by L-J Baker
Adijan bristled. “What has he done to her?”
“I can’t be sure.” Mrs. il-Padur wrung her hands. “But you know how stubborn Shalimar can be? After that night you came, she… she wouldn’t stop demanding to go to you. Shout, she did. And kick her bedroom door. Kept it up all night and all day. Then she started to seem… well, not like Shalimar. I haven’t seen anything. Nothing I could stand up before a priest and swear to. But – but I wouldn’t put anything past that woman who is now always with Shalimar. She has dirty fingernails and her mother was from the desert. She treats me like she knows what’s good for my children better than I do. Ever since she came, Shalimar has been quiet and biddable. Not like her at all. I haven’t heard her sing for days. You know what a sweet voice she has, Adijan. And she could barely speak when they took her for the hearing. I’m sure that woman puts something in her food.”
“I’ll kill him,” Adijan said. “I’ll kill the scabby –”
Takush clamped a hand around Adijan’s arm. “I’m sure Hadim believes he acts in everyone’s best interests.”
“He does,” Mrs. il-Padur said. “He’s a good man. He’s a son any mother would be proud of. So successful and wealthy. But I’m sure he doesn’t know half of what goes on in his household. Men never do, do they?”
Adijan balled her fists. “You can be sure he knows –”
“Thank you, Zaree,” Takush said to the maid who brought in coffee. “Mrs. il-Padur?”
“Not for me, thank you, Miss al-Asmai,” Mrs. il-Padur said. “I daren’t be much longer. That woman spies on me. Not that I can’t come and go from my son’s house. But I wouldn’t put it past her to weave a tangle of trouble from imaginary threads. But I had to come.”
“Yes,” Takush said. “A good mother would want to do what she could.”
“Can you get Shali out with you?” Adijan asked. “I’ll take her away, where no one can get at her.”
Mrs. il-Padur clasped her hands against her bosom in alarm. “Oh, no! Hadim wouldn’t like that. Not her running away. It wouldn’t be seemly, would it?”
“He has her drugged,” Adijan said. “What do you expect –?”
Takush’s nails dug into Adijan’s wrist. “Have some coffee. It’ll clear your head. Of course, Mrs. il-Padur, we all want what’s best for Shalimar. How do you think Adijan could help?”
“This marriage,” Mrs. il-Padur said. “It’s a very prestigious match. No brother could’ve done better than Hadim. She’ll only be a junior wife, of course, but even so. Murad is a city seneschal.”
Takush sucked in breath. Adijan scowled.
“They’re all old men,” Adijan said.
“He is much older than Shalimar,” Mrs. il-Padur said. “But… but I’m sure he’d be kind to her. He knows that she’s… that she’s not quite like other women.”
“There’s nothing wrong with her!” Adijan said.
“Bless you,” Mrs. il-Padur said. “You were always fierce defending her, weren’t you? Oh, Adijan, her father – may the Eye bless his memory – did so approve of you for Shalimar. Said you’d look after her, he did. What a shame you drink so –”
“It’s a regret we all share,” Takush said.
Adijan looked down at her hands.
“But I think Adijan can overcome her drinking,” Takush said. “If she tried. So, Hadim has arranged a marriage for Shalimar. What do you think Adijan could do?”
Mrs. il-Padur wrung her hands. “I know he means well. And I know it would be good for the family. And he is head of the family. But – but I don’t think it’s what would be best for Shalimar. I know Adijan had many debts and that Hadim acted as any good brother would to rescue his sister from her creditors, but…”
“She’s still in love with Adijan,” Takush said.
“Even in the state she’s in, Shalimar wept when I mentioned Adijan to her. When that woman wasn’t listening, of course.”
“She still loves me?” Adijan said.
“You were her father’s choice,” Mrs. il-Padur said. “From the time Shalimar was a little girl, and we realized something was wrong with her, Malik – may the Eye watch him in Paradise – worried what would happen to Shalimar after we died. We knew Hadim would always care for her, of course. But – then you came to our house that time. I remember it as clear as yesterday. You stood at the door with an orange in your hand. I’d never seen Shalimar smile like that ever before. Right from the start, you treated Shalimar like she was no different to anyone else. You loving her was an answer to our prayers.”
