Ara choked. “I can’t tell you—but you must promise that you will hide him very, very safely. He must be protected from any harm. It’s so important, Layla. Please do this for me,” she pleaded. She clutched Layla’s hand. “Su’ah mustn’t find him, and you must tell no one. Promise!”
“I promise,” Layla wrinkled her nose at the lizard and reached for him carefully. “Will he bite?” she asked.
“No, and he won’t run away. He needs food and water. I think they eat bugs. Tomorrow, I’ll be able to take care of him, but if I keep him here tonight, Su’ah will find him for sure.”
“What’s Suleiman going to say when he finds out you’re keeping a lizard in the palace?”
Tears threatened to roll down Ara’s cheeks. “He’s gone. Don’t say anything to Su’ah or Father until I tell you.”
“Suleiman ran away?” Layla whispered in disbelief. “He wouldn’t! He loves us.”
“He didn’t run away,” Ara sniffed. “Su’ah’s coming back. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Please, just don’t say anything, not about Suleiman and not about the lizard.”
Chapter 11
Tahirah, attended by her handmaidens, walked steadily forward into the Hall of the Ambassadors. She was uncomfortably aware the walls of the Alhambra had weakened further during the previous night. Inside her sitting room, a single tile within a vertical reflection twisted. Nothing she tried would remedy it.
Not long before, she had seen a dark gloom of evil hanging near the sultan’s daughter, the one named Ara.
Tahirah’s head still throbbed from the waves of aftershock. She stopped after entering the Hall waiting upon the sultan’s command, and he acknowledged her entry with a nod. As she moved into the room, the light that twinkled through the stained glass ceiling hit her eyes like a shard of that same glass.
At the far end of the room sat the sultan, the neutral expression on his face belying the tension in his body, but Tahirah could sense it.
He raised his hand in a vain attempt to rein in the sharp-voiced woman beleaguering him, then lowered it to the throne in disgust.
Fatima didn’t appear to take notice. “It’s as I said last year,” she told him. “You can see that I was right. I say this for the child’s welfare. She needs to be taken in hand before it’s too late. She runs around out of control. She frightened us all with blood in the channels.” She nodded to reinforce her conviction. “A diet of bread and water, perhaps, would help her see the anguish she inflicted on me. I mean us.”
Tahirah remained in place. A harem dispute was being brought before the sultan. There must be much discord among the women for this to happen.
Fatima glanced around for approval as she rambled on. “It’s time to find her a husband. There’s no reason to put this off. I was married at ten, and Ara’s a full two years older.”
The sultan, who had been absently drumming his fingers, looked away as if attempting to gather his patience.
Zoriah shook her head at Fatima and exchanged an anxious glance with Maryam. “Beet juice. It was only red dye.”
The sultan nodded and spoke with great restraint to the older woman. “I want to thank you for bringing this again to my attention, Fatima, but, you will recall, she is my daughter.” The room was silent. “I will decide when it is time for her to be married and to whom.”
He softened his words. “Ara does need to be more aware of the effect her behavior has on others. While I am displeased that she has been cause for concern, it was only dye. Ara will clean the dye from the lions.” His emphasis was another reminder that the stain was not blood.
Tahirah used her magic to seek within the room’s deepest recesses for his lion. It was as she feared: his lion was not at his side, nothing that anyone would notice but a Sufi mathemagician.
“It was all very upsetting,” Fatima added, not the least troubled by the difference between dye and blood. Even from a distance, Tahirah could hear the sultan grit his teeth.
Maryam, veiled before her brother-in-law, spoke cautiously. “Sire, it’s not my place, but out of my love for my sister’s memory, I would speak. The child meant no harm. Ara was only trying to aid my daughter. Her curiosity sometimes gets the better of her, but this is a forgivable quality in one so young. Especially one who lost her mother so early. But this, ah, inquisitiveness is offset by her good heart, kindness and the care she shows to those she loves. I ask that you react not in anger but in the wisdom and reason that you have always shown.” She stopped, as though wary of saying too much.
