by Lexi Blake
“Send you back?”
“To my body. To my time.”
In the mirror I see his face fall. He believed I never would ask. He never guessed this was what I would want from him
“You’re making too much of something that is superficial. You are the real you regardless of what shell you wear. I care about you. I will always care about you no matter what mantle is covering your soul. I’ve waited all my life. I’m not going to spit in the face of fate simply because you’re not exactly how I thought you would be. Tell me you don’t feel our connection.”
I can’t tell him that. Of course I feel it. But no matter how strong it is, I’m afraid. My life has been dedicated to learning how to navigate astral planes, to studying the secrets of all universes in their glorious variety. How can I spend my life relegated to just one time?
“I want to go home and I want you to help me. If we belong together we will figure out a way once I have returned.”
In the mirror, his eyes meet mine. He drops his hands. Horrified, I watch as my own body fades and I am again Scheherazade.
“I will study and see what I can do. And if I find a way, I will return. For now, I must say good-bye, Camille.”
And without giving me a single moment to rethink my request or to soften the blow or deflect the pain, he turns and walks out of my room, never bothering to look back.
Once he is gone from my sight I start to shake. What have I done? I erected an impenetrable wall between us with my thoughtlessness. He told me how he felt and I ignored it and went after what I wanted. Why wasn’t I gentler? Why didn’t I ask him to come with me?
I know the answer. I am afraid of the mage they call Khalid. I am terrified of how he makes me feel, of that tiny piece of me that wonders if I stayed with him here, would I be able to find happiness?
I fall to my knees and weep.
* * * *
It has been seven days and seven nights, seven beginnings and seven endings to seven stories since I was alone with Khalid. Every evening I look to the king’s left and the magician is sitting there but there is never joy on his face. He refuses to look at me. Instead of that wondrous light, a visible sadness surrounds him. The rest of human kind doesn’t seem to notice. The king still laughs and jokes and slaps Khalid on the back when there is something humorous in one of my tales.
The distance between Khalid and I is palpable. He can be not ten feet from me but is miles away.
Everything I attempted to avoid by pushing him away has come true. I was afraid to let him in my dreams but he invades every one. Even my waking thoughts are filled with him. Before I met him, I might not have been aware of him lurking in my subconscious, but I am now. Every time I close my eyes or let my mind drift, it takes me straight to him. I remember his warmth, the strength of his hands on my body. Now I feel alone in a way I didn’t before I’d met him, as if when he left he took something of my core with him.
It is midday and the king’s wives and their servants are laughing and chatting. I sit apart, in shadows, unwelcome in their circle. Every once in a while I hear them whisper the dreaded word witch when they look my way. Their eyes are suspicious as they appraise me.
A child runs through the courtyard. It’s not until she’s almost on top of me does she realize how close she’s come. Her eyes widen in terror and she runs back to her mother, hiding behind her skirts as though they will protect her from whatever evil I possess.
And Khalid wonders why I want to leave this place.
“Mistress? I thought you might be hungry.” Goli approaches, a wooden bowl in hand.
She walks past the fountain and the children move away from her as well. By waiting on me, she too has become an outcast. She doesn’t seem to notice that the path is suddenly clear, or perhaps she has been treated so badly so much of her life that insults no longer register.
I offer her a smile though I fear it is a weak one.
“How are you today, Goli?” I move over on the bench, giving her a place to sit beside me. Technically she is a servant and should stand, prepared to do my bidding, but I don’t care what the wives think. Goli is the only kind soul I have found in this place.
She sinks down. I can see that she’s brought me candied figs nestled in a bowl, little sweet treats. “Very good, thank you, Mistress. Would you like one?”
I sigh. “What did you have to trade for those?”
She grins. “Nothing. The cook made them to celebrate the birth of another heir and he gave them to me with hearty wishes for your well being.”
The king has many wives and someone in the harem is always pregnant. It must have been a boy or there would have been no celebration. Since I know Goli didn’t sacrifice for the figs, I don’t feel bad turning them down. I’m too preoccupied and disturbed to eat.
“You have them. I will wait for the evening meal.”
She grins and immediately starts in on one. Goli has never met a sweet she didn’t like. “Do you want to hear the latest court gossip?”
“Not particularly.” I’m too marred in my own misery to hear about someone else’s.
“Even if it’s about the wizard?” she teases.
She has mentioned the one person sure to get my attention. Any hint of Khalid turns my head. Whenever I hear the other women talking about how attractive he is, jealousy threatens to overtake me. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel Khalid is mine. Irrational. Insane. Very silly.
“What are they saying about Khalid?”
Goli giggles and selects another fig. “That he is the most beautiful of all men.”
“He says that himself, Goli.” Remembering his arrogance makes me smile. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“All right, he’s working in secret in his room. He’s been asking for all sorts of odd plants and herbs. Some say he is working on a love potion. They all pray he’s going to give it to them.”
“The women in this harem better pray that his love potion comes with some kind of protection spell against the beheading that will occur once the king finds them in another’s bed.”
