightly taller than the mystic, the old one possessed great strength. That he also had a fine horse had facilitated matters immensely. Coaxing the stallion to his knees, Aidan had managed to get Tygra onto the saddle with little effort. The horse had easily accommodated both master and Thundercat. Despite his protests, the snarf had soon found himself also atop the large equine. Thank the gods that hellish ride was short, Snarf thought.

Aidan took a long draw on his pipe, and blew rings of smoke into the air. One floated placidly over the suffering Thundercat. A bemused look settled in the starborn's eyes.

Snarf mused, "Starborn"...maybe like us, from another world, but not even Aidan's people across the sea know for certain. True or not, better than to call him an "elf" as the Balkins and the Wolos do. Wonder why that name always makes Aidan so mad?

The tabbot, also perched by the fire, gave a loud yawn. Due to the interruption of his journey, the little merchant had accepted the master's offer to stay the night. Well, he shouldn't be too much trouble, Snarf thought. Aidan might enjoy the tabbot's company for an evening since his wife, Althea, is working with the warrior maidens for several days. Orin makes excellent conversation when he speaks of his travels. I personally hate this boring silence. I'm tired of everyone playing nursemaid to a self-pitying Thundercat. We still have the light. We should be on our way home, our quest for cinnamon forgotten.

The snarf cleared his throat. He said politely to the fatigued tiger, "Shouldn't we return to the Lair, Tygra? It is getting awfully late."

Tygra raised his head. "I can't make it, Snarf. I'm still feeling too dizzy to walk."

"If only you would consider eating, Thundercat, perhaps you would feel better, "Aidan suggested as he emptied his pipe into the fire.

"Goddess, no, my friend. I am indeed hungry, but the ride on your steed, while appreciated, was unsettling. I do not believe that any food that I may take will stay down."

The starborn stroked his long white beard. Snarf realized that, from his glower and the perspiration that formed on his bald crown, the master had finally depleted his vast store of patience. Although the Thunderan noble deserved the respect his rank and healing gift warranted, his foolish behavior had inconvenienced everyone. Snarf assumed his strictest manner. "Tygra, if you can't travel, somehow we must send a message to the Lair. We didn't think to leave one when we left that stated where we were going."

"I wasn't planning on falling ill, Snarf," the tiger replied with annoyance.

"If Aidan will be gracious enough to take me back to the Lair, I can place a message in the computer, or simply remain there. You know how Panthro likes to get an early start when driving the tank any distance. The journey from the seacoast will not take long. If the others arrive with the dawn, they should know where you are and why, especially White."

Tygra rubbed his eyes, and conceded, "In this you are right, Snarf. I just don't understand why I feel so strange. Although I often feel lightheaded after a healing practice, I have never experienced this level of vertigo."

"This healing was for real, Tygra. Besides, shall I remind you of the time you saved White?"

The architect grumbled, "No, Snarf, but it does sound as if you have been listening too much to Talitha."

As he reached for an amber bottle placed on a shelf, Aidan remarked, "I will take the snarf to the Lair. He has offered you sound counsel, Thundercat. However, I cannot depart until I feel more at ease regarding your condition. If you won't eat, perhaps you require stronger medicine to cure you." The master poured a small amount of golden liquid into an earthenware cup. "Have a sip, Tygra," he suggested. "By the star emblazoned on my brow, I promise this won't harm you."

"Orin tried to poison me earlier with wine, Aidan. I'll chance only water."

"It is not wine, Thundercat."

"I wouldn't mind a taste of your 'medicine'," Orin quipped as he proffered his cup.

The master replied firmly, "You have already eaten and drunk your fill tabbot. Do not abuse the hospitality that I have provided " The merchant frowned at the rebuke, but remained silent.

Tygra sniffed the aromatic liquid cautiously. He dipped a finger into the cup Aidan presented, then tasted the fluid that coated his claw. A smile crept across his face. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "It is pleasantly mild to the taste, and yet, I feel its warmth already spreading throughout my body. By the seven maidens, Aidan, what is this delight?"

"You must travel across the sea to the island of my people to discover that knowledge, Thundercat. I doubt that they would give you their secret, and neither will I. However, you may call this a 'cordial' if you wish."

"'Cordial'," Tygra repeated. "I must remember that word. I cannot believe that there is any alcohol in this wonder."

"Oh, but there is, Thundercat."

"But it is so--"

"Smooth?"

"Precisely!" Tygra drained the cup. "Goddess, that was good. I do feel better. May I have another?"

