Post by devilinthedetails on Dec 27, 2021 14:51:00 GMT 10
Title: Return of the Faithful Wanderer
Rating: PG
For: Tamari
Prompt: Faithful/Pounce chooses a new companion, and it’s someone we know.
Summary: The Goddess takes an interest in the girl who will be the first queen of Tortall in her own right, sending a special cat to be the girl’s guardian and advisor.
Notes: Happy Wishing Tree, Tamari ! I know that multiple people have already written you wonderful stories inspired by this prompt, but I hope that you’ll enjoy this humble take on the prompt as well.
Return of the Faithful Wanderer
Lianokami–called Lian by her family and friends–was nine, three times three, a lucky number among the Yamani, the first time the Goddess appeared to her. The Goddess didn’t materialize out of a mist such as might shroud an ocean or mountain at daybreak. Nor did she emerge from a flash of bright light. Instead she just came into being between one of Lian’s eye blinks and the next, sitting serenely in a chair that had been empty a heartbeat ago.
Lian had been to many of the beautiful temples sacred to the Goddess in Corus and Port Legann. In a thousand mosaics and paintings created by as many artisans and artists who over the centuries had been inspired to capture a sliver of the Goddess’s divinity, Lian had seen all the aspects under which the Goddess could appear. The aspects that aligned with the stages of a woman’s life. Maiden, Mother, and Crone.
The Goddess was sitting before Lian now with the innocent face of the Maiden. The Goddess’s skin was rice-paper white. Pure as if it had never been blighted by a single sunburn and perhaps it hadn’t. Her long, unbound hair was black as an ink painting.
Her eyes were deep and playful as the waves of the Emerald Ocean dancing with the shore. In southern Tortall, where Lian’s father was governor and where Lian spent most of her time, they called the Goddess the Wave-Walker, and in this heart-stopping moment, Lian fully understood why. She felt as if she were drowning in the Goddess’s green eyes while the Godddess herself waas walking on foaming, white-capped water.
Stunned by the majesty of the Maiden Goddess, Lian sank to her knees as if in prayer. As if in worship. She was her mother’s daughter and her father’s. Taught to mask any confusion–any feeling of being overwhelmed and only a fool wouldn’t have been overwhelmed in the presence of the Goddess–behind perfect manners.
She pressed her forehead to the carpet three times in the ultimate abasement her governess Lady Hanme had taught her. Paused. Then repeated the gesture–touching forehead to floor three times–twice more. Looking more like a Yamani princess bowing before her emperor than like a Tortallan princess, but she was proud, not ashamed, of her Yamani heritage and the grace that gave her.
“Arise, daughter.” The Goddess’s voice was waves pounding against a rocky shore and a temple bell ringing into still, cool air from a mountain sanctuary, calling travlerers to worship. She was the Mother of Mountains and the Waters after all. A goddess of the changeable currents of the sea and of mercy.
Lian rose. It would have been unthinkable–maybe impossible–for her to defy the Goddess.
She didn’t speak. She hadn’t been ordered to do so and couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mother and father always said it was better to remain silent if she didn’t have any idea what she wanted to say. Her thoughts were a jumble now. A puzzle she couldn’t imagine ever being able to put together even if she had all of eternity in which to do so, and nobody ever had all of eternity in which to do anything because nothing in the Mortal Realms had been fashioned for eternity. Her knees were trembling like a poorly set pudding, and she worried her lips were as well.
What would her mother and Lady Haname say if they could see her so far removed from her dignity? So separated and stripped of her well-schooled composure and poise?
A foolish, irrelevant thought that dropped from her mind when the Goddess continued to address her in the tone of unarguable and unalterable proclamation, “You will be the first woman to be Queen of Tortall in your own right.”
That was the destiny that had been laid before her since her birth. Yet somehow Lian hadn’t comprehended the scope and scale of it until the Goddess gave voice to it. Hadn’t realized the full solemnity and import of it.
“I won’t be queen for a long time.” Lian’s clumsy tongue tripped over the words. She didn’t want to think about sitting in her grandfather’s throne with a scepter in her hands and a jewel-studded crown over her plucked brow because that would mean her grandfather and father were dead. She didn’t want to think of her always gentle and just father dying. Her grandfather might have more silver than black in his hair and beard these days, and his bones might creak in the winter snows and spring rains, but she still wanted to believe that she had many more years with him too. She didn’t want to be queen if both of them were dead. Any throne and crown would feel empty and hollow without them behind and beside her. “I inherit only after my grandfather and father.”
That was the line of succession. Like any royal child, Lian had it memorized and could take comfort in it.
“Time always passes faster than you mortals believe it will.” The Goddess’s red lips twisted into a smile that softened the harsh blow of her words against Lian’s young ears. “You are scarcely out of the cradle before you begin hobbling around with canes as you approach your graves.”
