Chapter Seventeen: Catnip Reveal
THE FRONT OF NILHIN'S DOOR had been defaced, feces had been spread over the entire thing -- so it was probably Ago. Nilhin had woken earlier than most of the other torturers deign it appropriate to rise most days, but since it was a quarter chas before mao-chas, they had all risen to see him off to dine with the clan leader for the second time in a row. Nilhin was wearing less impressive clothes now, but he still kept his necklace on. He ignored the looks of anger and the looks of hatred thrown at him as he passed the other torturers on his way to the main dining hall.
When he arrived, the head table was empty save for Zaw Rronov and an old woman who sat near him, but didn’t speak to him. The disciples were bustling inside, but they were mostly shoving food in their mouths before rushing right back out the doors to their lessons. Nilhin was nearly run into on multiple occasions before he reached the head table. He bowed at them both.
“Good morning, clan leader, madam,” he said.
“Sit,” Zaw Rronov insisted. “I’m surprised to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“I’m well,” Nilhin said. He looked at the tea pot that he was allowed to drink from the previous night. It had been taken by the old woman and kept by her. Instead, Zaw Rronov poured him tea from his pot again. It was not the dark brew of before, but a light and herbal blend. It smelled very good, and Nilhin downed it quickly, without thought, ignoring how it burned his throat as it travelled through him.
“Forgive me, it was… it smells so divine,” Nilhin explained. Zaw Rronov smirked and poured him another cup.
“There’s no problem, Nilhin. I’m actually curious about this blend myself,” Zaw Rronov said. The man poured himself a cup of the tea and took a sip. “It’s a special blend, including purple coneflower, lavender, and--” Zaw Rronov hesitated for a moment, but Nilhin had already finished his second cup, and patiently awaited his third-- “catnip.”
“Catnip?” Nilhin asked, his voice rising in pitch as he pushed his cup a little further in front of him than he should have. He couldn’t have catnip. His mother once told him he was allergic to it, but he now supposed it affected him due to his unique physiology, and other herbs that worked on animals like foxes or similar creatures, would affect him more like them than they would affect a human.
“Yes,” Zaw Rronov said. “Catnip. Is that a problem?”
“I… My mother always insisted I stay away from catnip, for my health.”
“Catnip is a medicinal herb, surely it won’t hurt you,” Zaw Rronov said, “Unless there’s something else at play.” Nilhin remained quiet for a moment, looking at the dishes on the table. They were all vastly different. There was meat cooked so slightly it was mainly raw, there was a bowl of honey with chunky comb still present, there was a platter of raw fish, another platter of the juiciest, most delicious looking grubs that Nilhin had ever seen in his life, and a variety of berries that made Nilhin’s mouth water almost as much as the chunky serving bowl of bubbling stew. It smelled like pika more than rabbit, and it had chunks of all sorts of delicious tubers in it. There was rice and other grains to serve it all with, which was standard in Tbai.
“I assure you there’s nothing else at hand,” Nilhin said.
“You came to Neuma so suddenly,” Zaw Rronov said, following Nilhin’s gaze to the berries and the grubs. “Why don’t you have some?”
Nilhin knew that this was a test. Somehow, Zaw Rronov had begun to suspect Nilhin, and these foods were meant to test to narrow down what he may be, if he wasn’t human. No human would opt for the grubs, especially not with all the other food before them.
“This one wasn’t aware these were foods common to the people of Tbai,” Nilhin admitted, although he knew they weren’t. His feigned ignorance would hopefully make his scrutiny more tolerable, as he opted to pour the stew over a bowl of other cereal grains rather than rice. He did snag a few of the grubs, and a spoonful of berries, but he made sure to grab a piece of the raw meat as well. He pointedly didn’t drink the catnip tea, especially now that his two cups were starting to make his head cloudy.
“They aren’t,” Zaw Rronov said, without any hesitation. “I didn’t know where you were from, or what you would prefer to eat. Where do you come from, Nilhin?”
