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.