Palace of Scaly Cats

A grand sci-fi novel about palace intrigue and finding one's place in the world.

On the planet Ashshna stands a palace as vast as the world itself, filled with luxury and precious stones. It takes an entire day to cross it. Outside its high walls, death most likely lurks; no one has ever returned from there, so something must be lurking.

That is why exile is the cruellest punishment. Yet, even the fear of it does not deter everyone from crime.

Someone has murdered the Cinshar, the ruler of the world. Courtiers and cupiti weep, and the council begins its quest for the truth. An unknown killer stalks the corridors. And then someone remembers: didn't the Cinshar have a daughter from his first marriage?

Bekh, who has been told her entire life by her mother that she is completely useless, becomes the heir to the throne and, at the same time, the prime suspect. She must first find out who she can trust in order to prove her innocence. Can she succeed and rule a world rife with betrayal and conspiracy? Only the scaly cats, the true rulers of the palace, know.

The Palace of Scaly Cats is a book that deceives the reader in many ways, but they will gladly thank it for the experience. Jarmila Kašparová masterfully plays with genres and language, and has succeeded in creating a complex and vibrant world where every detail matters in the social game. A work whose construction and ambition can stand up to international competition.
— Jiří Štěpán, editor

The guards did not meet anyone. It was the festival of the Blue Chrush, a goddess who resembled an eccentric aunt. Legend had it that she once appeared to the weary Cinshara Shishinapishti and kindly reminded her that it was sometimes perfectly fine to laze away an entire afternoon. Her festival was celebrated by napping. That was why the high-ceilinged corridors were deserted.

Along them, however, ran narrow passageways, from which one could peer into the vast corridors through ornate grilles, tapestries, and other ingenious peepholes. Servants scurried through the passageways. The creaking of the wooden floors beneath their slippers would occasionally emerge from the ever-present sound of the rain. It must have been clear to the four guards that the scurrying servants were rushing to spread the news of their presence to all wings of the palace. But they were sure that the girl they were coming for would receive no warning.
— excerpt from the book