A Harvest of Ripe Figs

by Shira Glassman

  Just as they were leaving, there was a scuffle near the front door of the lounge, the one that opened out to the street. A servant was holding a thin figure by the shoulder as he roughly dragged him into the room. He deposited him in front of the innkeeper, who said, "There's your thief," through scowling lips.

  "What? It's just tea from the kitchen," said the boy, who looked as though he was only ten or eleven but seemed a little more mature. Esther wondered if living on the street had brought him to adulthood prematurely, or at least bits of it. "They gave it to me."

  "Did they?" The innkeeper looked the boy over. Esther did as well and saw a figure so thin it reminded her of her own bow, draped in rags. The legs of his pants weren't the same lengths, so tattered had they grown, and even in candlelight his feet were among the dirtiest she'd ever seen. "Tea or no tea, we're not worried about that right now. Were you in the inner courtyard tonight? Did you take this woman's violin?"

  "Oh, sure, I just walked in through your fancy fat-cat party, into the courtyard, and took whatever I wanted, and nobody saw me." The boy scowled. "'Cause I got magical powers." There was sarcasm and contempt dripping from his voice. It seemed oddly hardened for a child so young.

  "Shut your mouth, boy," the innkeeper snapped. "Majesty, have your guards arrest this little troublemaker and your problem will be solved. And so will mine."

  "Is there any other way into the courtyard besides this lounge?" the queen asked the innkeeper.

  "Well, no."

  "Then I don't see how it could have been him," said Queen Shulamit.

  The innkeeper was forced to admit that she had a point. "He's still trouble."

  "Is that his name?"

  "His name is Micah," the innkeeper growled.

  "I want to talk to him in the morning, with the rest of them," said the queen, "but I'm not arresting him now because he couldn't have stolen Esther's violin or her spare hair ornaments or anything else that was in her private room."

  "You can talk to me when you find me!" And with that, the scamp darted out again into the street.

  The guard with the mask, confidently tossing his head, said something in a guttural foreign tongue to the other guard, who responded with a flirtatious half-smile, baffling Esther. As for the queen, she seemed nonplussed by Micah's escape. Esther figured she had dismissed him as a threat, which made sense—what would a starving child, even a rude one, need with a priceless violin anyway?

  The thought suddenly flashed into her mind that even a starving child—especially a starving child—can sell his honor for money to buy food and safety, and there had been an instrument dealer at their party...

  Esther didn't want him to have anything to do with it. He'd seemed like such a nice man, and she'd enjoyed talking with him! But he still made her feel uneasy, and she hadn't been able to explain why. Had her heart been trying to tell her something?

  Badly wishing she had her violin still so she could lose herself in simple folk tunes and think, she led the queen to the location of the theft.

  Chapter 4: Mother Justice

  "Bouncy bouncy frog says hop hop!" It was morning, and Shulamit was sitting on her throne with her daughter facing her on her lap. Naomi was giggling as her mother danced her up and down, her little face radiant with the sheer joy of being alive. "Frog frog frog!"

  "Such dignified wisdom from the throne of Perach," Rivka joked gently.

  Shulamit stuck out her tongue. "I'll have to act regal soon enough. Go see if everyone's done being checked for weapons." She leaned Naomi forward and planted a big kiss on her forehead. "Froggie!"

  Rivka crossed the empty throne room and opened one of the doors at the far end. Meanwhile, Naomi pawed at Shulamit's chest. She quickly arranged herself, pulling aside a convenient flap in the top of her elaborate papaya-orange dress. Naomi was latched by the time Rivka reappeared. "Do I look dignified yet?"

  "Sitting there with her nursing, with that solemn face, you look like Mother Justice."

  Shulamit smirked. "I like that. It's been a long time since this country's seen a queen on the throne, and that includes things like nursing." Shulamit had succeeded her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather in rule; there had not been a woman born as the first or only royal child in several generations.

  "They're certainly not about to forget a woman leads this country with you sitting there like that," said Rivka approvingly. "Tivon's almost ready to send in the witnesses."

