A quick entry I inserted into the story just a week or so ago, so I haven't made too many decisions on it. It'll do for now though, don't you think? Things start heating up in future entries. Once again, to read ahead, go to my profile and click on "Seahorse", then just click on the number segment you want to read next.

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IV

Zaghgon Strauv - as I came to know his name to be - was the most optimistic doctor I had ever met. As we fumbled through the market and deeper into town he chatted lively about his life and professions. The title of doctor not only stood for a professor in the studies of marine biology - a concept that had merely derived in Land-Walker’s studies in the past hundred and fifty odd years’ - but also for the most highly skilled (and perhaps only) physician in town. He was not fond of death and he had not let any death experiences harden his sense of humour. Anyone who greeted him on the street did so warmly - only to shy away once they saw his travelling companion. He loved his life and was not afraid to say it; warm, affectionate, and with a good mature humour.

How unusual in those days.

Eventually we turned off into the more drab parts of town; the sections of shadows that remained unseen from aristocracy, littered with filth, unworthy creatures and the lower-class percent of the population, hunger and despair reflecting in their eyes. He constantly asked me the names of the streets we were on before letting me know which street to turn off into. By the looks of this area, alarm bells began to ring. Either the status of professor/physician is a lowly one in this town, or Dr. Strauv was not as friendly as he was making out to be.

‘You are concerned, do not deny it.’ His voice was low. Had there not been the odd clatter of a box, the chorus of cats and the occasion sounds of family feuds drifting out through windowless frames, he would have broken the silence.

I sniffed the air. Cats, I thought bitterly, my face crunching in distaste. ‘I have seen worse. Though I do pity them.’

‘I was not talking about that.' I noticed he was still smiling. ‘The pressure of your arm changed. Do you think I would ever harm anyone?’

‘Some people can be misleading, syvun. I am merely keeping on my toes.’

‘Sometimes it is better to be on your belly.’ He stopped suddenly. ‘Is there a door around here with the number 46 engraved on the beam?’

I glanced about. ‘There appears to be, yes. Are we stopping?’

‘Only for a moment.’ He unlocked his arm from mine and fished in the inner pockets of his jacket. For a moment concern flashed onto his face before his searching stopped, and a smile of relief crept onto his features. ‘It is safe; all is well.’ (Whatever it is, I thought suspiciously.) ‘Will you be so kind as to lead me to Number 46? There is someone I must visit before we continue.’

I analysed my surroundings as I took him by the arm once more. Too many people. Poor, but still too many. I cannot change my shape before them; the secret will leak quickly. And I must not let Mayor Grovaw know. I did not know why the mayor disturbed me so much; I had felt no real ill from him, and yet instinct nagged me to keep as much out of his hearing range as possible; perhaps it was his social status that frightened me. Though I had dealt with higher-ranking creatures of “civilisation” before, this was the first time in many years’ I was making contact with Land-Walkers. My skills were unpractised; I must have known that, deep down. Whatever public stress I could create I would not be able to handle once I re-accustomed myself with the ways of the Land-Walkers.

I knocked on the door of Number 46 before he had the chance to ask. My suspicions on Dr. Strauv were flitting like uneasy dragonflies in my mind, and I did not wish to break entire contact on him, for I was trying to read deeper into his emotional aura. I felt only joy. No dark plots, no sense of greed. Just joy.

It just wasn’t … natural!

The rot-infested door parted a crack and a crackled voice called out from within: ‘Who goes?’

‘It’s me, Mrs. Epuire,’ Dr. replied, ‘I came to deliver what I promised you.’

The door crept open with a groan of agony from the hinges. The smell of dust, rotten fruit, stomach fluids and decaying fish had a punch like a fighter desperate to take down as many enemies as he could on his last stand. The figure in the doorway was, in a sense, a fighter herself. Her frame was thin and hunched over an unsteady cane (which appeared to be nothing more than a fence post), silver hair tied in a tight bun with strands falling about her face (my guess is she had kept her hair up for several days and did not have the mind to keep it in place) and her dark eyes flickered with suspicion at the figures on her doorstep.

Well, mainly me.