Lian supposed that even the longest mortal life would seem to pass in an eye blink to the Goddess. The idea dizzied her and made her feel painfully small. She didn’t feel exalted by the notice the Goddes had taken of her existence. Rather like a beetle aware of the shadow of a boot that could come crashing down, ending life and hope in an instant.
“I do not say this to be cruel.” The Goddess cupped Lian’s chin with soft hands. “I say it only as a warning. You do have time to grow into being a ruler and queen, but not as much time as you think. Never as much time as you think. You will be the first queen of Tortall in your own right, and I am invested in your success. Therefore, I will grant you a gift. A companion who will be your guardian and advisor as he has been for a thousand of my chosen before you. Listen to him and love him, and he will not abandon or mislead you.”
The Goddess vanished before Lian could stumble out a response. In the Goddess’s place, a kitten with fur black as midnight curled, lapping at himself–a quick glance between the legs had informed Lian of the gender of her new, Goddess-given companion–with a pink tongue.
“Pleasure to meet you.” She scratched the kitten lightly behind the ears. Speaking to the animal as her father sometimes did to horses when he thought no one was around to overhear. “I’m Lianokami, but my friends and family call me Lian. Since you’re meant to be my friend, you can call me Lian too.”
A kitten calling her anything should have been a ridiculous notion to her, yet somehow it didn’t feel foolish at all. Strangely, it never occurred to her to question whether this kitten would be able to communicate to her in some fashion.
I’ve had as many names as I’ve had incarnations. The kitten’s answer, echoing in her mind, left Lian bewildered. Nonplussed. I do not have a name in this incarnation yet. You may have the honor of naming me as you wish. Though please not with anything as undignified as Pounce.
“The Goddess said you were to be my guardian and advisor.” Lian’s fingers had slowed to an almost meditative pace. “That means you are to be my helper, and any helper from the Goddess must by definition be great. So I will call you Daisuke, which is ‘great helper’ in Yamani.”
I’m well-versed in Yamani. The kitten fixed Lian with a tart, purple gaze that made her gasp. Purple eyes were rare in human and animals alike. Indeed, the only being Lian had ever seen with purple eyes was Alanna the Lionnes who had once been King’s Champion before she had grown too old to fill that role. Retiring to be replaced by Sir Zahir shortly after Lian was born. Before Lian was old enough to remember anything. I spent some of my past incarnations there. It is one of my favorite places to visit in the Mortal Realms. You need not translate for me.
“I should introduce you to my parents.” Abruptly recalling her duty as a daughter, Lian scooped up Daisuke, cradling him in her arms as if he were a newborn. “Ask for their permission to keep you.”
They would be unwise to order you to reject a gift from the Goddess. Daisuke meowed and nuzzled his nose against the folds of Lian’s dress.
“My parents are never unwise,” Lian murmured, stepping out of her chamber into the parlor, where her parents sat in a cushioned windowseat, conversing quietly about some political development or other.
Before she could ask–politely as possible–to keep her kitten, her mother’s gaze fell on Daisuke. “A cat. Where did you find it, Lian?”
“Not so much a cat as a kitten.” Lian slid into her prettiest curtsy. “And I didn’t find the kitten so much as he found me, Ma.”
Lian was a daughter of southern Tortall and addressed her parents affectionately as such–as Ma and Da rather than Mama and Papa.
“Kittens grow into cats.” The corners of Ma’s almond-shaped eyes crinkled into the only expression of amusement she would permit herself even in private discussion with her husband and child. “In the Yamani Islands, cats are considered lucky. Especially waving cats. A waving cat saved an emperor’s life centuries ago. Distracting him from an assassin’s arrow. Can your cat wave?”
“Can you wave?” Lian repeated the inquiry to Daisuke, because it was one of many things she had yet to learn about her new companion.
I can wave. Daisuke lifted a paw in a wave that could only be described as regal. He seemed to be projecting his thoughts not only into Lian’s head, but into the minds of her parents as well if their expressions of astonishment at encountering a talking cat were any indication. It is one of my many tricks and talents. I am also familiar with the Yamani superstition about waving cats, being the cause of it in a previous incarnation.
“You were the cat who saved the emperor’s life? How old are you?” Ma’s question might have sounded rude and dismissive from the lips of a Tortallan, but from the mouth of a Yamani, it was laced with respect. The Yamani had a great reverence for the aged and that shone through in their speech.
The youngest star in my constellation has been around for five hundred thousand of your years. Daisuke purred. The oldest star in my constellation is fifteen billion years old.
“Five hundred thousand?” Lian was nine and couldn’t fathom the age of the youngest star in Daisuke’s constellation. “The Yamani empire is barely five thousand years old, and it’s one of the oldest surviving empires in the world!”
