The Storyteller's Daughter

by Cameron Dokey

  “‘I trust you,’ said the water bearer’s daughter.

  “‘Then believe in me also. For I swear to you that tomorrow your father will be free at last.’

  “And the water bearer’s daughter’s heart was filled with joy. That night, for what she thought would be the very last time, she slept in the fisherman’s house. She awoke in the dead of night, as always. The fisherman sat beside the fire, turning the shell over and over in his hands, his eyes glowing as bright as the coals.

  “At the sight of this, the water bearer’s daughter rose from her bed and went to sit by his side. He wrapped her in his cloak. She rested her head upon his shoulder. There she fell asleep once more. But the fisherman stayed awake all night, for in his head were thoughts that would not let him close his eyes. And so the hours passed until the dawn.

  “Just as the first hint of light crept into the sky, the fisherman arose, placed the shell upon the breast of the still-sleeping water bearer’s daughter, wrapped both more securely in his cloak, picked her up, stepped out his front door, and closed it behind him. For a moment, he simply stood, looking out upon the ocean. Then, with one strong arm, he took up the net upon which he had labored every night since he had first made the cottage by the sea his home, and he turned his back upon the water.

  “In a great swinging arc, he cast the net out, not across the sea, but across the land. The net was so vast, it stretched beyond the horizon. Then the fisherman gathered up the net, took one step forward, and cast it again, beyond the next horizon.

  “Again and again, the fisherman cast out his great net and gathered it in. Cast it out and gathered it in. Each time taking one step forward. With each step he took, he brought himself closer to his own destiny and the water bearer’s daughter closer to her father. So that by the time she stirred in the fisherman’s arms and he set her down, they were but a street away from Prince Khasib’s palace.

  “When the water bearer’s daughter realized where they were, her mouth opened and closed like a fish on the shore, a thing that caused the fisherman to smile.

  “‘Don’t worry about the “how” of this yet,’ he said. ‘For there will be time to explain all things after we have ransomed your father.’

  “‘There is no way I can ever thank you enough,’ the water bearer’s daughter said, finally finding her voice.

  “The fisherman raised an eyebrow, ‘Do you not think so? But that, too, can wait. Come, let us go to the palace.’

  “Great was the amazement of the guards when they saw the water bearer’s daughter had returned. For after her departure, word of the deed she would attempt had spread until there was no one in the land who did not know of it. But even though all knew of her, none had expected her to return.

  “She was shown to Prince Khasib’s great audience chamber at once, the fisherman trailing along behind her. There the water bearer’s daughter was astonished to discover that while for her the time had flown while she accomplished her quest, in the palace of Prince Khasib, time had crawled, so that little more than a month had passed since she first set out.

  “Though it took him a moment to recognize her, for her feet were bare and covered with sand, and her hair was white as bone, when the prince realized the water bearer’s daughter had returned, great was his joy! His courtiers were struck dumb with wonder, then began to talk all at once. The beautiful court lady fainted dead away and had to be revived. In all the confusion, no one noticed the presence of the fisherman at all. He stood at the back of the audience chamber, watching as the water bearer’s daughter moved down its great length alone.

  “‘Sire,’ she said as she knelt before Prince Khasib when order had been restored. ‘Behold! I have brought you the great treasure you asked for, I place it in your hand, as you bade me. Therefore, I beg you, free my father. Spare his life and mine.’

  “‘Gladly,’ Prince Khasib said as he took the shell from her. He was so carried away by seeing the water bearer’s daughter again, he hardly noticed what it was that she had brought him. With a wave of his arm, he sent the captain of his guard to free the water bearer. ‘Not only that, I will make preparations for our wedding at once.’

