It had almost always worked, when the matter at hand involved Faraj submitting himself and his own wishes to the demands of politics and propriety. And in turn his servants had almost always listened when he spoke on behalf of another.
The thought of what his unexpected selfishness might do to damage his relationship with his devoted servants was almost as painful to consider as the thought of what the Chamberlain wished to do to his sweet little Sahar.
But even if Master Asharan had the talent to call them back, Faraj couldn’t imagine Sahar would forgive him so readily for failing to protect her kittens. He certainly wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for that.
“Your Highness, if your heart hasnotbeen altered,” the Chamberlain mused, “if you remain the God-Emperor’s devoted prophet and priest? Then you will not object when I end this ensorcellment, which you believe hasnotbound you to a sorcerer’s will.”
“You’renotgoing tokill hiscat,” Najra said fiercely. “I’ll put all the cursed spellbooks in your pantry.Unwarded. All the cream in the kitchen will curdle and the linens will be imp-gnawed overnight?—”
“Do not set yourself against me in my own domain unless you truly do wish to learn whether I can have you banished from yours.” The Chamberlain turned to Faraj and said, “Please, your Highness, be reasonable. Set aside this flirtation with soul-binding, and we will all rest more easily knowing your mind and your heart are entirelyyours.”
Most of the time, when the Chamberlain advised him on what was right and proper for a man of his position to do and say, Faraj had dutifully listened. The Chamberlain had studied propriety and courtly powers with the same devotion that Faraj had studied the tax laws.
By every rule and every custom, the Chamberlain was unfortunately correct. By everything he had ever known in his brother’s court, Faraj understood why Irfan was so concerned about an unknown sorcerer’s bonds to the soul of the God-Emperor’s prophet, an unknown set of eyes set to watch and ears to listen to the private and powerful workings of his life. If the Chamberlain had returned to thehavelienraptured by a cat-familiar in his arms, Faraj would likely have feared for Irfan’s ensorcellment as well; Irfan had always been too orderly to delight in galloping mischief and shattered antiques and clawed-up tapestries.
But after years of listening to the Chamberlain’s advice, Faraj had also learned the Chamberlain’s own weaknesses. Both of them had danced the same word-games with the five realms’ priests and ambassadors for decades.
Faraj knew exactly how to make himself vulnerable in ways that the Chamberlain would refuse outright… and the leverage that refusal would give him.
The Chamberlain’s uncle had taught both of them the patterns of it when they had still been children. Faraj had simply never needed to use it against Irfan himself.
“I am, as you say, my brother’s prophet and priest,” Faraj said, clasping his hands behind his back to hide how they trembled. “No other priest of our own faith in this city has the standing to judge me, even if we both know half a dozen who would be pleased to thunder their wrath given half a chance. If you, my own sworn servant, refuse to accept my judgment in this matter, then I will appeal my judgment to the Greater Convocation in two weeks.”
“Absolutely not,” the Chamberlain said, tight-lipped. “To make ourselves the mockery of every petty god in the Empire? To submit your brother’s divine power and authority to judgment bychaos-worshippers and cat-priestesses—no.”
“One priest, then,” Faraj said, “under an oath of silence. One of the Council whose integrity is utterly beyond reproach. One who was born to the Empire, and knows our scripture.”
“Shai Vishal?” the Chamberlain said, because he knew Faraj as well as Faraj knew him.
“He worships a God who was once human, and knows both our Imperial scripture and the ways of mages and catfolk. If Shai Vishal says to me that bonding a cat-spirit into my heart imperils my allegiance to my brother’s priesthood and our Empire, I will accept his judgment as a man of both divine faith and educated political wisdom.”
And I pray Shai Vishal will forgive me for dragging him into a theological and political catfight without having the courtesy to ask him first.
…Not to mention the children’s patting and the wheedling for sweets.
Andespeciallynot to mention my impersonation of a mendicant of his faith while lounging outside a bath-house,being proudly claimed as a courtesan’s lover in front of all the gossiping aunties in the neighborhood.
Very much not to mention any of that.
Especially if he ever noticed that I used to be… that I once had …interests which he did not share.
…May the moon’s gentle illumination have mercy on my soul, because I doubt Shai Vishal will.
“I will take it under advisement, your Highness,” the Chamberlain said tightly. Which meant that he was already composing the personal appeal he was going to make to Shai Vishal.
That was fine; Faraj was thinking much the same. Honestly, he’d given the Chamberlain an advantage; Shai Vishal was not the sort of man who would appreciate being used as a pawn in an Imperial court-squabble any more than he would appreciate being wheedled for sweets. But Faraj believed that Shai Vishal would still be scrupulously fair to them both. Some of the other gods’ priests wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to shame the God-Emperor’s prophet, and by extension question the rightness of the guidance of the God-Emperor’s Empire itself.
The Chamberlain knew their names as well as he did. At the moment, the shadow-plays at the corners of his vision suggested the Chamberlain was not yet desperate enough to seek out one of the more vindictive gods’ priests instead. Faraj would have to be very, very careful and gentle with him.
“Great, glad that’s settled,” Najra said, dusting her hands together. Faraj winced, because for as dearly as he had always loved his treasured friend’s fearlessness, Najra was not what anyone would callcareful and gentle with propriety.“Let’s go catproof his Highness’ chambers.”
“His Highness’ chambersareno placeforsorcerous spycraft?—”
“Or, of course, I could keep his cat right here in the Archives. Where all the Archivists and all the scholars and all their junior secretaries will want to know all the details of how we’ve come into possession of an actual cat-familiar, right in the middle of the warding that is designed to keep magical familiars out,” Najra said brightly. “His Highness’s personal chambers see much less gossipful foot-traffic. But if you are utterly set against it,ya bir Enayat, I’m sure I can make her a cat bed in a nice, noticeable sunbeam in the reading room. Just think how many people will want to coo over the kittens.”
It wasn’t that Najra didn’t knowhowto play the games of powers, Faraj reflected, watching the clenched muscle in the Chamberlain’s jaw twitch. She absolutely knewhow.She just wasn’t the least bit gentle about it, and she took no prisoners.
Years ago, when they’d first met, he’d absolutely meant it when he’d told her he very much preferred the futures in which they could be friends. He could survive disagreeing with Irfan and be reasonably confident that there would be a way to mend their relationship with care and kindness.
