Toads and Diamonds

by Heather Tomlinson

  "Why is that?" Diribani asked.

  The prince smiled at her. "Because then I know it's almost over."

  Diribani kept her voice light. "Is it such hard work, celebrating your birthday?" An emerald and a ruby plinked onto the terrace.

  "Long," the prince said. "And some of the customs are more entertaining than others."

  The humor in his voice encouraged her to ask, "Like what?"

  "The weighing, for one." Zahid sighed so mournfully that Diribani burst out laughing.

  "Why, do they weigh you against your brothers and sisters, to see who is more valuable?"

  The prince's expression set her off again. "That's a fine idea," he said. "I'll suggest it to Ruqayya. Usually, I sit by myself in a scale pan. Guests put gifts in the other pan, and when the scales balance, the offerings are distributed to the poor. I can't get up and join the feast until that happens."

  "I'm sure it doesn't take long," Diribani said, scattering peony blossoms and little lumps of turquoise.

  "That depends on how my sister has rigged the scales." Zahid's voice was dry. "She likes to make me wait, so I have to ask Ghiyas to bring a couple of bolts of fabric or sacks of grain to add when the gifts are drying up."

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  Diribani was touched that he would admit his counterstrategy to her. It sounded like something Indu would do. "We won't let you miss the feast," she promised.

  The prince put his hand over his heart and bowed. "Thank you"

  "I do have a favor to ask," Diribani said, before he could go.

  "Name it."

  Diribani fancied she heard a note of reserve. What favor might he be reluctant to grant her? She chose her words carefully. "I'm glad that Naghali-ji's jewels are returned to Tenth Province, but I would like to keep some out." She gestured at the stones lying at her feet.

  "You have before, without asking my leave," he said.

  Zahid didn't look at Nissa, but Diribani was aware of her maid holding her breath. She spoke slowly, feeling her way. "Princess Ruqayya said I could make a direct gift if I chose."

  "Yes," he said.

  Behind Diribani, Nissa breathed again.

  "But I don't want to give these away. I want to sell them."

  Zahid's expression lost all its humor. "Why?"

  A prince's voice, not a friend's, had asked the question. She mustn't forget. To her, the jewels were a miracle. To him, they represented something else. Diribani had the sense she was pushing a big rock uphill, but she forged on, spraying bloodstones and diamonds between them. "I want to build a stepwell for the miners. So they have a place to wash, at the end of the day. So their wives and daughters don't have to climb up and down to the river. Tenth Province has plenty of wells; Governor Alwar shouldn't feel cheated."

  "You want to build a well near the mine?" the prince repeated. His face gave her no hint of his opinion.

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  What was the matter? Did he believe her idea ill-advised? Was he insulted that a newcomer would suggest the imperial mine wasn't run properly? Except that the merchants were responsible for the workers' villages, Nissa had said. So Diribani hadn't insulted his oversight of the mines. Had she? She was committed now; she had to continue.

  "If the ground's too hard for digging, perhaps one of those valleys could be dammed?" Diribani went on in a rush. Gemstones pattered onto the terrace. Flowers landed with softer thumps. "Those water jars looked so heavy, and the path is so steep, and the girls are working so hard...."

  "I think it's an inspired idea."

  His face was still stern, but Zahid sounded so positive that Diribani blushed. "You do?"

  "Yes." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace.

  Like his sister, Diribani thought. She hurried to keep up. "So you'll help me value the stones and trade them to pay for the materials and workers?"

  "Of course. In fact, the crown will match your gift."

  "Oh!" Diribani smelled narcissus and violets. "Will it be that expensive?"

  "Costly enough," Zahid said. "But the project will benefit our subjects. Also, His Excellency Governor Alwar will complain less if we don't completely halt the flow of jewels to Gurath."

  "It won't affect your building plans?" When the prince glanced at her, Diribani confessed, "I overheard you and the other men talking."

  He shook his head. "The well should be started first, to capture next season's rains. The other project's not as"--he seemed to be searching for the right word--"pressing," he concluded, with an

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  enigmatic twist of his lips. "I'll have Ghiyas call the interested parties to meet with us after the midday meal. Would you mind explaining to our builders about the wells in Gurath?"