My stars and I have seen many empires rise and fall. Daisuke snuggled against her, and it was hard to reconcile this kitten behavior with a creature, a constellation, that contained stars that had existed for billions of years. Yet I am still a kitten in comparison to the Great Goddess.
“The Goddess appeared to me.” Lian felt she had to explain this to her parents. “She wants this kitten–I’ve named him Daisuke–to be my advisor and guide.”
“Daisuke. Great helper,” Ma translated for Da’s benefit when he looked baffled. His Yamani could charitably be termed as limited.
“He is a great helper if he is truly from the Goddess.” Da placed a skeptical, deliberate emphasis on the if. He was a man who offered grace before every meal and recited all the proper, pious prayers and responses in the temples on holy days, but plainly doubted how much the divine would directly intercede in the affairs of mortals. How much favor the Goddess would display to one of her chosen.
“You think I’m lying, Da?” Lian felt hurt by her father’s lack of faith. Da had always believed in her before. His faith one of the constants of her life that gave her the confidence to be bold. To dream big. “Or that I’m crazy? Even though you heard the kitten speaking in your mind a moment ago?”
“No, I don’t think you’re lying or crazy, my dear.” Da pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were suffering from a migraine. “Perhaps I’m the one who is crazy. Hearing kittens talk in my head must be a sure sign of madness or at least severe lack of sleep.”
“We are not all crazy.” Ma tapped Da’s knees with her fan. “Yet, each one of us heard Daisuke speak in our minds. Therefore, I think we can safely conclude without too much of a leap of faith that the kitten is indeed a gift from the Goddess to our Lian, and gifts from the gods must never be refused, or a curse for ingratitude will be forthcoming instead. At least that is the teaching in the Yamani Islands.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that Lian should do anything other than keep the kitten.” Still pinching the bridge of his nose, Da smiled slightly. “Of course you may keep Daisuke if that’s what you’re asking, Lian.”
The words came to her ear as if Daisuke were whispering them in her ear, and she just had to say them even if they brought her beloved Da more strain and stress. “That’s not all I’m asking, Da.”
Even though it had been all she had been planning to ask when she left her room. Circumstances changed. She could not see the future. The Goddess had not granted her that gift. At least not yet.
“What else are you asking then?” Da stopped pinching the bridge of his nose. Arched an eyebrow at her instead. On a balance, Lian preferred the pinched nose bridge to the arched eyebrow. The arched eyebrow looked more unbalanced.
“Daisuke is my Goddess-appointed guardian and advisor.” Lian tried to infuse her tone with as much formality as she was capable of achieving. Hoping that would sound convincing to her father. “I wish for him to accompany me to council meetings so that he can offer me the best advice and guidance possible.”
“A kitten attending council meetings?” A furrow knotted in Da’s forehead, and Lian had the distinct impression that in all his years as heir, her father had never brought a pet to a council meeting. Nor sought permission from his parents to do such. Probably hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking his parents to do something so scandalous.
Da was a good man. A kind, gentle, and fair man whom Lian loved and admired with all her heart. But not a man of daring imagination or brazen action. A man who would rather follow the rules than be caught with a toe out of line. A man who rarely risked censure or courted controversy. A man unlike his parents in that way.
“A kitten unlike any other kitten.” Lian pleaded her case and Daisuke’s while the kitten remained silent in her arms. Apparently determined to demonstrate that he could comport himself with suitable gravitas at council meetings. “I’ll ensure he behaves and doesn’t meow out of turn, Da.”
“Let me see the kitten.” Da held out his hands. He was wearing the face he wore when sitting in judgment of legal proceedings. The face he reserved for asking neutral questions and gathering evidence to evaluate dispassionately. There was, Lian reflected, a reason that, even while her grandpapa still lived, her father had earned the epithet Roald the Just from progressives and conservatives alike. That reason wasn’t that he rushed to judgements in matters great or small. Instead treating everything with a certain measured solemnity.
What an indignity and insult to my being to be subjected to such an inspection. Daisuke seemed to grant Lian alone the privilege of understanding what his yowl meant in Common.
Do you want to be able to attend the council meetings or not? Lian mentally retorted, wondering if the kitten could hear her rejoinder or not. She was still discovering the mysterious powers of her new pet. Might spend many years learning everything of which Daisuke was capable.
“Yes, Da.” Like a good Yamani daughter, Lian kept her expression stone-blank, betraying nothing of her internal effort to bring her rebellious kitten to heel. She surrendered the still indignant Daisuke to her father.
Who immediately made the mistake of gazing into Daisuke’s violet eyes.
