THE CAT WHO CAME TO DINNER

Nancy Asire

       Nancy Asire is the author of four novels, Twilight's Kingdom, Tears of Time, To Fall Like Stars, and Wizard's Spawn. She also has written short stories for the series anthologies Heroes in Hell and Merovingen Nights, and a short story for Mercedes Lackey's Flights of Fantasy. She has lived in Africa and traveled the world, but now resides in Missouri with her cats and two vintage Corvairs.

The last rays of the setting sun struck the multiple small circular windows of the chapel, fracturing the light into a myriad sparks dancing on the warm wooden walls and on the altar. Reulan stood for a long moment caught in the glittering manifestation of the God’s greatest gift to mankind—light. Several village women had finished their task of caring for the interior of the sanctuary only a candlemark ago, and the pungent scent of wood polish filled the chapel.

Reulan held a taper in both hands as he stood facing the altar of Vkandis Sunlord. Where in colder weather a fire burned on the altar, summertime warmth dictated a profusion of red flowers. Reulan briefly bowed his head in contemplation—Vkandis, source of all comfort, light and warmth, protector and sustainer of mankind.

The light faded fractionally. Reulan stepped close to the altar and, as the chapel grew dim with the setting of the sun, he lit the large, thick candle that stood at the center of the altar. Darkness should never touch the chapel, with some form of light needed at all times to honor the Sunlord.

Flickering shadows danced on the chimney-altar, then steadied as the candleflame stabilized. The gold image of Vkandis on the chimney glittered in that candlelight, the features of the image inscrutable but hinting of both power and love. Reulan bowed his head again in homage to the God, made the sign of the Holy Disk, and left the chapel through the door to one side of the altar.

Only a step lay between the chapel and Reulan’s room, but the distance might as well have been leagues. Closing the door, he removed the heavy gold chain of sun-priest and then his vestments, standing clad in simple black robes. He sighed quietly, standing silent for a few long breaths, mentally moving from his attitude of worship into the mundane world. With the Night Candle lit, the chapel secure until the rising sun celebration, he could now turn to supper.

The height of summer was nearly on the village of Sweetwater. Two windows and a door stood open to catch the breeze. Just enough light lingered for Reulan to strike flame to the candles on the table, dresser, kitchen cupboard and the smaller table that stood beside his narrow cot. He gathered up the greens he had picked from his garden, added them to the plate where his sausage sat next to a roasted potato, and filled a cup with water from the village well—water so pure and sweet it had given this village its name. Sitting down at the table, he blessed the food he was about to eat, and looked up.

A pair of eyes looked back, the candlelight flaming in their depths like golden fire.

“Vkandis preserve me!” he murmured, starting at the sight. It was a cat, a very large and furry cat, sitting in the chair opposite as if specifically invited to dinner. “Where in the God’s green earth did you come from?”

The cat, as was typical of all members of the species, gazed back expressionless as a statue. Having recovered from his surprise, Reulan examined the cat closely. Large was a understatement: this was possibly the biggest cat he had ever seen, and the village of Sweetwater was no stranger to champion mousers. But here sat an interloper. The cats of Sweetwater were by and large brown or grey tabbies, while his “guest” sported a coat of light cream. A thick mane surrounded the cat’s face and, even without seeing it, Reulan knew the creature’s tail most likely would be a plume.

“You are a big one,” he observed. The cat yawned and resumed its staring. “Begging for dinner are you? I don’t think I have any mice and I doubt you can while away the evening with a tale or two. However, the God has been generous this summer and I’m more than willing to share.”

He cut off a hunk of his sausage and extended it. With a delicacy belying its size, the cat gently took the offered meat, jumped to the floor, and settled down to its dinner. Reulan chewed his own meal thoughtfully. The low rumble of a purr filled the room and, for an instant, Reulan was transported back to his father’s barn, where he had sometimes sat surrounded by the resident cats, all of whom seemed content to lie purring in the sun until night and the hunt were upon them.

