Sweetboy’s war-cry. He had never achieved the volume of Notable, but he could
sure raise hell, nape-hair and heartbeats. The pair of yowling sounds were
followed by a much louder banging than the first. And a yell that was positively
a shriek.
From the doorway Ahdio glimpsed it all at once. The balding man and his big
ejected pal Narvy, from last night, were in the act of removing a barrel marked
with the hoofprint of a goat branded in black; the scream-trailing black streak
was a watch-cat earning its keep. The cat landed acrouch on the barrel between
them, having in passing opened the balding man’s sleeve without even trying. It
hissed, whipping its stub back and forth, and uncoiled to hit Narvy’s big chest.
Narvy’s friend yelled when he felt his arm hit; when he saw the demonic
apparition appear as if by ghastly sorcery right on the barrel he was so happily
stealing, he let go his end.
It was his friend Narvy who let out the high-voiced shriek; the impact of the
hurtling cat was bad enough, but the feel of all those claws puncturing his
chest through two layers of blue linsey-woolsey was a lot worse. Besides,
Sweetboy wasn’t just there; he was climbing, and that evilly fanged face was
terribly close to Narvy’s own. Naturally he too let go the tun of beer, to get
both arms in front of his face. Since his friend had already let go, the barrel
swung in as it dropped, and got Narvy’s shin and one foot. He positively
bellowed. Besides, the carefully misnamed Sweetboy, intent on reaching his face,
was busily trying to chew his way through Narvy’s sleeved arm. Narvy’s throat