“By Mithros and the Goddess!” As far as oaths went, it was a mild one, but it was the first time Lian had heard her father swear. Da was not a man prone to outbursts of rage or profanity.
“Roald!” Ma chided, tapping him with her fan again. “Don’t swear in front of your daughter.”
Lian had definitely heard worse but decided not to share this information with her mother.
“Forgive me.” Da made a placating gesture and then added by way of explanation, “The kitten has purple eyes.”
“So does Alanna the Lioness.” Ma was unimpressed. “Do you swear every time you catch a glimpse of her eyes?”
“The Lioness once had a kitten with purple eyes given to her by the Goddess.” Da was staring at Daisuke as if he had never seen a kitten before. “Or she did in the stories my father used to tell when I was a boy. Stories that I thought later were exaggerations to make the Lioness sound even more impressive than she was. But I guess I was wrong about that.” To the kitten, Da added, “Faithful returned to Tortall, I presume?”
In the flesh. Daisuke had apparently deigned to once again make himself comprehensible to all. Back from among the stars.
“An honor to meet one I’ve heard so much about.” Da gave the kitten a grave nod of greeting. Then addressed Lian. “I will allow you to bring Daisuke to council meetings under one condition, Lian.”
“What condition, Da?” Lian couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her voice as her father handed her kitten back to her, his inspection concluded. Not when she was on the cusp of getting what she wanted.
“My parents must agree that he may attend,” Da said, and Lian couldn’t contain a triumphant grin.
Da’s parents might have avoided spoiling him and his siblings, but they were positively indulgent of her and all their other grandchildren. She received everything she asked for from her paternal grandparents and many more things she hadn’t thought to ask for besides. She was certain that she could charm them into allowing Daisuke to attend council meetings. Especially once Grandpapa realized that Daisuke was this fabled Faithful back from the dead. She would have to remember to pry more details of his adventures as Faithful from Daisuke later.
“Of course.” Lian fixed her father with her most sparkling glance. “May we visit Grandmama and Grandpapa now so I can introduce them to my new kitten?”
“I don’t see why not.” Da smiled and stood, Ma rising after him.
In the few minutes it took to walk down the palace corridor from the rooms Da and Ma stayed in when they were visiting Corus to the quarters where the king and queen lived, Daisuke climbed up her arms, claws scratching at her skin and the soft fabric of her dress, until he perched on her shoulder.
If her mother and father entered the king and queen’s rooms with unhurried stateliness, Lian was a whirlwind of energy as she flounced up to her grandparents and exclaimed, “Grandmama and Grandpapa, you have to see my new kitten! The Goddes gave him to me!”
“Is this your new kitten?” Grandmama lifted Daisuke from Lian’s shoulders with the clear intent of admiring him. In the process, she spotted the kitten’s distinctive violet eyes and gasped. “Faithful! Back from the dead!”
Cats have nine lives. Daisuke had made his meow understandable to all. Lian could read that fact on every face present. And constellations do not die until every star in them burns out, which for me will not be until billions and billions of years from now.
Lian supposed that meant all the people in the room, including her, would be stardust before Daisuke really died. It was a strange thought that might have made her more uneasy if she had been older with a more evolved, mature concept of what death actually meant for mortals such as herself.
“You don’t look like you’ve aged a day, old friend.” Grandpapa chuckled and scratched under Daisuke’s chin, drawing a long, contented purr from the kitten’s throat. “Pity the same cannot be said for me.”
“Lian wants permission to have her kitten accompany her to council meetings.” Da spoke in a serious–almost stiff–voice. He always seemed to be at the most rigid in the presence of his parents. It almost baffled Lian that he should be that way when she had never heard Grandmama or Grandpapa be harsh with him, but she supposed he was determined to prove he was the perfect prince, son, and heir. Which unfortunately appeared to equate to being very stiff and proper. Especially in front of his father. He was closer to Grandmama than Grandpapa, Lian often thought and never quite knew why. It was certainly something she could never ask her father or grandparents. That would be insensitive and impolite. “I’m inclined to grant her wish if Your Majesties give your consent.”
Da finished with a bow to his parents. Even in private, he was very formal toward Grandmama and Grandpapa. Lian wondered if he had always been that way or only since she was born.
“How could we refuse?” There was a twinkle in Grandmama’s hazel eyes, and, even though her black hair was streaked with white and her cheeks were lined with laughing wrinkles, Lian could see how for years poets and singers could praise her as the most beautiful woman in the world without exaggeration or falsehood. “It would be most ungracious to deny an old friend who has returned to us at last anything.”
“Besides, we could all benefit from your wisdom in council, couldn’t we?” Grandpapa was now stroking the ears of the kitten he addressed with obvious fondness and humor. “Should I alert Alanna you’re back among us?”
