“I have most personally offended his bureaucrats?”
“Is an accountant’s passion for mathematics trulythatunholy?” Ashar managed, somehow keeping his voice light.
“His bureaucrats areright here,” Geeta-auntie moaned. “Oh, Sami, what have youdone?”
“Um.” The bowl was crumpling in Sami’s fretful hands. “I have brought a cat-familiar home with me, to thehaveliwhere cats are forbidden. She is about to have kittens, and those who oppose her believe she should be… should be banished…”
“WHAT?”they all yowled again.
“It is a very complicated matter of theology when the priestesses of the cat-goddesses maintain that the cat owns and commands the human, you see?—”
“Oh,no,”Ashar breathed, utterly heart-sick. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
He’d wanted to bring Rahatjoy,not guilt and shame and accusations of heresy.
He’d never dreamed that inviting Rahat to share in Nehal’s summoning would lead to something like this. He’d never wanted to entangle himself into the politics of the realm, or the rivalries between the gods. Of course theGod-Emperor’s prophetcould not permit himself to becontrolledby a summoned cat-spirit.
But if you asked anycatwhich of them made the demands, and which of them leapt to serve… and Tel-Bastet was full of catfolk who would yowl their delight in such upending of the balance of power.
The kind of gleeful mockery the street-poets could make of the God-Emperor’s prophet cleaning a mere housecat’s sandbox?—
“Don’tyoube sorry,” Hoda-auntie growled, retying her headscarf and winding up her hand-towel for battle. “THEYare about to be sorry. This isBastet’s city,and those arrogant quill-twiddlers haveno ideawho they’ve set themselves against. Where is your little goddess now, Sami,beta?”
“Ohdear,”Sami said. His bowl had entirely crumpled into a wrinkly green blob. “She’s fine, she’s safe, I have left her with a trusted guardian— and to be fair, I’m almost certain she’s not a goddess?—”
“You haven’t askedherthat, have you,” Mreret sniffed. “Every cat is a goddess when you ask her. Why didn’t you tell usthat, instead of your tax shell game?”
“Because I needed to hear the voice of common opinion,” Sami said, “and surely you would care most deeply about matters affecting more of the community, not merely myself?”
“Beta, no one gives half a fig for tax law around here,” Basima-auntie said.
“Cats arealwaysmore interesting,” Mreret agreed, tail lashing.
“Cats are very like royalty in that way,” Ashar told him, with a wry, unsteady smile.I can’t look guilty. I can’t admit anything. None of them should think I feel responsible for Sami the accountant’s heresy-accusations. So, if I can’t look guilty, then I must keep diverting them all.“Both cats and princes attract far more attention than one might expect from their size alone.”
“Evidently so,” Sami sighed, touching his veil to be certain his expression was well hidden. “I should advise theshahzadato learn to purr if he wishes for attention to be paid to our tax proposals.”
“Oh, I wouldloveto hear that,” Ashar murmured, allowing himself a touch of a smolder.
His sweet shy darling squeaked again, and Ashar smiled to have his enticements appreciated.
Hoda-auntie snapped Ashar with the hand-towel.“Down,boy,” she said sternly. “Surely priests and heretics and bath-house gossips are enough to keep your wandering hands busy!Leave our poorshahzadaalone. We don’t need any more scandals laid at your feet.”
“As you say, Hoda-auntie,” Ashar said, sighing. He had brought too much trouble already, without ever meaning a moment’s harm. He didn’t know how Hira and Mreret managed to pull off such feline insolence unscathed. …But then, neither of them had set their heart upon a prince of the realm.
Looking at the mess of the crumpled bowl in his hands, Sami stammered, “I’m sorry — I didn’t— I didn’t mean to cause trouble?—”
“Says the heretical accountant?” Mreret purred.
“I didn’t mean to cause troublehere,”he said. “Only where it might be useful. Making changes are often quite troublesome in a bureaucracy this vast, and I hope to make the improving sort of trouble, not the destructive sort.” He brushed vainly at the crumpled leaf-bowl.
“You are not at all like a cat, are you,” Mreret sniffed.
“And that is perfectly fine, since you are a conscientious and compassionate human instead of catfolk,” Ashar told him. (Mreret made a noise like a hairball.)
Ashar picked up another leaf and set it into Sami’shands, guiding him through the movements of folding and creasing and piercing and pinning. His darling’s hands were soft and plump and slightly ink-stained at the side of his index finger.
Ashar couldn’t rely on his usual diversions in the Temple, not amid a flock of priests and aunties. If they’d been alone in the baths, he could have splashed those gentle hands with rosewater and dusted them with sugar and then kissed and licked them clean. But here it would light a fire under the gossip, no matter how delightful a diversion it might be, or how much more pleasant to contemplate than words like heresy.