Several servants—who were rushing about trying to appear busy—peered over their shoulders at the sultan and the bevy of women. The sultan sat stone-faced, staring into space. “Zoriah, how speak you?”
The woman he had asked appeared torn, then set her shoulders and raised her head. “The harem’s peace has been disrupted. The child must come to an understanding of her duty.”
Rabab joined in with her quavery voice. “But she’s a sweet, well-meaning child—if wild, reckless and willful.”
Tahirah coughed as she stifled a chuckle, pulling her shawl across her face. Painting the girl black with her praise.
Maryam tried once again. “Ara was born in this very building, was she not? She would never do anything to harm the Alhambra. She’s just a very bright child, curious about how things work.”
“Oh, yes, she even fusses over the lions of the fountain. Remember when we lost her when she was a bit of a thing? Fell asleep under the lions. It looked for all the world as though they were circled around, protecting her,” Rabab recalled. “She insisted the lions talked to her. Of course, she was barely old enough to speak.”
Tahirah turned her head to the side. What’s that? The child has an affinity with the stone lions? Of course, Ara was born here. Maybe…
The sultan leaned back and looked over at the Sufi, acknowledging her with a nod before responding to the women. “You have all had your say. You are free to retire to the harem.” The chill in the sultan’s voice left no room for discussion. “You will be told when I have made a decision.” The women exchanged worried glances and started filing out. Fatima looked as if she wanted to speak again, but Zoriah grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door.
“Zoriah, stay a moment, my wife. I wish a word with you.”
At the doorway, Zoriah conferred quickly with Maryam and Rabab before returning to her husband’s side.
Tahirah watched the frown lines disappear from his face as he looked intently at his wife and enclosed her hand in his. The Sufi stood off to the side, unsure whether or not to approach the throne. The warm blush that rose to Zoriah’s cheeks as she gazed at her husband transformed her face. A marriage of the heart as well as the mind, thought Tahirah with a smile.
The sultan turned to her as if she had spoken, still clasping his wife’s hand, his natural warmth and charm returning. “Greetings in the name of Allah, blessed be His name. I hope you were not distressed by the events of yesterday evening. Please do not think that this is our usual way of entertaining.” The slightest twinkle returned to his eye. “Would that all my problems were as minor as this.”
Tahirah decided to act. “Forgive me, shaykh, I could not but overhear. If I could be of some small service.” She put out her hand as he started to frown. “Please, hear me out—this is a favor that I ask from you. My life has been one of much work and much travel. Children were not a part of that life. Here is a chance for me to form a bond with a child, a valuable and life-broadening experience. You have a daughter on the verge of womanhood whose exuberances challenge harem life. Consider letting me take her under my wing. I love to teach, and it would please me.”
The sultan sighed and shook his head. “I could not impose on your generosity for such a thing. This is a family matter, a matter between my daughter and me.”
“As Allah has granted me no children of my own, it would be a gift to me. I also was a child given to mischief. I remember well how difficult and arbitrary rules seemed. The honor
would be mine if you allow me to instruct your child. A curious child whose mind is occupied has less time to err. I would consider it a kindness. Perhaps she and her cousin could show me around the palace, and I could engage their energies toward scholarship and learning.”
The sultan glanced at Zoriah with a shrug before responding. “Perhaps it would be worth a try. She is a smart girl. I would be grateful for whatever interest you show her. I have no wish to inflict pain on my child, but she must learn responsibility and to live in harmony within the harem.” He turned to his wife. “Do you agree? Will this solution please the others?”
Zoriah stood still before finally nodding. “Yes, that will do. Also, I can start her training in running a palace.”
The sultan smiled and proclaimed, “Done, it is decided. We can work out the details later.”
Chapter 12
Ara heard the sound of footsteps at her bedside and felt Layla’s anxious presence beyond her closed lids. “Are you awake?” Layla's quiet voice whispered.
Ara opened her eyes. “Yes, but I want to rest.” Her face was still blotchy from crying. “Su’ah spent all morning fussing over me. She kept pouring vile teas into me. She was certain I was going to break out in spots.” Ara shifted listlessly. “I want to go back to sleep.”