Aidan laughed, but said, "No. Although this medicine can settle a queasy stomach and appears to be mild, it is really potent. It is used by our healers to quiet patients if the knife must be used. Its alcoholic content is high. After but a few drinks, the majority of patients become more...manageable. They also experience less pain when operated upon."

"I'll believe you, Aidan, but I must tell you that I have a high tolerance for alcohol," Tygra declared. "I spat out the tabbot's wine only because my desire for water was greater."

Snarf added with noticeable pride, "It's true, starborn. At his awakening feast, Tygra outdrank the entire court of King Claudus."

"Snarf, you exaggerate. After that night of excess, I was as intoxicated as the rest."

"Yes, but you were the only one able to walk out of the great hall. Why, Panthro still envies your achievement, snarf, snarf."

"Well then, considering your history, Thundercat, one more sample should not harm you," Aidan commented.

"And what of me?" Orin whined. "I, who have lost a day's journey assisting this noble healer."

"You were already in his debt," the starborn countered, "but if a taste will quiet you, so much the better. I remind you that it cost me several bottles in trade to you for that eastern brocade, so my supply is low. You get but a cup."

"Ah, you are truly the most agreeable of hosts," Orin said demurely as he accepted the master's offering.

"And what of you, Snarf," Aidan asked as he refilled the tiger's cup.

"Jaga be blessed, no. I never touch alcohol, snarf, snarf. Unlike Tygra, it muddles my senses too easily."

"Then I suggest that you and I begin our journey to Cats' Lair," Aidan said. "Orin can watch over your lord." Addressing the tiger, the starborn added, "There is a loaf in the cupboard, and plenty of soup in the kettle. Now that my medicine has fortified you, you may feel more inclined to eat. I must agree with Snarf. You have yet to fully comprehend how much energy you expended in that healing, so please, Tygra, try the food.

"Come, Snarf, while we still have the light." Aidan flung a riding cloak over his shoulders as he steered the snarf toward the foyer.

"Don't worry, Tygra," Snarf called out. "I'll be back soon. Mind the tabbot!"

*****

"Panthro can't you drive more carefully!" Snarf shrieked. The Thundertank bounced over a loose rock and jolted the elder from his seat in the cargo bay.

"Now, now, take it easy, Snarf," Panthro laughed over the intercom.

"You just like to drive recklessly!"

"Snarf, please." The mystic's airy voice sounded over the din of the engine. "Panthro is doing his best to get us to Tygra as quickly as possible."

Snarf replied with greater bile, "Quick? We're late as it is, White. He doesn't have to break our bones."

"And I suppose the ride upon Aidan's steed was comfortable?" she challenged.

"That's not the point!" The huffy snarf ended the conversation by turning off the intercom. He sulked as he sat on the bench seat. He hated to admit that the mystic was right. The second ride on the horse had been as horrible as the first, but he had soon forgotten his discomfort when the Lair had come into view. Who would have guessed that the Thundercats would return home one day earlier from Tabbia. He and Aidan had swiftly explained Tygra's healing and its complications to the others. Lion-o decided that Panthro and White should bring the architect home after everyone had helped to unload the tank. He had nagged the young king until Lion-o had allowed him to join the expedition back to the master's home. Aidan had agreed with Lion-o, but had aired his distrust of the tabbot. Given the young king's leave, the starborn had departed first.

Snarf studied the starry sky. The task of unloading the tank had taken far longer than anyone had expected. How had Tygra fared in his absence, Snarf wondered thoughtfully. The Thundertank suddenly slammed to a halt, and ended his contemplation. The snarf picked himself up off of the floor, and shouted over the intercom, "Panthro you did that on purpose!"

"We're here," the grey warrior chirped in reply.

Pushing his way out of the tank through a side hatch designed for snarfs, the elder turned, and watched the mystic struggle with the front door handle. Unlike the other cats in the Lair, she did not have the careless habit of cavalierly vaulting into the tank. That's because she's sensible, he decided. "Here, let me help you," he said. He pressed against the door panel. "Sometimes it sticks just a--yeow!" The door popped open and sent the elder rolling onto his buttocks. The panther's booming laughter followed his fall. The warrior loudly applauded the snarf's acrobatic performance. Fur bristling in anger, Snarf straightened and shook the dust from his pelt.

The mystic knelt beside him. Her blue robe brushed against the ground. "Thank you, Snarf," she said sweetly. "Don't let Panthro bother you. Are you all right?"

