“Kamil…?”
“It’s a whetstone,” Kamil said. “Good for sharpening blades, or claws.” His voice softened, gentler than Rahat had ever heard him before. “So that I can keep our Rahat-sahib safe — is that right, littlest sister? Thank you.”
She nodded, and Rahat bit his lip to keep from giggling at the tickle. Kamil took the stone carefully, and stroked the sides of each claw against it, one at a time, just loudly enough to rasp. Priye’s shivering shifted into the tremors of the tiniest of purrs.
“Thank you so much,”Rahat told her, cuddling her close; she was delightfully soft, and much more accepting of hugs than Kamil. “We’ll all be safe with Kamil to keep our watch.”
“You had to say it, didn’t you,” Kamil sighed.
“Of course I did, because it’s true. Nothing will get past you that’s more dangerous than a cup of hot chai.”
That hadn’t been an entirely hypothetical example, of course. The fretting shadows that had been simmering at the corner of his eyes for several minutes suddenly flared and spilled over. Rahat put his hand over Priye’s sensitive ears a split second before Kamil growled and lunged at the man who’d just rounded the alley’s corner — and, yes, dropped his mug of chai.
“Shah–”
“Shut up!”Kamil hissed, tail lashing violently as he pinned the third undersecretary of the registry to the nearest wall with an arm-bar across the throat. Sahar’s basket still swung from his other arm, and she gave an irritated yowl.
“But he?—”
“Shut.UP.You’ll scare the kitten.”
“But—”
“Are all your undersecretaries chosen for their stupidity?” Kamil snarled, sharp claws just an inch from the poor man’s throat.
Not entirely unsurprisingly, he fainted.
“I thought you said that wasn’t foresight, the third undersecretary shouting,” Kamil muttered, setting Sahar’s basket down much more carefully than he let the dead weight of the undersecretary slump to the paving-stones. (Sahar sniffed at the undersecretary’s collar and the puddle of chai with similar levels of unimpressedness.)
“Itwasn’tforesight; I’d expected Ahmed to do a great deal more shouting than that,” Rahat admitted, cradling the shivering little huddle of Priye with careful hands. Ahmed was a loyal, honest, and devoted servant of the Ministry of Finance, and all of that was very much to the good. But they had also worked together for enough years that Rahat understood Ahmed did not handle chaos or disruption to his systematic and orderly world well. Ordinarily, Rahat agreed with him that an orderly world was much preferable to chaos and disruption. But this was a particularly unusual morning. “It’s all right,habibti,”he told Priye.“Ahmed wouldn’t shout at you, and I’m quite used to the grumbling. But perhaps we ought not lingerexactlyhere.”
“You carry the kittens, I carry the idiot?” Kamil sighed. “Come on, I know a good place nearby.”
Rahat had honestly been expecting Kamil to lead them to his favorite taverna, because the lurking shadows had faded from his vision and a taverna seemed a place where people were known to pass out. Not that he had ever set foot in one himself, of course, but the poets did tell tales. Instead, Kamil led them between the backs of a row of market-tents facing alarger street, then loosened the wall-ties and hurried them into a particularly brightly colored one.
The tent Kamil had chosen was full of bolts of fabric and bins of stitchwork and stacks of woven cat-rugs for clawing or lying upon, and Priye looked around with wide eyes.
But the merchant turned toward them and took a startled breath, and then she dropped to her knees and bowed her head to the ground.
“Oh, please don’t,” Rahat said a bit awkwardly; with Priye in one arm and Sahar’s basket in the other, he was out of hands to lift her from her obeisance. “Your pardon, my lady, but I am in need of a touch of discretion.” To Kamil, he said plaintively, “What gave me away?”
“This one’s my fault,” Kamil admitted, dropping the third undersecretary in the vicinity of a pile of scratch-mats. “Esha knows who I work for. Esha, this is my friend Rahat-sahib, and little Priye. Oh, and also the third undersecretary of the registry in the Ministry of Finance, but ignore him. We’re here to shop.”
Despite the trembling fingers she clasped so tightly her knuckles stood stark as stones against her soft brown hands, Esha was as quick on the uptake as any courtier Rahat had ever met. “Welcome, R-rahat-sahib — a t-thousand welcomes. Shopping, you say?”
Priye was giving Rahat a profoundly suspicious look. No one did skeptical glowering like an alley-kitten… except possibly for Kamil, who had, of course, been an alley-kitten himself once upon a time. It ached more than he’d expected, to have upset her with his deception. He took refuge in chatter.
“Sahar is my new cat, you see, and I’ve never had a housecat of my own before, and I’m sure we all agree Kamil is far too fierce to have opinions on cat toys. And Priye gave me the most lovely piece of yarn for Sahar and her kittens! And so… um… with such a voice of authority on what kittens might enjoy,and my own inexperience… I thought… perhaps… if our young expert were to advise…?”
Priye crossed her arms.
“I’m sorry!” Rahat wailed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — to upset you, or frighten you, or cause you to question — I’m so sorry.”
But Priye shook her head vigorously, nose crinkled in kitten exasperation. She rubbed her cheek against his, knocking a couple of the flowers loose from his beard, then picked them up from the folds of the bath-towel drape and tucked them back in place with a pat.
She thinks we did this to buy her another yarn ball,Kamil informed him,not that you’re the God-Emperor’s wayward brother. Obviously, we’re going to buy several toys.
“Oh, thank the stars,” Rahat breathed, relieved. (He was coming to the conclusion that he really wasn’t suited to a life of espionage and adventure. It was far too upsetting when he needed to lie to kittens.)
