Adijan and Her Genie

by L-J Baker

  “You’re leaving.” Hadim rose and clapped his hands. “Koda will bring your belongings – such as they are.”

  “I’m not going without Shali.”

  Hadim’s nostrils flared in distaste. “Look at you. Is this ragged, stinking mess what you want Shalimar to be like, too? Visitors to my house usually do me the courtesy of bathing and wearing shoes.”

  “You can’t keep my wife from me.”

  “I think of it as protecting and sheltering my poor, simple sister. Where would you take her? You don’t have anywhere to live. You can’t seriously expect me to let her reside in your aunt’s brothel?”

  “I don’t have to answer to you for anything. Now, either you get Shali in here or I go looking for her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Hadim opened the door to reveal Koda, the sour-looking door-keeper, and a second, stocky man. Adijan balled her fists. Hadim was barely a finger’s width taller than her. He might be stronger, but she probably had a good chance of breaking his nose before the servants could stop her.

  “This is not within the law,” Adijan said.

  “Perhaps you could engage an advocate in the caliph’s court to get a ruling against me.” Hadim smiled. “Your appearance would make quite an impact there. I’m sure you could afford the very best man available to make your case most eloquently and persuasively. I tremble with fear.”

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  “You’ll never earn fifty obiks in your life. Take it and leave Shalimar to a happier future.”

  Koda and the tough-looking servant shifted in the doorway. Koda dropped a half-empty sack on the floor. Fuming, Adijan limped across the chamber and snatched it up. Her worldly goods weighed less than a small melon.

  “May the All-Seeing Eye bless you with the wisdom to make correct judgments,” Hadim said.

  “I’m not signing anything unless Shali asks me to. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to let me see her.”

  “I don’t think that would be wise. Koda, escort her out.”

  In the face of the threat of physical ejection, Adijan had no choice but to retreat.

  “I’ll be back,” she said.

  “The money will be waiting.”

  “Shove it up your hole.”

  Adijan sank onto the divan in her Aunt Takush’s private chamber and loosed an involuntary moan of relief to be off her feet.

  Her aunt watched with one carefully plucked and blackened eyebrow arched. “You look terrible. You’re bleeding on my new rug. What happened? And why aren’t you at home? I can’t imagine Shalimar throwing you out, though the Eye knows what a trial you must be to her sometimes.”

  Past a lump in her throat, Adijan explained about the trouble with her brother-in-law and being robbed.

  Takush called for a serving girl. Soon, Adijan gobbled from a piled plate of spicy vegetables. While she ate, her feet soaked in warm water.

  Takush watched from a divan. Her features creased in thought. Though past forty, Takush retained much of the beauty that had brought her success in a profession she had been forced into when young. Her move into running her own house before succumbing too many times to diseases – as had her sister, Adijan’s dead mother – had preserved her looks and life, as well as increasing her earnings. Nowadays, Takush dressed no differently to any respectable matron.

  “I’ll ask Fakir to visit us tomorrow,” Takush said.

  Adijan glared over her laden spoon. “Him? Why? What has this got to do with him?”

  “Fakir knows everyone. He’s bound to have a friend with contacts in the caliph’s service. He’ll be able to advise us who to approach and how.”

  “I don’t want the whole world knowing my business. Besides, anyone Fakir knows won’t be important enough to make any difference. He’s a small warehouse owner, not the head of the caravaner’s guild.”

  “I don’t know why you persist with your childish dislike of him. He has always been like an uncle to you.”

  “He pats me on the head.”

  Takush cast an exasperated look at Adijan. “Hadim il-Padur has a lot of money. You can’t fight him on your own. You need help. Fakir will be only too happy to offer it. You’ll accept it with good grace. And bind your feet before you try walking on them. Fetnab is in your old room. There’s a mattress in the back storehouse you can use.”

  “Thank you, Auntie.”

  “And take a bath. Your stink will put customers off.”

  Damp from her cold wash at the courtyard well, Adijan dragged herself into the windowless gloom of the disused storehouse. At any other time, she would’ve stayed out in the courtyard to talk with Fetnab or Zaree, the all-work maid. Today, she wasn’t in the mood for teasing or chatter. Her eyes misted when she pulled clean clothes from the sack of her belongings. Shirt and pantaloons were mended and neatly folded as if Shalimar had done it only yesterday. They smelled of soap, Shalimar, and sunshine. She roughly wiped her eyes.