“Kedyaya,” Nilhin said, cutting a slice of raw meat free. As soon as the blood squirted between his teeth, his teeth elongated and Nilhin made sure to keep his lips over them. He hoped he was eating at a regular pace rather than too fast. Whatever meat they were serving him was so succulent and delicious -- Nilhin had never eaten anything like it. The more he ate, the more his mouth watered, and even the grubs couldn’t temper it. Their conversation lapsed as Zaw Rronov watched him bring every bite to his lips, and the catnip tea grew cold as Nilhin tried to pretend that it felt like he had bits of cotton in his brain.
Finally, he gave in and drank more of the tea. Together, with the raw meat, he had never been so satisfied with a human meal. He had only ever felt as full as when he drained the energies and souls from Ogar and the poor healer. He had eaten three pieces of the meat from the tray that nobody touched, not even as people joined them at the table, having woken up a little later.
“This… it’s so delicious, your excellency. What is it? I’ve never tasted anything so--”
“It’s human,” Zaw Rronov answered with a little smirk. “You like it?”
Nilhin couldn’t even bite his lip because his teeth had grown out to better accommodate his meal. Nilhin swallowed his bite and set his utensils down.
“Please,” Nilhin began, his voice soft, “I didn’t mean to deceive anyone. I have nowhere else to go.”
“I don’t appreciate being lied to, but I understand why you’ve done what you’ve done,” Zaw Rronov said. Besides Zaw Rronov sat the first prince of Zaw. The young man’s actual name was Shamisa, but Nilhin had never heard anyone refer to him that way, not even Gronjas had so many months earlier. Zaw Shamisa was staring at Nilhin with a frown now, sipping on his own tea. The more Nilhin drank his tea, the more his worries eased, and the less he cared about the problems that faced him, including his possible execution for his betrayal. He also picked up his utensils, and easily continued to eat despite the rudeness it may convey after the revelation it was human meat.
“Your service here has been incomparable to any other,” Zaw Rronov said. “I’m surprised you didn’t come here as a disciple.”
“My mother was a courtesan. I’m not worthy to be a disciple at a clan as reputable as the Zaw,” Nilhin said, ripping a slice of meat from his fork, his fangs on display as he did so. Zaw Rronov’s eyes were drawn to his sharpened teeth, those of a canid rather than a human. “And as you’ve figured out, I’m not human. The last clan hunted me until I was forced out--”
“Gronjas made it seem like you were forced to leave because you loved him,” Zaw Shamisa interrupted. Nilhin’s eyelids felt so heavy as he opened them, turning to look at him. “Did he know what you were? Why did he send you here?”
“Gronjas sent me here to keep me safe,” Nilhin agreed. “But Gronjas only wanted to keep me safe because he wanted me. Had I been any different than his ideal, of the one he wanted to use and control, then he would have handed me over for execution.” Nilhin wiped his eyes. They felt so dry, and his mouth, no matter how much he drank, seemed to be the same way. He drank more and more of the tea, and Zaw Rronov absently kept pouring, even adding more hot water to re-steep the flowers. “That’s all men ever want from me. My mother knew their nature, she used it to her advantage, and she survived, so why shouldn’t I?”
Nilhin stood up, his palms flat on the table. He looked at the first prince and said, “After all, the reason you brought me here was because you saw something fragile, and beautiful, and you wanted to have it because that meant Gronjas couldn’t.”
Zaw Rronov glanced at his son, barely a sweep of his eyes. Shamisa’s face had darkened with a flush of blood, and he looked away from Nilhin out of shame. Now that Nilhin was on his feet, he swayed, unable to keep himself up very well.
“And what do I want?” Zaw Rronov asked. “If my son wanted you as a trophy, and men want you to use you, what do I want?”
Nilhin leaned across the table.
“I already told you what men want from me,” Nilhin whispered. “Are you not a man?”
Zaw Rronov’s hand shot out and grabbed Nilhin by the jaw and stood up, pulling Nilhin across the table and off his feet as well. Nilhin whimpered, cheeks heating uncomfortably, being dragged so effortlessly and so rudely, too. Zaw Rronov’s grip was unimaginably strong and there was nothing short of the limb being cut off that would release him.
“You think I want to control you? To use you?” Zaw Rronov asked, his voice was soft, like it was a challenge. Nilhin assumed that not many were honest in their grievances with the man, a powerful clan leader. Nilhin struggled, but nodded in his grip. He could confidently say that Zaw Rronov wanted to use him and control him. It may not be entirely one-sided, but he had no illusions that there was anything other than this dynamic between them, nor was he special in this. Many people were used and controlled by clan leader Zaw.
