Aylem, Is’syal, Harvest Season, 6th rot., 9th day – Foskos time

  “What’s this?” I looked down upon a grey, long-haired, adolescent cat stalking Lyappis’s feet, which were under the covers. Lyappis was unable to move anything because her legs were still in the splints. However, she could wiggle her toes on both feet and this had the kitty’s attention.

  The adolescent cat was head down with the rear end raised at the foot of the bed. The butt and back haunches were rhythmically gyrating as the creature prepared to pounce. The look on Lyappis's face, as she lured the kitty with her twitching toes, was one of mischievous anticipation.

  Garki stood in a hurry when he saw me leaning in the doorway to Lyappis’s recovering room. “May the blessings of the eleven gods be upon you, Mother Aylem,” he performed a bowing obeisance.

  I kissed my adoptive son on the cheek, "and upon you too, son." I took the armchair next to his. "Now I know why we missed you at the morning repast.”

  The young cat was no longer fixated on Lyappis’s toes but on me. I was being studied by unblinking orange eyes. This cat had striking looks between the long dark grey fur, the orange eyes, and a round, expressive face.

  “I thought all the castle cats were on the ground floor,” I studied the well-fed and perfectly groomed feline, who studied me back.

  “She’s not a kitchen cat,” Garki replied, looking panicked. “This is House, my Mistress’s cat.”

  “Oh. I see. So this is the famous house cat,” I reached over and scratched her behind the ears.

  “No,” Lyappis grinned at me, “this is the cat House.”

  “The cat H . . .,” I couldn’t finish the sentence. First, I snickered, which appalled me. What had happened to my control over my expressions? Then, things got worse. I startled myself as a laugh grew in my gut, convulsed my diaphragm, lifted my shoulders, and erupted out of my mouth as a cascade of phreatic explosions of hilarity left me gasping for air.

  Garki had his chin in his hand and studied me like he studied his schoolwork. Lyappis was looking merely amused. House had sat up and was giving me a look that managed to convey condescension, amusement, pity, and astonishment all in one expression, a feat possible only if one is a Felis domesticus

  I couldn’t stop laughing. The subtle jest was just enough to set me off, especially after a rotation full of everything, from plagues to pirates. The absurdity of the “cat House” — a phrase set up deliberately to segue off "house cat" — hit my funny bone and set me off.

  When I managed to control myself, I stated, “We must now consider Galt to be a god who is not above playing word games. He’s the one who named House. Her name shows that the cat god indeed has a sense of humor, a rather underhanded and stealthy one.”

  “What? I thought it was a bit twisted myself,” Lyappis replied. “Like Tiki’s pranks.”

  "Oh no, no, no, no, no!" I rebutted. "Tiki's little jokes are masterpieces of crafting but designed with only one person in mind, that of the poor revelator on the other side of the revelation. The name of the cat House, however, is subtle humor aimed at those who understand not only the flip in words but also the human nature that cons everyone, including me, to say 'house cat,' giving someone like you the opportunity to deliver the punch line of 'cat House.' No, this humor is more underhanded and sophisticated than Tiki's."

  “Underhanded?” Lyappis gave me a mentor’s disapproving scowl. “Is that a term one should use when speaking of a deity?”

  “Yes, underhanded, sneaky, and subtle — just like a cat out hunting or playing,” I countered. “Truly, a feline sense of humor, with a dash of that intellectual superiority that felines like to convey. Isn’t that right, House?” I asked the cat for the sake of being perverse.

  The cat understood what I said, I swear. She deliberately winked at me with her head turned so only I could see it. Just when I was about to say something, House broke my gaze, looked at the ground, licked her paw, and started grooming. Typical cat behavior. I wasn’t fooled by the grooming. I am sure I saw that feline wink at me. Galt himself gave House to Galt's avatar. The cat had to be some kind of special creature.

  Garki had missed House's reaction to my question. He was staring into space, contemplating whatever it was young men contemplate. “I can understand the wordplay," Garki said thoughtfully. "That is very in character for the cat god. So is Galt’s habit of creating wordplay that many will enjoy — I can think of at least four places in scripture where Galt has employed wordplay and one place where he used a truly atrocious pun. There’s a tale in the collection of Yantes Valley folklore that features Galt tricking con artists and swindlers with word games or riddles, which are another form of wordplay. There’s also Emily’s tale about Galt’s sign on the side of the road. I believe my lady mother is onto something. I think she’s described Galt’s sense of humor accurately.”

  “You do, do you?” Lyappis quizzed the boy. “Well, then, Aylem, I take back my objection. Your corroborator here believes you have portrayed his god accurately, and he’s someone touched by Galt, so his belief in you means something.

  For no reason, the cat House chose that moment to start purring. If you assumed she knew what we were saying, then everything she did made frightening sense. House was a very scary little kitty.

