Page 17 of Xel: Broken Bond

I couldn’t help but smile at that. Despite knowing very little about animals, it seemed the residents of this sanctuary were willing to give me a chance.

We continued along the row, and when we came to the second last cage, I saw that the cat inside was a pale grey colour, and from the way it moved, I guessed it was quite elderly. “Hello, Mr Beans,” my master greeted the animal, with great dignity. “How is your majesty faring this fine… Oh, for goodness sake, are you serious?” His expression turned instantly from joviality to annoyance, and he put his hands on his hips at he stared into the cage. And as I came up beside him, I could see why. Mr Beans had apparently tipped his water bowl upside down, and there was now a minor flood across the bottom level of the enclosure. Mr Beans himself was sitting primly on a shelf about a metre off the floor, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

My master sighed. “Every single night for the past week – which is as long as he’s been here – he’s tipped his water bowl over. And we can’t just leave him without water, so there’s not much we can do other than clean it up in the morning.” He gave a quick check to the cat in the last cage – who had managed to pass the night without creating any havoc – and then led me through the door at the end of the row into a storage section.

“This is where we keep all the food, the litter trays, spare beds, and of course, cleaning supplies.” He picked up a towel from a stack and handed me one, then grabbed two more off the top of the pile. “Mr Beans is the sweetest old man, but also a bugger of a mischief maker.” He looked me up and down, in a way that was entirely non-sexual, but which also made my whole body tingle. “How would you feel about holding onto him for me while I clean his cage?”

I blinked. I’d never been asked that sort of question before. The vast majority of instructions I’d been given were very straight forward – ‘Do this’ or ‘Don’t do that’. There had alsobeen a string of thoroughly confusing questions from various members of staff at the hotel – ‘Do you like this?’ or ‘Do you want to do that?’ Dimari were trained to do as we were told, not to go around voicing our opinions about things, and after a few weeks of listening to me fumble through nonsensical answers, the staff had stopped asking.

But my master’s current question was of an entirely different nature.How would I feel about it?There was no clear right or wrong answer, no implication of obedience or disobedience.Nervouswas the answer that came to mind. I’d never held an animal before. What if I hurt him? What if I accidentally let him go and he escaped? What if he didn’t like me and tried to bite me, like Midnight wanted to do?

“…I’ve never held a cat before…” I muttered, feeling entirely inadequate. A good dimari should be able to perform any service his master required.

But this new master hadn’t bought me, I reminded myself. He hadn’t chosen me as an erotic companion for my skills in delivering carnal pleasure. He hadinheritedme and was now just trying to make the best of a mismatched situation.

My master peered up at me from beneath his lashes… and I noticed for the first time that they were long and thick, even on the right side, where his eye was misshapen. And come to think of it, this was the first time I’d really paid any attention to the marks on his face. Had he been born that way, or had he been injured somehow?

But he didn’t give me any time to dwell on his physical appearance. “Are you nervous?” he asked, with a hint of amusement.

I felt a flush of indignation at the question. “You said Midnight would try to bite my finger off,” I reminded him – a perfectly valid reason for being nervous, as far as I was concerned.

My master grinned. “Mr Beans is seventeen years old. He’s not going to try and bite you.”

“Is seventeen old for a cat?” I asked, before I could think better of it. I didn’t know much about cats, but the way he said it seemed to imply that Mr Beans couldn’t be a threat to me if he tried.

“Pretty old, yes,” my master said, apparently not objecting to the question. He opened the cage and crooned at the cat. He dumped one of the towels on the floor to soak up the worst of the water, then gently scooped the animal into his arms. “Spread out the towel in your arms, then make sure you support him under his butt,” he instructed, and I gingerly took the cat from him.

“Hello, Mr Beans,” I said, not sure he’d respond to someone speaking another language from the one he was used to. Okay, so cats didn’t understand language, as such, but he would be familiar with the sounds and the rhythm of the language my master used.

But to my surprise – and my delight – Mr Beans didn’t seem the slightest bit upset about being handled by a stranger. Rather, he snuggled into my elbow, then rubbed his face against my arm.

