Licking its chops, the tabby told him,You’re decent for a human. Too bad you’re not a cat.
I will accept that great compliment in the generosity with which it was intended,Ashar told it, amused.Pray convey my regards to Mistress Salimat.
Gossip-storms or no, Ashar felt his obligation to Bastet and Upaja particularly keenly of late, and so he gathered up offerings for them both: catnip and a bundle of feathers for Bastet’s priestesses and their kittens to play with, a strand of jasmine blossoms and a full bowl of sweet confections for Upaja’s priests, whom he suspected were still being keenly pursued by the children and the kittens. On impulse, he tucked a long indigo-patterned scarf over the contents of his basket before he headed out the door, because prying eyes would make much of anything they could.
Ashar wasn’t sure whether it was cowardice or wisdom to choose the hottest part of the afternoon, when many of the aunties would be napping the heat away.
He made his offering to Bastet first, of course, because it was Her Temple, and because it was always entertaining to watch the priestesses’ pupils go wide and black when he brought catnip and feathers.
When he approached Upaja’s shrine in the entrance, his steps slowed despite himself.
Shai Vishal and Shai Jyoti were stirring the cauldrons, as was usual this time of day, and a small flock of congregants were chattering while they wiped the travel dust off the broadleaves that would become first plates and bowls for the evening rush and then fuel for the fires after a few days’ drying. A round man dressed almost as modestly as an Imperial maiden sat amongthem, with his hair and skin covered and his face veiled up to his eyes.
But what caught Ashar’s notice first was the absolute certainty that the clothes weren’t his own.
It wasn’t just that they fit him poorly; it was that he clearly had not become accustomed to how poorly they fit him. The sleeves were much too long and the shoulders too broad, and he kept hitching up the sleeves every time he moved his hands.
Ashar took a step or two closer, looking more carefully, and then he couldn’t help a silly smile, because herecognizedthose lovely, deep, gazelle-soft eyes.
Even if it’s terribly obvious as a disguise, it is at least a better disguise than gilded silks of Imperial saffron and a scarf over his face? And surely the aunties will not recognize his H-… my dear one from his eyes alone.Ashar was entirely certain that none of the aunties had spent a night gazing into this particular man’s eyes, admiring the soft, shining sweetness of them, and thinking of poetry that spoke of gazelles, or richly-simmered honey-caramel.
Shai Vishal said softly from behind him, “Our guest is known as Sami, because he is listening.”
“Yes,” Ashar said, nearly floating with joy. “Yes, of course he is.” He bit his lip before he could sayof course he could not be Rahat, here among Upaja’s own priests.
But he is here, now, beneath Bastet’s watchful eye. And he is a prophet.
Whatever risks he has foreseen, he must have seen that I am here with him as well. If he is here and I am here, then I could not be anywhere else but with him.
But then the butterflies fluttering in his heart scattered at the swatting paw of the prowling tomcat of practicality:
He is a prophet who foresees disasters on the scale of floods and fires and locusts, who apparently thinks troubleson the scale that prowls the Catsprowl alleys by night aren’t dangerous enough to trouble his prophetic notice. Or else he wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep wearing those gilded saffron silks the first time.
One of us is going to have to be cautious and strategic here, under the eyes of all these aunties. And I’m afraid it might be me.
Ashar wondered whether any of the flock had noticed the God-Emperor’s sigil among his rings. He would have to be very careful if they had.
He would have to be very careful anyway. Geeta-auntie sat among the gathered auntie-flock; better her than Ishta-auntie or Hamda-khala, but still, even Geeta-auntie might notice if he slipped. And the golden-eyed tawny tom lurking in the shadow of Upaja’s statue’s knee had very familiar lynx-tufts on the tips of his ears; it certainly would not do to upset Kamil into yowling his protests of Ashar’s impertinence before gods and priests and cats and gossiping aunties alike.
But if he had learned anything from both cats and aunties, it was how to brazen his way into a situation and take up residence whether he’d been invited or not.
And even if his dear one’s lips were hidden, Ashar wanted to see a smile warm those lovely eyes again. He let himself smolder, just a bit, as he prowled across the Temple floor with his best slink.
When the man who was called Sami this afternoon looked up at him, he made a tiny breathless squeak.
I can’t kiss him here,Ashar reminded himself firmly.He has covered his face.But he knelt with every grace he had ever practiced, holding both hands above that too-long sleeve.
“What do we have here? A man of mystery wrapped in an enigma? How very enticing. I find myself as curious as a cat.”Ashar folded the sleeve back neatly, and bent to kiss the back of his hand.
His sweet treasure squeaked again, and Ashar was entirely certain that if he were to move that scarf aside, there would be soft rose-blushes brightening the warm hue of his cheeks. Ashar let his hands appreciate their work as he folded a pleat into each of the loose cuffs and rolled them up so that they would fit smoothly against hisrahati’sforearms.
“Master Asharan,” Geeta-auntie said, “you’re being terribly impolite.”
“Impolite? Me? Geeta-auntie, when did you ever mistakemefor a member ofpolitesociety?” Ashar took the indigo scarf from the basket, looped it softly around Sami’s waist, and pleated more tidy folds at his side and the small of his back. “A gift such as this should be most beautifully wrapped.”
“But it’s very rude to comment on how poorly someone has disguised himself!”
Startled, Ashar’s heart kicked into a gallop despite his certainty that none of these women were as intimately familiar with the body of his H-… hisrahatias Ashar himself.