Darkness hovered not far away, the long summertime dusk deepening outside. Reulan cleaned his dish, put it away, and blew out the candle on the cupboard. He expected his visitor to be gone when he turned back, but, no, the cat was now busy cleaning his face and whiskers.

“Time to go,” Reulan said, and reached down to push his guest toward the open door. “Dawn comes early, and I must be in bed.”

The cat protested with a deep meow, standing stiff-legged, but finally allowed Reulan to escort him out the door. He stood facing Reulan for a moment, a half-accusing expression on his face and then sat down, wrapping his thickly-furred tail around his front paws. The young priest felt a slight twinge of guilt as he closed the door and turned toward his bed. Tomorrow he would ask around the village to see if anyone knew who might own the cat. Tonight, however, with all of Sweetwater’s barns available, the feline could easily find any number of places to hunt and sleep.

* * *

The first light of dawn woke Reulan from a deep sleep. Something heavy lay next to his feet and, when he looked down to the end of his bed, he was amazed to find the cream-colored tabby curled up in a comfortable ball, still sleeping deeply. The window, he thought absently, the cat must have come in through the window last night. We’ll see how long he stays.

But all that day, through the numerous chores Reulan completed, the day after and the next, the cat never stayed far away. No matter what he did—whether weeding his garden, repairing a few shingles on the chapel (and it took some doing to scale the tree nearby to jump across to the roof), or taking meditative walks through the fields or forest—the cat kept close to his side. No one Reulan spoke with could remember seeing such a magnificent beast or one of that particular color. He finally admitted the cat had adopted him and felt oddly grateful for the company.

One evening as he and the cat sat down to supper together, Reulan heard the distant rumble of thunder. He had been expecting a storm, for the air had been close and heavy all day, and its coming promised some relief from the heat. Finished with both dinner and toilet, the cat disappeared into the night. He never stayed away long...no chasing down sausages in the night for this fellow. Far better to wait politely and let the human provide the meal.

Reulan closed the shutters to his room as the wind rose and the temperature started to drop. Distant lightning became more vivid now and foretold a good soaking overnight rain. Reulan still didn’t see the cat and called out to his companion, but saw nothing. A faint pang of anxiety tightened his heart—he didn’t want the poor fellow to be caught in a downpour. Another rumble of thunder and one last call. Cat’s been out in the rain before, he thought, and likely will be again. Trust to the Goddess to keep him safe.

Shutting the door, Reulan slipped into bed, blessed himself with thoughts of the God he served, and blew out the candle. One last prayer for the safety of the cat crossed his mind, and then he fell asleep, the thunder now overhead and the rain beating down on his roof.

* * *

Long years of training and practice woke Reulan the next morning before dawn, though with his windows shuttered the interior of his room was dark as night. He reached for the candle on his bedside table and froze in place. A light purr sounded from the end of his bed and the by now familiar weight of the cat shifted ever so slightly beside Reulan’s feet. A chill ran up Reulan’s spine as he lit the candle and discovered the cat busily engrossed in his morning bath. A quick glance to both windows revealed that the wind had not blown them open during the night, and that the door remained securely shut. How, in the name of Vkandis Sunlord, had the cat managed to get inside?

“You’re the oddest fellow I’ve ever had the occasion to meet,” Reulan said, reaching down to scratch his bedmate behind the ears, the sound of his own voice helping dispel the strangeness of the situation. “You must have run in between my feet last night without my knowing it, no?” The cat merely yawned, showing sharp white teeth and pink tongue.

Reulan stretched, rose from bed and opened his windows and door. The storm had indeed cleared the air and, this high in the hills, even in summer the morning was bracingly cool. The cat rubbed up against his ankles, meowed pitifully as if he had not eaten in days, and planted himself in the chair he had claimed for his own. Reulan washed his face from the bucket on the cupboard, dried off, and donned his vestments. The rising sun celebration was close at hand; he left his room, crossed the small chapel and threw open the doors at its west end. Then, standing before the altar, he closed his eyes, opened his mind to the glory of the God, and waited for first light to strike the windows above his head.

