A nurse guided Princess Alice’s hand as she plied her own spoon. The child swallowed, dropped the implement, and picked up her two-handed mug for a swallow of milk.
“She develops well,” Grandma said with pride.
“Yes, and I see that it is good for her,” Alisande said. “She manages well enough with her toy sword, but you were right, Lady Mother—this does require more control.”
“Call me ‘Grandmother,’ dear,” Jimena reproved gently.
“But the children will think that is your name!”
“They will learn to say ‘Jimena’ soon enough, and ‘Grandmother’ is a title of which I am far more proud than the peerage you have granted me.”
“Very well—” Alisande relaxed enough to beam fondly at her mother-in-law. “—Grandmother.”
They finished breakfast, and the butler poured tea, his face screwed into lines of disapproval at the foreign beverage. He couldn’t deny, however, that it c.ost so much as to be worthy of a queen. The nursemaids released Kaprin and Alice from the bondage of their feeding chairs, and the prince ran to the blocks set aside for him under a side table to begin building his first castle of the day. Alice toddled over to join him, but Grandma, sensing an imminent territorial dispute, sidetracked her by picking up a doll and making it dance on her lap. In a squeaky voice, she called out, “A-A-A-A-lice!”
The little girl stopped, turned, looked, and padded over toward her grandmother with a laugh of delight. Unfortunately, her fat little legs became tangled and she sat down rather abruptly. Her face twisted, mouth opening in a wail.
“Oh, dear!” Jimena laid aside the doll and reached down.
Before she could touch the child, though, a tapestry moved and bulged near the floor.
Alisande instantly tensed, hand going to the dagger at her side. “Husband!”
But Jimena beat her son to the song.
But the tapestry lifted, and a small calico cat with outsized ears crept out.
Matt stared. “Where did that come from?”
The baby took one look at the furry stranger and broke off crying, staring in wonder.
The nursemaids gasped and started for the intruder.
Jimena waved them back. “Well, we can be sure it intends no ill, at least. In fact, its entrance is quite welcome.”
“But how did it get here?”
“With a kitchen maid, like as not,” Alisande said, “and crept out of the scullery looking for mice in the night.” She shrugged. “My castle is proof against wolf and lion, army and knight, husband—but not against so small a thing as a mouse, nor she who hunts it.”
The cat stepped toward little Alice, ears forward and alert. The baby gurgled and reached with a hand that hadn’t yet learned to control its strength. The cat shied away, then batted at the little fist with a paw. Alice laughed and pushed up to hands and knees to pursue.
Across the room Kaprin looked up, then came toward the cat, eyes kindling with interest.
“She is only a kitten!” Grandpa cried.
“No, I think full grown,” Jimena said. “I have seen a cat like that before—an Abyssinian, it was, small and with large ears. This one looks somewhat different, not quite of so southern a breed, but has that same air of maturity. She is young, yes, but I am sure the toms think she is full grown.”
The cat neatly evaded a clutch by Kaprin and scooted underneath Alice. The little girl cooed with delight and sat back on her heels, exposing the cat. Kaprin reached down …
Grandma’s hand arrested him. “Gently, Kaprin, gently! They are delicate, you know, and wary. You must earn her trust.”
“Yeah, you have to make friends with them,” Matt seconded. “Cats choose you, not the other way around. Hold out your hand and let her sniff it. Then if she decides to take a chance on you, pet her very, very gently.”
Kaprin reached out a hand. Alice squalled objection—it was her cat, after all—and reached for a tail. But the cat turned back in one lithe movement, tail slipping from between fat little fingers even as they closed, and sniffed at the little hand, then touched it with a cold nose. The baby cooed with delight.
“Sniff me!” Kaprin demanded.
Nothing loath, the cat turned and sniffed at his palm, then gave it a lick. Kaprin chortled with joy, and the little beast turned back to flow under Alice’s reaching hand, forcing an involuntary petting. Alice gurgled with pleasure.
“That,” Matt said, “is one smart cat.”
“She does seem experienced with babes,” Alisande agreed.
Matt grinned at her. “Well, the decision about what kind of pet the family needs seems to have been made for us, dear. Now all you have to do is decide whether you want one or not.”
The cat arched its back as it stepped past Alice, brushing its fur under her chin. Alice crowed and Kaprin turned thunderous with jealousy.
“A bit of string,” Jimena said to a nursemaid.
The woman looked startled, then pulled some yarn from a capacious pocket and broke off a length.
Jimena handed it to Kaprin and said, “Let its end touch the floor and shake it.”
With total faith in Grandma, the little boy did just that. The cat went stiff as a pointer, staring, then crouched down, tail-tip twitching.
“Try to keep it from her,” Grandma told him.
The cat pounced, but Kaprin managed to twist the bit of string out of the way at the last second. The cat followed, batting at the yam, and both children cried out with excitement.
“Is there a decision to be made?” Grandma asked.
“Yes, and the children have made it,” Alisande said with a sigh. “They would be devastated if we took the beast from them now. Only make sure it comes from no evil sorcerer, husband, and carries no pestilence.”
“Just a few spells,” Matt acknowledged. “No problem. We can’t just call it ‘cat’ though—at least, not if it’s going to be a member of the family.”
“If it is Abyssinian,” said Grandpa, ”we should call it Sheba, the biblical name for that land. After all, should not the royal cat be royal herself?”
“Call her after Sheba’s queen, you mean?” Grandma nodded. “A good thought—but let us use her name, not her land.”
“I didn’t know it was ever recorded,” Matt said, frowning.
“Do you not remember your Kipling?” Grandma chided. “ ‘The Butterfly Who Stamped’ ?” “Of course!” Grandpa cried, with a smile of delight. “Balkis, the Best Beloved!” The cat’s head snapped around, staring at them in amazement.
CHAPTER 5
“See how she stares!” Mama cried. “Perhaps we have guessed better than we knew.”
“You do not mean I have struck upon the name someone else has already given her!” Ramon protested.
“Let us see.” Mama patted her lap. “Come talk with me, Balkis.”
The little cat padded over to her, jumped up into her lap, reared up to set her feet on Jimena’s chest, and stared into her eyes.
“Never try to outstare a cat,” Ramon cautioned.
“I would not be so foolish,” Jimena assured him, but she looked directly into the cat’s eyes anyway and recited,