  "Good. How's that kid, after what he put you through this morning?"

  "Micah?" Rivka strode back across the room and took up her usual position behind Shulamit's throne. "Trying to act tough, but he seemed glad for a full meal."

  "That's Aviva for you." Shulamit felt a current of pleasant warmth trickle across her mind at the thought. Then she firmed up her expression. "I'm ready when they are."

  The first person to come in was the instrument seller whom Shulamit had seen complimenting Esther after her performance the previous night. He was tall, and broad, and very fat, and he seemed nonthreatening and kind. Shulamit studied his appearance, trying to parse his ethnicity. His skin was the same medium brown as her own and that of her people, but his hair was thick and coarse and pulled into the rough locks that looked like braids but weren't, like the people to the south whose skin was darker.

  He knelt when he reached the throne.

  "Peace," said Shulamit solemnly, "and good morning."

  "Good morning, Your Majesty."

  "What's your name?"

  "Tzuriel ben Kofi, Majesty. I'm a dealer of musical instruments and supplies."

  "Kofi?" She didn't know the name.

  "My father is a fisherman on the Sugar Coast," he explained.

  Shulamit nodded. Now his hair made sense. "Rise, Tzuriel." He obeyed. "Did you grow up in Perach or down south?" These things had nothing to do with Esther's violin, but people were often nervous in situations like this, both because of her rank and because of the association with a crime, so she liked to get them conversing to settle their stomachs.

  "Down South—though I'd been to Perach many times to visit my mother's family."

  "And now you travel around selling your wares. How do you like Home City?"

  "Magnificent, Majesty. The capital seems to be doing well economically, and you've all taken that prosperity and used it to invest in culture."

  "That's thanks to our farmers," said Shulamit. "The land is full of riches, but without those who would work for them, we'd be unable to afford things like last night's concert. I saw many of them on the hill last night, and I was glad they were enjoying the results of their labors."

  "Fantastic concert!" Tzuriel agreed. "I'd seen Esther before, but she's gotten even better."

  "Did you know her before last night?"

  "No. I never went backstage until this time."

  "Do you know anything about her violin?"

  "It's a historical treasure. They say it belonged to King Asher's music teacher. I was trying to get a look at it last night, but it never seemed like the right time to ask."

  "So you never got to study it up close?"

  "No, Majesty."

  "Do you know where it is now?"

  "I would assume in Esther's room someplace—or else with the innkeeper's security? I don't know if she leaves her fiddle with the staff when she travels."

  "So nobody's told you about the theft."

  Tzuriel's mild expression shifted into shocked dismay. "What? Is that what this is about?"

  "Did you have anything to do with it?"

  "Your Majesty, I may be an outsider, but I'm an honest man. You're welcome to inspect my entire stock. There's nothing there that doesn't belong." He looked more hurt than angry.

  "Please don't take it personally," said Shulamit, who hated causing unpleasantness. "I have to talk to everybody who was there last night."

  "Yes, I know." Tzuriel looked over at Rivka, then at the floor.

  "How long was the party in the inn?"

/>   "About two hours."

  "Who was there?"

  "Esther and that man from her hometown, the local fiddler and her patron, and the innkeeper."

  "Did anyone else enter at any time?"

  "Servants came to bring us food and refill our drinks. They also took away the plates."

  "Did they come from the outside or from the courtyard?"

  "From the courtyard. I think the kitchen is on the other side." He smiled self-consciously. "The entrance was behind me, and I had to move a little every time someone wanted to go outside that way, so I noticed people going in or out."

  "Good, that'll be important. What about people from the party?"

  "I remember the rich man—what is he, a marquis?—going out a few times. But he went out the front door. Esther went to her room at one point, and that was past me—her friend went to his own room a few times, but that would have been out the front door."

  "What about Liora?"

  "The other fiddler? She didn't leave the room at all until we all left together."

  "And the innkeeper?"

  "No, he didn't leave that way, either. Only out the front. Also, I did leave myself out the front entrance at one point—just to—you know."

  "Just out the front, though."

  "That's right."