“Are you sure you’re not sick? You look awful. This is the second day you’ve stayed in bed.” Layla’s voice was soft with worry. “What’s wrong? You know I had to tell your father about the dye. He asked me directly. He was angry, but he said no real harm was done.”
Ara kept her eyes closed. Harm had been done by her…and nothing would ever be right again.
Layla continued, remorse lacing her voice. “Did Suleiman yell at you about the dye? He went looking for you as soon as he saw it in the fountain. He said I looked guilty, but he knew who was responsible.”
“Where is Su—I mean, the lizard?” Ara asked suddenly. “How did you keep Su’ah from finding him?”
A frown crossed Layla’s face and she sat down on the bed. “The lizard? He’s in my sewing basket. I couldn’t think of any other place. No one goes through my embroidery. I offered him bugs, but he didn’t move.” She made a face, then straightened, looking provoked. “Why are we hiding a lizard?”
Su’ah burst into the room. “Did you hear, Ara? Tahirah has offered to instruct you. Think of that! I’m so pleased for you.” She bustled about, grabbing clothes, hairbrushes and a sponge. “Tahirah was quite adamant, I understand, about seeing you immediately. If she gets some horrible disease from you, it won’t be my fault. I told her servants that you were unwell, but no one listens to me.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.” Ara laid her head back on the pillow. All her hopes and dreams were gone, crushed by one folly. Nothing was important now. She deserved to be in the coldest dungeon, not basking in the light of a Sufi.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, child, but unless you have a fever, you can’t mope around the rest of your life. You’re getting up right now. No more of this.” Su’ah nodded in emphasis. “Why, it’s almost afternoon, time for Asr prayer. Now, come here, and let’s get you tidied.” She pulled back the covers on Ara’s bed. “By the way, where is Suleiman? I couldn’t find him all yesterday. Just like a man, always underfoot except when you need him. I heard talk that he was on an errand for Tahirah, but no one seems to know where.”
Su’ah limped stiffly over to the door and looked up and down the hallway. “He should be the one to walk you over to the mathemagician’s rooms. She’s in the Palace of the Partal, you know. Even though it’s inside the fortress walls, I don’t like you wandering around by yourself. There are too many foreigners coming and going lately. People who aren’t used to our ways.”
“What?” Ara looked up, suddenly interested. “What did you say about Suleiman?”
“So that’s the way of it, is it? I knew something was upsetting you. Did you and Suleiman have a falling-out?”
“No,” she said sadly, “we didn’t quarrel. I just didn’t know about the errand.” Tahirah couldn’t have sent Suleiman on an errand. An image of Suleiman transformed into a lizard flashed before her. “Must I go?”
“I can’t believe this. Last week you would have traded me and Suleiman to see this woman. Now you can’t be bothered? You are going, and that is that. Your father is so proud that she’s taking an interest in you.” Su’ah turned and slapped the clothes down. “You’re fortunate to have been unwell. Time has softened his anger. I don’t know what he would have done if Tahirah hadn’t intervened for you. What were you thinking? The dye in the fountain upset the whole harem.”
“Tahirah spoke to Father about the dye?” Ara asked, reluctantly sitting up so Su’ah could brush her hair. Why is Tahirah involved? Is she working with the wazir?
“She overheard him speaking to Zoriah about you. He was plenty upset with you. You’re lucky the Sufi offered to instruct you.” Su’ah gave Ara’s hair a final swipe with the brush. “Bread and water for the next month was the way I heard it. Tahirah intervened with a different plan, and he agreed.”
“What are they going to do to me?”
“You’ll hear that from the mathemagician, I would guess,” Su’ah said, nodding sagely. She turned Ara around. “Is that it? Have you been listening to gossip about Sufis?”
Alarms went off in Ara’s head. Was the Sufi an evil mathemagician also? But that didn’t seem right. She remembered the voice that had urged her to leave the room of broken mirrors. She’d been told her mother had loved this teacher. Ara debated with herself for a moment before trusting herself to speak.
