Anne McCaffrey
No One Noticed the Cat
WHEN MANGAN TIGHE, regent to Prince Jamas the Fifth, died, no one noticed the cat in their grief for the passing of this good and learned man. That he was of great age and had enjoyed his wits to the very end only served to heighten the sense of loss. Even Prince Jamas wept, though he had often railed at Regent Mangan's firm but kindly control.
"He never allows me any latitude," Jamas would complain to his equerries.
As they all knew that such restraints also kept Jamas from breaking his neck, head, and back (not to mention all tradition), they merely looked sympathetic. Jamas came from a long line of willful, impetuous, gallant, adventurous princes. Which was why he had been orphaned at an early age when his hey-go-mad young parents killed themselves in a carriage race. The entire country breathed a sigh of relief when Mangan, the former prince's counselor, was made regent.
Prince Jamas would have been slightly more annoyed than grief-stricken if he had been aware that Mangan had known to the second when his soul would leave his body. To protect the principality Mangan had made so peacefully prosperous, the wise man had made certain unusual arrangements well in advance of his expectable demise.
One of them had been to surround the young prince, who now had only a year to go before his majority, with discreet advisors. Mangan had also hand-picked and trained all the primary members of the Court of Esphania for their experience and varied skills so that the prince's council would support their ruler and deftly handle any problems that might arise.
But Mangan had never whispered a hint to his prince that his allotted span was coming to an end. Which to Mangan was not sad but joyous.
When the moment arrived, Mangan knew in his heart that he had done as well as he could to preserve Prince Jamas, the prince's throne, and the commonwealth of Esphania. And he smiled as he died.
"Look, he's smiling," the prince said, brushing tears from his eyes, for he had a generous heart and was sincerely devoted to his regent-guardian. "Death must not be so bad after all."
So not even he noticed the cat who slipped with sinuous quiet away from the fold of the bed curtains where she had been maintaining her own vigil.
THOUGH NOT EVEN Frenery knew it, the smoky-colored Niffy was one of Mangan Tighe's last and best safeguards. Her installation had been as smooth and natural as many of Mangan's other precautions. In fact, no one was quite sure where Mangan obtained her mother, a beautifully marked silver tiger-cat: not a useless lap creature but a fine huntress with great long whiskers and almond-shaped green eyes, large ears for listening, long legs for running, and thick fur for withstanding the chill of the castle's stone corridors and floors.
But one morning she was installed by Mangan in his private quarters, and he spent a great deal of time with her on his lap, caressing her, delighting in the softness of her thick dense fur, and listening to the even rhythm of her rumbling purr. But, most of all, laying the groundwork for his ultimate precaution. From his throat issued a sort of purr, too, which the cat obviously responded to by increasing her own rumble.
From time to time, she would tilt her triangular face up to him, slowly closing her eyes and smiling as only a cat can smile. The tip of her magnificently plumed tail might twitch once or twice before she pulled it about her feet again and relaxed under his stroking hand.
Miranda, for that was her name, produced three kittens: two black and one not quite black, for the underfur was softly gray and tortoise-shell in design.
"I'd've thought you'd pick a black one," Prince Jamas said when he inspected the litter in Mangan's tower.
"No, no," Mangan said with a little laugh, "this is the one who chose me."
The kit crawled up to his still broad shoulder-for Mangan had once been a redoubtable swordsman-making the regent wince as its claws pierced through the fabric of his overvest to flesh. It settled itself neatly as if it held this position by right. Since it rode there whenever Mangan left his tower, everyone became accustomed to this behavior.
When the kitten was weaned, Miranda took the other two down to the stables, where they became the scourge of vermin and sought no further advancement in their lot. The grooms, being a somewhat superstitious lot, made sure the palace dogs did not bother Master Mangan's cats: not that even the most stupid of the canines would have had sufficient courage to attack Miranda.
Niffy, for that was what the regent had nicknamed the one who had chosen him, lapped milk and ate the tender victuals which the cook daily provided for her on the regent's breakfast tray. She also went everywhere with Mangan. Considerately, his valet put extra padding on the shoulders of his clothing to reinforce the much-clawed fabric.
"That one has barbs on the ends of 'er prickers," the valet said, nodding wisely. "Clings to him like to life itself."
While the regent attended to the many duties of his position, Niffy would nap in whatever sunlight came through the windows of his tower, or-which amused Prince Jamas immensely, for the young man often visited his mentor-sit on the current documents that passed across the regent's desk. As if able to read, she would watch the pen as it scratched across parchment, inscribing letters to notables or documents of state.
"Does she read your final drafts, Mangan?" the prince asked once when he noticed that her eyes followed the regent's busy right hand.
Mangan chuckled, reaching up to stroke Niffy, who rose under his hand in appreciation, her purr audible.
"No, my Prince, I trust I do not yet need such assistance," he replied, "but she is a very wise one, indeed."
"Wise? A cat?"
"Truly, my Prince. A cat has the wisdom to remain independent of humans and is always able to provide for itself, whereas dogs are dependent on constant care. A cat allows a human to be a friend if we have proved worthy of such an accolade. Yet it is faithful and recognizes that there are times when we poor humans are in need of the companionship only a cat can provide. Indeed, when I am vexed by a problem, I will often ask her to sit on my lap. I have found that stroking her fur and listening to her soft reassurance, I am able to find a solution to my problems."
"The cat solves your problems?"
"No, my Prince," and Mangan chuckled indulgently, "she provides the serenity in which to solve them."
"May I pet her?" the prince asked, lifting his hand toward Niffy.
"Ask her," Mangan replied.
"After all, I am her prince. She'd better permit." The prince was half-joking.
Niffy raised the green almond-shaped eyes she had inherited from her mother and eyed the prince and his hand.
Abruptly, the prince hesitated and then asked in a tone of some deference, "Will you permit me such familiarity, Lady Niffy?"
Niffy tilted her head slightly, as coquettish as any court beauty, a soft purr audible.
"She permits?" Jamas asked Mangan, to be sure. Oddly enough, he did not wish to lessen himself in his regent's eyes by being rebuffed by his cat.
"Oh, indeed. That purr so informs you," Mangan said and watched as his prince gently, but in quite the most satisfactory manner, stroked the animal.
"I say, she has the most magnificent fur," the prince said, rather pleased by the tactile contact. "I can see why it might be soothing just to stroke her."
"She's a very comfortable person, my Prince."
"Yes, I do believe she is a person," Jamas said, laughing slightly with embarrassment, for he had not really considered felines "persons" before now. In fact, he hadn't much considered the domestic animals in his castle, especially when they provided the services he had come to expect of each, and certainly not as personalities. Niffy changed his perceptions. Dogs he had in plenty, but they helped him hunt.