  It didn’t help she sat in the place where she and Shalimar had first made love. That had been Shalimar’s first time. She hadn’t even kissed anyone before Adijan. Everyone had assumed Shalimar wasn’t a grown woman, with an adult’s feelings and desires, despite the obvious physical evidence to the contrary. Adijan had hesitated well past the point of recognizing her own longing for Shalimar, because she was unsure of Shalimar’s reactions to sexual intimacy. As was usually the case, Shalimar delightfully exceeded expectations.

  Adijan quickly lost her smile as she remembered Hadim patronizingly telling her that Shalimar had a child’s mind. That wasn’t true, though it probably suited Hadim to think of his sister as someone he could govern as he saw fit. Well, that wasn’t right either, because Shalimar’s father had consented to, witnessed, and offered blessing upon her marriage with Adijan. Hadim had no rights over either of them. And he certainly breached the law in keeping Shalimar locked away from her. If he thought Adijan could be bought off, he had another think coming.

  After dark, Adijan crept past closed doors muffling moans, giggles, slaps, and grunts, and out of the busy friendly house. Her feet ached, despite the bandages, but she limped with determination through the starlight and shadows of the winding streets.

  The wall around Hadim’s garden was warm from the heat it had soaked up during the day. In the dark of the narrow alley, Adijan felt her way along the bricks to the gate. It was locked. She glanced around to make sure she was unobserved before awkwardly scaling the wall. At the top, she lay still, listening. Music from a many-stringed uta and expertly played drums drifted from a neighboring house. The back of Hadim’s house showed no lights.

  Adijan dropped to the ground and bit her lip to stifle a cry of pain. For many heartbeats, she waited with her back to the wall until the throbbing in her feet subsided.

  One of the doors leading into the courtyard was unlocked. Adijan slipped inside and softly shut the door behind her. She strained her ears for anyone else stirring and crept through room after room until finding the stairs. At the top, she paused. Her own breathing sounded loud enough to wake the dead. She continued along the corridor. Hadim’s carpets silenced her steps. Outside each door, she paused to listen. Shalimar must be asleep in one of these rooms.

  Around a bend, she narrowly avoided upsetting a table holding a small statue. Then she saw the ghostly outline of a good fortune banner suspended beside a door. She smiled. Shalimar slept in that room.

  She cracked the door open. A snore rattled out. The room was not as dark as the rest of the house. Hadim was rich enough to have woven screens across the windows, so the shutters were open. Breezes and grey light seeped in unaccompanied by clouds of biting insects.

  In the gloom, Adijan saw two people sleeping in the bed. The closest was a large snoring lump. That wasn’t Shalimar. She tip-toed around the bed. Shalimar lay on her side facing the edge.

  Adijan smiled. A great rush of relief and tenderness kept her immobile for several heartbeats. How anyone could thi
nk her love for this woman could be bought for a bag of coins defied belief. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to the All-Seeing Eye, then bent and kissed Shalimar’s cheek.

  “I love you,” she whispered into Shalimar’s ear.

  Shalimar’s eyes snapped open. “Ad–”

  Adijan pressed her fingers against Shalimar’s lips. “Shh,” she whispered. “Quietly, love. Don’t wake everyone.”

  Shalimar sat up, flung the sheets aside, and threw her arms around Adijan’s waist. “I knew you’d come back.”

  “Shh. Softly, love.” Adijan wrapped her arms around Shalimar’s shoulders, but looked past her wife to the sleeping woman. The snores had stopped.

  “I told Hadim you’d come back,” Shalimar said.

  “You were right. I’m here. Where are your clothes?”

  “Are we going home now?”

  “Yes. Get dressed, love.”

  “Hadim will be sad if I leave, but I don’t like being away from you.” Shalimar stood and looped her arms around Adijan’s neck. “Kiss me properly.”

  Adijan quickly kissed Shalimar’s lips and tried to ignore how wonderful her wife felt in her arms. “We can have all the kisses you want when we get to Auntie’s house. I promise. Are your clothes –?”