Don’t raise the hue and cry. Daisuke’s answer–shared with the entire room–was arch. I want to surprise her for myself.
Rating: PG
For: Tamari
Prompt: Faithful/Pounce chooses a new companion, and it’s someone we know.
Summary: The Goddess takes an interest in the girl who will be the first queen of Tortall in her own right, sending a special cat to be the girl’s guardian and advisor.
Notes: Happy Wishing Tree, Tamari ! I know that multiple people have already written you wonderful stories inspired by this prompt, but I hope that you’ll enjoy this humble take on the prompt as well.
Return of the Faithful Wanderer
Lianokami–called Lian by her family and friends–was nine, three times three, a lucky number among the Yamani, the first time the Goddess appeared to her. The Goddess didn’t materialize out of a mist such as might shroud an ocean or mountain at daybreak. Nor did she emerge from a flash of bright light. Instead she just came into being between one of Lian’s eye blinks and the next, sitting serenely in a chair that had been empty a heartbeat ago.
Lian had been to many of the beautiful temples sacred to the Goddess in Corus and Port Legann. In a thousand mosaics and paintings created by as many artisans and artists who over the centuries had been inspired to capture a sliver of the Goddess’s divinity, Lian had seen all the aspects under which the Goddess could appear. The aspects that aligned with the stages of a woman’s life. Maiden, Mother, and Crone.
The Goddess was sitting before Lian now with the innocent face of the Maiden. The Goddess’s skin was rice-paper white. Pure as if it had never been blighted by a single sunburn and perhaps it hadn’t. Her long, unbound hair was black as an ink painting.
Her eyes were deep and playful as the waves of the Emerald Ocean dancing with the shore. In southern Tortall, where Lian’s father was governor and where Lian spent most of her time, they called the Goddess the Wave-Walker, and in this heart-stopping moment, Lian fully understood why. She felt as if she were drowning in the Goddess’s green eyes while the Godddess herself waas walking on foaming, white-capped water.
Stunned by the majesty of the Maiden Goddess, Lian sank to her knees as if in prayer. As if in worship. She was her mother’s daughter and her father’s. Taught to mask any confusion–any feeling of being overwhelmed and only a fool wouldn’t have been overwhelmed in the presence of the Goddess–behind perfect manners.
She pressed her forehead to the carpet three times in the ultimate abasement her governess Lady Hanme had taught her. Paused. Then repeated the gesture–touching forehead to floor three times–twice more. Looking more like a Yamani princess bowing before her emperor than like a Tortallan princess, but she was proud, not ashamed, of her Yamani heritage and the grace that gave her.
“Arise, daughter.” The Goddess’s voice was waves pounding against a rocky shore and a temple bell ringing into still, cool air from a mountain sanctuary, calling travlerers to worship. She was the Mother of Mountains and the Waters after all. A goddess of the changeable currents of the sea and of mercy.
Lian rose. It would have been unthinkable–maybe impossible–for her to defy the Goddess.
She didn’t speak. She hadn’t been ordered to do so and couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mother and father always said it was better to remain silent if she didn’t have any idea what she wanted to say. Her thoughts were a jumble now. A puzzle she couldn’t imagine ever being able to put together even if she had all of eternity in which to do so, and nobody ever had all of eternity in which to do anything because nothing in the Mortal Realms had been fashioned for eternity. Her knees were trembling like a poorly set pudding, and she worried her lips were as well.
What would her mother and Lady Haname say if they could see her so far removed from her dignity? So separated and stripped of her well-schooled composure and poise?
A foolish, irrelevant thought that dropped from her mind when the Goddess continued to address her in the tone of unarguable and unalterable proclamation, “You will be the first woman to be Queen of Tortall in your own right.”
That was the destiny that had been laid before her since her birth. Yet somehow Lian hadn’t comprehended the scope and scale of it until the Goddess gave voice to it. Hadn’t realized the full solemnity and import of it.
“I won’t be queen for a long time.” Lian’s clumsy tongue tripped over the words. She didn’t want to think about sitting in her grandfather’s throne with a scepter in her hands and a jewel-studded crown over her plucked brow because that would mean her grandfather and father were dead. She didn’t want to think of her always gentle and just father dying. Her grandfather might have more silver than black in his hair and beard these days, and his bones might creak in the winter snows and spring rains, but she still wanted to believe that she had many more years with him too. She didn’t want to be queen if both of them were dead. Any throne and crown would feel empty and hollow without them behind and beside her. “I inherit only after my grandfather and father.”
That was the line of succession. Like any royal child, Lian had it memorized and could take comfort in it.
“Time always passes faster than you mortals believe it will.” The Goddess’s red lips twisted into a smile that softened the harsh blow of her words against Lian’s young ears. “You are scarcely out of the cradle before you begin hobbling around with canes as you approach your graves.”