  “At these words the courtiers began to cheer so loudly, the court lady had to shriek like a banshee to be heard over them, and the water bearer’s daughter’s mouth fell open. For the truth was she had forgotten all about Prince Khasib’s pledge to marry her if she was successful. She had thought only of saving her father. But now that he mentioned it, she realized that she had no wish to marry the prince at all. In fact, if she had her choice …

  “‘I see no great treasure!’ the court lady shouted, interrupting both the courtiers’ cries and the water bearer’s daughter’s thoughts. ‘I see only a shell such as anyone might find. Spare her father if you will, but do not marry this common girl, my lord. For I fear she leads you on for some purpose of her own.’

  “‘Nonsense!’ Prince Khasib shouted back. And at his words, a silence fell while all gazed at the shell the water bearer’s daughter had brought. ‘Though, I must admit you do have a point. I see nothing special in this.’

  “But how can that be? the water bearer’s daughter thought. How could it be that a great prince saw only the surface of a thing, while she, a mere water bearer’s daughter saw so much more?

  “And then a strange thing happened. For as the water bearer’s daughter looked upon Prince Khasib, she saw not only his outward form, she saw what was inside him also. She saw the thing that drove his heart. And it was love, this much was true. But not love for her. It was love of power. Love for himself. Together, these were so strong, they left no room for loving anything else.

  “Turning her eyes upon the court lady, the water bearer’s daughter saw into her heart also. And in it there writhed two snakes twined so tightly together, they appeared as one. And they were desire for Prince Khasib, and a will to vanquish any and all who might try to turn this desire aside.

  That explains the iron shoes, the water bearer’s daughter thought.

  “And now the water bearer’s daughter turned her back upon Prince Khasib and looked upon the fisherman, knowing that she saw him with the eyes of her heart for the very first time.

  How could I have ever thought him ugly? she wondered. For now it seemed to her that he shone as bright and pure as the evening star. From the depths of his heart, her own face smiled back, and she knew in that moment that their hearts were one. Never again was the fisherman anything other than beautiful to her, for never again did she look at him through any other but the eyes of truest love.

  “And in this way the water bearer’s daughter came to understand that though she had set out to win a treasure for Prince Khasib, she had won a treasure even greater for herself.

  “And so she turned to the prince and said, ‘The treasure I have brought does not reveal itself in outward form. To discover its worth, you must find the way into its heart. You must see what is inside.’

  “But Prince Khasib did not understand her, and, at her words, he grew annoyed. ‘How, exactly do you propose I should do that?’ he asked, rattling the shell. ‘It is locked up tight, and I fear to open it, for the edges are as sharp as knives.’

  “‘That is a riddle you must solve for yourself,’ the water bearer’s daughter said. ‘You bade me find the treasure and place it in your hand. This I have done. I can do nothing more.’

  “‘Tell me, or I’ll marry another,’ the prince threatened, certain this would bring her around.

  “But to the astonishment of all, the water bearer’s daughter simply smiled. ‘I pray you, do, my lord. And let it be the one who first put the idea of this great treasure into your mind. For is it not she who is most truly responsible for bringing it to you? Without her, I would never have set out.’

  “And in this way did she repay the court lady for the kindness she had shown her.

  “‘You are right!’ Prince Khasib cried. ‘I will marry that lady without delay. And as for you, collect yo
ur father and go far from my sight. For a more ungrateful young woman I never have beheld.’

  “‘It shall be as you say,’ the water bearer’s daughter promised. And she left the audience chamber, the fisherman at her side. Outside the palace they found the water bearer waiting for them. Great was the happiness of the father and daughter at being reunited! Then the water bearer said to his only child, ‘My daughter, who is this who stands so quietly at your side?’

  “‘This is he who helped me secure your release,’ the water bearer’s daughter answered. ‘And more than that, he is the man I love.’

  “‘Then I shall love him also,’ the water bearer said.

  “At these words, the fisherman knelt down before him. ’Once, I was just such a prince as this Khasib,’ he said. ‘Concerned only with outward form and show. In my arrogance, I once did a powerful sorceress a great wrong. For this, I was condemned to a life of ugliness and loneliness until the day someone should come to love me not for the looks that had once made me so proud, but for the man I had become inside.