  “Aah!” The woman in the bed shrieked. “Murder! Robbery! Help!”

  Adijan lunged across the bed and clamped her hand over the woman’s mouth. The woman flailed at her with arms and legs.

  “Love, get dressed,” Adijan said to Shalimar. “Quickly. We – ah!” She wrenched her hand from between the woman’s teeth. The woman screamed.

  “Turd,” Adijan said.

  “Adijan?” Shalimar stood with a dress dangling in her hand.

  Adijan scrambled off the shrieking woman and grabbed Shalimar’s hand. “Come on, love. We have to run to Auntie’s house.”

  Adijan towed Shalimar to the door. She stepped into the corridor and heard heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs. She tugged Shalimar in the opposite direction.

  “Adijan?” Shalimar said. “Why was Akmina upset?”

  “A bad dream.” Adijan pulled Shalimar around the corner in the corridor and found a dead end. The door was locked. “Camel crap. Love, do you know how to get to the garden?”

  “I like the garden.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. Let’s go there together. Which way?”

  “Down the stairs.”

  Shalimar turned around and walked back toward the bedroom. Male shouts erupted in addition to the woman’s screams. Adijan grabbed Shalimar’s wrist and tugged her to a stop. Frantically, she tried the closest door and urged Shalimar inside. The room was empty and dark, though she could make out the outline of the shuttered window. She guided Shalimar to it. The woman’s screams had stopped, but Adijan could hear Hadim’s raised voice.

  “I told Hadim you’d be back,” Shalimar said. “I know he was being kind to me, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

  Adijan would’ve liked to know just what lies Hadim had told Shalimar, but that could wait until they were safely out of his reach.

  “I’ll always come back for you.” Adijan wrenched the shutter open. The latch snapped. “Always. I promised you, remember?”

  Heavy footsteps thudded along the corridor outside the door.

  “That’s what I told Hadim,” Shalimar said. “Did you bring me an orange?”

  “I’ll buy you ten, first thing in the morning, love.”

  Adijan punched a hole through the screen and ripped the fabric from top to bottom. She could see the dark-on-darker shapes of the garden below. It was a longer drop than she would’ve liked. A man’s deep voice called just outside the door.

  “Love, we’re going to have to jump.” Adijan clasped Shalimar’s hand and pulled her close. “Can you do that? I’ll go first, then you jump down to me. Yes?”

  “Can I hold your hand?”

  “When we’re both down, I’m not letting you go.”

  Adijan hooked a leg out of the window. The door banged open.

  “Here!” A man barged into the room. “Master!”

  Adijan pulled back into the room and swung around to interpose herself between him and Shalimar. She struggled against him when a second pair of hands grabbed her. An arm slipped snugly around her neck.

  “You scab,” she said. “If you touch her…”

  The arm tightened on her throat.

  “Let her go!” Shalimar beat at Adijan’s subduers.

  “Master!” one of the men shouted. “We have them!”

  Light washed into the room. Hadim, in his night robe, strode in. A servant carrying a lamp followed him.

  “Hadim!” Shalimar continued to pound her fists on the larger of Adijan’s captors. “Make them stop.”

  “Shalimar, come here.” Hadim held out his hand. When Shalimar ignored him, he clamped his fingers around her arm and tugged her away.

  “Leave her alone,” Adijan said. The arm jerked hard against her throat, and she gasped for air.

  “Shalimar,” Hadim said, “it’s unseemly to let the servants see you clad in only your night shift. Return to your room.”

  “Adijan is here,” Shalimar said. “She came back like I told you she would. We’re going home now.”

  “You are home,” Hadim said. “As for Adijan… I’m sure even she wouldn’t want you to watch what is going to happen.”

  Swallowing with difficulty, Adijan glanced between Hadim and his burly servants. A cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “Love, go to bed.”

  Shalimar shook her head. “You came for me. We’re going home.”

  “I’ll be back again,” Adijan said. “I promise. Now, go and get some sleep.”

  Hadim steered Shalimar toward the door, but she twisted free. She dashed across the room to kiss Adijan.

  “I want to go with you,” Shalimar said.