Lian supposed that even the longest mortal life would seem to pass in an eye blink to the Goddess. The idea dizzied her and made her feel painfully small. She didn’t feel exalted by the notice the Goddes had taken of her existence. Rather like a beetle aware of the shadow of a boot that could come crashing down, ending life and hope in an instant.
“I do not say this to be cruel.” The Goddess cupped Lian’s chin with soft hands. “I say it only as a warning. You do have time to grow into being a ruler and queen, but not as much time as you think. Never as much time as you think. You will be the first queen of Tortall in your own right, and I am invested in your success. Therefore, I will grant you a gift. A companion who will be your guardian and advisor as he has been for a thousand of my chosen before you. Listen to him and love him, and he will not abandon or mislead you.”
The Goddess vanished before Lian could stumble out a response. In the Goddess’s place, a kitten with fur black as midnight curled, lapping at himself–a quick glance between the legs had informed Lian of the gender of her new, Goddess-given companion–with a pink tongue.
“Pleasure to meet you.” She scratched the kitten lightly behind the ears. Speaking to the animal as her father sometimes did to horses when he thought no one was around to overhear. “I’m Lianokami, but my friends and family call me Lian. Since you’re meant to be my friend, you can call me Lian too.”
A kitten calling her anything should have been a ridiculous notion to her, yet somehow it didn’t feel foolish at all. Strangely, it never occurred to her to question whether this kitten would be able to communicate to her in some fashion.
I’ve had as many names as I’ve had incarnations. The kitten’s answer, echoing in her mind, left Lian bewildered. Nonplussed. I do not have a name in this incarnation yet. You may have the honor of naming me as you wish. Though please not with anything as undignified as Pounce.
“The Goddess said you were to be my guardian and advisor.” Lian’s fingers had slowed to an almost meditative pace. “That means you are to be my helper, and any helper from the Goddess must by definition be great. So I will call you Daisuke, which is ‘great helper’ in Yamani.”
I’m well-versed in Yamani. The kitten fixed Lian with a tart, purple gaze that made her gasp. Purple eyes were rare in human and animals alike. Indeed, the only being Lian had ever seen with purple eyes was Alanna the Lionnes who had once been King’s Champion before she had grown too old to fill that role. Retiring to be replaced by Sir Zahir shortly after Lian was born. Before Lian was old enough to remember anything. I spent some of my past incarnations there. It is one of my favorite places to visit in the Mortal Realms. You need not translate for me.
“I should introduce you to my parents.” Abruptly recalling her duty as a daughter, Lian scooped up Daisuke, cradling him in her arms as if he were a newborn. “Ask for their permission to keep you.”
They would be unwise to order you to reject a gift from the Goddess. Daisuke meowed and nuzzled his nose against the folds of Lian’s dress.
“My parents are never unwise,” Lian murmured, stepping out of her chamber into the parlor, where her parents sat in a cushioned windowseat, conversing quietly about some political development or other.
Before she could ask–politely as possible–to keep her kitten, her mother’s gaze fell on Daisuke. “A cat. Where did you find it, Lian?”
“Not so much a cat as a kitten.” Lian slid into her prettiest curtsy. “And I didn’t find the kitten so much as he found me, Ma.”
Lian was a daughter of southern Tortall and addressed her parents affectionately as such–as Ma and Da rather than Mama and Papa.
“Kittens grow into cats.” The corners of Ma’s almond-shaped eyes crinkled into the only expression of amusement she would permit herself even in private discussion with her husband and child. “In the Yamani Islands, cats are considered lucky. Especially waving cats. A waving cat saved an emperor’s life centuries ago. Distracting him from an assassin’s arrow. Can your cat wave?”
“Can you wave?” Lian repeated the inquiry to Daisuke, because it was one of many things she had yet to learn about her new companion.
I can wave. Daisuke lifted a paw in a wave that could only be described as regal. He seemed to be projecting his thoughts not only into Lian’s head, but into the minds of her parents as well if their expressions of astonishment at encountering a talking cat were any indication. It is one of my many tricks and talents. I am also familiar with the Yamani superstition about waving cats, being the cause of it in a previous incarnation.
“You were the cat who saved the emperor’s life? How old are you?” Ma’s question might have sounded rude and dismissive from the lips of a Tortallan, but from the mouth of a Yamani, it was laced with respect. The Yamani had a great reverence for the aged and that shone through in their speech.
The youngest star in my constellation has been around for five hundred thousand of your years. Daisuke purred. The oldest star in my constellation is fifteen billion years old.
“Five hundred thousand?” Lian was nine and couldn’t fathom the age of the youngest star in Daisuke’s constellation. “The Yamani empire is barely five thousand years old, and it’s one of the oldest surviving empires in the world!”