  "So, you're dressed for flying, and your hair is not up but in a braid,” Lyappis observed, “which can be undone quickly for being worn down during a funeral. Given the timing, I believe you are stopping by to say that you’re leaving soon for the Bidding Farewell ceremony for the miners of Pinisla, which is this afternoon.”

  “Well, you guessed correctly,” I said. “If you’re done with your letter to Lisaykos, I can take it to her. I know you were writing it last night. I can’t doddle too long because Imstay and your lovely daughter are waiting for me. We’re going down together.”

  Then, what Garki had said about Galt and Emily burst into my awareness. “Wait, Garki, dear heart . . .,” I purred.

  He gave me a very satisfactory look of panic, “Whatever it is, Mother Aylem, I didn’t do it, it’s not my fault, and Father Imstay made me do it.”

  “You can’t claim all three excuses at the same time, young man,” Lyappis pointed out with a teasing smile.

  “Oh yes, I can!" he stated. Both Lyappis and I laughed at his reaction. Now that he was no longer working as a page, his demeanor had loosened up, and he behaved more like the kid that he was rather than like the King's ultra-competent, super-composed page.

  “Garki, please explain exactly what you meant when you said 'Emily’s tale about Galt’s sign on the side of the road.’ Also, please tell me why you knew of this and I didn't?" I smiled as sweetly as I could manage and batted my eyes at the poor boy for good measure. Garki was very much Imstay's boy, but he had some soft spots that made him fun to tease.

  "It sounds like our favorite little prophet forgot to disclose divine interactions again," Lyappis surmised.

  “It indeed does,” I stated as Garki looked nervously between the two of us.

  “So, is this something your Mistress also knows, son?” I prodded gently.

  “Maybe not,” he said softly with painfully slow consideration.

  I groaned, “Alright, Garki, give me a synopsis about Galt and a roadside sign. I assume this story involves self-propelled carts on Earth using Earth roads lined with large signs to broadcast messages or promote goods for sale.”

  “Yes,” he blinked in surprise.

  “I’m on a schedule, son,” I nudged.

  “Yes, Mother,” he caved. “There was a book that Emily had read on Earth that had a main character called John Galt. John is a given name, and Galt is a clan name. The book was famous for many things, but one of them was that this John Galt character, the most important person in the story, was missing from the first half of the narrative. Instead, the book continually posed the question, ‘Where is John Galt?’ The phrase was repeated so much in the text that it became as well-known as the book itself. Anyway, Galt was driving Emily in one of those self-propelled carts on a road through farm fields to get to a city she knew where she and Galt went out to eat a dining hall famous for flatwrapcakes with different kinds of fillings other than fruit.”

  Wait, I do know this story,” I realized, “at least the part about going out to dine with Galt in a fancy car to a place serving crepes in Sacramento.” I had to use the English words for car and crepes since they didn’t exist in the Fosk language. “Then, the two of them picked up Tiki to go to a bar in Salt Lake City overlooking the Mormon Temple, where Tiki served drinks that had to have milk in them. Giltak and Gertzpul joined them there.”

  “That’s right,” Garki popped up, “though there was a lot of Earth humor involved about the milk and drinking alcohol that I didn’t understand, even though the Blessed One tried to explain it to me.”

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  “And when did Emily tell you this?” I had to ask.

  “When Tom and Emily snuck off to Lord Irhessa’s home for some privacy after Lord Oysumi haup Yant’s handfasting. It was one the day my Mistress gave Tom a tour of the Shrine. She insisted on walking beside him or carrying him, where necessary – which was often because three library floors have no accommodation for people of Coyn stature.

  “I was assigned the duty of walking with or carrying the Prophet. We were just following along behind the Revered Tom and my Mistress because Emily already knew about the different parts of the Shrine. So we weren't listening too closely to my Mistress as she spoke. I asked the Blessed One about her perspective on Galt since he is the god that marked me, and she told a whole bunch of stories about her experiences with him. In her tellings, Galt is a very subtle and clever god, short of temper but fair in judgment. And he's very catlike and playful, but complete with a cat's sense of superiority and a feline's need to be adored and scratched in the right places."

  “I see,” I groaned as I appreciated that Emily had omitted, once again, from her narratives about dealing with the eleven gods. “Garki, you should write down everything you remember about what Emily told you,” I advised. “Preserving everything she says about the gods is of the utmost importance.”

  He grinned as his face assumed his usual satisfied expression, the one he gets when he knows he just flaunted his super-competency once again. Oh well, it made him happy and did no harm.

  “Mother, dear heart,” he looked so proud, “I did so immediately after she told me. I was thinking that it would make an invaluable heirloom for my family.”