  "Thank you for your help. If you like, there's some brunch waiting in the other room. And please don't leave town until we sort this all out."

  The next person to be shown in was the innkeeper. His face was a map of anxiety. "Majesty, please promise me you'll help us. People are glaring at me in the street."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "No man wants his inn to be thought of as a place where guests have priceless possessions stolen!"

  "I'll get to justice, don't worry." Then she flashed him a look that was an attempt at one of Isaac's faces, intimidating confidence mixed with smug serenity. After all, justice would be done even if it meant that the innkeeper was guilty. The expression seemed to work, and his eyelids fluttered rapidly with unease. "I have a few questions about your inn first."

  "Anything."

  "Is there a way into the courtyard besides through the lounge?"

  "No, it's all solid wall."

  "So nobody could leave the lounge by the front door and then get back into the courtyard some other way?"

  "No, Majesty."

  "It's either one of your guests or one of your servants," Shulamit pointed out. "I'm sorry."

  "But the street kid—"

  "Don't worry, I'm going to question him. As a witness. Unless you can explain to me how he got inside the courtyard and into Esther's room without being noticed."

  "Is this compassion? Why not have some compassion for me?"

  "I'm not talking about compassion. Until you can prove to me that he walked through the wall, I can't see how he would have gotten in."

  Several disagreeable moments later, she'd gotten everything she needed from the innkeeper and sent him away to grumble over his brunch.

  "Who's next?"

  The guards let in one of the inn's guests, a rabbi who'd been sitting in the courtyard all night, very near to Esther's door. "You're traveling through Home City?

  "Yes, Majesty. I'm writing a book. I often sit outside for hours, thinking of what I'm going to write next. That's why I was in the courtyard until long past sundown."

  "What's your book about?"

  "What if God—God Himself!—came down to His people in human form, taking a different life every day for an entire week? Would it change His perspective, or the way He governs our fate?"

  "Sounds like a topic with full potential for philosophy," said the queen. "Is God ever a young mother with a female companion?"

  "What?"

  "Never mind. So you were in the courtyard the entire evening?"

  "Yes, Majesty."

  "Did you see anyone enter the room with the blue door, in the far back corner?"

  "Yes, I did, a pretty young thing with a full figure."

  "Is she here outside this room?"

  "Yes, with a gentleman friend, from the way they were acting."

  "Did anyone else go near the room at any time?"

  "I didn't see anyone else."

  Neither did any of the other witnesses in the courtyard. The two older women having an argument whom the innkeeper had mentioned the previous night turned out to be the juice seller from the marketplace and an old friend of hers who was visiting on her way to the Sugar Coast for a spa treatment, and they hadn't seen anything suspicious, either.

  "What was the argument about?" Shulamit asked the juice seller.

  "Oh, well!" Aunt Juice threw up her hands. "She was saying I was a pushover for taking in my nephew from Ir Ilan. You must have seen him yesterday at the stall—you remember?"

  Shulamit murmured in assent.

  "He was running with a pretty rough crowd back home, but his parents weren't making him work hard enough. Don't tell them I said that," Aunt Juice added quickly. "They're the ones who are too soft. But I knew if I brought Caleb home with me, I could straighten him out with some good, honest work."

  "Was your nephew anywhere near the inn last night?"

  "No, he was at my place," said the juice seller. "I set him to work cleaning out my back deck. Keep him busy and out of trouble."

  "How's the deck?"

  "A lot tidier!" Aunt Juice puffed herself up triumphantly.

  Micah was next. He didn't kneel, but Shulamit didn't mind. She studied him from her royal perch, Naomi now sleeping against her breast. "They said your name is Micah."

  "It is."

  "Do you have any family?"

  "Somewhere."

  "I know you weren't in the courtyard, because someone would have seen you," said Shulamit, "but do you know anything about Esther's violin?"

  "Didn't take anything from her." Micah shifted around, not making eye contact.

  "Did anybody give you money to keep quiet?"

  "What? Nobody gave me squat."

  "Aviva gave you breakfast."

