The girl approached another servant, with better luck. The pouch was filled, and the first girl rode back to the elephant. Instead
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of tossing the pouch up to the mahout, as Diribani expected, the servant held the strap out at arm's length and clicked her tongue.
Without breaking stride, the elephant picked up the purse with her trunk. As delicately as a woman clasping a chain at her neck, the elephant's trunk reached over her shoulder, found an opening between the curtains, and dropped the purse inside the howdah.
"Oh, well done!" Diribani clapped her hands. Outside, the mahout echoed her praise, calling God to witness his elephant's cleverness. The ladies tittered at Diribani's enthusiasm.
Except one. "Dried fennel?" Lady Yisha said reprovingly.
The other faces became prim again.
"Thank you, my lady." The pouch reached Diribani last. She, too, took a pinch of the aromatic fennel seeds between her fingers and chewed them.
Soon the garlic smell receded. The women made themselves comfortable on the carpets and cushions. Some dozed, some slept, a few gossiped quietly about people Diribani hadn't met. The southeastern road to Fanjandibad seemed drier than the road from Lotus Gate to Naghali's well. The puddles were farther apart, too. Diribani heard only a faint squelching as the elephant walked along. The howdah's rocking motion and the low hum of conversation combined to make her sleepy. As she relaxed against the bolster, Diribani realized that, for the next little while, nothing was expected of her.
She thought how pleasant it might be to ride like Ruqayya and the capable servant girl. Especially if the prince accompanied them to point out the landmarks. Zahid seemed like the kind of person who might know the history of each stone they passed along the road. And if he didn't, Ruqayya would twitch her fingers--flick,
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flick--and summon a clerk to read them all the appropriate chapter in a book carried for the purpose.
Her last thought, before she drifted into a nap, was how swiftly the goddess's gift had changed her. Two days ago, Diribani would never have imagined herself conversing with royalty, let alone judging their potential as traveling companions. Ma Hiral's warnings aside, being a diamond girl wasn't so bad. Except when people tried to kill you for it.
Like a blow, memory struck. The blood, and the screaming. Diribani sat straight up. A sour taste coated her tongue.
"More fennel?" A lady passed her the pouch.
"Thank you." Diribani crunched the seeds between her teeth, hardly noticing the licorice flavor. She pretended that the ugly memories rising through her mind could be blown like smoke out the gauze curtains, to disperse in the afternoon breeze. Silently, she prayed to Sister Payoja, goddess of healing and peace, that, whatever his twisted reasons for attacking her, the deluded man might choose a better path in his next life. Then she prayed to Naghali-ji. Give me the strength to bear your gift with grace. If the goddess had arranged for Diribani to travel to Fanjandibad, she would find a purpose there, or perhaps along the way. She needed to pay attention, and hold herself ready.
Outside, a piltreet sang: "Lazy girl. Lazy girl, girl, girl." Cart wheels creaked, and marching feet drummed against the road. Insects buzzed in the fields. A frog shrilled; another answered. As its brothers and sisters and uncles joined in, a full-throated chorus rose from the flooded ditches. Comforted by the reminder of Sister Naghali's constant presence in their lives, Diribani's mind quieted. She slept.
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***
CHAPTER TWELVE Tana
TANA ducked under the arbor to collect her bedding, which shed hidden behind a climbing rose. Thorns pricked her hands, but the pain didn't stop a grin from spreading across her face. Relief surged through her, washing the fear taste from her mouth.
Diribani was well, as glorious as the princess in a tale. The sun-colored dress wrap set off her dark beauty as it deserved. That handsome Prince Zahid had better watch his heart. Tana would bet a diamond of fifty ratis that, after several weeks' travel in her sister's company, he wouldn't care that she'd been born a commoner, and a non-Believer at that. Princess Diribani--why not?
Happily planning her sister's grand future, Tana waited for the prince's entourage to file through Cow Gate. When the governor's guard had also departed, she hoisted the bedroll onto her shoulder and turned south, toward Horse Gate. She'd taken only a couple of steps when she found an actual horse in her way. Face averted, Tana
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turned and hurried back the way she'd come, pretending she'd forgotten something.
