by L-J Baker
Adijan tugged her pendant from under her shirt.
“Honey Petal? Can you come out?”
Honey Petal appeared several paces away, standing rather than on her knees. She bowed stiffly from the waist. “Yes, mistress?”
“You didn’t miss much on the walk. A few mangy goats and a few mangy goatherds.”
Adijan stretched her legs and carefully propped her throbbing feet on a smooth boulder. Honey Petal watched with the same unfriendly wariness she had shown on her first appearances.
“What’s wrong?” Adijan asked. “You’re not asking me questions.”
“I beg your pardon a thousand times, mistress, if my manner offends.”
“I’m not offended. Did you want to sit up and watch the stars again tonight?”
“Your will dictates my actions.”
“Look, why don’t you sit down and get comfortable.”
“Is that a command?”
“It’s a suggestion.”
Honey Petal didn’t move.
Adijan frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“My mistress orders me to answer a question to which I cannot formulate a meaningful reply.”
“You don’t look very happy,” Adijan said. “I was just asking why.”
A deeply sardonic look flashed across Honey Petal’s face.
“What is this?” Adijan said. “You’re only going to answer direct questions?”
“Such is the nature of the obligation placed upon me.”
Adijan pulled on her dusty tunic in preparation for sleeping. Honey Petal remained rigid. When Adijan studied her, she looked away. She was, without any doubt, extremely well designed for her purpose. None of the women Adijan could remember having passed through her Aunt Takush’s friendly house had looked this good. Real women who looked like her wouldn’t remain in a brothel long. They’d find a man who would set them up as his concubine. If Honey Petal did work for Takush, she could command a premium price for her services.
“Your masters wanted sex with you,” Adijan said, “didn’t they?”
Honey Petal looked as though she wanted to bolt. In a flat voice, she replied in the affirmative.
“Was it always with them?” Adijan asked. “Did they ever ask you to do it with someone else? Would you have sex with someone other than your master?”
“The limits of the compulsion on me are defined in the poem.”
Adijan frowned. “What poem?”
“The one which accompanies the necklace, mistress.”
The cloth the necklace had been wrapped in had dense, tiny writing all over it. The Widow Nabim hadn’t thrust it at her when she put the necklace around her neck. But she had mentioned it. What had she said? Something about burning the filthy instructions and incitements. Instructions?
“Are you saying the cloth had a poem on it?” Adijan said. “And that was some sort of guide to what you can and can’t do?”
Honey Petal’s eyebrows twitched in realization. “You don’t have it.”
“No. Widow Nabim burned it.”
For the first time, Honey Petal smiled.
Chapter Seven
Honey Petal wasn’t out when Adijan woke the next morning. She ate her frugal breakfast and resumed her journey alone. For the next two days, Honey Petal appeared when Adijan called but limited herself to answering only direct questions and disappearing as quickly as she could.
The gate guards at Qahtan reluctantly let Adijan pass. She limped through familiar streets and stopped when she came within sight of Hadim’s house. Shalimar was in there. Although, on a day like this, she might be in the garden. Shali loved doing her sewing out in the sun whenever she could.
Adijan made her way through the back alleys until she found the wall bounding the rear of Hadim’s garden. A man leaned against the door. A guard. She swore under her breath. So much for trying to scale the wall to look.
Hungry, sweaty, exhausted, and without a crumb in her pocket or a glimpse of Shalimar to feed her spirits, Adijan limped back to her Aunt Takush’s friendly house.
Adijan lay on her bed watching the morning light creep up the wall. She should get up, find something to eat, and go to Fakir’s warehouse. Yesterday, her aunt had given her an earful and more about her schemes. Takush was right. Adijan had run off chasing mirages yet again, then come back with two handfuls of nothing. Perhaps it was time to settle down to a boring steady job that paid a pittance.
She pushed the sheet aside and reached for her shirt. Was Shalimar dressing at this very moment on the other side of town? She really enjoyed watching Shali put clothes on, and take them off. Shalimar was so beautiful, yet utterly oblivious to it. When Shali smiled, she was happy.
When Shali undressed, it was just taking off her clothes. She had no idea how much, and how easily, she could arouse Adijan.
Adijan knotted the cord on her pantaloons. A day of working for Fakir stretched ahead of her. The Eye was supposed to punish her in the afterlife for her faults, not while she still lived.
The door opened. Takush entered. “You’re up. Good.”
“What are you doing awake this early?”
“Making sure you’re awake and ready. And checking to see if you’d run off on yet another shadow chase. I don’t want you to be rude to poor Fakir again.”
“No, Auntie.”
“Don’t you have any sandals?”
“One. I’ll buy myself another with my first pay. Fakir’s broom won’t care that I’m barefoot.” Adijan kissed Takush’s cheek before stepping out into the corridor.
“Get something to eat from the kitchen before you go. Adijan? Hadim hasn’t won yet. This trip of yours hasn’t really changed anything.”
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.”
Hands in her pockets, Adijan trudged through the waking streets, past yawning stall owners setting out their wares, and toward the crooked street where Fakir’s warehouse waited to swallow her into poorly-paid oblivion.
