The Stone Lions

by Gwen Dandridge

  “Good. And here is yet another.”

  The girls looked at one another. Ara stated, “Well, I see a line that splits it in half exactly, but if you flip it over, it doesn’t match up. The triangles on the top would land in the blank space.”

  “Perfect.” Tahirah smiled. “This is not horizontal mirror symmetry, just as you said. It does have symmetry, but not the ones we are speaking of today. How about this?”

  “Oh, I see it,” Layla said, pleased. “That’s what Ara showed me. It’s a vertical flip. I remember she said that the line runs from the earth all the way to Allah. I see that there would be a line between the heads of the chickens going up and down.” The snake had lifted his head and seemed pleased.

  Tahirah reached over and squeezed Layla’s shoulder. “I am very impressed. That was excellent. There is one further requirement for the images you search for. It must have a horizontal symmetry, but it cannot also have a vertical symmetry.”

  “What?” Ara looked up. “How could it have both?”

  “It is possible for both horizontal and vertical symmetry to exist in one design. But for our purposes you must eliminate any designs that you find with both, as they will not break the spell. The only symmetry it can have is a horizontal reflection. Can you remember this?”

  “Yes,” the girls agreed, though Tahirah could see they both were somewhat surprised by this new requirement.

  She glanced outside and tried not to show how worried she felt. “We have only one and one-half weeks for the two of you to find the horizontal symmetry damaged by the wazir’s magic. But first, the stone lions must be washed clean of the red dye. Of most immediate importance, we need to protect Suleiman in his snake form. I will do some mathematical searching to find out why the wazir is destroying the magic in the palace.” She stopped, suddenly aware of the lengthening shadows. “It is getting late. We must end this lesson. Such a short time to resolve a difficult spell.” Tahirah looked down at the snake.

  “How do I know where the wazir broke it? It could be anywhere in the Palace of the Lions or the Palace of the Myrtles, even in the Palace of the Partal…” asked Ara. The importance of her task overwhelmed her.

  “We can’t know. He is putting pressure somewhere, but the magic ripples throughout the Alhambra, finding a weak spot. There it breaks a symmetry. It could appear anywhere.

  “You must not attract the attention of the wazir. If too many people know that you search for symmetries, broken symmetries, he also will know. But Layla can help, can’t you?”

  “I think so.” She looked at the green snake wrapped around Tahirah’s wrist and shuddered. “Will I have to touch the slimy snake?”

  “Yes, in fact, you need to hold him now. Layla, your life has been sheltered in the palace, but one who loves and cares for you is in trouble. His life is in your hands. Remember, this is Suleiman, and he’s having a very difficult time.” Gently, she placed Suleiman in Layla’s lap.

  The snake curled into a relaxed S-curve. He picked his head up and stared at Layla. “Nottt ssslimy. Llayylla ccowarddd!” he hissed, bobbing his head up and down.

  “I am not,” she exclaimed. “Well, maybe I am timid, a bit, but it is unkind of you to say so.” Then she grinned and laughed. “I’m talking to a snake!” She reached out her hand to pet him. “Why, he’s soft like satin. I never knew. Oh, Suleiman, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll help you, I promise.”

  “Nottt cccowardd. Bbrave and kkind,” Suleiman responded and flicked his tongue.

  Chapter 15

  “Beet juice isn’t easy to get off,” Ara complained, scrubbing the lion with big bristled brushes. She felt a tremor beneath her hand. She crouched down and stared into the lion’s eyes, her fingers cupping his chin. “Hello. Can you hear me?”

  Nothing changed. She sighed loudly and continued washing down the lion. “How many of them are done?”

  “This is the third lion,” her cousin answered. “Nine more to finish.” Layla paused, pushing her braids out of her face. “How is Suleiman? I worried about him all last night.”

  “Fine,” Ara replied, checking under her caftan for the snake that wrapped around her waist. “He’s still asleep. He was really cranky when we put him back in your basket last night. He hissed so, I was afraid Su’ah would hear. When I woke him at dawn, he was so annoyed he threatened to bite me. He was nicer as a lizard,” she added with some emphasis.