The subdued light coming from the cottage softly illuminated the young tigress. Ah, such beauty. Even a Mutant would melt under your compassionate gaze, mystic. It is no wonder that Tygra loves you so, he mused.

"Snarf," she asked again, "are you all right?"

He said loud enough for the panther to hear, "Only my pride is hurt, White."

"Best see to Tygra, mystic," Panthro said casually as he approached. Completely ignoring the snarf, he added, "I'm going to check the engine. It sounds a little rough. Call me if you need me." The panther walked toward the back of the tank.

As the mystic and the snarf strode toward the cottage, the unicorn master appeared in the doorway and blocked their path. "I can only let the snarf pass," he said with hostility.

"What's happened to Tygra," the mystic demanded. "As a healer, I claim the right to examine him."

Aidan spread his arms. "As master of this dwelling, I deny you entrance."

"What in the seven hells is this all about, Aidan? I've never seen you this upset," Panthro asked as he approached the group.

"I will only allow the snarf to pass," the master replied. The shadows gave his long tan face a look of ferocity. The nostrils of his broad flat nose flared. The tips of his pointed ears quivered with rage.

"Panthro," the mystic snarled. Her tone clearly indicated that she wanted the brawny warrior to break down the door to the simple house without delay.

Panthro scratched the short grey fur on his skull. "We respect your rights, Aidan," he said finally, "but in ten minutes, White and I are coming inside."

"But, Panthro," the mystic protested.

"That is fair," the starborn agreed. He gestured to the snarf. "Come, Snarf. You alone will understand."

At the sound of his name, the snarf shook off the surprise that had enthralled him in the wake of the master's aggression. I for one don't need all the dramatics, he thought, but if he feels this is the best way, so be it. Who can say what disturbs the starborn. As he passed his confused companions, he shrugged, and followed the master into his home.

The starborn seated himself on a bench by the door. He pointed to the main room off of the vestibule, and said nothing. Steeling himself for whatever terror awaited him within, Snarf crossed into the larger room.

Soft singing blended with giggles and grunts. He pinpointed the source of the noises without much difficulty. The tabbot had remained in the chair by the fire, but was now asleep. His hoarse snores contributed to the strange melodies. Sitting in the master's chair opposite from the merchant, the architect serenaded the cozy blaze with both song and laughter. As the snarf approached the tiger with stealth, a weakened floorboard betrayed his presence with a squeak.

Facing him, Tygra cried, "Ah, Snoof! Just the one I've longed to see--the third verse to 'Jaga and the Seven Maidens'--what comes after: 'And he ate his fill of each sister's--'"

"Tygra!" The snarf's shout aborted the architect's recitation of the next raucous line. "Oh, Snoof," he drawled, "what's the problem?" The Thundercat leapt to his feet, and almost fell forward into the fireplace. "Ho!" he gasped as he grabbed the edge of the mantle for support. "Almost got singed! The tabbot snored in affirmation. The grinning cat said, "Sir Tabbot snores worse than I." Tygra appropriated the merchant's floppy hat, and placed it jauntily upon his head. "Whad'ya think, Snoof? Is it me? Think this will please Tili-Toli--Tuli-oh hell-White?"

Snarf kept his caustic answer to himself. Tapping tail and feet in irritation, he declared, "What I want to know is how did this happen?" The elder shook the tabbot, but the merchant stayed soundly asleep. The reek of alcohol surrounding both tiger and tabbot pointed to a joint debauchery.

Making a sweeping motion with the hat, Tygra crowed, "Drunk? Me? Never, Snoof! I bested the court of King Cuckoo! Remember the feast after my first passion--ahhh!" The tiger twirled wildly about the room, and only narrowly missed colliding with the furniture and the crockery. "What a night that was, eh, Snoof. I was wonderful!" Tygra threw the hat into the air, then fell back onto the wood chair with a thud. He became strangely calm. "She said that I was wonderful, Snoof," he whispered sadly.

Goddess has he finally settled down? Now's my chance to reason with him before he makes a fool of himself before Panthro and White. Aidan can't keep them at bay forever. The puzzled snarf set his hands on the arm of the chair. He said gently, "Tell me what happened, Tygra."

"Life's what happened, Snoof. Life."

Gods, now he is too melancholy to listen. By the ancestors, I hate to do this to you, Tygra, but you leave me no choice. Snarf slapped the tiger's wrist. "Now listen to me, Thundercat, Panthro and White--"

"'Litha? Here? Ah, my love, your lord comes!" Tygra flew out of the chair, and careened toward the foyer like a marionette entangled in its strings.

