“They’re a gift,” Rahat said, a bit shy, hoping he didn’t sound quite as besotted as he felt. “Given in joy, and shared with pleasure.”
Priye snuggled against his side again, purring, happy to have shared her person’s magic with the toy-maker. But Rahat noted that she didn’t reach for the third undersecretary’s hand, and honestly, he didn’t think his own nerves would have held up if she had.
“I should send for a physician,” the third undersecretary moaned. “To determine whether you’re mad or bewitched or…”
“For a cup of chai in the marketplace?” Rahat asked as mildly as he could, burying his fingers in Priye’s thick fur to try to hide their trembling. “Surely he should examine us both, if it is so dire a thing to wish of a morning. Half the ministry as well. We’ll need to write up a roster.”
“I do not fetch my morning cup of chai dressed in a bath-towel, sahib!”
“Well, perhaps you should have. I note your robes may be difficult to recover from the commingled contents of that questionable alley’s puddles.”
“Youknowthe difference, sh– sahib! It isnot done!”
“And yet it very clearlyisdone,” Rahat pointed out, “since we both have just done it. To think I had been dreading what youwould say to me for arriving late with chai spilled on my silks! How comforting to find you understand these circumstances so well yourself, Ahmed.”
“Sahib,” the third undersecretary said heavily, “if you have no respect left for yourself, think of what the — of what your esteemed brother would say.”
“Oh, I most certainly do,” Rahat said pleasantly, and kept to himself what exactly those sayings might be. “In fact, I dare flatter myself to think that of the two of us, I have a more accurate guess. He is, after all,mybrother.”
The third undersecretary flinched.
Esha cleared her throat, and offered another bolt of the towel-fabric with a bow that wasn’t quite swift enough to hide the mirth in her eyes.
“With my compliments, Rahat-sahib. If your companion finds his own attire in too great a disarray for the ministry offices, I should be honored to aid you.”
“And to ignite a month’s gossip,” the undersecretary muttered.
“All the better,” Esha said. “To a humble weaver like myself, it would of course be a great honor to be spoken of in such exalted halls. And if you would entrust me with your stained garments, the soap-maker three streets west also has a spell for swift drying.”
“This is something that is going to happen, isn’t it,” the third undersecretary said warily, staring at the bolt of fabric. “I am going to sit half naked in the marketplace with— with?—”
“No more so than your average monk,” Esha pointed out.
“This manis not your average monk!”
“Well, neither are you, Ahmed-sahib; but I should still imagine it is preferable to wearing wet and stained clothes to your scriptorium.”
The third undersecretary took the cloth bolt from her and stepped behind the hanging tapestry that partitioned off part of the tent for privacy’s sake. After a bit of rustling, one skinny arm held out a fistful of clothes. Esha took them with a bow toward the tapestry, just in case, and she also bowed to Rahat before hurrying away toward her soap-making neighbor’s stall.
“Ahmed?” Rahat asked, since the third undersecretary showed no signs of re-emergence. “Are you feeling unwell?”
At that, he stuck his head back out from behind the tapestry, more than a little wild around the eyes. “AmIfeeling unwell? I don’t know! Either all three of you have lost your minds, or I have!”
“Would you like me to fetch you another cup of chai?” Rahat offered. “I do feel somewhat responsible for the unfortunate fate of your first cup.”
“No. No, your H– no, sahib. I wouldnotlike to sendyouinto the marketplace, wearing nothing but a towel, to fetchmea cup of chai.”
Ahmed stepped out from behind the tapestry, rather badly wrapped in the entire bolt of cloth, and he sank to his knees and bowed his forehead to one of the scratch-mats on the ground.
“Please, y-… sahib. Please put your clothes back on. And let us make haste to the ministry before the sky turns to blood and the jackals swear off carrion and the sun rises in the west. But at the very least, put your clothes back on first.”
Rahat laughed, a little, but he couldn’t pretend it was a happy sound. “I confess I will miss the street children, who did not find my figure quite so bluntly revolting.”
“Shah–” Kamil’s snarl cut him short, and the third undersecretary amended himself desperately, “Sahib.Sahib, it’s not — that’s not why?—”
Little Priye hissed at him again. He dug both hands through his hair, and tried another side.
“Three days ago, sahib, if I had staggered into the ministry late for my shift, wearing nothing but a bath-towel and reed sandals — whether or not I was reeking of alcohol or hashish, would you not have been concerned for my state of mind? Would you not have wondered whether I was ill or bewitched or suffering some crisis of the soul?”