  “I think he was too upset before to be anything but sad. Now, he’s starting to be more himself. Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night,” Layla offered. “I’d worry too if I had turned into a snake.”

  “You would be upset because you couldn’t dance. I think he’s just crabby, as always.”

  “Innssssolent girl-cccchild,” hissed a muffled voice.

  “Suleiman, you’re awake!”

  “Yessss.” The snake slithered out onto the stone floor and blinked in the bright morning light, then coiled himself, loop upon loop, until he looked much like a bright green rope abandoned on the warm floor. He lifted his head slightly, testing the air with his tongue. “Sssmells quiet.”

  “Truly?” Layla asked. “Does quiet have a smell? Can you taste it with your tongue?” Now that she had a tentative peace with the snake, it seemed to Ara that Layla found much about him interesting

  “Yesss.” He swung his head from side to side, watching them wash the big stone cats. “Sssmells niccce.”

  “Suleiman, I don’t think you should be there.” Ara said nervously. “Someone might come in and see you. What if the wazir should walk by?”

  “Sssunshhine. Needd ssunshhine,” the snake murmured, slithering off into some small bushes where he could drift back to sleep.

  “But Ara, the wazir thinks Suleiman is a lizard,” Layla said as she rubbed a stain from the chin of a lion. “So we don’t have to worry, do we?”

  “We need to be careful. He’s a very evil man,” Ara whispered, remembering Suleiman’s cry for mercy in the mirrored room. “And you heard Tahirah tell us to stay far away from him. If he discovers that Suleiman has been transformed, he will be suspicious. We must find all the symmetries and turn Suleiman back to normal before he notices.” They continued scouring the narrow nooks and crevices in the marble toes.

  “Besides,” Ara continued, “snakes never get into the palace. There are people who would be afraid and might hurt him. Remember how you felt? Your mother would faint.”

  Despite her concern for Suleiman, Layla grinned at the thought of her mother’s reaction to a snake. Then she said, “I was afraid because I didn’t understand how nice they are. They eat rats and mice and are very quiet. Mother thinks they are slimy—and you know they aren’t.”

  “I don’t think now is a good time for her to find that out.” Ara checked the arched doorways once again. “It’s important that we keep this secret. Tahirah said that as long as people thought Suleiman was on an errand for her, they might as well keep thinking so. Aside from us, no one but the wazir knows what really happened to him.”

  Her uneasiness deepened, and her hands felt raw from scrubbing. “How are we ever going to find all the symmetries in time? We can’t ask many people for help or the wazir might find out.” They both pondered this a moment. “Well, we have access to the whole palace, and that should be enough. Tahirah can’t come with us or the wazir would be on to us for certain. She is a mathemagician, after all.”

  Layla looked up from her work, frowning. “Does the wazir know that she’s tutoring us?”

  “Who would tell him? The harem’s business is not his concern. Father would not think to talk to him about the doings of the women and children of the harem.”

  “Do you really think Suleiman will turn back into a person?” Layla lowered her voice and looked around. “It all seems so strange and scary. At least he speaks a bit.”

  “Tahirah thinks he will continue to heal as the symmetry magic heals the Alhambra. So it must be true,” Ara responded.

  “I still don’t understa
nd why we don’t tell your father. He could just arrest the wazir and put him in the dungeon. Then everyone would be safe,” her cousin said, going back to a previous argument.

  “Layla, Father still won’t even talk to me. He had his manservant give Su’ah the brushes and soap and tell her that he didn’t want to see me until all the lions were clean. Maybe not even then.” She lowered her voice. “What if the wazir turned my father into a frog before he was locked up? We need proof. And not just a snake who looks nothing like Suleiman.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Layla said, peeking over the bushes at the sleeping snake. “There’s something about his eyes and the way his head shakes.”

  Ara threw a soap-laden rag at her, and they chased each other laughingly around the fountain. Finally, they stood leaning over the fountain, giggling and catching their breath.