  "I'd be happy to," Diribani said. "If you like, I could sketch the different designs. Gurath has a big open tank, but other villages in Tenth Province have a single closed shaft. Your builders can decide what will be best for the site."

  "Wonderful." The prince smiled at her with such warmth that Diribani feared she might melt at his feet.

  Later, as Diribani swam in the palace baths, she remembered that look. Like a miser with a secret treasure, she held the memory close. Down in the underground bathing chamber, oil lamps and candles lit stone walls hung with mango- and pomegranate-colored fabrics. Herbs burned in metal dishes, sending curls of scented smoke into the humid air. The pool's azure tiles gleamed; light reflected off moving water. Diribani thought it was like swimming through twilight, or dawn, with the chatter of women's voices replacing the birds' usual chorus.

  This cool evening, the few ladies present had clustered around one of the heated pools. A maid played a stringed instrument, the sound rising and falling under the splashing noises and quiet laughter. Diribani had the long pool to herself. Stepping into it, she had sucked in her breath at first, but as she swam, she warmed up. And after the day's activity, she couldn't sit still and listen to gossip. She had to move. Inspired, he'd said. Wonderful. Diribani ducked her chin to hide a monkey grin from Nissa and Mahan.

  Zahid had liked her ideas. He'd listened to her, and so had the other men in the room off the Hall of Public Audience that

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  afternoon. She'd shown her drawings to builders and merchants, secretaries and officials. Now she was grateful for all the time she'd spent carrying water from Gurath's stepwell. She'd noticed quite a lot in those daily trips: the stone blocks' proportions, and how the stairs were laid out so that the water could always be reached as the level rose and fell with the rains. She'd drawn the traditional two lamp niches, and even the serpent form over the entry pavilion's door. That had raised a few eyebrows from the white-coats, and approving nods from the merchants whose workers would use the wells.

  Diribani extended her arms straight out and pushed through the water. Other women were dressing now, their maids gathering cosmetics and drying cloths and pitchers of fruit juice, trays of sweetmeats and salted nuts. The mellow light didn't change, but the large room quieted. Diribani kept swimming.

  Many of the noble ladies climbing the stairs to their apartments had commissioned gardens and tombs, prayer halls and markets, but Diribani was the first to suggest building a stepwell for commoners in Eighteenth Province. Without the prince's support, she didn't think she would have gotten such a respectful hearing--especially after the men had seen her speaking flowers and jewels. Again, Zahid had set the tone. He didn't appear to find it remarkable, so they didn't, either. Diribani had even heard a builder joke to the secretary sitting next to him that they should ask the Gurath girl more questions and take her answers for their first payment.

  Mahan had heard the man, too--Diribani saw her guard's lips twitch with amusement as she noted Diribani's diamonds and amethysts and rubies in her ever-present ledger. This afternoon,

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  Diribani had spoken enough to satisfy anyone's curiosity, and to make a start on the amount required. Nissa had been the silent one. Head scarf hiding her features, she had stood nearby,
ready to replenish ink and paper when Diribani wanted to illustrate an answer. There had been a lot of questions, and the best ones were Zahid's.

  Unlike some people, he raised obstacles to plan around them, not to prevent the project from going forward. He invited discussion and paid attention, reminding Diribani of Kalyan. Good listeners, both, though Diribani found Zahid's intensity far more compelling than the Gurath merchant's easygoing temperament. A successful trader had to satisfy both buyer and seller. A prince could command.

  Was that why Zahid's approval delighted her so much? Because it wasn't lightly given? Or perhaps the fluttery, excited feeling that had sustained her through the meeting came from her impression that his regard extended deeper. It might encompass not only her ideas, but the mind they came from, the body and spirit that nourished them. She turned on her back and floated in the middle of the pool to consider the question.

  She felt that way about him. Hands, mind, heart, all wanted to please him. And not just because he was a prince, the ruler who could help or hinder her building project. Well, him, yes, but also Zahid the laughing brother, the man who treated non-Believers with respect. Zahid who smiled at her and said inspired, in that voice she heard in her dreams.