Mrs. il-Padur’s hands twitched in abortive gestures.
“Hadim is acting for what he believes is Shalimar’s good,” she said. “But – but his father chose you. Blessed your marriage, he did. Malik knew you drank and wasn’t quite steady. He said you’d grow out of it. Malik was a gentle man, and soft spoken, but there was none wiser. He could tell about people. Saw their hearts, as they say. Hadim, he’s a clever and strong man, but he doesn’t – Malik chose you for Shalimar. A son shouldn’t go against his father’s wishes, especially when his father is dead. It’s not right. Is it?”
“She didn’t want the divorce?” Adijan said.
“Do you think she’d marry Adijan again instead of Murad?” Takush asked.
Mrs. il-Padur looked pained and her fingers tried to pluck words from the air above her lap. “Hadim…”
“Gold,” Adijan said. “Hadim respects gold. I’ll get some. Fifty wheels. I’ll buy Shali back, if that’s the way he wants to do it.”
Takush gave Adijan a hard look.
“I’d better go.” Mrs. il-Padur rose and laid a hand on Adijan’s shoulder. “I want to hear Shalimar sing again. I know you can help.”
“I will,” Adijan said. “I promise. And when you see Shalimar, tell her I love her more than anything in the world. And not to cry because of me. I’ll make up for all the bad things I ever did to her. And I’ll bring her the ten oranges that I promised.”
While Takush accompanied Mrs. il-Padur downstairs to the care of her servants, Adijan paced.
“That pocked pile of scabby camel vomit hasn’t won yet,” Adijan said.
“How are you going to get gold?” Takush asked from the doorway. “You’re drunk, aren’t you? This is your very last chance. None of your schemes –”
“I know. I’m not drunk. And I’m never going to be ever again. Ever. I’m not going to do anything to mess this up. Have you any idea how to get to Emeza?”
Chapter Eleven
Stifling in the billowing swathes of her borrowed desert disguise, which concealed all of her face except her eyes, Adijan strolled past the bored glances of the workers in Nabim’s counting house. She stopped and bowed low in front of the desk of Imru the eunuch.
“May the All-Seeing Eye look kindly on you and your endeavors this day,” she said, “oh, powerful and wise sir.”
Imru looked up from a large cloth. “Eye bless you. Do you have business here?”
“It’s me,” Adijan whispered. “Adijan. I need a favor.”
Imru’s eyebrows lifted halfway to the crown of his shaved pate. “Adijan? You’ve turned nomad?”
“I need a job. A caravan or something that goes anywhere near Emeza. I don’t care if I have to be the junior dust eater or cook’s skivvy. Anything.”
“Emeza?”
“It’s a long story. I need to get there and back in six weeks and a day at the most.”
“Emeza? Isn’t that beyond Malcasa?”
Adijan trailed him to the room with a big wall hanging. The detail on the map was very good near Qahtan, but quickly faded into stylized oases, clumps of trees, and fantastical creatures. Imru stroked his pate.
“Emeza. Where is –? There.” Imru stabbed the hanging with a finger. “I thought so. It’s on the Spice Coast. How long did you say you had? Six months?”
Adijan frowned. Even allowing for the casual relationship between distances on the drawing and reality, the curly letters marking Emeza wer
e a very long way from Qahtan. And there were wavy sea bits in between.
“Do you have anything that goes that way?” she asked.
“No.”
“You could check.”
“No need. In the time I’ve served the late master, we’ve never dealt directly with anywhere further than Gargoth.”
“Then it’s a new market ripe for exploitation.”
Imru gave her a look and slid his finger across to the large eye symbol marking the holy city. “My suggestion would be to ask around amongst those who do business in Pikrut. It’s a busy port. You should be able to work a sea passage to Emeza from there.”
“How long do you think it would take?”
“All together?” Imru shrugged and spread his hands. “Depends on how benignly the All-Seeing Eye looks down on you. A month. Month and a half. Two months. I can’t be sure.”
Adijan bit her lip. The return journey, for which she’d presumably have enough money to buy a passage on a fast boat and purchase a horse to ride back from Pikrut, should be much shorter than the outward passage. Even so, at the most optimistic estimates, she’d be cutting it uncomfortably fine to get back inside six weeks and one day.