  “Do you think Tahirah is right about the stone lions? You know, that they have feelings?”

  “It could be. When I was very little, I believed my stone lion loved and protected me.” She looked up at Layla’s questioning eyes and made an embarrassed shrug. “I was very young! It could be true. Tahirah said they are wary of outside magic, but you and I don’t have any magic, and they have known us, well, forever. Do you think they might talk to people without magic?” She looked over her shoulder at her favorite. “Maybe he will talk to me. Anyway, let’s save him for last so we can give him a particularly good scrub.”

  The crunch of many footsteps came upon them before they could react. Zoriah and Fatima arrived wrapped in their hijabs, followed by a pair of harem guards in liveried dress. Alarmed, Ara glanced at the bushes but could not see Suleiman. Layla scrubbed at the lion more vigorously.

  Zoriah looked critically at the girls. “I see Layla is working hard. Ara, you’re taking a bit of a break? Tahirah was called away to Lindejarras early this morning and asked me to come and tell you. She had hoped to oversee your education while she is here, but that will have to be put off for a day or so.”

  Ara’s felt her stomach tighten in distress.

  “I see this is a disappointment to you, but there it is. Your father asked me to help in her and Suleiman’s absence.” She furrowed her brow and spoke to Fatima. “Do you know when is he due back? He’s been too long away from the Alhambra.”

  Fatima shrugged, as if unwilling to acknowledge her lack of gossip about Suleiman’s disappearance.

  Zoriah turned back to Ara and Layla. “I’m glad that you are making some progress cleaning this up. A delegation from the North arrives next week, and your father will receive them in the Hall of the Kings. Refreshments will be served in here. This room must be spotless. I am sure that you girls will see that it is so.” But her voice didn’t sound sure to Ara.

  Fatima glowered at Ara in disapproval. “I would like to say that I’m astonished at your behavior, but I’m not. You break rules like twigs, and no one but me seems to be concerned. I was prostrate with fright when I saw blood in the fountain. It’s not for me to say, but I don’t understand why your father lets you get away with so much.”

  Zoriah touched her arm as if to contain her, but Fatima shrugged her off, saying, “And Layla, I am surprised that you were involved. You were a nice child, but I see you’ve been led astray.” She sniffed. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told your mother what a bad influence Ara is. She defends you both, but I see that I was right.”

  “Fatima, Mother of my Mother, remember that it was just beet juice,” Zoriah said calmly. “I think we should let the girls go back to their task, don’t you? I’m sure they are very sorry that you were upset.”

  “Of course, they are sorry now. But the wazir agrees with me. It was an omen, blood or whatever. He told me so. An omen of death and destruction.”

  “Fatima! We have business elsewhere,” Zoriah interrupted in a determined voice. She moved to the door and out of the room, gently pushing Fatima before her.

  The girls were quiet for a moment. “But she promised to help us,” Layla frowned, thinking of Tahirah.

  Ara almost wept in frustration. “What could be so important that she would leave us now?” And what would she do without Tahirah? Then another thought hit her. What would she do without Layla?

  “Does your mother really think I’m a bad influence on you? Would she separate us?”

  “Mother thinks that Fatima is old-fashioned and oversteps her authority. Didn’t she look just like an angry crow in her black hijab?” Layla said, a bit shocked at her own outburst. “Mother won’t keep us apart. She says you’re full of life and have a good heart. She told me you remind her of your mother when she was a girl.”

  “Really?” Ara asked with relief, bouncing back to her normal confidence. “Well, I think Fatima looks like a well-fed angry crow,” she said, giggling. “Tahirah will be back, I’m sure of it. We just need to find the broken symmetries as fast as we can so Suleiman can change.”

  “Where should we look first?”

  “Well, I thought we might—did you see that?” Ara stared at the fountain. ”I thought I saw one of my lion’s ears flicker.”

  “It must have been the stone catching the light,” Layla said, stepping up to the lion.

  Ara shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’m just being wishful.”

  The call to prayer rang out, signaling the end of their chore.

  “Done with scrubbing for the rest of the day,” Ara said, sagging against her favorite lion.

