"He bought my soap the other day for his mother," Dafna murmured, as if that were some kind of defense.
"Is it maybe a miracle that she didn't turn purple when she used it?" Rivka barked in response.
"That's not fair," Dafna pleaded. "My wares are good quality. It's just a beauty aid, and I can't be held accountable for whatever trouble people got into if they used it for something illegal. I'm not the one who did anything!"
"Shhhh," said both the queen and her captain, and Dafna shot a frightened look at the baby. Luckily, Naomi was still asleep.
"I want you to picture something, Dafna," Shulamit began, taking a deep breath. "A young woman, dressed in fine, expensive violet clothing, is safe in her own home... at night." She spoke deliberately, purposely building drama. "A man walks up to her who is closer to her than any other man. This is a man she trusts and looks up to. A man around whom she feels completely and utterly safe." Tightening her embrace around Naomi protectively, she continued. "But it isn't really him, and in the supposed safety of her own home, he lures her into the darkness and assaults her."
In her wide-eyed shock, Dafna knocked over the water. "What? But—Majesty! Last night—he didn't—the guards were saying that young man was going free on probation. They wouldn't—He didn't—" Her expression was utter confusion.
"I wasn't talking about myself and last night," explained the queen. "I was talking about your daughters."
"What?"
"That's what your potion could be used for," said Shulamit. "Think about it. Someone buys it and then uses it to transform into your husband to get inside your house. Your girls. Think about it. With that on the market, I have a major security problem in Home City. Really—nobody is safe!"
All the energy had drained from Dafna's face. "Oh my God."
Shulamit waited.
"I knew none of the people I sold it to were going to do anything like that." But she still looked uneasy, and her eyes moved around as though she was wrapping her mind around new ideas.
"How can you really know that about anyone?"
"Well, I mean, not Gershom! We've been friends for years and according to him, he's not interested in sex or romance at all," said Dafna. "He's just not built like that. So he would never—"
Shulamit looked at Rivka. She'd caught it too. "Gershom wanted it to steal Zev's designs, didn't he?"
Dafna bit her lip.
"Come on, Dafna. It'll be easier for you this way. I'm sure you don't want the hassle of having your marketplace license taken away."
"He wasn't going to hurt anyone," she insisted. "But, yes. He did sneak into Zev's workshop."
"Thank you," said Shulamit. "What about Caleb? He's not even from here. How could you know he wasn't going to attack me?"
"Oh, him!" Dafna said dismissively. "That one's not violent at all. He's just after easy money."
"That's still not your call to make," said Shulamit. "Dafna, if all the thing did was get rid of wrinkles for a few hours, or make your body more shapely, I'd be all for it. It wouldn't be dangerous—although I wish people didn't feel they had to do things like that. I wish I didn't feel pressure to do things like that. But it's far more than that and can cause a whole lot of trouble. Now, I have to ask you about who else bought the potion. Unless Gershom had something to do with the stolen violin?"
"No, not that I know of," said Dafna. "He only bought the one lot."
"Well?" Shulamit threw up one free hand, the one not supporting the baby. "Then are you going to tell me who else bought it?"
Chapter 16: Borrowed Wings That Flew Too High
Esther lingered in the street outside Tzuriel's shop. Her mouth felt sticky and uncomfortable. The only lunch she'd been able to stomach had been a banana yogurt drink, and her nerves made her over-aware of its unpleasant remnants. Dawdling, she looked around at the other stalls. Her gaze rested briefly on the jewelry seller across the path. She thought about killing time in there, losing herself in more trifling over meaningless products. It was silly; she'd already bought presents for her mother and sisters, and she had no great desire for any more jewelry for herself at the moment. No, she needed to stop putting it off.
Nervously, she entered the shop.
It was a busy day for Tzuriel, who was juggling his attention between two parties of customers—but he still found space in his attention for her. As soon as she entered the shop, he turned toward her and flashed her a huge smile. "Hey!"
"Afternoon," she said through a smile she hadn't intended to release and looked away quickly.
"Aba! Aba! Look at this one!" A tiny girl was practically jumping up and down as she tugged her father's arm, pointing with the other hand at a group of brightly painted wooden flutes. "It matches my everything!"
"I don't know if that one's too big for you, Kitten," said her father. He looked up with questioning eyes at Tzuriel, who was still helping a group of strong-looking young men pick out drums.
"It's okay," said one of the young men. "You can help them—we'd like a few moments to try these out."
"Go for it!" Tzuriel held out his hand invitingly. "Just don't go full tilt, or all the other shops on the block will have my head." He walked up to the little girl and her father.
Esther tried to disappear into the jumble of the shop's wares, quietly plucking open strings on a psalter resting on a corner shelf.
"I don't want to settle on that one right away," said the father under his voice when Tzuriel was close enough that he could speak to him without his daughter hearing. "Five minutes ago she was jumping for joy over violins. And yesterday, all she would talk about was the trumpet."
"She's just excited about music in general." Tzuriel looked at the little girl, happily looking at the flutes, and smiled broadly. "It's great to see that, at her age."