  The only family that the orphan Garki had was the one that had adopted him. I gasped at the simple generosity of his impossible plan. But his record of what Emily had told him became scripture the moment he wrote it down. As such, it could never become the sole property of the royal family. Garki’s original text would become part of the collection of original scriptures stored in the Timeless Vault at the Crystal Shrine of Tiki. The Scriptorium at the Crystal Shrine would then make copies to distribute.

  “That was a wonderful thought, son,” I beamed at him. I understood why Imstay was so fond of this child. “Now tell me what Emily’s book has to do with Emily’s trip to eat crepes with Galt, other than the name of the mysterious main character.”

  “Oh,” Garki reverted to being all business. “One of the little towns was named Galt – the towns along the road into the city with the eatery. The town was named after someone whose clan name was Galt. What the god Galt did was to hire one of these big roadside signs in the middle of the town of Galt. Because of the slogan 'Where is John Galt?', the god Galt painted the sign to say 'Welcome home, John,' with credit for hiring the sign attributed to the fans of the book’s author. The Prophet thought this was very clever and funny. But the story affirms your own assessment that Galt likes wordplay," Garki wrapped up, leaving me feeling warm toward his rather analytical compliment.

  Moo’upegan, Souk, Harvest Season, 6th rot., night of the 9th day to morning of the 10th – East Coast time

  I could feel her misery as she shivered in her sleep from the cold. I felt all that she felt because I have good empathy. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I reached out and cast a touch of warmth on the Beloved. Then, I ensured she stayed asleep as I gathered her in my arms under my blankets and bearskins. I cast a barrier charm on her, just to be sure I didn’t roll over her while I slept.

  I knew she would complain to me in the morning. The Beloved liked to create little nests of blankets and pillows in corners or against walls, then burrow into them. By morning, no sign of the Prophet would be visible other than a slight lump under the covers because she was so small. I was always wary of handling her because I was afraid of accidentally hurting her.

  Most of the time, I could feel the godmarks if I concentrated, even when their influence was dormant as she slept. When she was frightened or anxious, the pressure of the godmarks was like a fire inside my head, a hot pressure that made me want to revere this tiny creature and to protect her. When she was angry, the godmarks left me feeling afraid.

  When she slept, the godmarks did not alter my state of mind even though I could feel their weight. I could study this tiny sleeping thing without worrying that the godmarks affected my judgment. Looking at the sleeping Emily, I had to admit that she was homely. Her nose was straight and narrow, and the rest of her face was unremarkable. The poor girl had hardly any womanly curves to her hips or chest. Even though she said she was sixteen or seventeen, she didn’t have any regular three-rotation flows. She worried that she might be infertile, which upset her because she wanted to have and raise children.

  I had become fond of that plain face. The Prophet's opus of facial expressions made up for any lack of beauty. She was interesting just because her face was so eloquent, holding entire conversations of its own without the need for words. Her usual sleeping face was strange because it was so expressionless as if no one was home inside – though she wasn't always a calm, quiet sleeper. She had bad dreams often. It made me want to weep when she whimpered or wept in her sleep. I ached for her and cursed whatever trauma had left her like this.

  I decided I wanted to be with Emily forever. My horizons widened with every bell I spent with her. The knowledge never stopped pouring out of her mouth. I kept casting memory charms on myself to retain and assimilate the hundreds of things she taught me: the personalities and behaviors of the gods, the nature of the six intelligent races, trade goods that could be imported from the West, what the world is made out of – she taught me so many things.

  And she spoke to me as an equal, with no fear or awe of my imperial status. She was the first person to do so. Looking back, I think she was my first true friend. I learned from her that I could have friends despite my royal rank and that I could change the cultural norms that had prevented me from having friends up until now.

  I was both afraid of her and in awe of her. I also adored her. I wanted to abduct her and take her home with me to Mattamesscontess. I would build her a villa on the ridge above Toyatastagka, with furniture scaled for Coyn but doors and ceilings tall enough that I could visit her and her family without discomfort.

  If the Prophet of this age lived in my empire, reestablishing the gods in Mattamesscontess would be much easier. Miracles followed this tiny Coyn like a gaggle of goslings follow their mother goose. The appearance of Mugash the Merciful on Captain Willis’s ship five days ago was one such miracle. If Emily were in Mattamesscontess and one or two miracles like that happened around her such that others could witness them, it would make restoring the worship of the gods a simple matter.

  If the Prophet lived in Mattamesscontess, my life would be better, too, because then, I would have a friend, someone to talk to who would look me in the eye and not at the floor. She would use my name and not a title or honorific. She would speak to me without waiting for my permission first. She would be grumpy at me in the morning, formulating novel insults in that soft voice of hers, unafraid of chastising me.

  If Emily lived with me, life would be so much fun.