My master glanced at me over his shoulder, as he set about cleaning up the water, and grinned. “He likes you,” he said.

I felt my chest tighten. And then I reflected that it was absolutely ridiculous to be getting emotional about an animal liking me. Mr Beans was old, and he probably just liked the attention, no matter who was giving it to him.

But even so, it felt nice to be appreciated, given my lack of experience. It gave me hope that this new place, this new life, would work itself out in the end. Already, the day was far more interesting than anything that happened at the hotel, and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.

A few minutes later, I set Mr Beans back on his shelf, amused when he tried to hold onto my wrist. “I’ll come back and seeyou later,” I told him, not sure whether that was true, but given that he couldn’t understand me, it didn’t matter terribly much. I paid close attention to where my master put the dirty towels, and then we were heading around the corner into the kennels.

If I’d thought the cattery was noisy, it was ten times worse in here. The instant the light went on, we were greeted with a chorus of barks, yips and howls.

My master led us to the first cage and he opened it, letting a large, lanky creature out. It looked a bit like a dog, but had longer legs and huge ears that stood upright. His fur looked like it had originally been an orange-red colour, but it was faded to grey around his face and down his back. The animal shuffled about eagerly, butting his head against my master’s leg and letting out a series of chuffing sounds.

“This is Bribie,” my master said, returning the greeting enthusiastically by rubbing the animal’s head and chest. “He’s not actually a dog. He’s a munsend. They come from the Denzogal homeworld. They were used for tracking and hunting. Here, they’re mostly just pets. But Bribie has a bit of a sad story. He’s fifteen years old, which is extremely old for a munsend, and his owner died just under a year ago. We’ve been trying to find him a home ever since, but no one wants a pet that’s just going to die in a couple of months. So this is basically his home now. We let him follow us around during the day to give him some exercise and let him have some company.”

“Couldn’t you adopt him yourself?” I asked, my concern for the animal outweighing my caution for a moment. It more or less sounded like my master had already adopted him, except that Bribie still slept in the kennels at night, instead of in my master’s house.

My master’s expression turned serious. “If I adopted every animal to come through here with a sob story, I’d have a house full of them. There’s always someone who’s old, or has beeninjured, or has some disfigurement that means no one wants to adopt them. But I’m here to get other people to adopt the animals, not to do it all myself. In a lot of cases, a bit of good publicity and a few cute photos is enough to get people interested. Bribie’s just been unlucky, I guess.”

I wasn’t entirely sure I saw the logic in his argument. He clearly loved animals. And he loved Bribie in particular, from the way he’d greeted the munsend. So why would it be so different to have him sleep in the house? But as usual, I reminded myself that it wasn’t my place to argue with my master. Perhaps, as time went on, I would come to understand his reasons better.

We did a quick check of the rest of the dogs, along with three more munsends, and thankfully, none of them had created any problems overnight, and then we headed across the paddock towards a large barn. There were some fenced yards along one side of the building, and I could see a handful of animals in the pens. Bribie meandered along slowly behind us as we went. He wasn’t fast on his feet, and looked like he would tire easily, but at the same time, he seemed to be enjoying the walk.

When we arrived at the barn, my master introduced me to the rest of the sanctuary’s residents. There was a camel named Jeffrey, a donkey called Clyde, eight thumbits and about a dozen chickens. There was also a flock of polvers – a small, flightless bird that originated on the Sedgeged homeworld, my master informed me. They had long legs and necks, and adorably round bodies.

“Polvers were brought here as a meat animal,” my master informed me. “But when people realised that chickens were a lot easier to raise, they started keeping polvers as pets instead. They’ve got great personalities,” he added, with a grin. “They’re very sociable. Spend enough time with them, and they’ll decide you’re part of their flock.”

Right on cue, one of the birds came trotting over, doing a thorough inspection of my shoe. “Hey, little bird,” I said to it, bending down to try giving it a scratch. It stood still for a few seconds, apparently contemplating whether it liked that or not… and then promptly sat down on top of my shoe, ruffling its feathers to make itself comfortable.