Esther was watching, entranced, in spite of herself, thinking of her little sisters. Home felt far away, and yet the images comforted her.
"So should I just choose for her?" The father looked around at everything, clearly bewildered at the variety. Drumbeats from the young men at the other end of the shop punctuated his puzzled silence. "Can you help me pick something out?"
"How about I tell you about each instrument," suggested Tzuriel, "so that you'll feel better about deciding on your own?"
"Sure, if you have the time!"
Tzuriel waved at the other customers dismissively. "They're enjoying themselves on those drums. They're fine."
"I guess I'd rather she not get drums, or my wife and I will live with constant headaches."
"Not really," said Tzuriel. "There are quieter drums. Listen to this—gentle as a cat's footsteps at midnight." With just his fingertips, he beat a fluttering rhythm on a tiny drum no bigger than a grapefruit.
"I don't want that one," said the little girl.
"It's important that she has something she likes," Tzuriel pointed out. "Otherwise, kids that age, they won't practice."
"She's so young, I don't know if she'll practice as it is," murmured the father.
"If it's the right one for her, she will," said Tzuriel with a smile. "Esther, you were her age when you started on violin, weren't you?"
Esther, who'd almost forgotten they could see her, blinked rapidly and nodded. "Yes, a very tiny one!"
"You have to start on a smaller instrument. They can't hold the adult ones at that age," Tzuriel explained.
"How does the violin work?" asked the father. "I've heard beginners before, and they sound like dying mice. I don't know if I could live with that."
"There are really two pieces—the bow, and the violin," said Tzuriel. "Esther can probably explain it better than I can."
"Well, there are three ways you can change the way your note sounds, on a violin," said Esther, directing her voice at the little girl. "How heavily you press down with the bow on the strings, how fast you move your bow arm, and whether the bow is near to you or farther away. A lot of beginners make a funny noise just because they don't press down hard enoug
h for the speed of their arm."
"That sounds really complicated," said the little girl, wide-eyed.
"You get used to it," said Esther. "I really was just your size when I started."
"Is flute easier?"
"It's usually thought to be easier," said Tzuriel. "But you can only play one note at a time." He cast a look at Esther, tossing her the conversational ball.
"That's right. Whereas, if I'm all by myself, I can be my own accompaniment."
"Are there instruments where I can play by myself that are easier than violin?" asked the little girl.
"Let me show you the dulcimer," said Tzuriel, leading them over to a shelf.
"It has strings like a violin," the little girl observed.
"But instead of a bow, you use little hammers to play them." Tzuriel fished around for a matching set. "Like this." He began to demonstrate, and Esther felt her bones moving in time to the rhythm.
"I really like that one!" The little girl looked up at her father.
"Are you sure?" asked the father cautiously.
"You can play by yourself, but you can also play with other people," Tzuriel pointed out. "Esther, grab a fiddle off the wall."
"What?"
"Come on! Let's show her what she can do."
Eyelashes fluttering again, she crossed to the wall and picked up the closest violin. Tightening the bow with familiar, automatic movements made her feel as though she'd been given air again after days in stuffy smoke. She lifted the alien fiddle to her shoulder. It was too thin and too shrill, but God if it didn't feel good to have wings again. Even if they weren't the right wings and didn't fit properly.
She toyed around with the chords that Tzuriel played until she could find the melody—always tricky to do with an instrument that plays so much of its own accompaniment underneath—and then launched into it full-force.
The little girl began to dance and twirl around, giggling madly. Then the men on the drums stopped fooling around and listened. Soon, they too joined in. Esther leaned into the instrument, tossing her hair, her hips moving in time.
Tzuriel motioned with his head, beckoning for the little girl to approach. Soon, he had the hammers in her hands, and, under the watchful eye of her father, he guided her hands over the strings. "I can do this!"
"Sure you can!" he agreed.
As Esther wound her phrase to a close and put the fiddle away, the girl came bounding up to her. "You sounded great! How did I do?"
"You're gonna do great," said Esther, and the girl beamed.
"Will she be able to come back to you for lessons?" asked the father.
"No, I'm not always here," said Tzuriel. "I travel." Esther felt heat creep into her face. "But I can give you the names of all the local musicians. The dulcimer, then?"
"And the little sticks."
"Hammers."
"If you say so!"
Esther sank back into the shadowed corner as they politely haggled over the price. Tzuriel's attention was captured by the drummers after the father and daughter's departure, and she used the time to clear her head and pray.
When they, too, were on their way out, she took a deep breath and readied herself. As she drew out of the shadows, the last of the drummers turned around and called to her, "Thanks for the music—that was world class!"
"Thanks," she called after them.
And then they left, and just as simple as that, the shop was empty except for her and Tzuriel.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi."
"We make a good team. That was almost magical."
"What was that tune?"
"Little something I made up," said Tzuriel. "I call it 'Sugar Coast Ramblin'.'"
"You miss your home?"
"I don't have time to miss anything—but I love it, and I go back when I can. Have you ever been?"
Esther shook her head. "Someday, I'd like to."