He felt a bump against his leg and quickly opened his eyes. The cat sat beside him, facing the altar, proper as any worshiping villager. At first, this had somehow bothered Reulan, but he believed that Vkandis cared for all creatures, that any who wished to worship the God should be welcome at his altar. Reulan heard the village farmers arriving and sensed them standing in silent meditation as the first rays of sun struck the windows above. Lifting his hands, Reulan spoke the words of Morning Greeting.

“Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Life and Light, be with us today. We praise you, we honor you, we keep you in our hearts and minds. What is good and true, help us to do and become. What is hateful and cruel, aid us in denying. We offer this day to you, Sunlord, and seek your blessings on all that we do.”

“May it be so,” responded the voices behind him.

Reulan extinguished the candle that had lit the chapel during the night and turned to face his congregation. “Go forth to daylight, knowing the God is by your side.”

The farmers bowed their heads briefly, smiled at Reulan, and silently filed out of the chapel to their various fields and gardens. Once again, the cat rubbed up against his legs, meowing pitifully.

“Breakfast, eh? What would you like this morning, sir cat? I have only what I’ve given you in the past—sausage. I’d think you’d grow tired of it.”

The cat looked up and, for a brief moment, Reulan could have sworn he heard a voice saying, “Well, if you must ask, I’d really rather have fish.”

He laughed quietly, amused that he had assigned spoken words to an animal, and returned to his room and his morning meal, the cat following close behind.

* * *

Being a sun-priest in a small village required not only knowledge of the ways of Vkandis Sunlord but also of teaching, mending (both physical and metaphysical), gardening and, to a certain extent, more than a passing proficiency in healing. But one of the most pleasant duties of a priest to Reulan’s mind was the time he spent in silent meditation, fixing his mind on the glory and love of the God he served. It had become his habit, not long after arriving in Sweetwater and becoming old Beckor’s assistant priest, to spend this time outdoors, preferably at high noon when the Vkandis’ power was the greatest. The place he set aside for communion with the God was a small clearing in the forest east of the village. It was there that Reulan turned his footsteps this day, his morning chores done and the villagers about their daily tasks. He strode along the pathway, his mind stilled, already slipping into light meditation. The cat, as usual, came along, periodically darting off into the bushes, then back again.

The day was especially fine, blue sky above and sunlight slanting through the trees. Reulan rejoiced and marveled at the power of the God that protected the land and its people. Though apprenticed at an early age to Beckor, which made his parents proud and additionally relieved them of a mouth to feed, he had always felt close to the God. Somehow he sensed he had been born to this...that he had been chosen from an early age. Now with Beckor gone to the God and Reulan no longer apprenticed, his life seemed to have become all it was meant to be.

The clearing lay just over a rocky rise in the ground. Reulan could see the sunlight pooling ahead and quickened his pace, eager to arrive at his goal.

:Reulan! Snake! Don’t move!:

For a moment, Reulan thought his heart had stopped. He certainly did, for anyone who had been born and raised in this area of Karse knew the peril of snakes. Frozen into immobility, he looked down to see a large rock snake stretched out on the path in a patch of sunlight, only two steps away. A cold sweat broke out on Reulan’s forehead: the bite of a rock snake was often fatal. Very carefully and ever so slowly, he backed away, never taking his eyes from the reptile.

Halfway down the path now and far enough away that the snake posed no immediate danger, he started shaking, aware just how close to death he had come. But who had called out his name? Who had warned him?

The cat rubbed up against his leg and sat down.

:Well,: a voice said inside his head. :The least you could do is thank me.:

Reulan stared at the cat, feeling his mouth drop open.

:And close your mouth before you catch flies,: the cat advised, cocking his head and twitching his tail around his front paws.