  Micah looked down. "Yeah. She's nice."

  "Did you see anything last night, when you were hanging around the inn?"

  "The kitchen people gave me cold falafel and a mug of tea. I wasn't in the courtyard."

  Shulamit jumped on a hunch. "Do you feel safer in boy's clothes, since you're on the street?"

  "I am a boy!" Micah glared at her.

  "Girls can be really strong too."

  "You don't know anything!" Micah shouted, and ran from the room.

  Rivka looked at Shulamit as if expecting an order, but Shulamit lifted her hand. "Let him go. I'm done with him for now, anyway."

  "What was all that about?" asked Rivka.

  "Micah's cross-dressing like you."

  "I tracked him all morning and I can tell you one thing—Micah's not like me," said Rivka. "With him, it's something different."

  Chapter 5: Liora and the Marquis

  The infant princess squirmed and struggled with her little limbs against the confines of the sling. "I think she's had enough of this. Maybe Leah could take her over to the kitchen-house so she can crawl around in that little 'safe corner.'" Shulamit adjusted her clothing now that Naomi had finished nursing for the moment.

  "Maybe she's just tired of all the polite conversation and wants me to leap with my sword—hyeah!—to each one of them. Did you do it? Where is the violin? Answer!" Rivka joked.

  "We'll get there! I'm just being thorough." Shulamit kissed her baby's forehead. "You never know what little detail could wind up being important later. Although, I wish Isaac were here. It's going to be tedious having to repeat all this to him later, even if it does help me remember."

  "He's here," Rivka informed her calmly.

  Shulamit lifted an eyebrow. "In that case, Zayde Lizard, would you mind taking Naomi to the kitchen? If Aviva's too busy to watch her, see what Leah's up to."

  The alert little creature emerged from between the wil
d locks of Rivka's blonde hair. "It's tempting to watch her myself, but I don't want to miss any of this violin business." He scampered down the front of Rivka's body so that when he transformed there wouldn't be a man over six feet tall sitting on her shoulder.

  "Don't worry," Shulamit reassured him as he rose up from the floor in human form. "I won't start without you."

  A few minutes later, with Isaac once more safely ensconced somewhere on Rivka's person, the next witness—or suspect—was admitted into the room. "Good morning, Marquis," said Shulamit with a fake smile that looked exactly like the grimace it really was plastered across her face.

  "Peace, Majesty!" said the marquis, approaching the throne and bowing deeply. "It's such a pleasure to come and visit you."

  "Thank you, Marquis. Let's talk about last night. You and Liora were there as the innkeeper's guests, correct?"

  "That's right, Majesty."

  "Did you know in advance that you'd be going over there after the performance?"

  "No, Majesty. Our original plans would have taken us for a dinner out at the Frangipani Table, but naturally I preferred the choice of something more exclusive. Of course, I must endure such things from time to time, as Liora loves the attention... Did you know it's impossible for her even to show her face in the market without being pressed for autographs, or asked musical advice, or even the young men bold enough to pay her intimate compliments? Fortunately, she thrives on their adoration. I suppose it's one of the reasons she's taken so naturally to celebrity."

  The marquis would have continued forever, as if the sound of his own voice were a lifesaving tonic. Shulamit jumped in, which made her uncomfortable even though she was the queen—it had never seemed fair to her to expect rules of politeness not to apply just because of the accident of her birth, and even though she knew the marquis was the one being rude, interrupting felt awkward. "Once you got to the inn, did you at any point see Esther's violin?"

  "No, not at all. We went straight to dinner, and Esther and that overcooked noodle man of hers joined us once she'd put away her things from the recital. What do you make of him, Majesty? Liora would never waste her time with a man like that—so provincial! Puts his nose in the air just because he's studying law. He's not even an advocate yet, just a student. Still, Esther herself doesn't seem all that sophisticated. Just a simple girl from Lovely Valley who happens to have an unusual talent for music. But that's Lovely Valley for you. When was the last time you were in Lovely Valley? I haven't been in ages, but I don't see the draw—nothing but farmers, really."