  Hadim and one of the servants pried loose Shalimar’s grip on Adijan’s clothes and carried her out of the room. Adijan didn’t hear the end of Shalimar’s struggles. One of the men punched her in the stomach. His second blow to her midriff dropped her to hands and knees. She vomited. A knee caught her in the face, snapping her head back. She lay on the ground clutching her stomach and tasting bile and blood when Hadim returned.

  “Stupid as well as everything else,” Hadim said. “I’ll give you one last chance. But if you try anything like this again, I won’t care about the scandal. I’ll have city guards fetched to arrest you for breaking into my house and attempted burglary. They’ll cut off your hands, exile you from the city, and give me custody of Shalimar. Think about it.”

  Chapter Three

  Adijan woke to sunlight and the smell of coffee. Her face hurt. Her body felt pummeled all over. The last thing she remembered was Hadim’s servants dragging her down the stairs.

  She lay on a divan set at the bottom of Takush’s bed. She hadn’t slept in this room since she’d been eight years old. Soft voices – her aunt and Fakir al-Wahali – carried through the open door.

  Adijan abandoned the idea of getting up. As much as she disliked Fakir’s avuncular cheer, she liked his clumsy concern and pity even less. She knew that every kindness he extended toward herself was carefully calculated on how it would forward him in her aunt’s favor. Even when she’d been a grubby, bare-bottomed child, the odd copper curls he’d given her to spend on dates or pomegranate juice were to get her out of the way while he tried to ooze closer to Takush. Still, he was Takush’s problem. And for all that Fakir sniffed around Takush, her aunt had never succumbed to his used-rug-dealer charms. On the contrary, Takush only had to crook her finger and Fakir came running.

  Right then, Adijan would barter every curl she would ever earn if someone held that power over Hadim il-Padur. She’d really enjoy seeing her despicable brother-in-law beg. Getting Shalimar away from him, though, was more important than revenge.

  Adijan could go and join the endless line of petitioners for the caliph’s justice to get Shalimar
back. But she stood a greater chance of being struck by lightning than being one of the fortunate few to have their case heard by the caliph himself. There were plenty of stories of people who had waited day after day for years without gaining a hearing. She didn’t need Fakir to tell her her only realistic option of bringing a case against Hadim lay in paying one of the courtiers who had the caliph’s ear to be her advocate. That cost. The more important the person bribed, the better the chance of success, but the fees increased accordingly.

  Wincing, and with an arm hugged protectively across her sore ribs, Adijan eased herself from under the sheet. She struggled the few steps to the dressing table. Takush’s polished copper mirror showed a pulpy, swollen nose, fat lip, and dark bruise on the side of her jaw. Had it only been yesterday morning she thought she was finally getting ahead?

  “Camel turd.”

  Her carefully accumulated three obiks, and the future of promise they could have bought, had better be enough to get Shalimar back. If Adijan owned a world-spanning business empire and commanded the respect of every king, sultan, caliph, emir, and vizier, it wouldn’t mean a damned thing if Shalimar didn’t share it with her.

  “Adijan!” Takush strode in and clapped her hands. “Eye! What do you think you’re doing? Get back in bed!”

  “I have to go to Merchant Nabim’s.”

  “Go tomorrow.” Takush’s petite hands, which had been famed for coaxing men to an earthly Paradise, steered Adijan back to the divan. “You need to rest. It’s bad enough that we must prosecute Hadim il-Padur for kidnapping your wife and beating you senseless. Do you want to make me claim for your death?”

  “I need the money to get Shali –”

  “I know. I’ve been talking with Fakir.” Takush pushed Adijan down on the divan. “He’s going to visit a friend this afternoon. You won’t need money for days. There is much to be discussed and decided first, and many pipes to be smoked. These things take time.”

  “I’m not leaving her –”

  “You can’t hurry a courtier any more than you can make a camel dance on a scimitar. The healer said you should remain in bed.” Takush imprisoned her niece by tightly tucking the sheets all around her. “As the All-Seeing Eye is my witness, with her last breath, your poor mother asked me to look after you. I gave her my solemn word and she died with at least that consolation. May the Eye bless her memory. Would you have me betray my sister’s sacred trust by letting her only child kill herself with stubborn stupidity? She will be in Paradise blaming me for not realizing you’d be idiotic enough to earn yourself such a beating – even though you could barely walk!”