eating them!’
Despite all this, I still held fast to my decision not to eat them any more. Then he started snivelling and wiping his eyes again; I knew that this was his last resort. However, this time I couldn’t afford to be soft, for I realised that Scorpion’s plan was to have me eat reverie leaves until I became just like the Cat People. I couldn’t allow him to manipulate me at his own sweet will like that, and I had already made the mistake of being too easygoing with him. I wanted to get back to a human kind of existence. I wanted to eat, drink and bathe. I was not going to allow myself to metamorphose into something only half -alive, like the Cat People. If by going without reverie leaves I could live humanly and rationally as I had before, then it would still be worth it even if I only lived a few weeks. Even if I were to be offered eight thousand years of the half-dead existence of a Cat Person, I should still refuse it. I explained this to Scorpion, but he was, of course, unable to understand. He probably concluded that my brain must be made of stone. But, come hell or high water, I had made up my mind on this point and I would not change it.
After negotiating this point with him for three days without arriving at any conclusion, I was forced to resort to my revolver. However, I had not forgotten the concept of fair play, and placing the revolver on the ground between us, I told Scorpion, ‘If you insist on my eating the reverie leaves, then one of us has to die. Either I kill you or you kill me, I don’t care which. You decide!’ Scorpion ran six or seven yards in the other direction. He couldn’t kill me. A gun in his hand was less useful than a stalk of straw in the hands of a foreigner. Besides, he wanted me, not my revolver.
We arrived at a compromise: I’d eat a reverie leaf every morning. ‘Only one leaf, only one little piece of our treasured leaf, in order to work as an antidote against the poisonous vapours in the air,’ said Scorpion. I had put my revolver away at his request, and he now sat, pointing a short finger at me. He would provide me with an evening meal, but getting water would be difficult. I suggested that I go down to the river every morning to bathe and at the same time bring back a jar of water. He didn’t approve. Why should I travel such a distance every day just to bathe? It was stupid, especially since I’d have to carry a jar all the way. Why not simply relax and eat reverie leaves instead? ‘There are good things right before your eyes, but you don’t know how to enjoy them,’ – I was positive he’d say something like this, but he didn’t. Furthermore – and this was what he really had in mind – he’d have to accompany me. I said I didn’t need his company. But he told me he was afraid I might try to run away, and that’s what he was most concerned about. Actually, if I planned on running away, I could do it whether he accompanied me or not, couldn’t I? I asked him that question straight out, and he actually closed his mouth for a full ten minutes or so. I was afraid I had scared him to death with my implied threat.
‘There’s really no need to accompany me. I’ve decided not to run away. I swear to you that I won’t run away,’ I said.
He shook his head lightly. ‘Taking oaths is something that only children do for fun.’
I got hot under the collar. Insult me to my face, would he! I grabbed the fine hair on his head. This was the first time I had used force on him, and he hadn’t expected it or he would have long since run far out of reach. His surprise at my reaction was probably genuine, for I later found out that what he said about taking oaths was true. He sacrificed some fine hair and perhaps a piece of scalp in order to break away from me.
From a safe distance he explained that in the history of Cat Country, taking oaths had once been a common practice. However, within the last five hundred years there had been too many instances of
Despite all this, I still held fast to my decision not to eat them any more. Then he started snivelling and wiping his eyes again; I knew that this was his last resort. However, this time I couldn’t afford to be soft, for I realised that Scorpion’s plan was to have me eat reverie leaves until I became just like the Cat People. I couldn’t allow him to manipulate me at his own sweet will like that, and I had already made the mistake of being too easygoing with him. I wanted to get back to a human kind of existence. I wanted to eat, drink and bathe. I was not going to allow myself to metamorphose into something only half -alive, like the Cat People. If by going without reverie leaves I could live humanly and rationally as I had before, then it would still be worth it even if I only lived a few weeks. Even if I were to be offered eight thousand years of the half-dead existence of a Cat Person, I should still refuse it. I explained this to Scorpion, but he was, of course, unable to understand. He probably concluded that my brain must be made of stone. But, come hell or high water, I had made up my mind on this point and I would not change it.
After negotiating this point with him for three days without arriving at any conclusion, I was forced to resort to my revolver. However, I had not forgotten the concept of fair play, and placing the revolver on the ground between us, I told Scorpion, ‘If you insist on my eating the reverie leaves, then one of us has to die. Either I kill you or you kill me, I don’t care which. You decide!’ Scorpion ran six or seven yards in the other direction. He couldn’t kill me. A gun in his hand was less useful than a stalk of straw in the hands of a foreigner. Besides, he wanted me, not my revolver.
We arrived at a compromise: I’d eat a reverie leaf every morning. ‘Only one leaf, only one little piece of our treasured leaf, in order to work as an antidote against the poisonous vapours in the air,’ said Scorpion. I had put my revolver away at his request, and he now sat, pointing a short finger at me. He would provide me with an evening meal, but getting water would be difficult. I suggested that I go down to the river every morning to bathe and at the same time bring back a jar of water. He didn’t approve. Why should I travel such a distance every day just to bathe? It was stupid, especially since I’d have to carry a jar all the way. Why not simply relax and eat reverie leaves instead? ‘There are good things right before your eyes, but you don’t know how to enjoy them,’ – I was positive he’d say something like this, but he didn’t. Furthermore – and this was what he really had in mind – he’d have to accompany me. I said I didn’t need his company. But he told me he was afraid I might try to run away, and that’s what he was most concerned about. Actually, if I planned on running away, I could do it whether he accompanied me or not, couldn’t I? I asked him that question straight out, and he actually closed his mouth for a full ten minutes or so. I was afraid I had scared him to death with my implied threat.
‘There’s really no need to accompany me. I’ve decided not to run away. I swear to you that I won’t run away,’ I said.
He shook his head lightly. ‘Taking oaths is something that only children do for fun.’
I got hot under the collar. Insult me to my face, would he! I grabbed the fine hair on his head. This was the first time I had used force on him, and he hadn’t expected it or he would have long since run far out of reach. His surprise at my reaction was probably genuine, for I later found out that what he said about taking oaths was true. He sacrificed some fine hair and perhaps a piece of scalp in order to break away from me.
From a safe distance he explained that in the history of Cat Country, taking oaths had once been a common practice. However, within the last five hundred years there had been too many instances of
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