My stars and I have seen many empires rise and fall. Daisuke snuggled against her, and it was hard to reconcile this kitten behavior with a creature, a constellation, that contained stars that had existed for billions of years. Yet I am still a kitten in comparison to the Great Goddess.
“The Goddess appeared to me.” Lian felt she had to explain this to her parents. “She wants this kitten–I’ve named him Daisuke–to be my advisor and guide.”
“Daisuke. Great helper,” Ma translated for Da’s benefit when he looked baffled. His Yamani could charitably be termed as limited.
“He is a great helper if he is truly from the Goddess.” Da placed a skeptical, deliberate emphasis on the if. He was a man who offered grace before every meal and recited all the proper, pious prayers and responses in the temples on holy days, but plainly doubted how much the divine would directly intercede in the affairs of mortals. How much favor the Goddess would display to one of her chosen.
“You think I’m lying, Da?” Lian felt hurt by her father’s lack of faith. Da had always believed in her before. His faith one of the constants of her life that gave her the confidence to be bold. To dream big. “Or that I’m crazy? Even though you heard the kitten speaking in your mind a moment ago?”
“No, I don’t think you’re lying or crazy, my dear.” Da pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were suffering from a migraine. “Perhaps I’m the one who is crazy. Hearing kittens talk in my head must be a sure sign of madness or at least severe lack of sleep.”
“We are not all crazy.” Ma tapped Da’s knees with her fan. “Yet, each one of us heard Daisuke speak in our minds. Therefore, I think we can safely conclude without too much of a leap of faith that the kitten is indeed a gift from the Goddess to our Lian, and gifts from the gods must never be refused, or a curse for ingratitude will be forthcoming instead. At least that is the teaching in the Yamani Islands.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that Lian should do anything other than keep the kitten.” Still pinching the bridge of his nose, Da smiled slightly. “Of course you may keep Daisuke if that’s what you’re asking, Lian.”
The words came to her ear as if Daisuke were whispering them in her ear, and she just had to say them even if they brought her beloved Da more strain and stress. “That’s not all I’m asking, Da.”
Even though it had been all she had been planning to ask when she left her room. Circumstances changed. She could not see the future. The Goddess had not granted her that gift. At least not yet.
“What else are you asking then?” Da stopped pinching the bridge of his nose. Arched an eyebrow at her instead. On a balance, Lian preferred the pinched nose bridge to the arched eyebrow. The arched eyebrow looked more unbalanced.
“Daisuke is my Goddess-appointed guardian and advisor.” Lian tried to infuse her tone with as much formality as she was capable of achieving. Hoping that would sound convincing to her father. “I wish for him to accompany me to council meetings so that he can offer me the best advice and guidance possible.”
“A kitten attending council meetings?” A furrow knotted in Da’s forehead, and Lian had the distinct impression that in all his years as heir, her father had never brought a pet to a council meeting. Nor sought permission from his parents to do such. Probably hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking his parents to do something so scandalous.
Da was a good man. A kind, gentle, and fair man whom Lian loved and admired with all her heart. But not a man of daring imagination or brazen action. A man who would rather follow the rules than be caught with a toe out of line. A man who rarely risked censure or courted controversy. A man unlike his parents in that way.
“A kitten unlike any other kitten.” Lian pleaded her case and Daisuke’s while the kitten remained silent in her arms. Apparently determined to demonstrate that he could comport himself with suitable gravitas at council meetings. “I’ll ensure he behaves and doesn’t meow out of turn, Da.”
“Let me see the kitten.” Da held out his hands. He was wearing the face he wore when sitting in judgment of legal proceedings. The face he reserved for asking neutral questions and gathering evidence to evaluate dispassionately. There was, Lian reflected, a reason that, even while her grandpapa still lived, her father had earned the epithet Roald the Just from progressives and conservatives alike. That reason wasn’t that he rushed to judgements in matters great or small. Instead treating everything with a certain measured solemnity.
What an indignity and insult to my being to be subjected to such an inspection. Daisuke seemed to grant Lian alone the privilege of understanding what his yowl meant in Common.
Do you want to be able to attend the council meetings or not? Lian mentally retorted, wondering if the kitten could hear her rejoinder or not. She was still discovering the mysterious powers of her new pet. Might spend many years learning everything of which Daisuke was capable.
“Yes, Da.” Like a good Yamani daughter, Lian kept her expression stone-blank, betraying nothing of her internal effort to bring her rebellious kitten to heel. She surrendered the still indignant Daisuke to her father.
Who immediately made the mistake of gazing into Daisuke’s violet eyes.
“By Mithros and the Goddess!” As far as oaths went, it was a mild one, but it was the first time Lian had heard her father swear. Da was not a man prone to outbursts of rage or profanity.
