The calico cat sat on a hand-woven, gold-stitched old pillow, on top of a granite dias taller than the tallest human in the court. The emperor sat on the cat’s left, on a mahogany wood throne, and the empress sat on the right, on a similar throne, except stained dark blue. On the floor, in front of the thrones, a bald man kneeled, with his forehead on the cool marble floor, and his hands holding up a silver platter with bits of fish scattered across it.

Two steps behind the man, a guard, the royal executioner, stood with his sword held in two hands, raised above his head. Around the pair, various species of cats lay on cushions, some slept, some groomed their paws, and some stared at the fish on the platter. Guards in bright yellow with red-trimmed uniforms, opposite of the executioner’s uniform, stood straight and didn’t move.

In the corner, a guard sweated as a young coal black kitten with ivory white paws, played with a tassel that hung down from his belt. To move or annoy the kitten meant instant death.

The calico cat yawned at the fish, but a white and gray tabby hopped down from the lap of an older woman and padded over to the fish. As it approached from behind, it walked over the back of the supplicanted man, paused on the very top of his head, licked a paw to make sure everyone in the room watched it, then padded across his left arm to arrive at the plate.

The empress whispered something to the emperor, which caused the calico cat to glance at the woman and yawn. The court paused. No one breathed. Only the slight yangle of the kitten and the tassel interrupted the silence, until the calico shifted position on the pillow, tail to the emperor, front paws stretched out, and the tabby’s eyes closed three times before it leaned forward and took a bite of the yellow fish closest to it. A purr erupted from the tabby, and in unison, everyone let out their held breath.