A talking cat! Knees suddenly weak, Reulan glanced around, very carefully this time, for a place to sit that was not already occupied by a snake. Sinking down on a small boulder, he stared at the cat, his pulse racing. He had heard old grandmother tales about talking beasts—birds, horses, cats—creatures larger than normal that could speak mind-to-mind, but he had always considered these tales a fine way to while away the long hours of a winter night, not truth. But now...

Reulan swallowed heavily. “You talk!” he finally got out when he had gained control of his voice.

:It’s fortunate for you that I do,: the cat retorted, but Reulan sensed a smile. :And since we’re now on speaking terms, you may call me Khar.:

Khar? Certainly no name of any cat he had ever known—certainly not Boots, Patches, Puss or any of the other descriptive appellations people gave their cats.

“But...how...I mean, you’re speaking to me like...like...”

:A person?: And this time Reulan was certain he heard a laugh. :We all have our burdens to bear. And yours, sun-priest, is rudeness. You still haven’t thanked me.:

Reulan licked his lips and swallowed again. “Thank you, Khar. I could be dead if you hadn’t been with me! But why—”

:If you’d be so kind,: Khar interrupted, busy now smoothing down his abundant whiskers, :I’d appreciate a small reward. I would suggest a fish...a large, fat fish.:

How catlike. Despite his confusion and awe, Reulan smiled. Trust a feline to always be looking out for itself. “I’m sorry, Khar,” he said, feeling slightly foolish to be talking to a cat. “Sweetwater has no fish. And if we wanted fish, which most of us don’t, we’d have to depend on traders or go to Sunhame itself.”

:Well, now, that’s an idea. Let’s go to Sunhame, you and I, and you can get me a fish.:

Reulan stared at the cat, unsure if he was being mocked or not. Sunhame was more than four days’ walk away, not an arduous journey but one he had not particularly contemplated. A sudden thought passed through his mind. Sunhame. He hadn’t been in the capital city since the final six-month period of his training as sun-priest and that had been over three years ago. The Holy Writ required that every person, once in his or her lifetime, should visit Sunhame. The most propitious of times to make that journey was at mid-summer, to be present at the high holy day of Summer Solstice, when the sun stood longest in the sky. Naturally, the journey was even more important for sun-priests, who were expected to serve as examples to the populace. He mentally figured out the calendar: Summer Solstice was only six days away. He could easily make Sunhame by then.

He snorted. What was he thinking? Why should he suddenly leave his village to make a journey to Sunhame? Certainly not for a fish, though he knew he owed Khar more than a simple meal for saving his life. On the other hand, the village was as prosperous as a village its size could be, its people were healthy, and no babies were due. Besides, the village midwife could handle that far better than he.

A strange, fey mood swept over him. Sunhame. Why not?

“Do you think,” he asked, reaching down to scratch Khar under the chin, “that you could wait a bit to collect your reward? Long enough for me to set things right in the village and to pack my supplies? Or do you suggest we leave this very day?”

If feline expressions could be said to duplicate those of human beings, Khar looked positively disgusted. :Cats, Reulan,: he said with monumental dignity, :are known for their patience. A few more days certainly won’t kill me.:

* * *

And so it had been decided. Reulan had sought out Santon, the village headman, and explained that he would be making a pilgrimage to Sunhame to fulfill his obligation to be present at the Temple of Vkandis Sunlord at the Summer Solstice. Santon, understandably, was somewhat taken aback by the suddenness of this decision, but Reulan had mollified the big farmer by pointing out that the villagers could walk to Two-Trees, the village closest, for their own mid-summer celebration at that chapel. And if anyone was injured or needed medical care, Two Trees was large enough to have its own healer.

Truth to be told, another reason surfaced in Reulan’s mind for the journey, and that was simple curiosity. When traders had come through Sweetwater a month ago, they had told the villagers that the tragic and untimely death of the Son of the Sun, along with the inability of the senior-most priests of the Temple to choose his successor, had thrown Sunhame into confused anticipation. From what the traders said, infighting among various factions of the senior priesthood had broken out. Time and again they had sought a consensus, put forward various candidates, but had reached no agreement. It seemed as if something was blocking a decision that would make everyone happy.