Often I question the intelligence of these women. They giggle over men, including the pretty eunuchs who have no interest in them at all. The harem’s isolation breeds drama and gossip, and I don’t like the thought of Khalid being dragged into it. “I hope they understand they could hurt Khalid’s standing with the king with their thoughtless words.”
“Don’t fear that, mistress. The king is a practical man. He knows he can find another wife, but he would have trouble finding another man with the magician’s skills.” She leans in close and whispers my direction. “It is said that the king fears the magician.”
“Goli! Never let our ruler hear you repeat that.”
Men in power don’t like to have their flaws or fears pointed out to them. It’s a truth I’ve learned in my travels. Kings, presidents, emperors, none of them like to acknowledge that they possess a single weakness.
Goli sits back. “I am careful.”
Not careful enough, I think, but I let it slide.
Clouds move over the sun. The temperature drops. I feel a rare breeze on my skin that makes me think about how Khalid’s hands felt as they slid across my skin when our eyes met in the mirror.
“What do you know about him, Goli?”
“Who, the king?” Another fig slips into her mouth.
Such a silly girl and yet I am so fond of her. “No, you know who I mean. Khalid. Tell me what you know of him. And don’t sigh and tell me how lovely he is. Is it true that he lives in the desert?”
She nods. “Yes. The rumor is he’s one of a small tribe that lives where few ever venture. It’s said they survive in the bareness where others die, that they can call water to their feet and create an oasis from their thoughts. I don’t know about that though. If they could create an oasis, why would they roam so much?”
“So he’s like a Bedouin?” Even in my time there are still a few nomadic tribes who cleave to the ancient ways.
> “Yes, though I doubt the Bedouins would claim him. It’s said his tribe is magical, touched by Djinn.”
My people would call them genies. Many claim the Djinn are magical creatures, but I’ve been to planes where they were not mythical. “Touched how?”
“It is said that his tribe was created by the Djinn and that one fathered the magician’s ancestor and his magic was passed down through every son. Unfortunately the Djinn didn’t bless them with much fertility since the magician is one of the last of his line.”
“How many others are there?”
“No one knows. They have become very private since their numbers have dwindled, but they used to come to market every now and again to sell their wares. Mostly medicines and baskets. It was considered good luck to keep one of their baskets in your home to ward off vengeful demons. A Djinn glow was woven into each basket. Our eyes can’t detect it, of course, but the Djinn and the demons can, and it keeps evil away.”
Or more likely Khalid’s tribe were savvy businessmen and good at weaving tales. Unless… I wondered at that radiance I saw emanating from Khalid.
“Do you think he would make me a basket if you asked?” Goli coughs a bit and runs a hand over her brow. “I would love to keep evil from my doorstep. And snakes. I don’t like them, mistress.”
Goli is frightened by many things, but she perseveres and I admire her for that.
“I would ask him but he hasn’t spoken to me in a week.”
She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I think he’s working on that potion for you, mistress. I think you’re his one true love. Maybe he’ll even risk the king’s wrath for you. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”
I turn to her, ready to quell her growing excitement, but stop because she has gone pale. Her hands shake. “What’s wrong, Goli?”
She tries to stand. The bowl on her lap falls and hits the stone under her feet with a crash. Her legs buckle and I rush to catch her. She’s a light weight in my arms.
“I feel so odd, mistress.” Her voice is a mere whisper.
I look down at the figs, the ones meant for me. My heart races. Poison. She has been poisoned. As I lift her, one thought repeats over and over in my mind—those figs were meant for me.
Carrying Goli, I struggle to cross the courtyard. I know where I need to take her. There is only one man who can help me now.
The longer I walk, the heavier Goli becomes. I leave the walled enclosure and make my way into the palace. I have to get my servant to Khalid. He will help me, I am sure of it. Anyone else would tell me it is the will of Allah, but I don’t care about the great being’s will. I care that my friend, my sweet companion, is dying. I care that she is dying because someone hates and fears me.
A guard looks up from his post. “Stop.”
He expects me to obey so he’s slow to react when I don’t stop but just keep going, moving as fast as I can with Goli in my arms. I cannot allow this man or anyone to stop me. My lungs burn. My heart feels like it will explode. I keep running, willing Goli to live.
Finally, I reach the hallway that will take me to Khalid’s room.
“No! Halt!”
I hear the guard behind me, grunting as he runs to catch me and prevent me from infiltrating the inner sanctum. Only royals and their guests are welcome here and I am none of those, but I have desperation on my side. I feel him closing in on me, but refuse to allow him to catch me. The universe would not be so cruel. Not when my mission is righteous. A burst of fresh effort allows me the energy to speed away. He shouts out, screaming for others to join the hunt.
Then, ahead of me I see the door.
“Khalid!” I yell out his name, praying he is close and can hear me. And can help me. Can help Goli. Can save her.
Then, just as I feel the guard’s arm reach for me, the door opens.
“Camille? What is it? Come, come.” Khalid pulls me into his room and then steps in front of me, blocking the guard. “Stand down.”
The beastly man halts. “You know this wench?”