A skinny young man staggered toward the front of the warehouse beneath a bulging sack. Puzu, one of Fakir’s many nephews, dropped the sack with a clunk near Adijan’s feet.
He gave her a toothy smile. “What you doing here? You rich yet? Where’s your hundreds of servants?”
“I gave them the day off. Fakir around?”
“It ain’t true, is it, that you’re gonna work here? Fakir said so last week, but I didn’t believe him. Not you.”
“I thought I’d take a break from earning my fortune. His office down the back still?”
“Yeah. He ain’t here yet. If you’re really gonna work here, you can give me a hand with these.”
Adijan followed him back to a mound of large sacks. She and Puzu were sweating and panting when Fakir sauntered in.
“Nipper!” Fakir said. “Your lovely aunt said you’d be back soon. Only too glad to have you.”
“Um. Thanks,” Adijan said. “Look, I’m sorry about not showing up before.”
“Quite understand.” Fakir patted her head. “I’d be all to pieces, too, if my wife were taken. If I had a wife. Which I hope to. One day.”
Adijan accepted the broom and began the endless task of rearranging the dust. Later, Fakir left with his beard freshly oiled. She could guess where he was going. Aunt Takush would have her opportunity to thank him for providing her with gainful employment.
Puzu beckoned her to join him on a pile of mats and share the cold coffee from Fakir’s pot.
“It ain’t true, is it,” Puzu said, “that your brother-in-law has taken your wife away?”
Adijan frowned down at her hands. It was inevitable news like that would get around. “Yeah. It is.”
“I like your wife. She mended a rip in my sleeve for me one day. Pretty, too. Look, my uncle is a mercenary. Not Fakir. This one is big and strong. Works the caravan route to Pikrut. Got a scar right across here. Lost his eye. A real hard man. Can bend nails with his teeth. I bet he’d sort out your brother-in-law good.”
“Give me ten or twelve
years to earn enough to pay him, and you’re on.”
At the end of the long, sweaty day, which had probably earned her ten copper curls, Adijan trudged back to the friendly house. It was open, so she went around to the back door. She grabbed something to eat from the kitchen and purloined half a jar of wine from a man too preoccupied to notice. She shut her bedroom door on the grunts and moans of fake ecstasy.
“Honey Petal?”
Honey Petal appeared near the far wall. She swiftly glanced around. Her gaze settled on Adijan sitting on the bed. Her complexion paled. “Yes, mistress?”
“It’s a brothel in Qahtan,” Adijan said.
Honey Petal stared with naked hostility.
“My aunt owns it,” Adijan said. “It’s where I grew up. I’m afraid you’d better get used to it. I’m probably going to be here until they carry me out wrapped in a sheet. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If you know how I can be rid of you, you could do us both a favor. I need the money, and you want some rich beard more worthy of you.”
Honey Petal took a more leisurely, but no more approving, look around the room.
“The only other way I can think of getting the money I need,” Adijan said, “is if you work one of the rooms here. Your services would be worth quite a bit.”
Honey Petal stiffened.
Adijan up-ended the jar to drain the last of it. She wished she had more. Honey Petal watched her and didn’t look happy.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” Adijan asked.
“It is not within the bounds of my obligation to pass moral judgment on the owner of the necklace.”
“Moral? You know, that’s an odd thing for a genie to think about.”
“I am not a genie.”
“That’s right. You did tell me.” Adijan caught herself fiddling with the empty jar and dropped it onto the floor. “Moral judgments? Because I live in a brothel? That’s a very strange way for a sex slave to think. My mother was a working girl, and I have no idea who my father was, but I’ve never willingly sucked a poker.”
“Nor I.”
Adijan blinked at the quiet vehemence in Honey Petal’s words. Honey Petal vanished.
“I was going to say I don’t hold it against those who do,” Adijan said.
Fakir strutted into the warehouse after a longer than normal absence during the midday heat. He looked smug.
“Well, Nipper, this is a good day,” he said. “A very good day. Finish that and we’ll walk home together. Uncle Fakir has news. We must share it with your lovely aunt. Yes, indeed. Eh?”
He patted her on the head and strolled beside her back to Aunt Takush’s house. He whistled to himself and shouted greetings to practically everyone they passed.
Adijan slumped onto a divan, accepted coffee, and wondered what Shali was doing.
“Adijan?” Takush said. “Did you hear that? The man whom Fakir contacted on your behalf has agreed your case against Hadim il-Padur seems most just. He’s willing to approach the caliph as your advocate.”
“Yeah? Really?”
Fakir nodded. “Soon have Mrs. Nipper back. You’ll see.”
For a euphoric moment, Adijan could almost see Shalimar walking into the room. Every drop of blood and sinew inside her glowed with golden warmth. Her arms felt the phantom weight of Shali in them. Then she noticed Takush’s expression. “What’s the catch?”
“I think you ought to thank Fakir,” Takush said. “This is just the opportunity we need.”
“Yeah. Thanks a lot,” Adijan said. “But why aren’t you – how much? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what’s wrong. How much does he want?”
