He couldn't disagree, so he racked his brain for something the girls had always liked. "Have you heard about the Gardens of Tasnim?"
Twenty-One
Anahita couldn't stop laughing. "Why would anyone want a jewelled garden? Why not plants? Trees for shade and flowers for scent…precious metals and jewels have no scent!"
"Plant do not grow underground, you see. Most plants, anyway. There are mushrooms growing in one of the lower caverns, I believe. They fetch quite a high price in the markets, or so I'm told."
Anahita knew little about mushrooms, unless they found their way into her food. "Are you sure you're not a mushroom merchant pretending to be a prince?" she asked.
The frog drew himself up, and bumped his head on the lip of the water bag. "I assure you I am the Prince of Tasnim, and as such, it is my business to know as much as I can about my city and how to help it prosper. The mushrooms have a terrible smell, and must be kept away from where people sleep, or they complain. So the mushroom caverns are surrounded by store rooms."
Anahita couldn't imagine her father knew as much about his own city as Philemon knew about Tasnim.
"What sort of prince tells his people where they can live, or grow mushrooms? I thought there were advisers and officials who took care of such things," Anahita said.
"My father was more lenient about such things – letting people choose for themselves, and move if they needed to, but the city is more populous now, or it was, so after numerous cases where I had to judge in favour of one or the other of the city's residents, I assigned an official to take care of things." He hesitated, before continuing in a rush, "One of my concubines, if you must know."
"A woman holding office in a city? How is this possible? Surely no man would accept the judgement of a woman – and a concubine, at that!"
He made a sound of disgust. "Tasnim is not like other desert cities. Our women are not nothing. Tasnim was a garrison city, and some of the garrison were women – some say the fabled Amazons from the east. They fought and died like men, and were accorded the same citizenship when the city became a sovereign principality, no longer beholden to the fallen ancient empire who had brought together soldiers from such distant parts. My own great grandmother ruled as Princess Regent until her son came of age to claim the throne as his own.
"Rahat was one of the women given to me, who did not wish to remain in the harem. I believe she ran her father's household before she came to me, and after listening to several days' petitions, she informed me that I needed to do something about regulating my city. And she volunteered for the role. Any citizen of Tasnim who had a problem – man or woman – with her judgements could still appeal to me, but I cannot recall a single time that I judged against Rahat. She was terrifying. I found out much later that the decision to hand her over to the city to pay for the hospitality of her father's caravan was hers – and that her father was most upset when he discovered it."
Now he'd piqued her curiosity. "Did she not have a husband?"
"Actually, she did. She was quite partial to a particular kind of pastry that one of my palace cooks specialised in, and she married him. I gave her a set of golden bracelets as a wedding gift. She wore them always, and the clinking sound of them terrified many, I am told."
"You allowed your concubine to marry your cook?"
The frog waved his hands emphatically. "She was never truly a concubine, not in the way you mean the word. And she was a city official, a citizen, mistress of her own destiny. I could have challenged the marriage, but only if I'd wished to press my own suit and marry her instead. Rahat would have turned me down flat, in any case."
"What of her father?"
The frog shrugged. "He surrendered her to me, along with any right he had to decide her future. Unwillingly, as it later turned out, but by that time it was too late. Rahat made sure of that." He smiled. "To the enduring benefit of Tasnim, I must admit."
"Who lived there? Aside from you and your concubines-who-weren't-really-concubines. And your cook."
"Merchants, mostly. Men who used their share of Tasnim's wealth to go into trade, financing caravans who were entitled to the hospitality of the city at no charge, because they were owned by the city's merchants. Women who chose to marry men in the city, rather than leave the city and risk falling into the hands of a husband who would not be as civilised as the men of Tasnim. Others chose to go into business on their own. I believe the mushroom merchants were two sisters, come to think of it."
