“If you feel you should not be standing here, then all the more reason to come and sit with me,” he said lightly. “Come, sit, wash your hands.”
Faraj looked around for a hand-bowl and an ewer, and found that Irfan had already fetched them, because of course he had; it was a matter of etiquette, and their guest might not be familiar with the custom. Amid the business of helping the shepherd wash his hands with rose-scented water and drying them with a soft cloth, Irfan also managed to tuck the staff and the dangling sandals into a corner beside a bookshelf. By the time Faraj had washed his hands as well, Irfan had somehow folded the shepherd into sitting on the floor-pillow at his side.Both Faraj and his guest were slightly bewildered as to how a few hand-gestures and a bit of leaning had accomplished that, and the shepherd still looked as though he might bolt. Faraj set the basket in the shepherd’s lap to slow him down a bit, at least.
“I take it that you are also a priest in attendance for the Greater Convocation, to have encountered Shai Rahim and this delightful basket of memories?”
“Oh — yes, sir, mistershahzadasir,” he said, trying not to squirm with little success. “They’re all very busy cooking right now, but Shai Rahim said it would be terribly rude of him to have come all this way to Tel-Bastet and yet not to send a token of his esteem to — what did he say — gore-something and con-something?”
“Er,” Faraj said, blinking. “I’m afraid I can’t imagine.”
Looking at the sheet of verses, Irfan said in the high court tongue, “A gourmand and a connoisseur.”
“Yes, those,” the shepherd said, relieved. “I mean, ah, those were the words he used? I hope they’re not… unfortunate.”
“It is hardly a secret that I appreciate my food,” Faraj said, with a rueful gesture toward his figure. “But from a priest of Upaja, I hear the voice of one who shares that appreciation, and who celebrates skill in the craftsmanship. Pray share the repast, good priest, that you may convey to his Reverence both my gratitude and a returning basket of delicious joys?”
“If you’re sure?” With a rueful gesture at his own admittedly dusty kurta, the shepherd said, “I wasn’t sure I’m even fit to serve at the priests’ table, mistershahzadasir.”
“You are welcome to refresh yourself and your garments if it pleases you,” Irfan said. “You are Elder Elias of the Shepherds, yes?”
“Yes, sir, but how on earth did you know that?”
“It is my duty to know every priest who comes to the Convocation,” Irfan replied, gently. “Of course you are welcomeat the priests’ table, as are all those who have traveled here for the Greater Convocation. Every faithful soul who comes to his Highness’ table in peace is welcome to share in the God-Emperor’s bounty.”
“Ah. Yes, I do take that point,” Elias said. He might be upended by the silks and splendor, but if he was the priest whom his fellows had sent to the Convocation, then the flows of power might well be more familiar to him than the silk pillow. “Thank you for your God-Emperor’s bounty, your Tallness.”
Irfan didn’t even blink. Kamil, who had been pretending to doze in the sunbeam while all the unthreatening paperwork was shuffled, made a snort that might hopefully be mistaken for a snore.
Faraj couldn’t help biting his lip, because he wanted to smile, but he also didn’t wish to hurt the young man’s feelings. Elias had clearly been listening for a repetition of the right phrase, and he’dalmostgotten the form of exaltation correct. And truly, Faraj, who barely came up to Kamil’s shoulder, would be charmed if anyone thought of him as a Tallness.
To keep himself from any inadvertent chuckles, Faraj busied himself with plating up servings of crisp-crackling bread still warm enough to sting his fingers, spooning up fragrant condiments and laying out citrus-brined fish, and telling Sahar’s much-too-interested pointed ears and snuffling nose and perked whiskers, “No,habibti, I’m certain you will be most gravely offended by the lemon.”
“Mrrt,” Sahar said, miffed, and nibbled at the tip of her tail.
Between the awareness of how much paperwork had accumulated during his unexpected absence, the concern for Irfan’s headache and unsteady penmanship, and the need to offer both Shai Rahim’s gift and its overwhelmed courier their proper attention and care, Faraj went a bit overboard in his hosting rhapsodies. He offered Elias bites from his fingersin ways that he hoped spoke more of the little neighborhood courtyard than the power of the Empire. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded; Elias’ eyes grew very wide and startled each time he tried, and he couldn’t tell whether Irfan’s brow-furrowed winces owed more to hisshahzada’sless-than-regal indignities or his own headache.
The third time Irfan shifted position so that the sun wouldn’t shine into his eyes even through the latticework of thejali, Faraj said, “Must I order you to go and lie down in a cool and shaded place, O most stubbornly dedicated of chamberlains? I can finish the menu and convey it to the kitchen staff.”
“I do apologize,” Irfan said, straightening his shoulders. “I assure you I am capable of service, and we are behind schedule.”
“The locusts will not rise up and devour the harvest if you rest and I send the revisions to the menu a few minutes later than the schedule.”
“If you’re so busy, your Tallness, I can go,” Elias said.
“Oh, please don’t,” Faraj blurted out, despite himself. If he couldn’t even soothe a common-born priest who’d had clear cause to come to thehaveli… that wistful hope of Master Asharan finding a place to flourish in the marble-lined halls began to droop like an untended herb in a dry garden.
Elias ran both hands over his face. “I’m a simple man, your Tallness sir, and I’m sorry if this is too blunt for the fancy way things are done here. I truly don’t know what the basket is hiding behind the high-culture veil. Are you propositioning me? Or do you want me to proposition Shai Rahim on your behalf?”
Irfan choked. In the presence of a guest, that said volumes about his headache.
“Merciful heavens,” Faraj said, half strangled by guilt. “I’m so sorry, I would never — I only hoped — it is a tasteful gift filled with kindness, and I’d hoped to share it, to invite you to feel welcome. That’s all. I swear. If I were Menas’s High Priestit would be different, but Menas’s High Priest is also, um, more explicit?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve met him already,” Elias said, wry. “That’s why I wasn’t sure, because I figure courtly folks are more subtle than that. Thank you. But why me? And if you’re in a hurry…”
“Because you brought it to us,” Faraj told him, “and you felt uncertain of your welcome, and gifts like these are meant to be shared and savored. And thereshouldbe time for moments like these. Time for Irfan to rest his eyes. Time for you to settle yourself, after traveling from — by your voice I would guess the northeastern coast, near Saluqiyyah?”
“Yes, sir,” Elias said. “I’m accustomed to sitting around waiting for sheep, your Tallness. My life doesn’t have so much rushing in it that time for a delicious treat and a collection of verse is difficult to come by. But it sounds as though a slow moment with nothing else demanding your attention is a rare treasure for you, sir. And so if I might share with you some of my patient time, that is a wealth I have to spare.”
“I’ll complete the menu elsewhere, your Highness,” Irfan said, gathering his papers. Faraj reached out and placed a hand over his.
