Chapter 26: The Sun, the Cat and the Light |
“Of course, it hasn’t been lost! Detective, you can’t just accuse people out of the blue. But that damn cat...”
The man inside the door gritted his teeth, as if the cat had devoured all his belongings. His face twisted in frustration:
“Get that cat out of here. I swear, I’ll never take care of another orange tabby again.”
“Alright, where is it?” Xia De asked. He wasn’t particularly fond of cats, but for the generous fee being offered, he wouldn’t mind carrying a cat around the streets if needed.
“On the roof,” the man said, pointing upward. His expression grew even more furious:
“Ever since that detective left it here for me to look after, the cat hasn’t let anyone near it. It’s scratched my wife and Miss Cindy at least twice. It won’t eat cheap cat food and constantly bullies the other pets. I’ve been running this place for years, and I’ve never seen such an aggressive six-month-old kitten... It must be sunbathing on the roof right now! Get it out of here—I can’t take it anymore!”
Xia De pretended not to hear the man’s complaints and stepped back from the door slightly, looking up at the three-story building.
“And how am I supposed to climb up there?”
“There’s a ladder in the backyard that goes from the ground to the roof. I’m not going up there myself—I never want to see that cat again!”
“Hamilton the detective gave me 1 shilling and 10 pennies to take care of it for two months. Here’s your 1 shilling—take it and get that cat out of here! Don’t let it ever come back to this alley!”
The man’s voice was almost hysterical, drawing the attention of children playing in the street and a woman hanging laundry across the way. It was hard to imagine the psychological torment the orange tabby had inflicted on him.
Following the man through the house, Xia De arrived at a backyard cluttered with empty pet cages. While the man steadied a metal ladder, Xia De cautiously climbed to the roof.
The rooftop was piled high with garbage and debris, leaving Xia De wondering how it all got there with only a ladder for access. In the southeast corner of the roof, on the only clean patch of ground, lay the cat. It lounged lazily on a metal pipe, basking in the summer morning sun.
The kitten looked young, its soft body draped over the pipe like a puddle. It was small and even a little underweight, with fur that glistened faintly in the hazy sunlight—a sign of good health. However, instead of an orange tabby, it looked more like a white cat wrapped in a warm orange blanket. Only when the cat stood up did Xia De realize the strikingly bright orange was indeed its fur.
Perched on the rusted pipe, elevated slightly by an old sofa cushion, the cat stood out from the surrounding junk. It turned to face the morning sun, its amber eyes fixed on Xia De, watching him warily.
Xia De, lacking experience with animals and wary of the man’s warnings, worried that the orange tabby might pounce. Yet the kitten, named “Mimia” like its owner, didn’t seem particularly aggressive. It observed him carefully, and Xia De, knowing he was being scrutinized, tried to appear friendly. He reminded himself of the cat’s value:
“I’m here to take you to your owner, Miss Mimia Gold.”
Finding a stable foothold amid the debris, Xia De crouched slightly, clapped his hands, and forced a friendly smile. Unsurprisingly, the suspicious gesture failed to elicit a response from the cat.
“Mimia Gold,” he repeated.
This time, Xia De spoke in the local Tobesk dialect, a skill he had recently picked up:
“I’m taking you back to your owner, Miss Mimia Gold.”
The cat’s small orange ears twitched, and it raised its right paw to lick it before continuing to stare intently at Xia De.
Xia De pursed his lips, glanced around to confirm there were no taller buildings nearby, and extended his right index finger:
“Look.”
A silver glow appeared on his fingertip, and the orange tabby’s amber eyes widened. It opened its mouth slightly, standing on the rusted pipe as its whiskers twitched. It stretched its head toward the light.
“Miss Mimia Gold,” Xia De said, slowly approaching. He extended his left hand cautiously, suppressing his unease about handling “wild animals,” and gently picked up the cat with one hand.
The orange tabby was light—very light.
Its eyes remained fixed on Xia De’s glowing finger, and when the light faded, it didn’t try to escape from his arms. Instead, it leaned against his chest, batting at his fingers with its small paws, intrigued by the “new toy.”
“Good,” Xia De sighed in relief as he stood up, ready to leave the rooftop. The young tabby squirmed slightly in his arms but didn’t struggle much.
“It’s not aggressive at all—quite well-behaved, actually. Maybe I’m just naturally good with animals,” Xia De thought cheerfully.
As he prepared to leave, he noticed something lying beneath the pipe where the cat had been resting. Holding the cat in one hand, he bent down to pick it up with the other. It was a worn deck of Rhodes Cards.
To use Rhodes Cards, a full set of 54 was necessary. Special cards could replace others based on suit and rank, as all Rhodes Cards shared the same back design.
The deck Xia De found wasn’t particularly special—just a simple, inexpensive set similar to those he had seen used by three men in a tavern. Likely worth only a few pennies, it was hardly a valuable find. He slipped it into his pocket out of habit, thinking it might complement his “Founders’ Silver Moon” card.
Carefully descending the ladder, cat in hand, Xia De returned to the backyard.
“I found an old deck of Rhodes Cards on the roof. How much do I owe you for it?”
The cards looked like junk, but Xia De mentioned them out of politeness. The man, relieved to see the cat finally gone, was so emotional he nearly cried. As for the rooftop’s garbage, he couldn’t care less.
Xia De left Violet Iris Alley, heading straight for Miss Gold’s residence rather than wandering aimlessly with someone else’s cat. Along the way, young Mimia made only a faint “purring” sound at first, then focused on clawing at Xia De’s sleeves and shirt without attempting to escape.
Miss Gold, willing to pay such a high fee for her cat’s return, was clearly well-off. She lived on Sandrew Street in the city’s quiet southern residential area, where each home boasted its own small garden and personalized nameplate on the gate.