  “‘Though many have looked, your daughter is the only one who ever looked at me and saw me truly. You have pledged your love for me on her word alone. Will you give me her hand in marriage?’

  “‘Gladly, if this is what my daughter wishes,’ the water bearer said.

  “‘It is,’ she vowed.

  “‘Then one more choice lies before you,’ the fisherman said, as he rose to her feet and took her into his arms. ‘Now that the spell is broken, will you have me as I am, or as I was? Will you have a fisherman or a prince to be your husband?’

  “‘That is no choice at all,’ the water bearer’s daughter said. ‘For surely you are both. But if you are asking if I’d like to live in a palace, the answer is no. Let us live in the cottage by the sea.’

  “And they did so, and lived in happiness for the rest of their lives. And in this way did the gifts the water bearer’s daughter had been born with—her kind heart, her beauty, her bravery, and her honesty—win her treasure precious beyond measure.

  “Prince Khasib never did figure out how to open the shell, though he tried every day for the rest of his life. Eventually this pursuit consumed him, and he could do nothing else. When she perceived there was no love in her husbands heart for any but himself, the court lady pined away and died, Khasib never married again, and upon his demise, his kingdom passed to a lazy and foolish cousin.”

  Shahrazad fell silent. And the only sound that could be heard was the wind as it whispered its way across the sand to murmur among the branches of the date palms.

  “Do you know that is the first time I have ever heard you finish a story?” asked Shahrayar.

  It was a thing Shahrazad knew well, in fact, though she wasn’t about to reveal this.

  “So it is,” she replied.

  “And another thing,” said Shahrayar, “Why is it that the kings and princes in the stories you tell are such great idiots while the women are so wise?”

  At this, Shahrazad gave a chuckle. “Is it truly so? I had not noticed.”

  Shahrayar snorted. “It was a long story for such a small piece of cloth. It grows late, I suppose that we should go.”

  “Yes, I suppose we should,” Shahrazad agreed. But for a moment, neither of them moved. Shahrayar lay with his head in Shahrazad’s lap. No longer needing her fingers to read the cloth, she combed them through his hair. A great silence seemed to settle over them—as if they had been contained within a bell jar.

  And in this silence, Shahrayar suddenly sat up and gathered Shahrazad into the circle of his arms.

  “Who am I? I want to hear you say it.”

  And she answered, “Shahrayar.”

  At this, Shahrayar’s heart gave a great leap, for she had not said that he was king. She had said his name, and that was all.

  “Shahrazad,” he whispered. “Shahrazad!” Then his lips found hers and neither spoke aloud at all.

  The wind returned, and the scrap of cloth her mother had used to bind her wounds so long ago blew from Shahrazad’s lap and went racing away across the sand. But neither she nor Shahrayar noticed.

  When at last the kiss had ended, Shahrayar said, “Ah! Now I think I understand.”

  Shahrazad put her head upon his shoulder. “Understand what?”

  “Why the kings and princes in your stories are such great idiots.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because everything about them is greater than that of other men. Another man would have kissed you long ago. He would not have waited so long to satisfy the longing in his heart.”

  At these words, Shahrazad’s own heart began to pound like thunder. “And how long has your heart longed to kiss me?”

  “Since the first day we were wed. How long has yours longed to kiss me?”

  “Since that same day,” Shahrazad acknowledged.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Shahrayar answered with a grin Shahrazad could hear in his voice. “For it makes you just as great an idiot as I am.”

  Shahrazad laughed. And so Shahrayar opened his mouth to ask one thing more:

  Does this mean that you have come to love me, Shahrazad?

  But the words were never spoken, for suddenly a nightbird called. At this, Shahrayar perceived how late it was. While Shahrazad had told her tale, time had seemed to hang like a great golden ball tossed high into the air. But now that she had finished, it swiftly came back down. The sun had already begun to slip below the horizon. Soon it would be dark, and in the darkness, dangerous things could lurk, even in a country such as Shahrayar’s.