"No, wait!" Snarf shouted in disbelief. "This wasn't suppose to happen, snarf, snarf." The elder lunged toward the fleeing architect's feet, but missed his mark. Snarf hit the floor grabbing only air. A cacophony of startled voices rose from the front hall. "Oh no," Snarf said in despair from his position on the floor. A shriek drove the elder immediately to his feet.

The intoxicated tiger glided back into the room. Carrying a speechless mystic in his arms, he spun around the table in a mad dance. "She's all mine. She's all mine," he sang happily.

Straining to be heard over Tygra's chant and the argument that had erupted in the hallway, the snarf's voice cracked. "P-put h-her down! You-you'll make her sick." He mimicked the tiger's steps in order to avoid being trampled by him.

"Not 'til she says she loves me a thousand times," Tygra warbled.

"But you know that I love you, Tygra." The gentle assertion by the mystic had the effect of cold water. Tygra stopped dancing. He set her down with care before he collapsed breathlessly onto the chair. His eyes widened as he placed his hands upon his abdomen. He seemed ready to vomit at any moment. The mystic glared at the snarf.

Entering the room, Panthro exclaimed, "I'd thought that I would never see the day when you would actually drink yourself completely senseless, Tygra." Scanning the tiger from his sandaled feet to his mane, he added, "And in the name of Jaga, what happened to your clothes?"

Tygra started to answer, but belched instead.

Aidan said, "From what the tiger could tell me, that blasted tabbot is responsible for this!" The accused continued to sleep peacefully, and remained oblivious to the havoc he had unleashed. The master rubbed the brown star tattooed on his face. "I should have never trusted Orin to stay out of my larder and behave responsibly. He has a weakness for the liqueur that I had offered to your friend to alleviate his suffering. Orin convinced him that more of the cordial would help him to recover faster."

"Tygra's certainly beyond feeling pain," Panthro observed with amusement.

The architect hiccupped his reply. "I never had...pain, Punthro....And Idan...I didn't drink...that much...perhaps a bottle...or two...I forget...but... can detect...no ill effects...I feel fantas...tic."

But you look ridiculous, Snarf thought as he pawed his chin in frustration If you could only see the state of your mane, and the condition of your clothing. I hope you haven't damaged that fine flute with all this thrashing about.

Panthro asked the mystic, "How could Tygra have gotten so drunk so fast. If you only knew how much he drank at his awakening feast, by the gods, he became a legend that night."

"I wasn't really sure, Panthro, what would happen to Tygra during his first controlled healing. He no longer experienced pain during his healing practices because he finally learned how to divert his excess energy into the gathering sphere correctly, and to reach the healing state. From what I can deduce from Aidan's and Snarf's accounts, Tygra felt no pain during the healing that he performed, and suffered only fatigue and dizziness. This supported my belief that his natural resistance to the use of his gift would protect him from his patient's discomfort. That learned reflex I did not have to teach him.

"Now healing generally doesn't alter a mystic's tolerance for alcohol unless he has done many healings in a day. Then, he will become quite susceptible to its effects, especially if he hasn't taken the time to eat."

"But Tygra did only one healing, White," Snarf said with bewilderment.

"For Tygra, one effort is as many. Also, it is very common for a mystic to lose his appetite after a healing. It is at this time when it is most critical for him to eat. Without any food in his belly, Tygra succumbed even more quickly to the alcohol in the cordial." The mystic shook her head. "I should have warned him of the possible side effects that his healing might bring upon him. I should have instructed him better."

"Well spoken," Tygra burped. He wobbled over to the mystic. "But I forgive you, 'Litha." She placed her arms about his waist to support his weight and help keep him from falling. A broad grin covered his face. He patted his silk pouch. "For you alone will I play my flute."

Panthro assisted the mystic. "Wait until Lion-o and Cheetara hear about the rest of your adventure, Tygra."

Snarf noticed the stern flash in her eyes that warned off the panther. The tiger gave no sign that he marked her unspoken reproach of his friend. Goddess what a mess, he thought. Snarf said politely to the starborn, "I guess we will be leaving now."

The master took his place by the fire. "Yes," he sighed, "please go. Your friend has done enough for one day."