"I would like to visit Tasnim. It sounds…nice." An impossible dream is what it sounded like. And yet…from Philemon's words, it sounded very real. She needed to see it with her own eyes to believe such a place could exist. Where women could choose…
"When you visit, you will stay there as my honoured guest," the frog promised.
Oh, she wanted to believe it so much. "And what if I do not wish to leave?"
The frog spread his arms wide. "Then you will need to find a way to earn your keep until you attain citizenship. Take up a trade, perhaps, or marry one of the city's citizens. The men of Tasnim value a good cook over a pretty face, for beauty fades." He held up his hands in supplication. "Not that you have anything to worry about. A plain woman such as yourself could never be considered just a pretty face."
Plain. If even a frog called her plain, there was no hope for Anahita. Of course, she knew her beauty did not compare to Maram or some of Father's more favoured wives, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
She had nothing to offer Tasnim. A plain face and no skill at cooking. As for a trade…all she knew how to do was hunt.
"Is there a place in Tasnim for hunters who are good at hawking?" Anahita asked.
"The mews in Tasnim has been empty for as long as I can remember. No falconer could keep the birds happy in an underground city, I understand. The job is yours, if you wish it."
For a moment, hope blossomed in her chest. A life with only her birds to care for – no husband, no harem, nothing but hunting. But her father would never allow it.
But if he did not know…believed her happily married to some sheikh…
Then and there, Anahita made a vow to herself. She would help the frog break the curse – even if she had to enlist Maram's help to find and persuade the enchantress to do so – and make Tasnim her home.
She would finally be free.
Twenty-Two
"You know what he's after, don't you?" Asad asked in a low voice as he helped Anahita unsaddle the camels.
"Who? Haidar? Of course. He wants the impossible – to turn back time," Anahita said. "To have his wife back."
"Not Haidar. The frog. The one who rides with you, and fills your ears with tales of old," Asad said.
"Philemon wants to break the curse, and go home to Tasnim." After listening to him for so many days in the desert, she knew that for a certainty, for all his tales were of Tasnim, the magical city where a woman could be more than property.
"He wants you to do it."
Anahita stared. "You're wrong. He's never asked for any such thing. He only wants me to take him to where he can find the enchantress who cursed him so she removes the curse."
"Just because he hasn't asked you yet, doesn't mean he doesn't want it. It's well known that a kiss from a princess can break most curses."
Anahita burst out laughing. "In stories, maybe. But I have never heard of such a thing happening in real life."
Asad shrugged. "Ask him, then, for heavens know you're the only one who understands the croaking sounds he makes. If anyone knows how to break his curse, it's the frog."
"He says he's a prince."
Asad snorted. "If you had to ask a pretty girl for a kiss, wouldn't you say you were a prince instead of some lowly camel herder?"
"Yes, but…" What if he was a camel herder? Would that make a difference? He talked about Tasnim with the familiarity of someone who had lived there all his life. To hear Philemon say it, though, even the lowliest citizen of Tasnim could still invite
her to stay inside the city as a guest…and once inside, she could lay claim to her place as the prince's falconer. "I'm sure I'm not important enough for a kiss from me to work. Besides, I don't think he even knows I am a princess, high or low. And I don't want you telling him, either!"
It was Asad's turn to laugh. "No man needs to be told. The uppity way you carry yourself and order everyone about tells the world what you are."
Anahita dropped the saddle, sending up a cloud of dust that made her cough. It took a long moment for the coughing fit to subside, before she said, "Oh yes, and I'm sure princesses regularly take care of the camels whenever they travel. If I were Maram, I'd stand by impatiently, tapping my foot, until my pavilion was ready for me, and retire in there, where my servants tended to my every need!"
"Haidar would do it, if you asked him. He'd set up your tent and help you wash, quite happily."
He would, too. But Anahita would not torture her friend so with what could never be. "I'd sooner order you to start making a meal for us. And he didn't call me pretty. In fact, he regularly tells me how plain I am."
