If the other possible interpretation from that wistful, long-faded fantasy behind an offering of misplaced rings had never once occurred to Shai Vishal over the quarter century they had known each other, between the court and the temple and the clash of their vows to different gods… then this was absolutelynotthe day he would let Najra tease him about it, or provoke Shai Vishal into any shocked reconsideration of his years of gifted tokens. Not when Shai Vishal had just sat in judgment upon Faraj’s heart, soul, and faith. Everything still felt tooraw and delicate and precariously balanced to kick any more foundation-stones out of their mutual understandings.
Rubbing her ankle ostentatiously, Najra declared, “And this is why I’m agnostic. The godly portentous woo-woo and the priestly dominance pissing matches arefartoo much nuisance to bother propitiating. Give me a cat, I know where I stand with a cat.”
“As tempting as it is to imagine handing you a cat, locking you into a study with the Priests of the Assessors of Maat, and ignoring the ensuing screams of outrage until either the room becomes silent or some gelatinous purple cursed ooze starts trickling out from under the door,” Irfan began.
“Can we?” Shai Vishal muttered into a sip of his chai.
“Oh, let’s,” Najra said. “Can I borrow you, Kamil?”
“—As tempting as it is,” Irfan repeated, “I would find the aftermath of the panicked screams of sacrilege, blasphemy, and demon-summoning in woman-shape even more tedious than the cleanup of the room itself. With or without the cursed ooze.”
“You say that like it’s not evenmoretempting now.”
“Najra, please be gentle,” Faraj said. “Wouldn’t you rather look through the Temple library for cat-averting suggestions?”
“Isn’t that a sacrilegious notion here in Bastet’s Temple?” Najra asked, grinning. “But if I head to the market-witches’ stalls I’m sure I can find someone who’s fiddled up some movable cat-repulsion charms withnaranjoils and citron peel and hair of the dog.” She leaned an elbow on the table and said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to break some troublesome order-priests for you?”
“If Shai Nanda hasn’t already broken them,” Shai Vishal said, “it will be a miracle worthy of their gods, and we should accept the hand of divinity when it shelters its people.”
“You handedorder-prieststoShai Nanda?”Najra laughed. “You’re terrifying, your Reverence. Remind me to leave Upaja’speople alone.” She reached over and smudged three chalk lines on the stone floor, and Faraj’s ears popped again as her wards collapsed.
Within two seconds, a tabby cat’s paw had poked under the bottom of the door and started patting about for anything it might catch.
“Right,” Shai Vishal said, and eased the door open with cautious care for whatever might be too close to the other side.
At least two dozen cats and kittens of all shapes, sizes, and colors were sitting in the hall, variously napping in a sunbeam, ostentatiously ignoring the closed door, or avidly awaiting the moment it opened. A pounce of them streamed into the room to sniff and climb and poke and investigateeverything.
For some reason, Faraj seemed to be especially fascinating to them. He found three of them in his lap before he quite realized what was happening. All of them were purring vigorously, and a small sleek black tom who looked very much like Nehal kneaded at his knee, then climbed up his chest to perch on his shoulder and groom his hair and snuffle at his ear. Somehow, Kamil permitted all this without even a grumble.
…Ah. That — that was another kitten on the way.
His foresight in the aftermath of Shai Vishal’s judgment had suggested Sahar would expect about half a dozen of them, but he’d neglected to count, given the distractions of the day.
He shut his eyes and clung to the now-familiar edge of the table, because he didn’t wish to hurt any of the cats if a pang tightened his grip. A human hand touched his back, and another touched his hand; struggling to keep his breath even, he took the offered hand and held on. He heard Kamil’s deep purring even over the cats’, and the familiar rustle of Najra sorting through papers, and then that scritch-scritch-scritch of her silverpoint was interrupted suddenly.
“No, that isnota cat toy,” she said. “Watch me start rubbing my scribes’ tools withnaranjpeels.”
“I do the same,” Shai Vishal said, from quite a bit closer than Faraj had expected. And suddenly he realizedShai Vishalwas holding his hand, and rubbing his back with a breathtakingly unexpected tenderness.
He couldn’tpossiblyhide among the pillows under the table. He wouldn’t have fit even if his lap hadn’t been full of purring cats.
He must have flinched somehow, or perhaps his breath had caught.
Shai Vishal said, “I’m sorry, your Highness, I shouldn’t have— here.”
His hand was given to another — to Irfan, from the rings; Shai Vishal’s hands were bare, and Najra’s hands were smaller. He couldn’t speak to protest that he hadn’t intended that, not without hurting one of them. Not when he’d be lucky not to moan.
He held on to Irfan’s hands, and couldn’t tell whether he was more grateful or more distressed. Angry footsteps stormed down the hall, despite an indignant cat’s yowl. Even with his eyes shut tight, shadows flickered an umbral blue across his vision.
The Priest of the Assessor of Maat’s voice was so raspingly incredulous that Faraj didn’t need his eyes to picture the poor man’s expression. “You say thatthat womanis apriest,your Reverence? Youordained that woman?”
“That woman is a former caravanserai cook, and Upaja Himself has called her,” Shai Vishal said. “I simply acknowledged that.”
“Get back here this instant, young man!” Shai Nanda hollered from the hall. “You’re not done counting!”
“You — this place —allof you?—!”
“First time in Tel-Bastet?” Najra said dryly. “Whose priest are you anyway?”