Zaghgon looked me over before beaming at the elderly woman. ‘No fear, Mrs. Epuire, you know the company I keep. But if you would prefer I enter alone, I will abide by your wishes.’ He turned to me. ‘Would you be so kind … ?’ He nodded to his papers and books.

‘Oh, of course.’ I took his bundle and began to shift it into a neater pile, using my knee as a prop.

Mrs. Epuire’s squinted eyes scowled at me before she gave the nod to Dr. Strauv. She took his arm with a firm grip, dragging him inside as he explained: ‘I am afraid I have had an accident with my glasses, so if you could warn me before I - ’

The door slammed shut.

Forced to wait, I sat myself down on the doorstep, staring at the back of the building across the way. It seems more like an alleyway than a proper street, I thought, glancing over the ragged people circled around a burning barrel, to the mother down the way clutching her two children to her breast as she silently sobbed in their hair, and to the man sleeping in the rubbish pile, his breathing rhythmic and soothing.

A cat mawed far off.

Keep away, cats. I have no mood to do battle with you today.

It is said that witches - magic-born Land-Walkers, apparently - keep cats as pets, or “familiars.” Many a time I have been accused of being a spawn of the Devil (according to the most recent religion to birth), though often when men have tried to prove my “evil ways,” they have used cats. If a cat were to befriend me quickly - especially a flea-bitten, foul-mouthed little ball of fluff - it would prove my allegiance with the Devil.

Unfortunately for those men, cats have an instant disliking to Aquamye’ens. To felines, we are merely food.

Still, that does not mean I have always been proved innocent. Nor does it mean that simply because cats do not like me they do not know I am of the sea, and of Magic. They are still a threat to my exposure.

The voices of Mrs. Epuire and Dr. Strauv came creeping past the door; curiosity prevailed and I tiptoed to the window for a quick peak. Within I should see Dr. Strauv rubbing an ointment on Mrs. Epuire’s bare shoulder - well, bare bar the hideous scratches.

‘One of these days, Partre, you're gonna have to stop letting these cats walk all over you,’ he was saying with a laugh in his tone.

‘They’re dear little creatures if given the chance, Zaghgon,’ Partre Epuire sighed. ‘All strays deserve a good home.’

‘Indeed,’ he answered (though his tone suggested skepticism) as his eyes flickered to the window.

I ducked away; though I knew Dr. Strauv was having difficulty seeing without his glasses, I did not want Partre Epuire to know I was spying on her home. Spying should only be a necessity, not a hobby, and there was little else necessary for me to discover by watching the scene further.

It was only a matter of minutes later when Dr. Strauv stepped out of Number 46, bidding his patient goodbye and good health. I had taken to sweeping the dusty ground with the side of my foot when he reached me, his smile ever constant. ‘So sorry I kept you waiting; not bored, are you?’

‘Me? Oh no, not in the slightest,’ I frankly lied. I took his arm. ‘Which way do we - ?’

‘You still do not trust me, do you.’

Perhaps the years' of solitude before my arrival in Ghuhd had softened me; I had been taken completely off guard. Despite having spent all that morning talking with him, the happy-go-lucky air of his nature contradicted the fact he had made a statement, not a question.

‘No matter. This may be the last time we see each other anyway; I am sure you are here to visit friends or relatives here and it is rare that I venture out these days. Now, we are more to the South now, so we need to head North. North-East. I must continue my research at the library and you must be on your way. I am certain you will not get lost; The Square - that is, the centre of the town - has a very accurate map, so you should be able to find your friends and relatives without me stuck at your elbow.’ He laughed.

I chose not to correct him; better to let him believe I was safe. I was beginning to believe his character was genuine, so why let him worry and know I had no where to go?

‘If you do happen to need my assistance, though, you can find me at the library or the hospital; either one.’ He managed to fish out a business card. ‘In case you cannot find me at either one, I will be here. But for the meantime, let us head to the library. I smell rain in the air and I cannot afford to get wet.’

I became aware of my surroundings once again; I sensed it too. ‘Neither can I,’ I replied as we set off again, his books still cradled in my free arm. But I doubt that getting wet would result in your ultimate doom, Dr. Strauv.

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