  “I thought it would never be noon. I can’t believe we have to do this for a whole week,” Layla said wearily. She shook her head. It had been a long morning.

  Ara woke Suleiman, ignoring his complaints, and carefully hid the snake in the folds of her clothes.

  Behind them an ear flicked in their direction and then turned back to stone, frozen beneath the sunlight.

  Chapter 16

  “Have you found it?” Layla whispered to Ara.

  The harem was assembled for the afternoon meal around the Court of the Myrtles. Suleiman had been left sound asleep in Layla’s embroidery basket. The low hum of chattering women and children filled the room.

  “No, Zoriah is making sure I’m busy every day. She thinks I have too much time on my hands. She says, ‘Allah hates idle hands.’ Fatima must be talking to her. Have you had any luck?” Ara asked.

  “No. There may be a horizontal symmetry in the Hall of the Two Sisters. Mother and Father walked through there last night on the way to the garden, and I got to go with them. I thought I saw one on the north wall as we passed through. I didn’t get close enough to see if it was broken or not.” A small child toddled by and scrambled up into Layla’s lap. She kissed his cheek, and the toddler snuggled up against her, thumb in mouth. His mother, Dananir, looked over to make sure her son was content before continuing her conversation with Jada.

  Ara grinned at the babe and then looked around the court to make certain no one was listening to them. “As soon as the meal is over, let’s go over to the Hall. The days are passing too quickly.”

  Layla wrinkled her nose in distress. “Couldn’t we go later this afternoon? I have dance lessons next.”

  “I’m supposed to sit with Rabab and sew. Zoriah saw my stitching and said schooling in the womanly arts was in order.” Ara rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait until Tahirah gets back and we continue our lessons. We have to find those symmetries soon.”

  “I know,” Layla agreed, thinking hard. “What if I join you for your sewing lesson. Where are you going to meet Rabab?”

  “Beside the fountain where the fig tree is,” Ara said, pointing out the window.

  “Dance practice is not too long. I’ll be there as soon as I finish.”

  Zoriah stood up and clapped her hands once sharply. Everyone looked at her. “The representatives from our northern neighbors are coming this Saturday—some will bring their wives. Maryam, I want you and Rabab to be in charge of the food.”

  She turned toward Rabab, who was speaking into in Fatim
a’s ear. “The Spanish women from Castile and Aragon cover their faces as we do. But I am told that the French women cover neither their hair nor faces. Rabab, you need to inform the servants so they do not stare.”

  “The Infidels are bringing unveiled women?” Fatima cried out.

  “Their ways are different from ours. We also will not stare. You must remember that the shaykh, our sultan, is working to prevent Granada from becoming embroiled in the conflicts of the North. He will be negotiating tribute agreements with the Northern kings,” Zoriah finished smoothly.

  Her words set off a buzz among the women. Finally, Dananir spoke up. “Of course, we wish to help the shaykh in this, but we are unused to the People of the Book. How can we go to this meeting? The Christian women know not our ways, and we know not theirs.”

  Zoriah spoke with the authority of an experienced leader. “The sultan trusts each of us to behave modestly and courteously, as befits a woman. Layla will dance for the women and children. Ara, you will accompany her. You need to be on hand, as you are gifted with languages.” Her smile challenged anyone to make more objections. “Everyone must help to make all go smoothly.”

  The hair prickled on Ara’s arm. Did their coming have something to do with the wazir’s evil? And even if it didn’t, this would make it harder for her to continue her search.

  The women drifted out of the room in twos and threes, small children clinging to their mothers or marching stalwartly beside them. Rabab caught Ara’s eye and reminded her to collect her sewing supplies before joining her outside.

  Ara raced back to her sleeping quarters, checking walls as she ran. She’d never find it in time now. Where was a broken horizontal symmetry?

  But the first thing she saw when she entered the room was Layla’s sewing basket with its top flung open. Someone had found Suleiman! A sharp hiss caught her attention. There on the cushion curled Suleiman, coiled in a figure eight, his head held high.