Panthro and the mystic steered the tipsy tiger toward the exit. A fourth verse of "Jaga and the Seven Maidens" joined with the night breezes. Snarf began to take his leave, but stopped. Guess we might as well finish what we started, he decided. It might help Tygra feel better after the haze of this evening disappears. "Aidan," he said, "there is something Tygra and I forgot to ask you about in all the excitement."

Fussing with his pipe, the master rumbled over the tabbot's snores, "What?"

"Cinnamon."

*****

Snarf entered the dining hall. By the will of the gods, he thought, I'll have a nice loaf of spring bread ready by breakfast. Aidan was more than generous with his supply of cinnamon.

A ragged baritone broke into his musings. "Must you be so damn loud."

Snarf tiptoed over to the seated tiger. The great cat sprawled forward over the table. "Tygra, are you all right," he whispered.

"Softer, please, Snarf. My head feels as if it contains the Mutant legions and their swords." The tiger rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"Jaga be blessed, Tygra, you look terrible. Can I get you anything?"

"Nothing short of death will alleviate my suffering, Snarf. If you doubt my word, you should mark the mess I've left for you in the sink."

Unhappy as he was with the idea of cleaning vomit out of the kitchen sink, Snarf replied calmly, "Tygra, you just have a hangover, that's all. I'm sure White can help you."

"Goddess, no! How can I ever face Talitha again after last night."

"He's got a point, Snarf. Made quite a fool of himself," Panthro remarked. The grey cat danced around the table. "She's all mine. She's all mine," he sang in his resonant bass.

Tygra hissed, "Panthro, why don't you go and--"

"Oh my, a bit testy this morning, are we cub?" the panther purred into the tiger's ear. "Was it something you drank? But how could that be."

The tiger responded with an anemic roar that ultimately left him clutching his temples in pain.

"Serves you right for being nasty," Panthro said with a sniff.

Annoyed by the immature display of both Thundercats, Snarf growled, "Enough! You two should be ashamed of yourselves. A fine example you have set for Lion-o, snarf, snarf."

"Thank the gods neither he nor the kittens witnessed my drunkenness," Tygra wailed.

"But it did take awhile for Cheetara to stop laughing, Tygra. Some of the things that you said to her last evening, well, I'm sure she will expect you to deliver on those promises in her bed chamber."

"For the love of Mrísena, Panthro, let me die in peace."

"Can't wait to inform our young king."

"Panthro!"

"Ah, no. Talitha," Tygra sobbed as he hid his face in his hands.

The mystic pushed the panther aside. "Chide him not, grey one. His mistake was made in innocence. How dare you treat him so disrespectfully."

"Easy, White. I surrender." He bent down to the snarf, and whispered, "Never tackle with a tigress over her cub."

"No, White!" Snarf shouted to the mystic as she frantically looked about the room for something to throw at the panther.

"Must run," Panthro called. He dashed from the chamber, but his laughter echoed in the corridor beyond.

"I hope he breaks a gear," Talitha snarled.

"Please, dear one, softer," Tygra entreated as he raised his head.

The tigress stroked his mane. "Snarf," she asked, "do we have some eggs?"

"Of course, snarf, snarf. Can't make a decent spring bread without them, but why do you need eggs?"

"Part of a remedy for hangovers, Snarf, and I have never known my father's formula to fail." The Thundercat turned his face away from her as she spoke. She gently cuffed his cheek. "Now we'll have none of that, architect. No one in this Lair is perfect, not even you."

"But I made such a spectacle of myself last night, Talitha. How did you endure my embarrassing behavior?"

A cryptic smile touched her lips. She admitted, "It is true that you acted silly, Tygra, but there was honesty in your heart and your emotions. Actually, it was good to see you finally...relax. Sometimes I worry that your serious nature will send you to the silence at an early age."

The tiger clasped her hands. He gazed upward at her face. "Such blue eyes," he murmured. "I don't think that I will ever tire of their unique beauty."

Snarf thought with relief, an excellent move, white one. Continue to keep him distracted, and I might get some work done before the sun climbs too high in the sky. The elder scratched his chin pensively. I wonder if you have deliberately held back a mystic cure to his affliction to teach him a lesson. Well, no matter, I leave him now to your care.

Snarf slipped unnoticed through the swinging doors and into the kitchen. He would need to struggle with the footstool to reach the sink, so he decided that he would deal with the "problem" that Tygra had left him after he had collected his tools for baking. The elder opened one of the floor cabinets, and drew forth a rolling pin. Brandishing the utensil above his head, he cried, "Spring bread! Ho!"