Two steps, four steps. No buildings in the grassy area near Cow Gate. She made it past the arbor and dashed behind a tree, only to find herself nose to nose with Jasmine. The white horse whickered in greeting.
Cursing her own carelessness, Tana reached up to stroke the velvet nose. The white-coat disguise wasn't so good if a horse could catch her.
"It is you!" Trader Kalyan slid off the saddle and landed next to Tana.
At any other time, she would have been thrilled that he sought her out. Today she put him in danger. And why did he have to find her dressed like this? She was conscious of Gulrang's sweat-stained coat, the trousers crumpled and creased with bits of ground-in hay. Tana stepped back. She shifted to put the length of her bedroll between them.
Then, of course, she could see how fine he looked in court dress, a tan-colored coat which, unlike Tana's, fit him quite well in the shoulders. Light but not white, the color complemented trousers two shades darker. Had he been at the fort this morning, selling jewels to the visiting ladies? Perhaps he'd seen Diribani, or heard about the incident with Gulrang's brother. Tana lifted her eyes in hope and got an unwelcome surprise.
Amiable Kalyan wore the expression of a man who'd picked up a wolf snake and discovered he held a venomous krait. "What in Father Ghodan's name are you doing here? In their clothes?" he hissed. "You're going to the well this instant, Mina."
Tana frowned in surprise. She shook her head.
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"Our house, then. My parents will make sure you get safely out of town. We know about the prince's order."
Again Tana shook her head. No.
"Haven't you heard?" Kalyan's voice lowered. "A white-coat tried to kill Diribani in the fort this morning. He didn't succeed, but rumor says the governor's furious. The prince's guest, attacked in Alwar's stronghold? If word of the scandal reaches Lomkha, the emperor might decide to appoint a more capable official."
Tana shrugged. Diribani was safe. And as long as Alwar didn't catch her, Tana didn't care about the governor's problems.
"Now Alwar's soldiers are going through the overseers' quarter, turning it inside out to root out any other plotters. He won't worry about insulting the nobles, even the revenue men and mint officials, not when his own neck's on the line. And you're wandering the town wearing their livery!"
Tana glanced around. They were outside, off the main street, with plenty of trees and bushes where a snake could hide. She decided to risk speech, though she turned her face away from Jasmine. "Thank you for the warning," she said softly. "I'm going to the temple south of Horse Gate; I'll be careful." A trio of lucky frogs landed-- plop, plop, plop --at her feet. Jasmine snorted and tossed her head.
"Too risky," Kalyan said.
"Necessary," Tana contradicted him, though a part of her enjoyed his protectiveness. Neighborly protectiveness, she told herself. How could he know her feelings when she'd been so careful to hide them?
With the word, a golden-eyed tree snake had dropped to the ground, where it writhed in discomfort. Kalyan grunted. He handed Jasmine's reins to Tana. Scooping up the tree snake, he lifted it to a nearby branch, out of harm's way. Telepathy
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Kalyan was kind to everyone, snakes and tongue-tied girls included.
"I'll take you," he said.
"What?" Tana croaked in disbelief. Everyone in Gurath knew Jasmine and her rider. If Tana perched atop the trader's white mare, she might as well wea
r a sign that said Look Here. Besides, she might be dressed in the right clothes, but she didn't know how to ride. She thrust the reins at him. "No."
"You don't trust me?"
The accusation wounded her to the heart. Not trust him? She was trying to protect him! Her fingers dug into the bedroll. It gave off a faint smell of spices, and she breathed deeply. How typical of her luck, that this conversation was probably the greatest number of words they'd ever exchanged, and she'd spent most of hers arguing with him--while she was dressed like a stinking flesh-eater.
