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Epilogue

Paws

The palace had become very noisy of late, and the cat did not like it. She was accustomed to the regular rhythms of days past, but recently, her sleep, appetite, and even her morning ablutions had all been thrown off course. Voices rang out all day and night, and heavy-footed men paraded everywhere with no regard for paws or tails. What was worse, no one spared a single moment for a back scratch.

It was terribly inconsiderate, really. Of everyone.

She missed the company of the young women who used to sleep in the ladies’ chambers, and the little girl who’d sneak plates of meat to her after evening meals. They’d all gone, leaving her to sleep alone in cold, empty beds.

After a particularly fitful night in her old rooms, the cat decided to find a new place to call home. The palace was large; surely there was somewhere worth her time.

The throne room wouldn’t work. It was constantly full of people yammering on about war and trade and a princess mislaid. Besides, the bright-eyed man with flashing teeth was there. Predators knew well enough not to tread on each other’s territories.

The rooms below were equally unsuited for her needs. One of them smelled too much like death, even for her taste, and others were full of filthy men and women, guarded and hobbled like cattle. One of them actually smelled like cattle and soil. She liked that one. He was missing a hand, but used the other to give her a scratch behind the ears. Still, that place was dark and dirty and smelled like fear—no place for a cat, surely.

The pleasure garden was too hot.

The main hall had no soft places on which to sleep.

She had almost given up hope entirely when she came upon a bedchamber newly inhabited. Poking her head past the curtain, the cat peered in. A girl sat upon a floor cushion. She’d seen her before at the temple. The girl was surrounded by all manner of curiosities. There were stacks of rolled papyri, tiny alabaster jars and pink limestone bottles, amulets in red and blue and green, bits of wax, an oil lamp, a hippopotamus tusk…

The cat’s nose prickled. Here it smelled like power. It smelled of smoke and honey and wine.

The girl held a scroll, but she wasn’t looking at it. Instead, her eyes were on the open window, her gaze toward the golden horizon. In front of her, perhaps the only homely object in the room, was a small crooked twig.

It was only after the cat entered, and her paw crinkled one of the scrolls, that the girl’s reverie was broken.

“Oh!” she said to her visitor. “Well, hello again. Aren’t you a pretty kitty?”

Why yes , thought the cat. As a matter of fact, I am.

“Would you like to stay with me a while?” the girl asked. “I don’t really know anyone here yet, and I could use a friend.”

The cat considered the girl. She was hairless, which was odd, but not unpleasant. Perhaps, like a newborn kit, she needed tending. She gave the girl a tentative sniff. Despite her baldness, there was something strangely feline about her. All cats were touched by the goddess, and it smelled as if this girl had been too.

After some hesitation, the cat flicked her tail in assent, and rubbed her face against the girl’s outstretched hand.

“Can I tell you something?” the girl asked, stroking the cat’s back just the way she liked it.

It was natural, of course, to tell cats secrets. They were very good at keeping them. The cat suspected that the girl, in her own way, was also a keeper of secrets.

“I had the strangest dream last night,” the girl went on. “There was a lion with wings, a snake shedding its skin, and a blue beetle shining with light… What do you think it means?”

The cat merely purred.

The girl shook her head, as if shrugging off a chill, and returned her attention to the scroll in her hand. “Well, I can’t worry about that now. I have work to do.”

And so, she lit the oil lamp, took up the hippopotamus tusk, and began to read.

“‘Amun,’” she recited, “‘Open to me your hidden places. Bast, open to me your power and your secrets. Maat, open to me the truth of all things. Isis, open to me the names of all things. Heka, open to me the words and ways of magic. Open my eyes, bless me with your wisdom, and I shall be your humble vessel on this earth.’”

The girl read on, moving the tusk over the twig in complex gestures, pausing, then continuing.

The cat’s ears prickled with interest. This is a good place. The girl in white was comfortable, warm, and most of all—curious. And that curiosity, well, that was irresistible.

Finally, the girl spat on the twig and waited.

After a long, tense moment, the twig began to twitch, sinuous, serpentine.

Then, it stopped.

The girl beamed, her eyes bright with excitement, and began again.

The cat sauntered over to a cushion and turned her body round and round before settling herself down to watch. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.