"Anyway, I really appreciate your help today. That little girl will always remember the story of how she got her dulcimer."
"She reminds me of my baby sisters," said Esther, a little misty. Then she exhaled in the flavor of a laugh. "They're so much older than that, now. Sixteen and thirteen." Wearing grownup clothing, and so far away from the enthusiastic little girls who at nine and six years old had painted garish butterflies on her violin case.
"I bet they look up to you a lot."
"Yes, my family is very proud." Esther took a step closer, her heart beating so heavily that her stomach felt as if she'd eaten it. She took something out of her bag. "Tzuriel, thank you for loaning me the kalimba." The words I don't want Eli to find it floated through her head, but she didn't say them. "I'm glad to have had it for a little while, but..."
"It's a gift, yours to keep." Tzuriel reached out his fingers, but he didn't take the kalimba—instead, he took Esther's hand in his. She began to tremble. Tzuriel took a step closer. "Esther, you've captured my heart. Your talents, your sweetness, your conversation—how many reasons does a man need to fall in love? Hearing you join in when I was playing that dulcimer felt like strings finally playing in tune. Come with me, play music with me—let's share music and fellowship together, everywhere we go."
Esther let out a squeak like a goose, then cleared her throat. She knew she wanted him to kiss her, but the whole point of this was—"These past few days—without my violin—I can really see how important Eli is to me. Especially away from my family like this. I think you're... a really good guy, and I love watching you work. But Eli is my other constant, beside music, and he deserves my loyalty after all he's done for me."
"But does he understand your music?"
"Does that matter?" Esther asked. "I don't even have it right now."
"Your music will never leave you. God will make sure of that."
"At some point I need to go home and give him the life he deserves."
"Why do you deserve that?"
"I—" Her chest heaved with passion and confusion. She thought of Eli needing her and of her own selfishness, how he was here with her in Home City instead of back home studying law as he wanted—even though it had been his idea to come with her—how she'd driven him miserable fretting over a piece of wood which wasn't even alive. "I don't deserve anything."
"You are the most deserving."
"Someone's coming!"
"Hm?" Tzuriel turned around, and from behind him Esther saw two of the royal guards approaching, one older, one younger.
"Tzuriel ben Kofi?" asked the older one.
"That's me."
"We're here to arrest you for the theft of the historical violin," said the guard.
"What?" Tzuriel's face broke into a surprised smile. "No."
Esther's face grew hot. "What's going on?"
"Pack all this up and put it in the wagon," the older guard directed the younger one. Esther peered outside and saw more guards, and even horses. "The queen will want to search it. You, come with us." He tried to take Tzuriel by the wrist.
"I didn't take her violin," Tzuriel protested.
"You were identified by the woman who sold you the shapeshifting tonic," the guard replied flatly.
"Tzuriel!" Esther cried, her eyes a distraught plea.
"Sorry, young lady," said the guard. "You have to be careful, you know, being a young woman all on your own. Some of these men—"
Esther wrapped Eli's blue scarf around her shoulders and burst into tears as they led Tzuriel out into the street.
Chapter 17: The Fat Man
"Your Majesty, Tzuriel ben Kofi is in the prison cell," said Tivon, bowing.
"Thank you," said Shulamit. She was pacing around her throne room, the baby strapped to her chest. Rivka remained beside the throne. "What about the instruments from his shop?"
"We brought them all back in the wagon like you asked," Tivon replied.
"I hope you were careful with them. Some of those things are pretty delicate."
"We did everything we could."
"Thank you. I'll go out
and look at them in a minute. Dismissed."
Aviva appeared in the doorway, almost colliding with Tivon as he exited. "Here's a little kiss for your stomach." She handed Shulamit a dish of sliced mangoes, and the queen rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek. "What's going on? Why is there a music shop in the outer courtyard?"
"It's all of Tzuriel's merchandise," said Shulamit. "Apparently he's the one who bought shapeshifting magic from Dafna, so the violin must be among his wares."
"Unless he already sold it," Rivka pointed out. "He's a dealer."
"Right."
Aviva shook her head. "No way. Not him."
Shulamit shrugged, chewing fruit. "That's what Dafna said, anyway. And he was one of our three suspects."
"I've got herbs to chop," said Aviva. "See you at dinner."
"Looking forward to it!" said Shulamit. "Maybe this whole thing will be solved by then!"
But the afternoon's search of the contents of the wagon proved fruitless, and both Shulamit and Isaac spent several hours baking in the direct sunlight to no avail. There wasn't anywhere within the palace courtyard that was both big enough to hold a large wagon and yet fully shaded, and Perach was very sunny. By the time she'd satisfied herself that none of the violins were Esther's, and he could verify that none of the other instruments were violins bewitched to look like trumpets, or hiding tiny, temporarily shrunken violins inside their cavities, they were both uncomfortable and thirsty.
"Uggh. I'm going to go jump in the creek and change my clothes before I question Tzuriel."
"I can take Naomi, if you want," Isaac offered. "I will just crack open a coconut."
A Harvest of Ripe Figs Page 11