“One doesn’t mention payments to these great men,” Fakir said. “Not their style. Not businessmen like us. Me and you, that is, dear lady. Not that you’re a man, of course. Not at all.”
“It has been suggested,” Takush said, “that a gift worth fifty or sixty obiks would be appropriate.”
“Eye! Fifty? I couldn’t get my hands on fifty curls.”
Except, fifty obiks waited in a bag for her at Hadim’s house. The All-Seeing Eye must be having a black joke on her again. Fifty obiks to get Shali back, but the only way she could raise that vast sum was to agree to the divorce.
Adijan slumped and let her head fall into her hands. Her aunt soon got rid of Fakir and lowered herself beside Adijan.
“We can find the money,” Takush said.
Adijan shook her head. “I could never pay you back. Not even half. Not if I lived to be two hundred.”
“You do want Shalimar back?”
“Of course, I do! It’s the only thing I want. But I can’t afford that. Not even for Shali. If that courtier wanted one of my hands, I’d cut it off myself. But money… I’ve spent years trying to earn some, but I never get anywhere. There’s no reason to think I’ll ever get any better at it. If I borrow money from you, you’ll never see it again. It’s not as though that is a small sum to you. I’ve already cost you enough.”
“You’re my sister’s child, and the child of my heart. Adijan, who was that woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one you came back with last night. Zaree said she was still with you this morning.”
“Oh, her. That was Honey – why?”
Takush didn’t immediately answer.
“You don’t think – no!” Adijan said. “It’s not like that. I’ve been completely faithful to Shali since we first – since before we were married.”
“Considering the position you’re in, you may want to be a little more careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think your attempt to present yourself as a worthy person who deserves to have her wife reunited with her would be strengthened by the suspicion you’re sleeping with another woman?”
“I’m not! She isn’t –”
“Appearances can be as damaging as reality. And you don’t think Hadim will bother to prove such matters before whispering them into his advocate’s ear?”
Chapter Eight
“Honey Petal?”
Honey Petal appeared in the corner, as far away as the confines of Adijan’s cramped bedroom allowed. She wore that prickly, unfriendly look. The bells at her chest tinkled when she folded her arms.
“Look, there’s something I’ve got to know,” Adijan said. “Last night. When I was drunk. Did I… well, did I do anything to you?”
“You commanded my presence.”
“Yeah. But I meant… did we have sex?”
Honey Petal recoiled. “No, mistress.”
Adijan blew out her relief in a long breath. She pulled her shirt off, let her pantaloons slip to the floor, and climbed into bed. Honey Petal had averted her face. It was an unusual action for a being with her purpose in life.
“Have none of your previous owners been women?” Adijan asked.
In profile, Honey Petal’s expression tightened. “Prior to this time, my servitude has been to men. You are the first of that kind to own the necklace.”
“That kind? What do you mean?”
“That kind of person who harbors an unnatural passion for their own sex.”
“Unnatural?” Adijan blinked. “What’s unnatural about loving someone? You have some funny ideas about people, don’t you? Mind you, existing only to swive fat, rich old men would give anyone an odd view of the world.”
Honey Petal didn’t reply.
“So, you’ve never slept with a woman?” Adijan asked.
“No.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Still, it’s probably for the best. Women don’t pay for sex.”
Honey Petal glared at her.
“I need fifty obiks,” Adijan said. “The only way I can see of getting anywhere near that sum is for you to earn it for me.”
Honey Petal paled. “I am obliged to serve the desires of the necklace’s owner. The compulsion does not extend to others. As the poem says.”
Adijan c
arefully sifted through her words. “You have to serve me. But you don’t have to serve anyone else. So, are you saying you can’t have sex with someone other than me, if I ask you?”
Honey Petal’s lips compressed. From between clenched teeth, she grudgingly admitted, “No, mistress.”
An incredible realization dawned on Adijan. “You don’t like doing it. You don’t like sex.”
Honey Petal walked to the window and stood with her rigid back to Adijan.
“How can a magical being created for sex not like doing it?” Adijan asked.
“I cannot answer that, mistress, for I am not a magical being.”
“You’re not? And you’re not a genie. So, what are you?”
“I am unsure how to describe my current state of existence.”
Adijan frowned as she again tried to tease the hidden sense from that. “What were you, then?”
Honey Petal turned around to glare at Adijan. “I was human.”
“Eye!” Adijan traced the sign of the All-Seeing Eye in front of her chest. “Human? But how –? How did you end up in the necklace?”
“I am under an enchantment.”
“Camel crap. Someone magically trapped you?”
“Magic rarely occurs without an agent.”
Honey Petal strode the width of the room and back, keeping her distance from the bed. The tinkling of her little nipple bells was wildly out of place.
“Why did someone do that to you?” Adijan asked.
“Because he won and I lost.”
“I take it he didn’t like you very much?”
Honey Petal halted to level a look of arrogant disdain at Adijan. “He had no choice but to contain me. Trivial considerations such as liking played no part in the matter.”
Adijan felt as if she shared the room with a cobra that had just spread its hood.