  I would have a great ship built with a deck and railings close to the water for fishing with a pole and a line like the Prophet had taught me. I would look forward to many happy days of fishing with the Beloved in the Gulf of Chipagawkpaw. And because Vassu loves her Prophet, the fishing would always be good.

  With that thought, I fell into a happy and comfortable sleep. I would have woken on my own, but the Beloved had taken other measures, like biting my thumb. I guess my hand was right next to her face. I had fallen asleep on my side with my arms still around her and her back against my stomach. She would have had a warm night because she was inside my bed covers – unlike how cold she felt earlier.

  “I see you are your usual cheerful self this morning," I said pleasantly. "Might I have my thumb back, please, Beloved?" She hadn't bitten me hard. The pressure of her teeth was not enough to hurt or break my skin, but it was enough to wake me up.

  “Moo, my soon-to-be-former friend," the Prophet said so softly that I had to listen carefully, "why am I sleeping with you in your bed?"

  “You weren’t sleeping well, so I tucked you in with me; then, you slept better,” I explained.

  The Beloved expelled an exasperated sigh, “Moo, you should have just woken me up. It’s–”

  “No, little Emily, my Lady of the Seas directed me to take care of you, help you, and protect you, and that’s what I have done and will continue to do.”

  The little one turned her head to try to glare at me, but she wasn't big enough to see my eyes from where she was. That made me smile. She was so cute when she was in her morning grumps.

  “Incorrigible,” she pronounced, conceding defeat when faced with my duty to care for her. “You know I can’t stop you, but I wish you wouldn’t do things like this. I am not helpless. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Beloved, please," I was just a bit hurt that she would ask, "Pray, do not ask me to let you suffer when I can remove that suffering. That's too cruel to me, who has been tasked by a god to care for you. I just can't do it. This is a divine duty. I will not allow you to be in pain or misery if I can help it."

  I could feel her discomfort that I had pleaded with her, with tinges of guilt and shame that she had imposed upon me without meaning to. Under her grumpy exterior was a thoughtful and considerate soul.

  The Beloved collapsed into herself and softly inquired, “I don’t remember anything from last night. Why did you say I wasn’t sleeping well?”

  “You were cold and shivering in your sleep. A warmth charm would not have lasted the whole night without charm gem augmentation," I explained. "So without waking you, I put you next to me because I trap heat when I sleep, especially under this bearskin coverlet. You would sleep the night through without being woken by the cold or killed by it. And I would sleep the night through without needing to wake up to renew a warmth charm one or two times.

  “I know you feel embarrassed, little one, but having you sleep with me was the right solution at the time,” I ruffled her hair. “I will attempt to make you some warmth charm gems today, using the gem blanks I found on the pirate ships.”

  “My shirt from Ud was still wet from washing, Moo," Emily said sourly. "I usually wear it to bed if we're going into the Cold Season, but I didn't think it would be that cold last night. Washing my shirt so late in the day was my mistake, but it was getting stinky."

  “Say something next time, silly one,” I mussed her hair a little more. “I can dry clothes. I don’t know why you don’t remember that, given how many times I’ve dried off the two of us this rotation.” Then, I undid all the tangles in her hair. “I find your stubborn avoidance of my magic confusing, little one, because the gods sent me to you to serve you. All you need to do is ask me when you need help.”

  I cast a warmth charm on both of us and then untangled my arms from around her. I hurriedly got out of bed, covering Emily back up once I was standing. "I'll get the stove going and heat up the water." I pulled off my sleeping tunic and pulled on a soft wool undertunic and my pants. I tossed some firewood into the bronze stove box and charmed it to burn. I used a water charm on the tin pot to fill it and placed it on the stove.

  I looked to see if the Beloved was getting out of bed. She wasn’t. She had moved into the spot I had just vacated. I'm sure it was warm and cozy. She had snuggled under the bearskin, so only her eyes and the top of her head were showing. Those two golden eyes were tracking me as I started what she called the morning chores.

  “Do I need to warm things up enough so you'll get out of bed, little one," I leaned down and patted her head. Her garbled, grumpy, defiant reply left me smiling. She was so much fun when she was deep into her morning grumps.

  “Don’t hide in bed for too long, Beloved,” I warned her. “Captain Willis will be coming over soon to take me hunting for trees to replace our two masts. And I promised to help with beaching the rest of the ships for the Cold Season after mid repast. If I can finish with that today, maybe I can get the sail on the big spar on the Cosm pirate ship that’s still seaworthy. Then, we can go whale hunting tomorrow or the day after.”

  “. . . leave me any of those apples and cheese?” I heard the invisible Prophet ask, now that she had vanished entirely underneath the bearskin coverlet.

  “Yes, dear heart,” I told her. “Your morning repast is safe from me.”

  - - -