  How Tana would tease. Falling in love with a prince, and daring to think her feelings might be returned? She, a merchant's daughter! Above all, though, Tana would want for her sister to be happy. As Tana was, Diribani hoped, safe in the temple grove, surrounded

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  by the music and comforting ritual of worship, the company of family and friends. Not like here, where Diribani moved alone through her splendid surroundings, forever longing to see the one person who made her feel completely alive.

  Could this be another facet of Naghali-ji's gift? For a humble Gurath girl to catch a prince's eye? Perhaps her influence at court might be turned to others' benefit, and soften the Believers' attitude toward the conquered people they called "dirt-eaters."

  Diribani took a deep breath and sank underwater as if she could hide from thoughts that nibbled like little fish. Dangerous thoughts that started with if only, and one day, perhaps. Her hair swirled around her face, blotting out the candle flames that twinkled through the water like distant stars.

  Someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked, hauling Diribani coughing and sputtering to the surface.

  "My lady!" Nissa knelt at the edge of the pool.

  Diribani spat water and pushed wet hair out of her face. Next to her, Zeen stood chest-deep in the pool. Her soaked white coat stuck to her body, outlining more dagger-shaped lumps than Diribani had ever noticed when the guard's clothing was dry. Emotions flitted across the woman's face, relief and then irritation, before Zeen's expression smoothed into the usual hard-eyed watchfulness.

  "Eyo, flower girl!" Ruqayya's voice echoed across the bathing chamber.

  Diribani turned to see the princess sitting in one of the smaller pools. Curls of steam wreathed her body. Flattened by the weight of water, dark curls straggled over Ruqayya's bare shoulders. A light-colored paste was smeared over her face, emphasizing the dark hollows of her eyes. She beckoned.

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  "I was fine," Diribani muttered to Zeen and Nissa, and handed her silent guard a lump of jet-black onyx and a purple tulip. She swam to the stairs at the far end of the pool, Zeen squelching after her. At least the other noble ladies had gone; only Ruqayya was present when Diribani's guard had fished her out. Diribani shivered as the cool air struck her bare flesh. Not waiting for Nissa to drape the drying cloth around her, Diribani obeyed Ruqayya's flicking fingers and stepped into the small pool. Heated water stung her skin. "Ah!" Diribani yelped quietly, and eased into it.

  The princess slid down the tiled bench until she sat neck-deep. She leaned her head against a padded mat, and her maid resumed combing out the long curls over a brazier of herb-scented smoke. "Do tell me," Ruqayya said lazily. "Why do you wear jewelry to bathe?"

  "Jewelry?" Diribani said. Poppies floated on the water, red petals spread like skirts. The princess lifted a languid hand from the water and bent her wrist. "Oh, the bangles!" Diribani laughed. "Habit only. We don't think of them as jewelry."

  "What, then?" Ruqayya asked.

  "It's my dowry." Diribani turned the bracelets around her wrist. "Married women wear them on the right arm, unmarried girls on the left."

  "Ah," Ruqayya said.

  "You don't have a similar custom?" Diribani asked.

  "Displaying our worth on our sleeves? No."

  "It's not boasting," Diribani said, too surprised by the scorn in the princess's voice to take offense. "Girls wear gold to prove they can be trusted with the family purse. In difficult times, a woman can sell a bangle to feed her children." As Ma Hiral had done for her and Tana.

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  "Not unreasonable, I suppose," Ruquayya said.

  Diribani was glad for the chance to ask a question of her own, since the princess had raised the subject. "How are matches arranged among your people?"

  "Families consult a marriage broker," Ruqayya said. "For the nobility, that's usually a woman from the ladies' court, preferably a high-ranking one. The contracts can be complicated, and family alliances must be approved by the emperor."

  "You're one of the royal matchmakers?"

  "Ha." Ruqayya snorted, then continued more thoughtfully. "I could be, though no one's consulted me since we were sent to Fanjandibad. Why, have you a client in mind?"

  "Not today," Diribani said, dropping sapphires and honeysuckle, "but someday I might ask you on my own behalf."