“Who does regular runs to Pikrut?” Adijan asked. “Merchant Azeman? Ihmad?”
“Your best bet is Merchant il-Padur. Over the last few years, he’s put a lot of effort into the Pikrut route. Very profitably, too, by all I hear. Have you heard of him?”
Adijan scowled. “He’s Shalimar’s brother.”
“Really? I had no idea he was your brother-in-law. You kept that quiet. Well, there’ll be no trouble getting a job on one of his caravans, then.”
Adijan opened her mouth to deny it, but changed her mind. “You’re right. I can’t think of anyone who would like to help me go far away more than Hadim would.”
Before she lost her nerve, Adijan strode through the streets and across a busy market square to Hadim’s warehouse. She hadn’t been here for a couple of years. It had expanded into the building that stood next to it. Hadim really had been doing well for himself. Small wonder he set his sights as high as one of the city seneschals as an in-law.
Adijan took the time to remove her headdress and beat at the worst of the dust coating her borrowed robe before asking directions to Hadim’s office. She rested her fingertips over the bulge of her pendant. This had better be worth it. Even pretending to abase herself to Hadim held very little appeal. Adijan took a deep breath, knocked, and pushed the ostentatiously carved door open. Hadim glanced up from the cloth roll he was reading. His eyes snapped wide but quickly narrowed.
Adijan closed the door and offered him a polite bow. “May the Eye bless you and your family.”
“Of which, thank the Eye, you are no longer a member. What are you doing here?” He straightened. “There’s nothing more I can imagine saying to you. Your abysmally poor judgment failed you again. You should’ve taken the money when I offered it. You’ll get nothing now. And before you begin any embarrassing claims about my sister, let me inform you that she will be remarrying.”
“Yeah. I heard. Look, I don’t want your money. But I think it would be better for all of us if I left the city.”
“The most sensible thing I’ve ever heard out of your mouth. Don’t tell me you’re actually sober?”
Hadim leaned back and developed that superior smile, which so infuriated Adijan. Today, she forced herself to show no outward sign of her annoyance.
“I didn’t think any of us want to keep bumping into each other,” Adijan said.
“Hardly likely. It’s not as though any of my family frequent brothels, wine shops, pawn brokers, or jails.”
Adijan gritted her teeth. “Look, I want to leave. But I don’t have much money.”
“Too late. You should’ve taken my offer before I won the divorce.”
“I didn’t mean that. I was wondering if you’d give me a job on one of your caravans. I was thinking of going to Pikrut.”
“A pilgrimage? You? Don’t make me laugh.”
Adijan had to force her hands to unclench. Maybe she couldn’t go through with this after all.
“Although, they say the blind can be made to see,” Hadim said. “And the lame walk. Do you imagine there is a divine cure for being utterly worthless? Finding steady employment might be a more sure option. But then, you can’t keep jobs, can you?”
“I only want one as far as Pikrut.”
“A couple of weeks is about your limit, isn’t it? Then you’ll go and drink the pittance you earn. Why do you imagine I would want to encourage you?”
“Because it’ll make you feel – because you can tell Shalimar I’ve left the city. And your men can tell you for sure that I’ve gone.”
“You don’t think my sister retains any interest in you? No. Undeceive yourself on that score. In her child-like way, she has already forgotten you and that ghastly period of her life. She’s amusing herself choosing fabrics for her wedding. And this one will be done properly. Not some embarrassingly cheap affair with sour wine and whores.”
Adijan couldn’t take any more. She offered a stiff bow and turned to leave.
“Not so fast,” Hadim said. “I haven’t finished with you.”
“If you have no job for me, I won’t take up any more of your time.”
“I didn’t say there wasn’t one.” He stroked his oiled beard and smiled unpleasantly. “Do you remember all those incautious and wild threats you made? I should imagine you’re feeling rather foolish right now.”
Adijan stared down at the carpet and gritted her teeth.