“Roald!” Ma chided, tapping him with her fan again. “Don’t swear in front of your daughter.”
Lian had definitely heard worse but decided not to share this information with her mother.
“Forgive me.” Da made a placating gesture and then added by way of explanation, “The kitten has purple eyes.”
“So does Alanna the Lioness.” Ma was unimpressed. “Do you swear every time you catch a glimpse of her eyes?”
“The Lioness once had a kitten with purple eyes given to her by the Goddess.” Da was staring at Daisuke as if he had never seen a kitten before. “Or she did in the stories my father used to tell when I was a boy. Stories that I thought later were exaggerations to make the Lioness sound even more impressive than she was. But I guess I was wrong about that.” To the kitten, Da added, “Faithful returned to Tortall, I presume?”
In the flesh. Daisuke had apparently deigned to once again make himself comprehensible to all. Back from among the stars.
“An honor to meet one I’ve heard so much about.” Da gave the kitten a grave nod of greeting. Then addressed Lian. “I will allow you to bring Daisuke to council meetings under one condition, Lian.”
“What condition, Da?” Lian couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her voice as her father handed her kitten back to her, his inspection concluded. Not when she was on the cusp of getting what she wanted.
“My parents must agree that he may attend,” Da said, and Lian couldn’t contain a triumphant grin.
Da’s parents might have avoided spoiling him and his siblings, but they were positively indulgent of her and all their other grandchildren. She received everything she asked for from her paternal grandparents and many more things she hadn’t thought to ask for besides. She was certain that she could charm them into allowing Daisuke to attend council meetings. Especially once Grandpapa realized that Daisuke was this fabled Faithful back from the dead. She would have to remember to pry more details of his adventures as Faithful from Daisuke later.
“Of course.” Lian fixed her father with her most sparkling glance. “May we visit Grandmama and Grandpapa now so I can introduce them to my new kitten?”
“I don’t see why not.” Da smiled and stood, Ma rising after him.
In the few minutes it took to walk down the palace corridor from the rooms Da and Ma stayed in when they were visiting Corus to the quarters where the king and queen lived, Daisuke climbed up her arms, claws scratching at her skin and the soft fabric of her dress, until he perched on her shoulder.
If her mother and father entered the king and queen’s rooms with unhurried stateliness, Lian was a whirlwind of energy as she flounced up to her grandparents and exclaimed, “Grandmama and Grandpapa, you have to see my new kitten! The Goddes gave him to me!”
“Is this your new kitten?” Grandmama lifted Daisuke from Lian’s shoulders with the clear intent of admiring him. In the process, she spotted the kitten’s distinctive violet eyes and gasped. “Faithful! Back from the dead!”
Cats have nine lives. Daisuke had made his meow understandable to all. Lian could read that fact on every face present. And constellations do not die until every star in them burns out, which for me will not be until billions and billions of years from now.
Lian supposed that meant all the people in the room, including her, would be stardust before Daisuke really died. It was a strange thought that might have made her more uneasy if she had been older with a more evolved, mature concept of what death actually meant for mortals such as herself.
“You don’t look like you’ve aged a day, old friend.” Grandpapa chuckled and scratched under Daisuke’s chin, drawing a long, contented purr from the kitten’s throat. “Pity the same cannot be said for me.”
“Lian wants permission to have her kitten accompany her to council meetings.” Da spoke in a serious–almost stiff–voice. He always seemed to be at the most rigid in the presence of his parents. It almost baffled Lian that he should be that way when she had never heard Grandmama or Grandpapa be harsh with him, but she supposed he was determined to prove he was the perfect prince, son, and heir. Which unfortunately appeared to equate to being very stiff and proper. Especially in front of his father. He was closer to Grandmama than Grandpapa, Lian often thought and never quite knew why. It was certainly something she could never ask her father or grandparents. That would be insensitive and impolite. “I’m inclined to grant her wish if Your Majesties give your consent.”
Da finished with a bow to his parents. Even in private, he was very formal toward Grandmama and Grandpapa. Lian wondered if he had always been that way or only since she was born.
“How could we refuse?” There was a twinkle in Grandmama’s hazel eyes, and, even though her black hair was streaked with white and her cheeks were lined with laughing wrinkles, Lian could see how for years poets and singers could praise her as the most beautiful woman in the world without exaggeration or falsehood. “It would be most ungracious to deny an old friend who has returned to us at last anything.”
“Besides, we could all benefit from your wisdom in council, couldn’t we?” Grandpapa was now stroking the ears of the kitten he addressed with obvious fondness and humor. “Should I alert Alanna you’re back among us?”
Don’t raise the hue and cry. Daisuke’s answer–shared with the entire room–was arch. I want to surprise her for myself.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!