Chapter 2 #2
“There is a very great deal of this city which is not the House of Jasmines,” Ashar said.
“And the children might be intimidated by Kamil’s claws, but I doubt he’d fool the kittens with his grumbling.
I had rather hoped to set the pattern of trading secrets rather than petting, but I also think Kamil could do with a bit more petting than he admits. ”
“And Upaja’s priests?”
“I was quite desperate not to send Rahat through the town on foot in full daylight wearing either saffron-dyed silk or a bathrobe dyed with our jasmines,” Ashar admitted, running both hands through his hair.
“And the city is growing full of priests of a hundred faiths for the Greater Convocation; one unfamiliar priest would be far less remarked upon now than a month from now. And Upaja’s High Priest himself sets a precedent for a wealthy nobleman with an Imperial accent to his speech who found his calling and his home here. ”
“You’re braver than I, risking Shai Vishal’s personal attention to a sham involving his priests’ reputation.”
“Tell me you think Rahat would ever do anything cruel enough or selfish enough to offend Shai Vishal.”
“Of course not,” Hira said, ears flattened. “But tell me you think Shai Vishal won’t notice when children start patting his belly and asking him and his priests for sugared treats.”
Ashar sighed. “I’m certainly going to need to make more offerings at Upaja’s shrine,” he admitted.
“But I did hope for something like that to happen. Because Upaja’s priests are not powerful in the way that the war-gods and wealth-gods are powerful.
They are laughed about by those who are proud of other strengths, and they will face more of those than usual this month.
But Upaja’s priests serve all, regardless of the jests and the condescension.
You and I might understand that condescension, I thought. ”
“Oh, I understand that,” Hira said, because she was a mollycat who served in a bath-house in the Catsprowl. “I just don’t think Shai Vishal will.”
“Not at first,” Ashar agreed, setting out a tray and arranging several katayef upon it for something less fretful to do with his hands.
“He’s too reserved, and too modest. But I hope when he sees how happy Shai Madhur will be to share treats with giggling children who run to greet him?
At that point I hope Shai Vishal will see some of what I see in the value of being adored in more noticeable, more public ways.
The validation the priests of a fat and humble God might feel, even among powerful and proud men of other gods, when they are so visibly and personally celebrated for the soft, welcoming, generous kindness that cynics and fools have too often mistaken for weakness. ”
Hira blinked, then tilted her head. “You are devious. Even for a human, you are devious.”
“I was also desperate,” Ashar admitted wryly. “And I think I should find more time to study, because if I’d mastered living, breathing illusions already, then none of that subterfuge would have been necessary.”
“You’re never going to be good at illusions of deception,” Hira said, resigned. “You’re charming because you’re so devoted to sharing sincere pleasure. I can imagine misdirection working for you, but I don’t think you could lie with your whole body that much.”
“You might be surprised,” Ashar said, thinking of some of his more difficult clients. “But I should still learn more, if I can.”
The beads and bells hanging in the doorway clattered and chimed as Kalyani pushed them aside, stepping into the front hall and slipping off her street-shoes.
She put on one of her house-slippers, but then she glared up at Ashar with her good eye and smacked the sole of the other slipper against her thigh meaningfully.
Ashar winced a little, because he had to confess he hadn’t been thinking of Kalyani’s reputation when he’d taken Rahat to the courtyard for all the aunties to see.
“I’m sorry?” he offered, and stepped closer and offered his arm for her to smack, because both of them knew he needed his hands. “Did Padma-auntie’s son start in on you already?”
“Start? Chetan never stops,” Kalyani said, and swung the slipper toward his shoulder. She missed by an inch or two; she often had trouble with depth perception since she’d lost the use of that eye. Ashar stepped closer, so that she could try again.
“I really am sorry,” he said. “I was thinking of other things. Too many other things. It was careless of me.”
“Chetan’s not your fault. Chetan’s his own fault,” Kalyani said, and touched the slipper to his shoulder to take better aim. “But this is for not even warning me first.”
“It was a matter of considerable impulse,” Ashar admitted as she smacked him with the slipper, then grabbed his elbow for balance as she put the slipper on her foot.
“And considerable desperation,” Hira pointed out.
“That too. But still, I’m very sorry.”
“You’ll be even more sorry when the aunties decide this means we’re not sleeping with each other and they can start pushing their granddaughters on you again,” Kalyani said.
“Oh, hell,” Ashar groaned, rubbing both hands down his face. “I hadn’t thought of that either.”
