Adijan and Her Genie

by L-J Baker

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You always are, aren’t you? But that doesn’t prevent you going out and getting drunk again, does it? It has to stop. I only hope it’s not too late.” Takush sighed. “I suppose, looking for a shiny side, we can assume that since it was so recent, there’s little chance Hadim will have heard of this adulterous incident.”

  Adijan winced.

  “I knew I should’ve left twice as much incense at the altar last night,” Takush said. “Come on. The least you can do is to put a brave face on it.”

  “Um… Auntie, it gets worse.”

  “Worse? How could it possibly be worse? How many people did you murder?”

  “No. It’s – um. When I was with that woman. Um. Shali came in. She saw.”

  “Shalimar? But – but where were you?”

  Adijan shrugged. “Some house in Thieves’ Row. Shali looked pretty upset.”

  “Shalimar?” Takush shook her head. “How, in the blessed name of the All-Seeing Eye, did she get from her brother’s house to Thieves’ Row?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t – um. I don’t remember asking.”

  “Are you sure it was her? You were drunk.”

  “It was her.”

  “This is incredible.” Takush paced again and spread her hands. “I find this so very, very hard to believe. Not that you could be so stupid, but that Shalimar, of all people, could be there to witness it. And that it happened just before this hearing.”

  Adijan trailed her aunt and Fakir past the armed guards. A noisy crowd sat, stood, talked, or fanned flies away throughout the palace forecourt and under the arches of the walkways. She scanned the faces, but failed to see Shalimar or Hadim.

  “Al-Asmai!”

  An official ushered them into a smaller chamber than Adijan had imagined. It reeked of perfume, oils, and nervous sweat. Instead of the hundreds of officials, advocates, and servants she had expected, about twenty bored-looking people stood, knelt, or sat. The portly magistrate perched on a richly padded divan and a mountain of silk cushions. He talked with another glittering, well-oiled figure. Behind him, in a gilded cage, sat a silent, lone red bird.

  Adijan stopped when she recognized Hadim. He stood on the right side of the railing. Beside him stood a pair of heavily veiled women.

  An official called the parties to order. A second official read out Adijan’s summons for the magistrate. A third official raised a large, club-like staff and demanded to know if all parties were present. Adijan bowed when they called her name.

  “Shalimar il-Padur is present.” Hadim’s advocate, dressed in embroidered silks, gestured lazily with a ring-heavy hand.

  Adijan stared. The two women near Hadim were swathed in veils. Perhaps the thinner one in blue was Shali, but her face and figure were so heavily concealed Adijan couldn’t tell. For all she knew, the pair might be two women Hadim found in the street and paid to come and sit through this.

  “Shali?” Adijan stood. “Look, we can work this out. Please. Don’t divorce me. You don’t want –”

  “Quiet!” one of the officials called.

  Takush took a firm grip on Adijan’s arm. Fakir planted a hand on her shoulder. Their elderly advocate, the Exalted Habib, shot her a disgusted look.

  “You’re not helping,” Takush whispered.

  “She won’t even look at me,” Adijan said.

  “Perhaps this has upset her,” Takush whispered.

  “Perhaps it isn’t even her,” Adijan said.

  While the advocates swapped windy phrases, compliments, and legal nonsense, Adijan strained to see Shalimar beneath the folds of drapery. Throughout all the talking, the woman didn’t move – not so much as fidget or shift, let alone look at Adijan. Even if Shalimar did want a divorce, why wouldn’t she glance Adijan’s way? That wasn’t like Shali at all. She would be looking around, talking, and wanting to let the bird out of its cage. She never just stood like a lifeless lump. Even when she sewed, she hummed or sang to herself or told stories to whichever children happened to be with her.

  While Hadim’s advocate worked his grandiose way through a long speech reviling Adijan’s character, unsavory habits, and inability to support her wife – including a damning catalogue of all the debts Hadim had paid for her – Adijan’s doubts about the woman in blue hardened. They solidified when Hadim’s advocate turned to the woman to seek confirmation that all he said was on her behalf. The woman remained unresponsive.