Zaw Rronov started to laugh. He dropped Nilhin, and his body went limp over the table before he slid back into a seat, his legs not able to stand on their own.
“What are you, Nilhin? You can’t be a beast if your mother wore human skin, so which brand of paragon are you?” Zaw Rronov asked. Nilhin looked over at the disciples, but none of them were eavesdropping on the head table, they were immersed in their own lives. The rest of the head table, however, either avoided looking at Nilhin, or were entirely concentrated on him.
“My mother was a fox beast,” Nilhin admitted. “She died almost two years ago. She never told me…”
“You discovered it on your own,” Zaw Rronov said, his voice crooning with a wisp of sympathy, none of which was real. “Where is your father?”
“He wants nothing to do with me,” Nilhin said.
“So you have no family. No one to help you. No one to love you or care for you. You’re entirely alone in this world that wants you dead more than anything else,” Zaw Rronov said. Nilhin, under normal circumstances would never cry, but his eyes watered, now that he was under the influence of the catnip tea, and he wiped at his eyes again, this time to push the tears away. How dare this man say such things, how dare he lay out the bleak circumstances of his existence out in such a way.
“Will you put him in the Beast Fortress, father?” the first prince asked, interrupting the tense silence as Zaw Rronov watched Nilhin try to hide his crying. Zaw Rronov’s attention snapped to his son like an explosion, and the man looked down with impassive disgust. Nilhin had been looked upon like that by his father, once, too. It felt terrible, but he felt no pity for Shamisa, who surely must have earned such a glare from a man who had raised him.
“The Beast Fortress is for beasts, Misa. This boy is a paragon,” Zaw Rronov said. “What other skills do you have, Nilhin? Beyond your excellent talent in torture and following orders?”
“This one can read and write,” Nilhin offered, more pathetically than he had ever said it before.
“How lovely,” Zaw Rronov said. “You’ll be working with Elder Matsha--” the old woman who had been there first thing in the morning, alongside Zaw Rronov himself, looked up from where she was pointedly keeping out of the conflict. She must be Elder Matsha-- “Dictating her missives since her hands have grown weak. You’ll also peruse the correspondences on behalf of my children. You are greatly underutilized in the dungeons. Meanwhile, you will be instructed by Shamisa in the art of the sword, and you will attend to me for lessons on magic.”
Nilhin absorbed this information slightly slower than usual in his inebriated state, but he was certain that Zaw Rronov had just said that the clan leader himself would personally instruct him in the ways of magic, while the first prince would tutor him in the way of the sword. Nilhin tilted his head to the side and licked his parched lips.
“I see,” Nilhin said. He stood up, holding the back of the chair to support himself before he stood up fully, feeling like he may collapse, and then he held his hands out, bowing deeply at Zaw Rronov. “Thank you, your excellency. I’ll attend to these new duties as I have before, and this one will not disappoint you for showing such generosity.”
“Matsha can show you where you need to go as soon as you’re finished,” Zaw Rronov said. “I’ll see you at tsav-chas for our lessons.” Zaw Rronov didn’t wait for any responses, and he left, walking down the steps and out of the front doors, not acknowledging all the disciples pausing to bow to him, his chin tilted back with confidence. Nilhin watched him leave, before he turned back to the table. Elder Matsha was looking at him over the rim of her cup.
“Eat what you’d like,” she commanded, “You’re no good to me in your current, disorganised state.” Two seats to Elder Matsha’s right was the first prince, staring at Nilhin like he had never seen him before, despite them having spent several weeks together just to arrive back in Neuma. “And you, Shamisa, stop gawking! At least attempt to not be the embarrassment your father treats you as.” The first prince looked away from Nilhin, and quickly excused himself after finishing his tea. Nilhin had no idea when he was needed for sword practice with the first prince, so he would have to seek the man out to find a suitable time himself.
From his reaction, he would definitely consider catnip to be an allergen, if not an intoxicant like humans succumb to liquor or the euphoric feelings of their pipe weed.
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