“He must have been very desperate,” Kalyani said to Hira wryly. “What happened? He picked up another stray, didn’t he? What’s this one’s problem, trouble with the Imps or the gangs or the boss or some other sob story? Was this one bleeding or not?”
“Be fair,” Hira said. “He doesn’t sleep with the strays who need that kind of help.”
“Look at my face and tell me he doesn’t have a problem with feeding injured strays who get attached.”
“Oh, I didn’t say he doesn’t have a stray collecting problem.”
“Excuse me,” Ashar said, a bit defensively. “I’m standing right here. …And he wasn’t bleeding.”
“So where did you pick this one up?” Kalyani asked, hands folded across her chest.
“I met a man whom I discovered that I adore,” Ashar said, “who was not nearly practiced enough in believing that he could be adored for himself, body and soul, exactly as he is. I took great delight in enlightening him.”
“And, of course, there are complications,” Hira said.
“Of course there are complications,” Kalyani sighed. “This is Ashar we’re talking about. Of course there are complications.”
Hira made a sound halfway between a sneeze and a cough, whiskers twitching suspiciously.
“Yes, Hira, a point to you,” Ashar said wearily, leaning into the window ledge for support. “But we knew Kalyani would agree with you that I am difficult.”
“You never try to be difficult,” Kalyani said. “It just happens. Still, you’re giving me the Camellia Room for free this month.”
“As long as–”
“No, he’s not,” Hira told Kalyani, tail swishing. “Get your payback in a way that doesn’t impact our ability to pay the taxes and keep the roof over all our heads.”
“Fine, fine.” Kalyani tilted her head so that the thick, lush wave of her hair fell away from her good eye as she considered him. “You get to deal with Chetan for the next month.”
“I have tried,” Ashar sighed. “I will, of course, try again. But if he has not heard either of us the last dozen times we have both said that I do not own your hand to bestow in a marriage you are not interested in having, I am not terribly confident I will succeed in breaking through to him this time.”
“I don’t expect you to succeed,” Kalyani said. “I expect you to soak the annoyance, so that I don’t have to.”
“That’s fair,” Hira said, and sneezed her amusement at the mournful look Ashar gave her. “It is fair, though. He’s civilized to you. You’re a man, and a human.”
“Human doesn’t help if you’re not also a man,” Kalyani said. “Not with Chetan.”
“What has he said to you?” Ashar asked, startled. “To me he sings your praises like a poet.”
“Of course he does,” Kalyani said, and pulled her hair forward and to the left, to hide some of the scarring on her face. “Never mind.”
“Kalyani, please tell me these things,” Ashar said, taking a step sideways to try to catch her good eye. “If I should stand in your place with him for the next month, please tell me what he’s said, so that I know whether what he tells me is different.”
“I can explain, if you want?” Hira said to Kalyani, quietly. “If you don’t want to have to explain it yourself. I’d thought you hadn’t wanted it explained.”
Kalyani struggled for a moment, then said, “I didn’t. I don’t. But it’s not Ashar’s fault I don’t. Thank you, Hira. No one’s in the Camellia Room yet?”
“It’s yours,” Ashar said, and pulled a wisp of incense-smoke from Pakhet’s window shrine to spin a guide-line for her fingers, steering carefully around the low tables and pillows scattered on the floor.
“Thanks, Ashar.” Kalyani leaned in and kissed his cheek, then followed the smoke-line to the Camellia Room and closed the door behind herself.
“All right,” Ashar said, twisting the smoke through his fingers for a distraction that wouldn’t lead to broken pottery the way cup-fidgets might. “What have I been not trustworthy enough to know? Because I’m a man, or human, or…”
“Because Padma is Chetan’s mother, and she’s the best baker in the neighborhood when she’s sober, and the baker outranks the bath-house companions in the neighborhood’s estimation.
I have claws and fangs. You and Kalyani don’t.
Kalyani would use claws and fangs if she had them, but you wouldn’t; you’re life-sworn.
So neither of us wanted to trouble you.”
“Until now. When I’ve been seen with a man in public. As though being attracted to men means I can’t also be attracted to women?”
“You know the aunties. Being attracted to men means you need a wife, not a woman you’re attracted to,” Hira said dryly.
“That’s… ah, sunfire, that sounds terrible, but I’m afraid you’re not wrong.” Ashar ran both hands over his face. “And they’re troubling her because Kalyani has no interest in being anyone’s wife?”