Reulan looked on the infighting among his superiors with a certain amount of disdain. Politics! God, he hated politics! As a priest, it was his duty to worship Vkandis and to look after the God’s people, not to find ways to increase his own standing. But if there was any time to journey to Sunhame, to see the Temple again, and possibly to be present at the elevation of the new Son of the Sun, this was it.

And so, the following morning Reulan set forth, carrying a light pack filled with provisions enough to see him there and back. The villagers had wished him a good journey and smiled to see their priest and his always-present cat set off down the dusty road to the south. Long accustomed to physical activity, Reulan soon settled into his walking stride, an easy gait that would carry him to his stopping place for the night without leaving him exhausted. He glanced down at Khar who trotted alongside, and shook his head. If he hadn’t thought his eyes were deceiving him, he would have sworn that Khar had grown overnight. The biggest cat he had ever seen now appeared even bigger.

“Well, Khar,” he said conversationally, “are you happy now? We’re off to Sunhame and your fish.”

:And possibly more than that,: was the cat’s reply.

Reulan waited for Khar to continue, but the cat fell silent. Reulan shook his head. Cats. Some of the most secretive creatures ever born, it ill served a human to attempt to pry information from them. Even ones who spoke.

The setting sun to his right, Reulan and Khar entered the next village south of Sweetwater. His black robes and gold chain of office would grant him food and rest wherever he chose to stop, but he aimed for the chapel, knowing that Faroaks’ own priest would welcome him for the night. And he was correct, for as he approached the chapel to attend its own sunset service, Dhadi stood at the doors, waiting for the villagers who chose to attend the service.

“Reulan!” the priest said, extending his hand in greeting. “What brings you to Faroaks?” His eyes fell on the cat, who sat at Reulan’s side, breathing a bit heavily from the long walk. “God of Light, Reulan! Where in the world did you find that cat? It’s absolutely huge!”

Reulan glanced at Khar and started. If possible, Khar had grown even more during the walk from Sweetwater. “He adopted me,” he explained lamely, feeling as if he had blundered into some story. And Dhadi only knew the half of it. Reulan smiled what he hoped was his most disarming smile. “I’m on my way to Sunhame for the Summer Solstice and if I could spend the night with you, I’d be most appreciative.”

“Of course,” Dhadi said. “Come in, Reulan. The sun’s nearly set and I must light the Night Candle.” He looked slightly askance at Khar. “Does he follow you even to services?”

“He’s one of the God’s creatures,” Reulan responded. “If you don’t mind, he’ll come with me.”

For a moment, Reulan thought Dhadi would refuse, but his fellow priest merely shook his head and gestured inside. “Stranger things have happened,” he murmured. “You and your cat are welcome, Reulan. The God’s blessing be on both of you.”

* * *

After assisting Dhadi in celebrating the rising sun and sharing a wholesome breakfast with his fellow priest, Reulan set out on the road again. He had not even reached the fields when he noticed several villagers following after. With the breeze at his back, he overheard snatches of conversation, not a bit of which was devoted to him. No, it was Khar they spoke about. Finally, curiosity triumphed and one of the men trotted up to Reulan’s side.

“Begging your pardon, sun’s-ray,” he said, dipping his head in an abbreviated bow. “Me and my friends, well, we’ve never seen such a cat as the one you’ve got. He’s near big as my dog.”

Reulan shrugged uncomfortably. “You think he’s big? You should see the mice in Sweetwater!”

The farmer simply stared, oblivious to Reulan’s attempted humor. “Maybe so, sun’s-ray, but he’s one blessed big cat.” He dipped his head again. “Sunlord guard you on your journey.”

“And bless you and your endeavors,” Reulan replied automatically, sketching the Holy Disk symbol to include them all.

He turned away and set out on the road again, Khar trotting along at his side. Once he was out of hearing range, he glanced down at the cat. “You’ve grown again,” he accused, shifting his pack on his shoulders to a more comfortable position. “And don’t try to deny it.”