Khalid nods. “Yes, leave us be. I asked her to bring the servant girl here. She is ill and in need of my services.”
Reluctantly the guard turns away from the door. Khalid spins around toward me. The world seems to make more sense now that I am in his presence.
“What is wrong?”
“Please help me. Please, she’s dying.”
He bends down and takes Goli in his arms.
Looking at him now, I believe that the world might just be fair after all.
* * * *
Two hours later, I am pacing in the courtyard and praying that Goli will be all right. Khalid has been working over her all this time. The king has made an appearance, but stayed only moments. When he left, the crowd that had gathered left with him.
The same guard who had tried to chase me down was clever enough to go to the harem and capture the eunuch who had picked up the bowl Goli had dropped and bring him to Khalid.
“Yes, I watched her fall,” I heard the eunuch explaining. “I knew something was wrong. Once I got ahold of the bowl, I was approached by three of the wives. They didn’t want me to have this. But I fought them off.” His shrill voice was proud.
“You did well, Yammet. If I can ascertain the poison from its residue on the wood, I might be able to prepare the antidote in time. You will be rewarded for your efforts.”
I want to know the names of those women.
Three more hours have passed. It is sundown and I am still waiting.
Until today, I did not know that it was forty paces from one side of these guest quarters to the other. Thirty paces from the door to the garden. I have walked miles while I’ve waited.
Finally, as the moon begins to rise, the door opens and Khalid walks out, his face weary.
“Is she?” I am afraid to say the words.
“Goli isn’t well yet but she will survive. In a few days, she’ll be back to normal. She’s sleeping now. I ordered the guards to take her back to the harem and to stay and watch over her. I will visit her when I can.” He runs a hand over his hair. “But now you and I need to talk.”
He motions to a chaise and I sit. I expect him to join me but he paces, taking the same route I’ve been treading for hours.
“You do know that what happened to Goli was not an accident, don’t you?”
I step toward him as though my feet can’t stand to be still. “Yes. I was the target, wasn’t I?”
His face is grim as he looks at me. “Correct. She came around for a little while and managed to tell me the bowl was meant for you. Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harm you?”
“Not the cook. He has no reason to fear me.”
“Fear is often irrational.”
“True, but not in this case. He isn’t superstitious like the wives are. He doesn’t look at me from under lowered lashes. They call me witch, Khalid. They think I am a sorceress.”
“Who does? Can you name the woman? The wives?”
“There are so many of them.” I wouldn’t know where to start.
“Who has access to the kitchen?”
“All of them are in and out of the kitchen along with servants and householders alike.”
“When the king was here I explained what occurred and he wants to begin an investigation. He’s offering to behead the cook and his staff if you like. Just name the women and he will have them all arrested. ”
I try to keep the horror off my face. I know what will come after the arrest and this is not the kind of justice I can accept. I shake my head. “Even if I knew I couldn't tell you. I couldn’t send any of those women to their certain death.”
Khalid grabs me by my shoulders and shakes me gently. “Even though they were willing to send you to yours? You must. Tell me who hates you the most? Who wants you dead? Who does Scheherazade threaten the most?”
“Many of the wives resent me because the king enjoys my stories too much.”
Khalid takes a visible breath and steps back.
“Never mind. I am going to send you home tonight before the king can call for you again.”
I gasp at the implications. “What?”
“I believe I’ve found the way to transport your soul back to its proper vessel. I was preparing the mixture of herbs when you arrived with Goli. I’m sure I can use the mirror to contact your true self. I’ve seen members of my tribe do it. Your soul will depart Scheherazade’s body, and her’s will return.”
A thrill runs through my body. Through her body. Finally, I can leave this place and return home. And then I realize the dark side of this light—going back, becoming myself again, means I will have to leave Khalid. How can I when I do not yet know what it means to lie in his arms?
I step forward, moving closer. “I have one request, Khalid.” I put my hand on his arm.
His jaw tightens. His muscles harden, his skin heating up. “Now you’re willing to touch me? You’re a cruel goddess, Camille.”
“I want to be with you for just one night before I return. Since we’ve met, I dream of you when I am sleeping and when I’m awake. Even when I try not to. You’re in my head all of the time now. I believe I will think of you always and I want to be able to know you before I leave.”
“You want a memory? Why? So you can make me one of your stories?”
“Not to share in stories, no. I want it to hold close to my heart.” I have to make him understand. “I need the memory. I’ll never find anyone who moves me the way you do. Somehow, I don’t know how, but I’m sure of it.”
He frowns and walks away from me, over to the fountain. He dips his hand in it and then splashes the water on his face.
“Do you hate me for wanting to go home, Khalid? I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me.”
Khalid comes back to me, takes my hand and places my palm against his chest. “Feel it, Camille.”
His heart thuds against my hand—a strong and living thing.
“No matter where you are, no matter what time you exist in, this beats for you and only you. My heart was yours before I knew who you were. My soul entwined with yours before we were born into these current incarnations. No matter what happens to us in this lifetime, I will find you again.”