  “Does she or does she not seek a divorce?” the magistrate petulantly asked.

  Hadim whispered something in the woman’s ear and she nodded.

  “My sister does desire divorce,” Hadim said.

  “It’s not her!” Adijan called out.

  The advocates, magistrate, and officials turned to stare at her.

  “That’s not my wife.” Adijan leveled an accusing finger at the still-smiling Hadim. “Make him show her face.”

  “My sister has the same rights as any woman to a veil,” Hadim said.

  “Why isn’t she speaking for herself?” the magistrate asked.

  “She’s simple,” Hadim’s advocate said.

  “No, she’s not!” Adijan shouted.

  “If the petitioner were truly incapable of following these proceedings,” the Exalted Habib said, “then she would be unable to file a petition. This case ought to be –”

  “Shali knows her own mind,” Adijan said. “She’s not a child. Ask her. If that is her!”

  The Exalted Habib shot Adijan a look blacker than a diseased donkey’s dung. Hadim, on the other hand, offered her an ironic bow.

  “You turd!” Adijan struggled against the railing and Fakir’s grip. “It’s him who wants us to be divorced, not Shali! You ask her.”

  “If you persist in disrupting this hearing,” one of the officials said, “you will be expelled.”

  Adijan subsided to smolder.

  Hadim’s advocate leaned close to the figure in blue. “Is this petition for divorce from Adijan al-Asmai your wish?”

  Even though she knew it wasn’t Shali, Adijan willed the woman to say no. Hadim put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and whispered to her.

  The woman in blue softly said, “Yes.”

  “Has what I said of her adultery, cruelty, drinking, debts, and abandonment of you all been true?” the advocate asked.

  “Yes.”

  “No!” Adijan shouted. “That’s not Shalimar!”

  Court guards shouldered Fakir and Takush aside and grabbed Adijan.

  “Show her face!” Adijan called.

  “Effulgent lord,” the Exalted Habib said. “In her ill-mannered way, my client does have a point. If that is not the petitioner, then any ruling in her name is void.”

  Hadim’s smile was not at all the anger or fear of exposure Adijan had expected. Chilled, she watched him lift the blue veil to reveal Shalimar.

  Adijan reeled. “No. Shali?”

  The guards dragged her out.

  “Shali! Please! Don’t do this! I love you!”

  Adijan continued to shout after the doors slammed shut and the guards shoved her into a tiny, windowless room. That really was Shalimar in there. She said she wanted to be divorced. She hadn’t once looked at Adijan.

  It was all her own fault. She had what seemed like half a lifetime to savor that fact while she waited to be released.

  “Out.”

  A guard held the door open. Behind him, Takush and Fakir looked grim. Her hopes, which had frayed to a single, slender thread, snapped. Numbly, she rose and joined them.

  “Not a very nice fellow,” Fakir said. “Not nice at all. Mrs. Nipper’s brother, that is. He didn’t even bow.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself over him,” Takush said. “Courtesy, good manners, and common sense are in small supply all round today.”

  Adijan looked away.

  “You didn’t help anyone by that display,” Takush said. “Not that I didn’t also think there was something very wrong with Shalimar. I
f I didn’t know her better, I’d say she was smacked on mistweed pods.”

  “Just had a thought,” Fakir said. “I don’t suppose we can call her Mrs. Nipper now.”

  Adijan winced. Takush put a hand on her arm.

  “Not that I won’t always think of her like that,” Fakir said. “Always be Mrs. Nipper to us, eh?”

  Adijan hurried away.

  “Fakir!” Takush said.

  Takush and Fakir caught up to Adijan when she stood indecisive outside the palace gates. There was nothing she wanted to do more than get drunk. On the other hand, maybe her aunt was right about that contributing to this fall to the bottom of the pit. Although, at this point, what further harm could she conceivably do? Her life couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  “Sorry about that, Nipper,” Fakir said. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Bit insensitive, as your dear aunt says. If I’d just been divorced, I’d feel the same. Devastated. Especially if I loved my wife. Which I would. A lot. If I had one.”

  Takush threaded her hand through Adijan’s arm and tugged her into walking back toward the friendly house.