:Perhaps,: Khar replied. :But maybe you’re only seeing better.:

Reulan made a face. “Inscrutable as always, sir cat. I must admit you’re beginning to make me nervous.”

If a cat could snort derisively, Khar did just that. :Spoken by a man who for days now has been conversing with a “dumb” animal.:

A faint blush heated Reulan’s cheeks. “Maybe so, Khar, but something’s going on here that I don’t understand. Why did you ‘adopt’ me? And, for the love of the Lord of Light, how is it that you talk?”

Khar flicked his tail in high good humor. :You’ve been initiated into mysteries, Priest Reulan. And aside from your initial shock, you’ve adapted very well. Who better to ask for fish?:

* * *

Three days into his journey, Reulan found the road becoming more crowded. No longer did he simply meet farmers going out to their fields, or the occasional horse-drawn cart filled with vegetables headed off to market somewhere. Now he shared the road with well-dressed folk who rode horseback, or those who walked in groups, all seemingly headed to Sunhame for the Summer Solstice. As the riders passed, bowing in their saddles to a sun-priest, he had to endure their comments about the size and beauty of the cat at his side. A few even made offers of purchase, proposing sums that made Reulan’s head spin.

As for Khar, despite his dissembling, he had continued to grow. The farmers outside Faroaks should see him now, Reulan thought. Though he had become somewhat accustomed (if that word fairly described his state of mind) to Khar’s company and to sharing conversations with what everyone else deemed a speechless animal, he felt he somehow skirted the edge of mystery.

That evening, stopping in a large village, he once again sought out the local sun-priest, arriving just in time for the lighting of the Night Candle. He knew the priest here very well; his former master Beckor had apprenticed Jaskhi at one time, before Reulan’s entry into the priesthood. Reulan and Jaskhi had become close friends after Beckor had died, the young priest turning to the older man for wisdom and support.

“So, Reulan,” Jaskhi said, dinner over and the two of them sitting for a moment in the well-lit room behind Jaskhi’s chapel. Khar had curled up at Reulan’s feet, purring like approaching thunder. “You’re making your pilgrimage, eh? Better early than late, I say. You’ve timed your journey well, my friend. You should arrive in Sunhame the morning of the Summer Solstice. All the inns will be full, but you can always find a place to sleep at the Temple.”

“Unless it’s too full of quarreling priests,” Reulan murmured.

“Ah, that!” Jaskhi waved a dismissive hand. “When Vkandis wills, they’ll find their choice obvious. And what better day for that to happen than Summer Solstice? I envy you, Reulan. To be present at such an event is something no one would ever forget.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now, tell me about your cat.”

Reulan sighed. If one more person asked him about Khar, he thought he would choke. By this time, however, he had come up with a story of how Khar had “adopted” him he could recite without even thinking about it.

“There’s still something strange about that cat,” Jaskhi said, unconvinced, “and I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aside from his size, which is enough in itself to set anyone back, there’s a touch of mystery about him, as if he’s a gateway into somewhere we can’t go.”

Reulan stared. “What are you talking about?”

“I really don’t know,” Jaskhi admitted. “But, I’ll tell you right now...this is no ordinary, if simply oversized, cat. Cats don’t grow that big, and I’ve never heard of one walking beside a human all the way to Sunhame.” He held up a hand. “No, don’t say anything. I’m sure I’m not the first to comment on your cat. Just remember this, Reulan...there are more things in this world than even we sun-priests can see. And I think you’ve walked straight into one of them.”

* * *

When Reulan set out on the last day of his journey, he was only hours away from Sunhame. By now the road had grown congested with people from all walks of life. As had become the case yesterday, Reulan was surrounded by a crowd of people who, for all their deference to a sun-priest, couldn’t refrain from making comments about Khar. Reulan set his face in a proper priestly expression, refusing to acknowledge the remarks supposedly made out of his hearing. Khar, of course, remained oblivious to the commotion he caused.