"Then your frog's a fool. But I'd be an even bigger fool if I let you cook. I'll tell you what. I'll wager the new knife I bought in the market before we left – the one with the emerald set into the handle – that he asks you for a kiss before we reach the sheikh's camp."
Anahita eyed the water bag where Philemon travelled by day, but he'd hopped over to the shallow pool of fresh water where Haidar was filling up the water jars.
"If you're wrong, I get the knife. If you're right…I'll have a second such knife crafted to match the first, as my gift to you when we get home." And they would go home, Anahita added silently to herself.
Asad rubbed his hands. "An easy bet, I'm sure. You know what else is a foregone conclusion? What you'll do when he asks you."
Was she so transparent? Asad's assertion had taken her by such surprise that even Anahita wasn't sure what she'd do. "What, then?" she asked finally.
"You'll feed the frog to your falcon, of course. Your father may not know it, but we do – you'll never let another man touch you again. And he might be a frog now, but whatever else he is, that one's a man." Asad jerked his chin up. "Your bird's back. Looks like she has dinner, too, so I'd better get the fire going." He headed off.
Anahita watched Merlin glide gracefully to land at her feet, before the bird laid her catch out proudly. A scurrier of some sort, and a small one, at that. Not enough to feed one, let alone three of them. Asad could cook something from their provisions tonight. "You eat it. Maybe next oasis will have more ducks."
"Or frogs!" the falcon said, neatly eviscerating her prey.
At least the bird had forgotten about Philemon, for the moment. Anahita wished she could do the same. Because despite Asad's assertion, she wasn't as sure she'd refuse him if Philemon asked her to help him break the curse. Usually the journey through the desert dragged, but with him to talk to and tell stories of the wonders of the city he loved so much, the week had flown by. She'd thought his overweening pride would have put her off, but somehow…she'd grown used to it. Maybe even liked him.
So if he asked for her help…could she, in conscience, refuse? A kiss was such a small thing, really.
Twenty-Three
From his perch atop a camel's back, safely wedged into the neck of a water bag, Philemon watched the three of them set up camp, like he had every night since he'd joined their small caravan. Haidar refilled their water supply and Asad built a fire and began to cook. Anahita sent her bird off hunting while she pitched the tent and carried their bedrolls into it, so that they might sleep comfortably. If they hadn't stopped at an oasis, Haidar would help her with the tent.
Anahita's eyes often followed the falcon's flight, while she wore a wistful expression, as if she wished she could fly with the diabolical bird.
For the first time, he wondered what her story was. He wished he'd spent less time talking and taken the time to ask her about herself. He knew she was an experienced desert traveller, and the way she and her brothers divided up the tasks in camp so easily, she must travel with them often. She might not know it, but she was freer than any desert woman he'd ever met – including those who lived in Tasnim, for the women of his city had mostly stayed within the underground city. For all their freedom, Tasnim citizens did not spend much time staring at the sky, or even standing beneath it.
Every morning she lifted him from his bucket and into the water bag, never once flinching at his slimy skin. It wasn't that she didn't notice, either – her brothers had made comments on how they would not carry frogs as she did. She'd smiled, shrugged, and thrown a teasing comment right back at the brother in question, but she hadn't let him go.
He'd found himself racking his brain to tell her tales he hadn't shared yet – half-remembered events from his childhood, or tales of the history of Tasnim, which she'd never heard. He'd even found himself telling her about his journey through the dark to the oasis, and discovering he'd been turned into a frog. So what if he'd made it sound like a glorious adventure, instead of the nightmarish reality? Her eyes had still grown wide before she'd laughed in all the right places.
More than anything, he wanted to take her home to Tasnim, and show her all the wonders his words simply couldn't describe.
But first he would have to find a way to break the curse, and return the waters to his city. Otherwise there would be nothing but empty caverns to show her, before her bird tried to eat him again.
If only her brothers had brought her sooner, and tried to trade her for Tasnim's hospitality. Then he might have persuaded her to become one of his concubines…
Though he suspected she would refuse the honour. If her brothers had been willing to part with her, which seemed equally unlikely.