  “You might as well know it all,” Takush said. “Hadim applied for a waiver of the widow’s watch.”

  Adijan stopped.

  “Can see his point,” Fakir said. “It’s not as though Mrs. Nipper is likely to be carrying Nipper’s baby. No need to wait a few weeks to find that out, is there? Not that I mean anything by –”

  “Fakir, please,” Takush said.

  “She’s getting married again?” Adijan said.

  “That would be the only reason Hadim would want a waiver,” Takush said. “The magistrate turned him down, but I suppose that just delays it by seven weeks.”

  Chapter Ten

  Six weeks and three days. Adijan was as sober as a water jug and it was time she stopped fooling herself. It didn’t matter if she had six weeks or six years, Shali was gone beyond her ability to win her back. All Hadim’s slurs and everything the advocate had said about her paled beside that soft “yes” when they asked Shalimar if she wanted the divorce. There was no point even dreaming of sweeping Shalimar away from her second marriage – not when she didn’t want rescuing.

  She had lived twenty years without knowing Shalimar existed, or what it was to be truly happy. Why not another twenty years without her? Because now she knew what she’d lost, and that made all the difference.

  Adijan pulled the pendant out from under her shirt. Perhaps, there was one creature in the world in a less enviable position than herself. She had lost her love and hope; Honey Petal had lost her humanity.

  “Honey Petal?”

  Honey Petal appeared on the other side of the room, standing, with an unhappy glare. She swiftly raked her gaze around the room.

  “My aunt’s whorehouse,” Adijan said. “Late evening. What happens to you when your masters die?”

  “You’re unwell?”

  “Do you have to return to the necklace? Or can you remain free?”

  “You’re going to die? About to be arrested and executed for some gutter crime, perhaps?”

  “Not quite.” Adijan pulled a knife from beneath her bed. “Want to free us both?”

  Honey Petal looked between Adijan and the knife.

  “I know you hate me. Take it. Use it.”

  “Why?” Honey Petal asked.

  Adijan dropped the knife on the bed and went to look out the window. Orange-pink bled out of the sky above the city. It was a good day to die. Her only regret was she didn’t get to see Shalimar smile one last time. All-Seeing Eye, whatever happens to her, and whoever she marries, please let her be happy. She deserves –

  “You’re serious. And you’re sober.”

  Honey Petal moved closer. Adijan took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and waited.

  “Your wife has divorced you,” Honey Petal said.

  “I wish you’d get on with it. Don’t you want to be rid of me and be free?”

  “The two are not the same.”

  Adijan looked over her shoulder. Honey Petal had moved away and stood near the end of the bed, frowning down at the knife, not holding it.

  “You can’t be squeamish about ridding the world of vermin like me?” Adijan asked.

  “I’m under a compulsion,” Honey Petal said.

  “You can’t kill me? Is that what you’re saying? Not even if I order you to?”

  “As the poem recounts, I am unable to directly cause the owner of the necklace any harm.”

  Adijan sighed and slumped to the floor.

  Honey Petal turned a thoughtful look on Adijan. “I’m surprised a creature of your kind would have any finer sensibilities. Surely, the loss of one bed warmer is no great thing?”

  “Can’t stick the knife in, but you can use your tongue? Were you this much of a bitch when you were human? Or is swiving too many men like Nabim responsible?”

  Honey Petal’s chin rose. “You can have no concept of what I was. I had better people than you cleaning the stables.”

  “Probably. And, yet, if I told you to, you’d have to strip and join me on that bed, wouldn’t you?”

  Honey Petal recoiled. Her expression hardened.

  “Don’t fret.” Adijan shoved to her feet. “I don’t fancy you.”

  Adijan scooped the knife off the bed and turned it over in her hands. Fitting, really, that it was a knife with the point missing.

  “You really want to kill yourself?” Honey Petal asked.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But I can’t even do that right. So, I might as well go and lose myself in a wine jar.” Adijan pushed past Honey Petal toward the door.

  “Would you really have given me my freedom?”

  “Only if you’d killed me for it. That’s the way it works, isn’t it?”