  "No, flower girl. Not today." Ruqayya's voice held no answering humor. "Not ever. You didn't imagine you'd be allowed to marry? Oh. I see." The princess sounded weary, and three times her age. She snapped her fingers. "Leave us," she commanded. The maids bowed and withdrew to the stairwell, leaving the large bathing room empty but for the two of them. Even so, Ruqayya moved down the bench, closer to Diribani.

  Diribani stared at the princess. She hadn't thought Ruqayya would offer her brother outright, but to say that Diribani couldn't marry anyone? Never have a husband and children and a home? She hadn't been in a hurry to take on those responsibilities, but she had assumed that one day...

  The princess spoke so low that her breath barely stirred the water. "Your religion and your family's lack of influence don't signify. It's your gift that makes you too great a prize," she said. "While

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  you're a ward of the crown, Father, through Zahid, controls your diamonds and jewels. Whether they're spent in Tenth Province or Eighteenth Province, the wealth benefits the empire. But if you were to suggest marrying anyone but my brother Jauhar, the crown prince, he would have you killed at once rather than give Zahid such a political advantage." Her voice dropped again-- soft, like a snake's hiss. "Zahid cares for you--as do I--too much to wish either fate upon you."

  Diribani knew that Ruqayya meant her warning sincerely. But she couldn't help fixing on the two words that struck her heart with a thrown dagger's force: Zahid cares. Because he cared, he would not admit it and make Diribani a target of his elder brother's jealousy. The pang this understanding caused her must have been reflected in her face.

  Ruqayya reached out and grabbed her shoulder, nails digging into Diribani's bare skin. "If you esteem Zahid as I believe you do, you won't sign his death warrant with yours by giving him any encouragement."

  "I don't--"

  "Jauhar will kill him." Ruqayya's voice was so etched with grief that it startled Diribani out of her preoccupation. Tears leaked out of the corners of the princess's eyes, cutting tracks in the powdery cosmetics that covered her face. "The lust for power has consumed our elder brother and left nothing but a husk for a heart. Don't tempt him to prove it."

  A weight greater than the heaviest water jar bowed Diribani's neck. "Then what will become of me?"

  "Why, nothing." Ruqayya recovered her composure. She splashed her face, washing off the paste and, with it, the tear marks.
"You'll

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  stay with us, an honored guest. Build your stepwell, paint your flowers. Royal princesses in the direct line don't marry either, you know. A person can learn to occupy herself with art and music, prayer and good works. In time, she accepts the idea." With every word, the princess pushed an anguished woman behind a careless facade. "Eyo," she called out.

  The maids returned to dress them. The interview had ended.

  Diribani bowed her head. She did have the stepwell task to finish. She had her painting. But would living for years in the walled beauty of the ladies' court steep her, too, in bitterness? If the bathing room hadn't been empty, would she and Ruqayya have had such an honest conversation? At moments like this, Diribani missed her sister so sharply it felt like an actual wound in her chest. Tana wouldn't lie to her as the princess just had.

  To be fair, Ruqayya hadn't overstated Zahid's danger; Diribani believed that all too well. But Ruqayya's own dreams--who had crushed them underfoot, as she had dashed Diribani's? The princess might have gotten used to her fate, but she hadn't embraced it. When she let her guard down, the pain showed through.

  Though Diribani's racing mind hardly let her sleep that night, she didn't have to worry that Zahid might read any of her new understanding in her expression. He didn't come to the rooftop terrace again. And a week later, when preparations for the stepwell were under way, he rode out of Fanjandibad at the head of his troops to deal with a border uprising.

  She wouldn't see him again for months.

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  ***

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Tana

  SICKNESS muffled the estate's usual sounds and smells, silencing voices that would otherwise have been raised in instruction or argument. Within days of Tana's new assignment, most of the resident white-coat servants had taken to their beds. No one drove the bullocks, so the sugarcane presses fell silent. The fires went out under the syrup-boiling kettles. Smoke still rose from the kitchen fires, but the fragrance of fresh-ground coriander, mustard, and ginger was replaced by the odors of charred lentils and sour milk. Tana decided that there must be enough healthy dairy maids to milk the cows--or the bellows of distress would have disturbed the entire compound--but not enough to keep up with the work of turning milk into butter, cheese, and sweetmeats.