  “Come,” he said. “We must go. It is later than I thought.”

  So together they rose, and Shahrayar put Shahrazad before him on-his horse just as before. But this time, she turned so that one of her arms was around his back, and so each held the other as they rode. Shahrazad fell asleep with the wind flowing over her like silk and her husband’s heart beating against her ear like a brass gong.

  And in this way they rode back to the palace as the night settled over them like a great dark cloak stitched with silver stars.

  Eighteen

  DINARZAD PULLS A THREAD

  They returned to find the palace in pandemonium.

  When night had fallen and her sister did not send for her, a thousand images of disaster had sprung up like wildfire in young Dinarzad’s mind. Chief among them was the fear that King Shahrayar had heeded the whispered rumors that Shahrazad was practicing magic, and the only way to prove himself still a proper king was to put her to death after all.

  Even in her agitation, Dinarzad knew better than to go to her father with her fears. Over and over again the vizier had counseled his youngest daughter to remain patient. To trust not only her sister, but also Shahrayar. But even though she had made her limbs obey, Dinarzad had found herself unable to follow her father’s advice in the deepest reaches of her heart. For it seemed to her that as long as Shahrayar held Shahrazad’s life within his hands, he was not someone who was safe to trust.

  So she did not go to her father with what she feared, and even if she had, she would not have found him. For he was still away upon the fool’s errand Shahrayar had set for him that morning. And so it came about that Nur al-Din Hasan could not prevent what was to come.

  Instead, Dinarzad poured her heart out to ’Ajib, the only person other than her father and sister she had come to trust. In the days since he had come to live in the vizier’s household, he and Dinarzad had spent much time together, and she had come to love him well. For the vizier had not treated him like a servant, but rather like the son of an old friend.

  At ’Ajib’s suggestion, he and Dinarzad set off for the king’s rooms, unsummoned. They did not know if they would be let in, for to go to the king’s private quarters when he had not called for you himself was a thing unheard of. But Dinarzad’s fear for her sister had now become so great that she was willing to risk whatever it took to make certain Shahrazad was safe from harm.


  Through the corridors of the palace they walked together, their hearts beating fast—though each for a different cause. For courage, Dinarzad clasped ’Ajib by the hand. What he thought as he walked beside her, he never spoke aloud to another living soul, though this much I will caution you: Not merely by what happens next, but by all his actions may you judge him ’ere this tale is done.

  And so at length, Dinarzad and ’Ajib came to the king’s quarters and were admitted inside. For even though they had not been called for, none thought their appearance strange. Had they not been summoned for many nights now?

  But when they came into the room and found it empty, it seemed to Dinarzad that her worst fears were realized. Unable to contain herself, she broke down. Her wild lamentations brought first the guards, and then the chamberlain dashing into the room.

  When the chamberlain perceived the king was not where all had believed him to be, he raised the alarm. In a very few moments, all was as chaotic as a sandstorm. And in that maelstrom, only ’Ajib kept his head. He sent a message to his brothers of just one word, and that word was: “Now.”

  And then into the heart of this chaos came Shahrayar and Shahrazad.

  At the sight of her sister, Dinarzad gave a great cry and launched herself into Shahrazad’s arms. Shahrazad tried to soothe her to no avail. Dinarzad could not be calmed.

  “Where were you? I came to find you, and you were not here! Where were you?” she sobbed.

  “Hush, now!” Shahrazad pleaded. “You must calm yourself, little one.” To her surprise, she found herself reluctant to tell her sister where she had gone. For the day was special—a treasure that belonged to Shahrazad and Shahrayar alone. “I was safe in the company of the king. I am back now. That is all you need to know.”

  “Safe?! How can you be with him and still be safe?” cried Dinarzad. “I know why you will not tell me. It’s because you don’t love me anymore!” For even in her anguish, Dinarzad sensed her sister was keeping something to herself, and it wounded both her heart and her pride.