  “No. Your death would free me from you, but another would claim the necklace. True emancipation is release from the enchantment.”

  “I tried to sell you to an enchanter in Ul-Feyakeh. He laughed at me and told me to enjoy myself.”

  “Who was the enchanter?”

  “Remarzaman. You know him?”

  Honey Petal wandered away, her face set in lines of intense thought. “The name is unfamiliar. But then, this is a land quite removed from my home.”

  “I don’t think I’d like where you come from.”

  “It’s certainly not infested with your kind.”

  “Don’t fool yourself,” Adijan said. “You may not see us or accept us, but that doesn’t mean we’re not there.”

  She reached for the door.

  “Wait.” Honey Petal stepped in Adijan’s way. “You’re correct: you and I loathe each other. But we don’t always have to be joined together. There is no enchantment that can’t be broken. There is a highly skilled practitioner who lives in Emeza. If you take the necklace there, he will know what to do to liberate us both.”

  “Or I could tell you to go back into the necklace and never call you out.”

  Honey Petal’s expression darkened.

  “A thousand apologies, mistress,” Honey Petal said through gritted teeth.

  “The person who did this to you really knew how to torture you, didn’t he? But I’m beginning to see why he did it.”

  Honey Petal’s eyes narrowed and her jaw worked. “You know nothing about the forces that governed my life. And I was foolish to expect you to harbor even the meanest part of a moral character, let alone entertain any primitive notions of personal honor. What about money? Would that be a suitable inducement?”

  “Money?”

  “More money than a floor-sweeper could possibly earn in a lifetime. Once Baktar frees me, I can pay you for taking me to him.”

  Beneath Honey Petal’s arrogance, Adijan recognized a sharp sliver of desperation.

  “I’m the first one of your masters who didn’t want to poke you,” Adijan said. “Aren’t I? And I’m poor. So I’m the only one who has ever been likely to help you.”

  “What do you
want? Name your price.”

  Adijan shook her head. “There’s only one thing in the world I want. You can’t give it to me. Now, if you’ll get out of my way.”

  “Fifty gold wheels.”

  Adijan blinked. “How much?”

  Knuckles tapped on the door.

  “Adijan?” Zaree said. “Your auntie wants you.”

  Adijan’s focus shifted back from the door to Honey Petal. She whispered, “You’d best vanish.”

  “Will you –?”

  “It’s real important,” Zaree said. “Adijan?”

  “I’ll call you out when I get back,” Adijan whispered.

  Honey Petal looked frustrated as she disappeared.

  Adijan reached through the space Honey Petal had just occupied to pull the door open.

  “Miss al-Asmai has a visitor,” Zaree said. “She wants you to come quickly and speak with her. She must return to her home soon before Mr. il-Padur knows she’s –”

  “Shali?” Adijan grabbed Zaree’s shoulders. “Shalimar? She’s here?”

  “No. Her mother is.”

  Black-clad Mrs. il-Padur sat on one of the divans in Takush’s chamber. She looked deeply worried. With white hair and bent frame, most people mistook her for Shalimar’s grandmother. She had once confided to Adijan that she believed her advanced age when pregnant with Shalimar was the cause of her daughter’s defect.

  “Mother-in – Mrs. il-Padur.” Adijan bent in a respectful bow. “May the Eye bless you.”

  “Adijan.” Mrs. il-Padur reached out both gnarled hands in a motherly blessing. “Long have I prayed that the Eye will bless and protect you. It wasn’t my idea. I tried to talk with Hadim. But my son is a very strong man. He doesn’t see things as we do. He doesn’t see Shalimar as – he’s very clever and used to getting his own way. I’m just his poor old widowed mother. I daren’t say – well, I live under his roof. You understand?”

  “Of course,” Takush said. She tugged Adijan down to sit beside her. “He’s the head of your family. He believes what he does is right for Shalimar.”

  Mrs. il-Padur cast her a grateful smile. “Yes, he does. He’s not a bad man. But he hasn’t seen how Shalimar – I’m an old woman, but, oh, Adijan, I couldn’t sit any longer and not try to do something.”