Kalyan's presence had always made Tana too shy to say much on the many occasions when her stepfather had consulted his friend and competitor. After the jewel talk was completed, the men would dismiss the girls and settle in to discuss politics over their coffee. Kalyan's younger sisters would carry off Diribani, whom they adored. If Hima, the eldest, wasn't present, Tana would make her way to the stables. She liked horses, liked their smell and how they didn't mind that a person was small and ordinary, as long as she remembered to bring them lumps of dark sugar.
And if Tana and Kalyan and Jasmine stood under this tree for much longer, somebody would wonder what the trader was doing with a disheveled white-coat girl. She couldn't risk setting free the dangerous snakes a long explanation might summon. Helpless to do more, Tana folded her hands to show she wanted only peace between
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them. She would have gone her way if Kalyan hadn't touched her arm. Lightly, but she felt it, even through her long sleeve.
"You think I'm an idiot, don't you?" His face twisted. "Good old Kalyan, rides his pretty horse around the town but can't tell a rough diamond from a lump of quartz."
Tana stared in shock. Where had he gotten that impression? Even if it were true, which it most certainly was not, why should he care about one girl's opinion? Her temper stirred. He had everything she had ever wanted: a family that loved him, rewarding work, the freedom of city and countryside both. She had just been separated from her family and sent into exile. How dared he judge her?
"I saw that report." His fingers brushed the back of her hand in trader-talk: Sapphires. "It was brilliant. A person with your skill doesn't belong in the temple, droning prayers all day."
Doubly unfair, that his touch burned like a hot spark. Tana shook her head, beset by a swarm of contradictory thoughts. Is that how he imagined her, hair shaved like a priestess? He had paid her a compliment. So why did she feel like throwing the bedroll at his head?
Kalyan misinterpreted her expression. "Go ahead, laugh. It's improper, speaking to you directly, but you're a levelheaded person. We're young, true. And I don't know the stones, not like you. But I'm a good listener. I know who's selling, who's buying, who can afford to pay for all the goods he's commissioned, and who'd pay more if he knew his competitor was interested. My family is well established. Please consider, Mina-ji. Between your talent, Hima's good management, and my contacts, we could be the most successful merchants in Gurath."
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Tana wanted to shriek with frustration. This was hardly the time to discuss her employment, when any overseer who spotted her would likely drag them both to Alwar's jail. Not that she disliked Kalyan's idea. It would be perfect, actually. Servants could bring jewels to the well for her to evaluate. Hima and Kalyan might even visit, from time to time, and keep her company. And it was flattering to know that Kalyan respected her abilities.
Work that she loved, associates she trusted, a position of responsibility: All were within Tana's grasp. She needed to tell him how much she appreciated the offer. "Tell your father that once I'm settled by the well I'll be happy to work for you," she said, scattering several green frogs.
"Work for us? No." Kalyan sounded affronted. "We should get married."
Tana took a step back. "Married?" she repeated, breathless.
Like a figure from a nightmare, a long, dark shape reared up between her and Kalyan. The smooth black scales, the yellowish underbelly, and the wide dark neckband warned of what was to come: a neck swelling wide, the hood's paler ring pattern just visible in the shade.
Cobra.
It didn't matter why Kalyan had said it. It didn't matter how Tana's heart leaped at the prospect, or how it seemed most desirable at the very moment it was dashed from her. As if a blindfold had been stripped from her eyes, Tana saw that very clearly. She must have managed to conceal her feelings or he would have played on them, skilled negotiator that he was. The bald offer smacked more of business than of passion, but mutual ambition wasn't such a bad foundation for marriage. Once Ba Javerikh had died, Tana hadn't
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dared dream of that much. With her plain looks and small dowry, any husband willing to settle for her would have had little to give in return but a life of backbreaking work. Far less, certainly, than Kalyan offered.
But the goddess had changed her situation. Tana didn't need a cobra to remind her that those around her could be faced with mortal danger at any moment. How could Tana put people she loved at risk? The next thought hurt even more, but it was time she faced it.
No man would want to kiss lips that shed vipers and toads. Any marriage Tana undertook in her current state could be in name only. Wouldn't such a sham displease both Mother Gaari and Father Ghodan, not to mention Naghali-ji herself? Kalyan deserved better. Because she cared for him, she couldn't accept.