“Everything you touch turns to dung,” he said. “Everything. Which is why I shan’t be offering you more than a temporary position. My overseers have their orders to turn away shiftless liars, adulterers, and drunks. But I’ll make an exception in your case. To Pikrut. One way. You can drink yourself to death there well out of harm’s way.”
Adijan lowered her head in a deep bow. “I thank you, oh generous and wise sir.”
“Now, get out and don’t come back.”
Adijan strode out of his office and hurried along the corridor. Nothing less than a chance to get Shalimar back would’ve sustained her through that nightmare.
“Wait.”
Adijan stopped and turned to look back upstairs.
“You forgot to thank me,” Hadim said. “For your night with a whore.”
Adijan frowned.
“She cost me a silver obik,” he said. “Did you enjoy her as much as I enjoyed hearing about it?”
“You set me up. You dung-eating scab!” Adijan hurled herself up the stairs.
A couple of Hadim’s employees grabbed her and wrestled her to a standstill. Adijan struggled. Hadim smiled from just a few steps above.
“You worm!” she shouted. “How could you do that to Shali?”
“I wasn’t the one who committed adultery.”
“Nor did I!”
“That’s not what I heard. And it was well worth the price to have my poor sister undeceived about your character. I’m sure she’ll dry her tears of disillusionment on a silken scarf from her betrothed husband and you’ll be quickly lost from her tiny, broken mind. Have a nice walk to Pikrut. Don’t come back. Take her off the premises.”
“You puddle of camel piss!” Adijan struggled against the men dragging her back down the stairs. “I’ll get you for this!”
At Fakir’s much more modest warehouse, Adijan stripped off her desert disguise and handed it back to Puzu. What she wouldn’t have given to have two or three real nomad friends who’d cheerfully slice Hadim into little strips for her.
“Nobody noticed the knife hole in the back where my uncle killed the nomad?” Puzu asked.
“No. Thanks. I owe you. Is Fakir in?”
“Back there. He’s been oiling his beard. Off to your aunt soon. He asked if I’d seen you.”
Fakir stood in his office smoothing his new shirt into place. Adijan knocked on the door frame.
<
br /> “Nipper!” Fakir smiled through his glossy beard. “Expected you earlier. Hung-over again?”
“No. Sorry about this, but I need to do something. So I won’t be coming to work anymore. I – um – I really appreciate you giving me the job. And that stuff you did for me with the hearing. But I have one last chance to get Shali back. So, I’m leaving the city tomorrow.”
Fakir looked surprised. “Didn’t know there was anything to be done. Divorced and over. Mrs. Nipper getting married again.”
“If I get it right, she’ll be marrying me. And I’ve given up drinking.”
Fakir beamed and patted her on the head. “I knew there was hope for you. Told your lovely aunt, I did. Just needs to grow up a bit, I said. We all have our wild youths, eh? Yours was a little longer than most. But no harm done. Well, apart from the divorce.”
Adijan winced. “Yeah. So, I’ll not be back. All right?”
“Your aunt know about this?”
“Um. Slightly. Bye. Eye bless you.”
Adijan turned to leave.
“Nipper? Hang on. Don’t want to pry and all that. But…” Fakir pointed to a stool. “How about we have a little chat? You and me. Won’t take long.”
Adijan shrugged and slumped onto the stool. Fakir lowered himself to his chair.
“Don’t want to be an interfering old fellow,” he said. “But you and me are like family. Thought so for years. You and me and your lovely aunt. Ahem. Yes. Don’t like seeing the lovely lady upset. Not at all. Not that I’m saying you are distressing her. Not saying that at all. But a fellow can’t help feeling a bit protective. Well, not that your aunt is my wife. Not that I wouldn’t like her to be. No secret there, eh? Must’ve guessed.”
“Yeah.”
Fakir nodded. “No woman better than your aunt. Lovely lady. Quite upset, she was, over this business of yours. Probably not my place to say so. Might want to punch me on the nose. Quite understand. But felt I had to say it.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’ll make it up to her. I’ll pay you both back.”
Fakir waved her words away. “Not the money I’m worried about. Not thinking about that. Don’t think your lovely aunt is, either. Ahem. Worried about you, Nipper. Thought giving you a steady job would be the right move. Good worker. No complaints. Told your aunt so.”