The outskirts of Sunhame came into view around a bend in the road, a road that was now broad and paved with large flat cobbles. As had been the case when Reulan had seen it first, the capital of Karse seemed overwhelming. Born and raised in the country, Reulan had found it hard to believe so many people could live in one place. The six months he had spent in his final studies before being elevated to the priesthood had not lessened that feeling. Today was no different. The buildings were huge. The press of people amazing. The noise, the confusion, the smells...

And now, people were pointing in his direction. The crowds created so much noise that Reulan could not hear what was being said. From the expressions on people’s faces, some great lord and his escort had been caught up by the press of people behind him. But when he looked over his shoulder, all he saw was a sea of faces, and each one of them seemed to be staring at him.

Or, he admitted uncomfortably, at the cat.

He glanced down at Khar, who walked very close to him now to avoid being stepped on by the unwary person or horse. The cat’s appearance was slightly different...his tail, face and legs appeared a darker shade of cream. But that plume of a tail was held straight up and there was a spring to Khar’s step that Reulan had not seen before. Fish. It had to be fish. Close as Sunhame lay to a broad, slow moving river, and to both Ruby Lake and its smaller companion, Lake Mist, fish would be readily at hand.

The buildings loomed taller now, over three, sometimes four, stories. The closer one drew to the center of Sunhame, the more impressive the architecture. The capital was laid out in the shape of a wheel, or a sundisk, with the Temple holding the center and twelve main roads leading out from that center. Reulan glanced up and saw faces looking down from many of those windows. The noise of the crowd grew even louder and people leaned out from those windows, pointing downward. Vkandis Sunlord! What was going on? Once more, he glanced over his shoulder, certain he would find a procession or something of the sort that could be causing all the commotion. Again, he saw nothing but wide-eyed faces staring at him and the cat that walked at his side.

There are more things in this world than even we sun-priests can see, his friend Jaskhi had said. And I think you’ve walked straight into one of them.

Reulan quickened his pace. The sun was near its zenith and he wanted to be standing with the rest of the people at the Temple when the Solstice occurred. He knew from past experience he was too late to attend the service inside the Temple. And with no Son of the Sun to lead the ceremonies, the great sanctuary would be packed by senior priests and those who had staked their claims on the best spots to see and be seen.

He heard someone cry out, but couldn’t distinguish the words. Nervous now, he kept his eyes straight forward and concentrated on ignoring the growing noise of the crowd. Though he walked down a clogged street, no one bumped into him or, for that matter, even came close. He and Khar walked in a small circle of emptiness and that fact alone made Reulan more jittery than ever.

Vkandis Sunlord, he prayed. Protect me! He didn’t include Khar in that prayer, quite certain the cat could more than take care of himself.

More shouting broke out but Reulan couldn’t see far enough to tell what was happening. But when the road rose upward toward the Temple at the highest point in the city, he began to see what was going on. A crowd of Black-robes, Red-robes and White-robes plowed through the crowd, swimming upstream as it were against the tide of travelers headed toward the Temple. Reulan swallowed heavily. Something was happening here...something of great importance. And he didn’t have a clue as to what it was.

I’m a simple country priest, I’m no one important, he pleaded inwardly. Don’t look at me as if I were.

One of the Black-robes, a senior fellow if his gorgeous robes and gold accouterments meant anything, turned and all but sprinted toward the Temple, his fellow priests falling back to let him through. The noise of the crowd intensified, blending into an excited roar. Reulan could see the Temple now. White marble caught and held the sunlight and shone like a flame at nighttime. The many steps leading up to the sanctuary gleamed in the sunlight and the gold on the cornices seemed blindingly bright.

He approached the steps, more determined than ever to ignore the uproar. The crowd had drawn back from the main entrance to the Temple, leaving the plaza around it shockingly empty. Reulan stopped, unsure what to do next. Then something bumped into his leg above the knee, the familiar head-butt of his cat. But above knee height?