It was a foolish thought, he told himself. Better to focus on breaking this curse, and claiming his princess bride from the Sultan. Whatever beauty the Sultan bestowed on him would surely be enough to turn his thoughts away from a barbarian girl, chance met in the desert. A girl as unattainable as the rising moon.
"Will you join us for dinner, Philemon?"
Philemon roused himself from his gloomy thoughts to find Anahita standing before him, her cupped hands ready to carry him.
He could not smell the stew already steaming over the fire behind her, but he didn't need to smell it to know it would taste far better than any meal he'd eaten since that enchantress pushed him down the well. But the fire had probably drawn an inordinate number of bugs by its light, and Anahita wished him to take care of them.
"I'm not sure you'll like that," he said, stepping into her hands. "Watching a frog crunch through a bug while it's still alive is enough to put the strongest man off his food."
"I guess my stomach is stronger than that of most men. But then, I've watched my birds rip their prey apart for as long as I can remember."
Philemon shuddered. "Where is the creature?"
"Merlin is hunting. She says there are a large number of fat frogs in this oasis, and she intends to catch them all." Anahita ducked her head. "I thought you might prefer to stay with us, where she does not mistake you for food."
Ah, so she didn't want her dinner interrupted by having to rescue him from the bird again. If Philemon could but carry a blade at his hip, he would soon see the bird off, but neither Anahita or her brothers had a knife small enough to serve him as a sword.
"You are fortunate that I am a prince and not truly a frog, or I would take offence at the bird's slaughter of my family," Philemon said. "For honour's sake, I would be forced to kill the bird, and all who harbour it."
Anahita shook her head. "And that's why I know you're not truly a frog. Animals do not say such things, or care about honour. I still imagine it would be distressing to see the slaughter of your fellow creatures, especially with your human sensibilities."
She set him on a rug beside the fire. He had barely a moment to notice that it was the rug she usually draped atop her bedroll befo
re his body seemed to sneeze again.
"He's too skinny to be a prince. Pampered princes are plumper than that," a male voice said.
It took Philemon a moment to collect his scattered wits before he realised the man meant to insult him. He leaped to his feet. "Plump or skinny, a prince defends his honour. Give me a blade and I will make you regret every word."
Someone threw a bundle of cloth at him. "Put some clothes on, so you don't put Ana off her dinner."
Philemon caught it, and he was stunned to find his own hands holding the bundle, instead of his four-fingered frog ones. "By what miracle…" he began.
"Ana's idea. Last time you turned into a man, it was in her bed. She figured it was worth a try. I bet it would work. Asad said it wouldn't. I'll share the wineskin I won off him with you if you can tell me why. Ana insists there's nothing magical about her bed, but she doesn't usually share it with animals."
Philemon shook his head. "I know not. I have never been cursed before. And if I can break this one…I hope never to be cursed again." Realisation dawned. "You can hear me. Understand me."
Haidar nodded. "Well enough to see Ana isn't telling tales about you being a man under some spell." He lowered his voice. "Put the robe on, and she'll come closer. Naked men frighten her."
Philemon's gaze followed Haidar's pointing finger to where Anahita stood, at the very edge of the firelight. The reflected flames glittered in her eyes and off her teeth as she bit her lip. Contrary to her brother's words, there was no fear in her expression.
She stalked forward, as graceful as any desert hunting cat. By the time she stepped between Philemon and the fire, he had eyes for nothing but her.
The firelight turned her thin tunic transparent, highlighting the curves it otherwise might have hidden. Beautiful. Like an angel come to earth. He wanted to say the words aloud, but his mouth was too dry for any sound to come out.
He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, but found them downcast. Not to the ground, but to his groin. Because a prince's cock refused to bow down to a beautiful woman. Instead, it rose to greet her. Ready.
Kiss- Frog Prince Retold Page 7