“I’ll go. If Father insists, I’ll go,” she said. “But why only me? Must I go by myself?”
“Actually, Tahirah requested that your cousin join you. Now, let’s get you dressed.”
Ara looked over at her cousin. Layla looked stricken, and asked, “Am I in trouble too? Are we going to be punished?”
“You need to ask your parents that question. It’s not my business, but you know you girls have been traipsing around causing trouble…” Su’ah’s words drifted off.
“I didn’t do anything. I never would. What must Mother think?” Layla sobbed.
“Child, I’m sure it will be fine.” Su’ah patted Layla’s back soothingly. “Maybe the Sufi wants to teach you also.”
“Noooo. I’m terrible at math. That can’t be it at all.” Layla’s face was turning pink and splotchy.
Soon four silent servants escorted the girls out of the Palace of the Myrtles, around the Mosque, and through a myriad of enclosed gardens toward the Sufi’s rooms. Neither girl spoke. They passed other children along the way. Jada ducked her head and Hasan, trailed by his younger brothers, grinned his encouragement. Ara felt numb.
Though it was only a few stones’ throw distance, the journey to the Sufi’s rooms seemed to take forever.
Ara’s mind swirled. Why does Tahirah wish to see us? I won’t let her hurt Layla or Suleiman, she swore to herself.
Layla glided beside her like a ghost, wearing the haunted look of one condemned. Her embroidery basket was clutched in her hands, and her knuckles were white.
Ara saw little hope for a rosy future. Suleiman is a lizard, the wazir is evil, and I am powerless to stop him. If only I had not been so curious. No one would ever believe me even if I confessed what happened. And now, even Layla is in trouble because of me.
Chapter 13
Tahirah contemplated the two tense and unhappy children who stood in her doorway. The leggy filly of a child with the defiant glare must be Ara. If she were a cat, that heavy black braid of hers would be lashing back and forth. The other girl, Layla, stared at the floor. The servants bowed out of the room, promising to return before the next prayer.
“Good afternoon,” Tahirah began. “I greet you in the joy of Allah. Blessed be His name.”
Layla repeated back, her voice barely audible, “Blessed be.”
Silence.
“Perhaps y
ou should sit down. I thought we might have some tea and get to know each other.” How did people speak to the young? She had no idea. This might be harder than she expected.
Ara sat, her back straight as if prepared for battle, with Layla close beside her. These poor girls are obviously terrified. Tahirah picked up the ewer and poured the contents into three cups. She passed the steaming mint tea to each of the children before sitting down on a cushion herself. “Bismillah, ‘in the name of God,’ I had a tray of baklava brought up. These are made with pistachios and Grenadian honey. I thought you might enjoy some.”
In the quiet that followed, Tahirah took a sip of tea. “I hope that we might become friends.” The smaller girl looked up hopefully, then focused once more on the floor. Ara was obviously having none of it. Tahirah watched them through lowered lashes. Neither of the girls touched the teacups.
She thought about the previous evening when she had felt evil magic closing in on Ara and had used her power to urge her away. The taint had left Tahirah weak. Sleep had eluded her. She wished her inner vision had been clearer. She needed this girl to confide in her, but how could she gain her trust? Here was a challenge almost as difficult as proving a new theorem. She took a deep breath and concentrated on the problem. Her magic was of learning. This was just another mathematics problem. Though, she thought with an inward sigh, perhaps a tangled one.
“Why did you have us brought here?” Ara finally demanded, her arm wrapped around her cousin’s shoulder.
“To have tea and baklava with me. Is that so unreasonable?” Tahirah replied, confused by the girl’s anger.
Ara looked around the room. There were no mirrors, broken or not. She couldn’t figure out if the mathemagician was good or evil. She sneaked a look at her—and was startled by the warmth of violet eyes. Was Tahirah the one who had warned her away in the mirrored room? She again glanced at the mathemagician, who sat as if waiting for her answer. Well, thought Ara, she is going to wait for a long time.
The Stone Lions Page 5