Step by slow step, Tana backed away from the cobra. Kalyan did likewise. Jasmine sidled behind him, her eyes rolling with fear. When they were several snake lengths apart, the cobra subsided. Black scales gleamed as it slithered under a bush and disappeared.
Letting her face show the answer she must give, Tana spread her hands wide. Impossible.
Kalyan nodded, his expression unusually serious. He folded his hands, then vaulted into Jasmine's saddle and rode away at a rapid clip.
Should she laugh or cry that her first (and likely last) offer of marriage had been abandoned in the next breath? It did hurt, that the suitor she had secretly dreamed of had retreated so quickly. But since Tana couldn't accept, at least Kalyan had saved his father the marriage broker's fee. It didn't require a professional matchmaker's services to understand that a cobra meant "no."
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Tana's bag of clothing and bedroll weighed on her shoulder as though they had been stuffed with stones. Like her feet. Like her heart. She tried to compose her expression, pasting calm on a face that wanted to crumple. Shielded behind the bedding, Tana followed Gurath's back streets to Horse Gate and the road to the temple grove. She kept her mind occupied watching for white-coats, so she could keep away from them.
It served no purpose to dwell on might-have-been, or wonder how long Kalyan had been considering her as a possible bride. Since reading the sapphire report? Before? He'd never treated her with any special favor. Had he? Aware of him as she was, she thought she would have noticed. Had her own shyness blinded her? But, for however short a time, he'd held her in enough esteem to suggest there might be more than friendship between them. A tiny flame of longing lit within her. Tana wished she could ask Diribani. Could her sister have spoken to Kalyan's family about this and not told her?
When Tana realized she'd almost bumped into one of the governor's soldiers, she took herself sternly to task. The white-coat was picking his teeth with his dagger, not terribly fear-inspiring. But with only one question, her secret could be discovered. And Kalyan had called her levelheaded. Wouldn't he laugh?
She wouldn't think about him. How his eyes had darkened with concern when he recognized her. How he'd picked up the tree snake and carried it to safety. How he had sounded hurt, to think she mistrusted him. She wouldn't remember their every previous encounter and search it for a hint of his feelings, the way she'd examine a rough gem, teasing out the glory hidden within its heart. No, no, no.
How could she do anything else?
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***
When she reached the temple grove, a priest whisked her inside. He answered her questi
oning look: "Trader Kalyan told us you'd arrive shortly, Mina-ji."
A good listener, Kalyan. He'd said so, and proved it true. Tana's disobedient heart melted anew at the gesture. He'd have guessed at the speculation her presence would kindle---a white-coat, visiting the home of the twelve?--and smoothed her way without being asked.
The priest hurried her past the worshipers' curious stares. They crossed the busy courtyard, weaving between the low arms of a many-branched fig tree. Tana smelled incense, fruit, and flowers. Diribani.
More than ever, Tana missed her sister's sympathetic presence. Tana couldn't confide Kalyan's proposal in a letter. Governor Alwar's spies might intercept the regular couriers traveling between Gurath and Fanjandibad, and Tana wouldn't repay Kalyan's kindness by exposing his family to official scrutiny.
The priest stopped in a patch of dappled shade. An older woman was dancing by a pool fringed with lotus blossoms. Her every movement was crisply defined as the edge of the white petals.
The priestess whirled a final time, then came to rest, arms falling to her sides like a bird's wings. "Peace to you, Tana-ji."
Tana folded her hands to the same priestess who had visited their home mere hours ago. "Peace, Ma-ji." A gliding snake coasted the short distance from her lips to wrap around a tree branch.
Tana's escort tripped over his own feet, his eyes round. The priestess, who had seen it before, smiled and dismissed him. The older woman straightened her orange renunciate's robe and motioned
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Tana to a bamboo mat before dropping lithely beside her. They sat quietly, allowing the temple sounds, chiming bells and chanted prayers and animal noises, to fill the air around them.
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