Reulan looked down and his heart gave an absurd little leap in his chest. Knees trembling, feeling faint, he stared at his feline companion.

In place of the cat who had journeyed with him from Sweetwater stood a creature straight out of legend, one every child had heard about in tale after tale. The cream-colored body was still there, but no tabby markings marred its hue. Now a brick-red mask, legs and tail graced the cream. And the eyes. O Vkandis Sunlord! The eyes were blue, the blue of a cloudless sky, a blue so deep he felt he could have fallen into their depths and kept falling forever.

A Firecat!

* * *

“Khar?” he breathed, knowing the cat would hear. “O Lord of Light...Khar, is that you?”

:Steady, Reulan,: Khar said, rubbing his cheek against Reulan’s leg. :Take a few deep breaths, and everything will be fine.:

The noise of the crowd shut off as if someone had taken a knife to it, separating one moment of clamor from the next instant of total silence. Reulan stood rooted in place, lifting his eyes to the steps leading up to the sanctuary. A procession had formed at the top of those steps that consisted of the senior-most priests of the land, who were now slowly headed down toward where Reulan stood. Though every muscle in his body quivered, screaming at him to turn and run, he could not move. His mouth grew dry and he feared he would choke on the avalanche of emotions that gripped his heart.

The procession stopped a few steps from where he stood, the expressions on the faces of the priests one of uniform awe. It had become so quiet now, he could hear Khar’s rumbling purr.

As one, every priest facing him bowed low.

Two of them approached: one removed Reulan’s pack and the other fastened a cloak about his shoulders, a cloak heavily encrusted with gold and sun-gems. Reulan could hardly breathe at this point, his mind whirling out of control and his heart beating so loud he was sure the entire plaza could hear it.

Then from the center of the procession stepped the senior-most priest of all who had gathered here, a man his master Beckor had acknowledged as one of the purest souls in the capital. An old man, white hair gleaming in the sunlight and eyes wide with awe, the priest bore in his hands the great golden crown of the Son of the Sun.

Reulan briefly closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening! It was utterly impossible! He had never had any desire to do more than minister to his people and—

“Vkandis has chosen!” the old man called out, his voice surprisingly clear and more than loud enough to be heard by those who had gathered in the plaza. He lifted the crown and set it on Reulan’s head at the very moment the sun reached its zenith in the sky.

For an instant, Reulan forgot to breathe.

And then the glory descended.

Light, golden light, light that filled him like water poured into an empty vessel. Light that lifted him out of himself into a place where no darkness could ever come. He was enfolded by light, consumed by light, cradled by light. He was the fiery wick on a brilliant candle the size of the universe. He cried out voicelessly in the presence of that light, protesting that he could not be worthy.

And the light responded, not in words but in something far beyond words. Comfort came with those “words,” along with a feeling of subtle good humor. Could he question the will of Vkandis? Could he possibly know more than the God? And what if Vkandis required a “simple country priest” to lead his people?

The light, if possible, intensified and coursed through his veins like fire. His heart expanded, accepting the love and wisdom of the God who touched him. He bowed before that Presence, accepting the choice of the God he loved.

And, suddenly, he saw again with the eyes of flesh. The silence in the plaza beat at his ears with the same intensity that the roar of the crowd had possessed not long ago...a lifetime ago. He felt Khar’s shoulder snug against his leg, heard the Firecat’s soothing purr. The crown on his head should have weighed enough to bend his neck, but he felt nothing heavier than the touch of a gentle hand.

He stared at the crowd that stood in a circle around him. No one moved or spoke. He turned slowly, looking from person to person. And his heart quivered in his chest at what he saw.

Behind those who faced him stretched their shadows, as if he were a lamp lit in the darkness and they had turned toward his light.

Khar butted his head against Reulan’s leg again. He glanced down at the Firecat, seeing true affection dancing in those very blue eyes.

:Well, Reulan. We’re here at last. Now can I have my fish?: