"Not really," said Ben. "I already did all the cutting and sewing. This is just fitting. I'm just... looking at it. See? She's all done!" He presented the queen to his daughter.
Aviva approached her. "She's gorgeous, of course."
Shulamit, who felt like she was nothing of the kind, but whose clothing was absolutely terrific, smiled awkwardly.
"And now, I relax. Now we all relax." Ben crossed his arms and nodded, satisfied with himself.
"I can make you relax," Aviva said in a very quiet voice, and Shulamit felt her blood stir. Naomi had been fussy the night before, and the bottle of ylang-ylang massage oil had yet to be opened.
"You can't say Ben doesn't know how to relax," said Leah through a smile. "Tonight he'll have half the guards in here playing Pirate's Payout and making themselves sick on cake."
"Only the off-duty ones, I hope!" Shulamit twirled around slowly, admiring the movement of her silky, diaphanous sleeves.
"I don't know," Ben joked. "In this room, I protect the priceless secrets of the queen's wardrobe! I might need some of the on-duty guards as well."
"You folks aren't gambling in here, right?"
Ben shook his head. "Only for imaginary points. We keep track of them and, you know, give each other a hard time about it if we get low."
Leah was shaking her head and rolling her eyes, but it was accompanied by an affectionate smile.
"I like that system," said Shulamit.
"It's perfect. We get to have fun and be as aggressive as we want, and there's never any danger of winding up in debt like that innkeeper of yours."
"My—inkeep—What?" Shulamit's ears perked up, and she became like a cat who's noticed a moth to chase.
"Oh, I thought you knew," said Ben chattily. "The man who owns that inn where Esther was staying. He's got terrible credit at the market. Even though the inn's always got business, he's got just as much debt. Some of us assumed it was from gambling, but, you know, we don't really—"
By now, Shulamit was practically vibrating. "That gives him... so much motive. And it doesn't matter if it's from gambling or opium or women—or men, for that matter—or something more boring like business speculation—I'll find out what it is and more importantly, if he—"
"Stoooooop." Aviva untied the ribbon that bound Shulamit's braids together and took a braid in each hand. "Relax. Just for a few hours. It's good for the brain."
"I guess," Shulamit couldn't help herself adding as she was pulled backward into Aviva's comfortably squishy chest, "people were watching the door and nobody saw the innkeeper go in there anyway."
"Naomi's comfortable here," said Leah, her eyes no doubt on their body language. "Why don't you two go off and get some rest while she sleeps?"
***
"Now don't say the word violin until your clothes are back on." Aviva, whose arm held Shulamit around the waist, reached out with her other hand and moved Shulamit's palm forward to one of her generous breasts.
Shulamit, who had an admitted weak spot for such body parts, pressed against her greedily. "What's a violin?"
"You still said it! One point demerit in Pirate's Payout." Her face full of mischief, Aviva planted a lusty kiss on Shulamit's mouth. "Quick, to the bed, before our nest starts chirping again."
Shulamit lay back against the cushions and then noticed to her surprise that Aviva had uncapped the ylang-ylang oil and was working it warm with her hands. "But I bought it for you; it's your favorite scent and I wanted to pamper you..."
"Yes, it's my favorite," Aviva affirmed as she danced her slicked hands over Shulamit's feet and calves, kneading every tense muscle, "and here I am, smelling it up close. Makes perfect sense to me!"
"Mmm..."
"You know doing this makes me happy, and you also know you'll get your chance to make me boil over." The bits of Aviva's hair that came down around her face from her hairsticks brushed against Shulamit's leg, and she shivered happily.
"And then do I get my imaginary point back?"
"I was thinking of using it to season tonight's eggplants."
"Far be it from me to stand in the way of... ohhhhhh." Creeping fingers had spread up her thighs. "Oh, yes."
Shulamit's hips began to reach upward in a slow, rhythmic dance against the air. Even the sheets felt good beneath her hands as she clutched at them. She closed her eyes and truly, truly began to relax. When she finally felt Aviva's warm, wet mouth caressing her, she floated into a blessed delirium fed only by pleasure. Aviva was like a gentle but persistent sea, pulling on her in waves, and she was the grateful shore. And in her moment of ultimate vulnerability, she felt secure that that sea would surround her and rock with her and carry her home.
Aviva crawled up her body, leaving a trail of ylang-ylang oil and woman-love. When she lay on top of Shulamit, it was to be wrapped in womanhood, surrounded by the most exquisite, soft flesh. Shulamit kissed everything she could reach. Such intimate skin-to-skin contact made her climax continue well past the departure of Aviva's tongue, like old raindrops falling from a tree after the storm has ended.
With a well-placed thigh, Aviva caught and nurtured the last few quakes. Shulamit felt wetness against her own thigh and deftly slid her fingers over. The two women moved together, with the queen's hand snugly between them, until Aviva, too, gave in to total abandon.
They lay together, each slightly tense knowing that Naomi's cries might be heard on the other side of the door at any minute, trying to soak up precious seconds of romance.
"Sorry; I got milk on you," Shulamit observed.
"It's been so fascinating to watch your body change..." Aviva traced the line of Shulamit's collarbone. "I watched you grow breasts. You taste like you did before you made a baby, though. That went back to the way it was."
"Trust my chef to be an expert in the flavor between my legs." Shulamit stuck out her tongue.
"There were some stupid boys at the market yesterday talking about women. They may have just been building boats from snow peas, but one of them said he thought women tasted like ripe figs."
"Figs?" Shulamit raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. Are you sure he wasn't talking about the color, not the taste?"
"No, he definitely said taste."
"I would have said guava."
"I almost wish you'd been there to argue with him!" Aviva's eyes twinkled. "Imagine the look on his face."
"I just thought of a terrible contribution to the Captain Riv superlatives." Shulamit grinned wickedly. "But we can never use it, because nobody knows she's a woman."
"Uh-oh—"
"She's Riv Maror, right? For her horseradish personality? What if she tasted like—"
"Even if she were a boy, you could still technically make that jo—"
"Ew, ew!"
Naomi's fussing in the distance roused them from such frivolities. Shulamit clasped Aviva's body to hers with all four limbs. "I love you," she whispered. Then, the magic put away for next time, they both bustled about the room cleaning up with cloths and a basin of water.
"Don't kick over the oil!"
"You missed a spot."
"Where's my scarf?"
"Majesty!" called a voice from the hallway.
"Almost there!" Shulamit flung open the door and took her cranky infant into her arms. "Awww! Did you have a good nap?" She nuzzled her nose against Naomi's.
"I'll fix your braids while you nurse," said Aviva and followed her into the inner courtyard.
Chapter 12: The Rat Who Wore a Dragon's Skin
The sweet, sensual aroma of oil filled Aviva's kitchen-house, marrying with the chopped garlic she'd set to frying in it. On the table was the dish of raw eggplant she'd sliced earlier, and she set the pan into the coals briefly so that she could retrieve it.
"Did you pick out this eggplant for tonight so you could match it to my new outfit?" Shulamit admired the brilliant lilac streaked with white.
"A complete accident," Aviva corrected her, "but I could buy violet vegetables any day an
d still stand a good chance to match what you're wearing." The eggplant slices went into the pan with a sizzle.
Naomi, sitting on Shulamit's lap, banged on the table and then made an ecstatic face at the noise she'd created. "Aaa!"
"Yes, little princess, you made a very good noise," said Shulamit, her nose buried in Naomi's hair. "Like Captain Riv with his metal drum."
Rivka, who was sitting on the other side of the table with Isaac waiting for their intimate family dinner, lifted an eyebrow. The corner of the mask rose and Shulamit could tell she was smirking.
"I want to run this by you," said the queen, changing gears. "What if our two cases are related?"
"What do you mean?" Rivka asked.
"Well, we've pretty much decided that if Gershom did steal the design, which I think we all think is what happened, then he must have used magic," said Shulamit. "Somebody else's magic, either for invisibility or shapeshifting or mind control."
Riv nodded.
Isaac opened his mouth as if to say something, but he must have changed his mind and waited patiently for Shulamit to finish.
"So, think about it. If someone connected to the Singing Hands case also bought one of the same potions or magic amulets or whatever," Shulamit continued, "then that would explain why the old ladies and the rabbi only saw Esther go into her room. And in that case, I don't think we're dealing with mind control, because all three of them plus everyone in the party would have had to be bewitched, and—can you even do anything that powerful with borrowed magic?"
"That's what I was going to say." Isaac beamed at his protégée. "If they are connected, then we're down to invisibility or shifting."
Shulamit grinned, feeling smart.
"Not that it matters between the two," Rivka grunted, "since selling either one is illegal." In Perach, magic was permitted, but certain kinds of magic that could easily be used for untoward pursuits were not allowed to be sold to those who had not spent years learning the magic themselves.
"And this is precisely why," said Shulamit. "The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it was the same cheat. I mean—no one saw anybody but Esther go into that room. Barring the suggestion that she hid it herself to get publicity, which isn't likely given her level of genuine panic, no matter who else took it, it looks like a disguise is the only way it could have happened."
"Which means... what, that Gershom had something to do with this?" Rivka furrowed her brow.
"Not directly," said Shulamit. "But what if he bought the magic from the same place the violin thief did?"
"It would have to be a pretty big coincidence for two different people to be selling contraband magic all of a sudden at the same time," Isaac agreed.
"So if we solve one case, we solve the other," mused Rivka.
"If you can get the black market magic dealer to talk," Shulamit pointed out.
"If?" Rivka flashed her a confident look. "I don't 'if.'"
Isaac's mouth twitched impishly upward. His gaze of adoration had a hint of selfishness in it, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the way she made him feel.
"I told you that you'd think more clearly if you relaxed this morning," Aviva commented from the stove with a grin. "Now your river is bursting through the clumps of mud and twigs and flowing clear."
"We still don't know who it was," said Shulamit.
"List everyone again," Isaac suggested. "And their motives."
"Esther herself," Shulamit began, "for publicity. I don't think so. That grief was too real. And she's already Perach's sweetheart. Why do more?"
"I agree," said Rivka.
"Eli," said Shulamit. "Maybe out of some mistaken idea she needed his help with publicity? I don't know. It's not very likely. Liora. She never left the table, but the marquis did, and they come as a matched set."
"And her motives are obvious—she got to look like a saving angel this morning at the park, and plus, Esther's her competition," said Rivka. "And that other violin she's trying to sell."
"I don't know how seriously to take all that competition chatter," said Shulamit. "I don't like it that just because they're both the two most famous women musicians in Perach, they automatically have to be competing with each other. People never want to see women as supporting each other. It's always got to be this narrative about who's prettier or who's more beloved or whatever. Ugh."
"But you can't ignore it as a motive," Rivka pointed out.
"You're right. Sadly, I cannot." Shulamit looked around the room grumpily, musing. "But just for the sake of my nerves, I'm going to concentrate on her extra violin. So maybe it was the marquis."
"He could certainly afford black market magic," agreed Isaac.
"Maybe we should look into Liora's jewelry and see if any of it was made by Gershom," said Shulamit. "That would be a connection between them. Say Gershom was making her a new set and they happened to start talking..."
"We can do that in the morning," said Isaac.
"Then there's the innkeeper," Shulamit continued. "He's got no credit at the market."
"He does pay his workers on time," Rivka pointed out.
"Your point?"
"That he's not a complete chazzer."
"He doesn't have to be to steal from his guests, especially if he thought they were well-off and could afford it," said Shulamit. "Maybe he stole it so that he could keep paying his workers."
"If he has no credit at the market, how could he buy the magical device?" Isaac mused.
"Maybe he promised the seller a share of the—"
"But that would be credit."
"Hm." Shulamit looked at the corner of the room.
"AAaaa!" Naomi banged on the table again.
"We're ruling out Micah because he couldn't pay for magic, either, right?" asked Rivka.
Shulamit nodded. "Plus, he'd use magic to find food or... make his voice deeper or something, wouldn't he? If he had it?"
Rivka nodded slowly, as if she was thinking about it.
"Lastly, there's Tzuriel ben Kofi."
"Who sells instruments," said Rivka. "Who travels."
"I know," said Shulamit. "And he's at the market all day too, where Gershom is. Maybe the person selling the magic migrates from booth to booth until he or she finds someone who seems susceptible and likely to buy."
"So we're down to—the marquis, Tzuriel, or the innkeeper," said Rivka.
"And I'm down to this eggplant," said Shulamit with a grin as Aviva returned to the table carrying a pan brimming with savory-smelling delights.
***
A full moon lit the queen's private garden, well enough that she could see the path in front of her to walk safely. She paced through the rows of trellises with their winding vines of passionflower, showy and outrageous, and paused to inhale the decadence of the jasmine. She was pleased with herself for how far she'd come with her mysteries, the solving of which she regarded as one of her favorite royal duties.
Aviva and Naomi were off spending quality time together, and she'd finished reading last week's collected agricultural news from across the kingdom, so it was a perfect opportunity to do some hard-core thinking. She did realize that the magic theory meant that an outsider could have gotten in and taken the violin, but it would still have to be fenced, and an outsider wouldn't have known which room was Esther's in the first place. She admitted to herself that the idea of the marquis being a contemptible criminal appealed to her, because he'd hurt both her pride and her sense of feminism by his crass comments. But equally did the idea of Liora being guilty of anything repulse her. She'd heard the two-faced nature of the public's comments about her—that she was talented and sexually enticing, but also that she was addicted to the attention, and the way they assigned to her all sorts of jealousies and fits that may or may not have been justified.
Well, maybe the marquis had done it on Liora's behalf without consulting her. Shulamit liked that idea.
But Aba didn't leave you the throne to "like" versions of the truth, she counseled hersel
f. In her heart she hugged the image of her father and resolved to pursue justice.
She heard movement, and noticed that Isaac was also walking in the garden. "I feel good, but I'm not there yet," she murmured quietly. The garden was the kind of place that invited quiet, especially at night.
Isaac simply smiled at her.
Shulamit felt something that could have been an insect brush against her bosom. When she heard a soft noise on the ground, she realized that she must have dropped something. Two fingers to her ear confirmed the event. "My braids must have pulled it off."
"I'll get it," said Isaac, bending down.
"I'll have to have the hook adjusted," Shulamit continued. "They always do that if I don't—" Then her heart began to pound heavily, and blood rushed into her face.
Isaac was picking it up with his right hand.
His disabled, scarred right hand. The hand that couldn't close.
Aba Aba Aba, ran her internal monologue, screaming out in prayer. Then she felt the voice of God stilling her, descending around her like a royal mantle. So. They'd just been talking about shifting potions. Maybe she was right. Maybe this wasn't Isaac.
She had to test him. She had to make sure.
"Thank you," she said, in as friendly a voice as she could manage, desperately hoping she didn't sound as panicked as she felt. Or was it excited? Because—because if she could trap this man—be he the marquis, Gershom, or anybody else—she could find out who was selling it. She wished she had some way of calling for Rivka, but if it was truly an impostor, that would almost certainly scare him off.
She had to know.
To buy time, she squeaked out the first thing she could think of. "Do you think these earrings suit my new clothes?"
"They do, Majesty." He spoke with Isaac's voice, even Isaac's accent.
Well, she couldn't just demand that he speak in Isaac's language, not without rousing his suspicions. And that would still prove nothing, because it was the native tongue of thousands of people besides Rivka and Isaac anyway.
Rivka.
A Harvest of Ripe Figs Page 8
