The Stone Lions

by Gwen Dandridge

  Layla and Ara gasped as Suleiman suddenly pinned in his wings and hurtled down from the sky.

  Too late, the wazir looked up and discovered that he who had been the predator was now the prey. He shrieked and flung his hands over his face.

  Layla screamed.

  Just before he crashed into the wazir, Suleiman pulled out of his dive and, extending his talons, grabbed the mirror. His talons raked the wazir’s hand. Blood spurted. Abd al-Rahmid shrieked as claws ripped through his flesh. His companions turned at the noise, dumbfounded.

  Doubled over in pain, he shrieked at his men to kill the eagle. One man hurried to his aid, while the other notched his bow. Clutching the mirror, Suleiman flapped harder, his strong wings pumping as he tried to distance himself from the deadly arrows arching in his direction.

  Layla hid her eyes behind her hands. Ara watched Suleiman fly over the palace walls, dodging arrows until he was inside the palace boundaries. She leaned over to reassure her cousin. Just then, one last arrow shot upward and nicked his tail feathers, sending him into an airborne somersault. The mirror flew out of his claws, and he spiraled down from the sky, all grace gone. By sheer strength, he managed to slow his fall to a sluggish, if wobbly, descent. From her vantage point, Ara could hear the wazir screaming at the men.

  Ara turned to her cousin and saw, lit by the sun, a broken symmetry on the far wall. As the tile turned to match the others, the lions began to roar. The Alhambra itself rumbled, the palace healing—and suddenly Ara knew what would happen. She turned back to the window.

  With a startled squawk, Suleiman lost what little control he had, plummeting toward the ground as he changed into a new form in mid air. Both Layla and Ara leaned out the window, aghast at the blurred vision of airborne fur and flailing legs. Falling, falling, too quickly.

  Fear grabbed at Ara’s chest. She couldn’t breathe. What if he was badly hurt? What if he died?

  Then Suleiman—whatever he had become—disappeared behind the stables.

  The girls tore down the stairs and outside. As they rounded the back of the stables, the girls stopped. There was only a pile of hay. Suleiman was nowhere to be seen. As they looked helplessly at each other, a low moan came from within the pile. Ara yelped, and they dug frantically through the hay for their friend.

  “Suleiman, can you hear me?” Layla called. “Are you hurt?”

  A shaky voice responded, “I’m as well as can be expected after falling from such a height. The wind is knocked out of me though. You need to be more careful, Ara! Did you not see how high up I was?”

  She dug faster. “I’m sorry, Suleiman. It was an accident.”

  He coughed, sounding like he was spitting out straw from his mouth. “I only wish there was space for some discipline and caution between your curiosity and your impulsiveness.”

  The girls scooped more hay to the side, digging deeper.

  He coughed again, rattling around within the center of the haystack. “Well, let us go forward. Your nature can’t be changed in—”

  “Hurry,” Ara interrupted, tired of the lecture. “The wazir and his men are outside the palace, but they will be upon us searching for you before we can go far. We need to get you out of here and hidden.” She tried to peer through the straw. “I didn’t mean to see the symmetry. I didn’t even know it was there. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  The haystack moved. From it emerged a large pile of straw draped over spindly legs. Suleiman lifted his head, and a tangle of straw rose in the air. A small golden haystack encompassing his head and shoulders shifted around him. “I’m a lion, aren’t I? I can feel my glorious mane and tail.” He tossed his head. “I knew each transformation brought me closer to my own true self, but I never dared hope for so much. Without doubt, I am blessed. No longer must I run and hide from evil. My roar of challenge will be heard for miles. He reared back, hay flying every which way, and drew in a breath. “Bleeeat!” He stopped short. “That’s wrong. Must have a bit of straw caught in my throat.” He cleared his windpipe. “Ehh, ehhh. There, that’s better. Ahem.” He took another deep breath. “Bleeeat!”

  The haystack slipped sideways, and a small black horn poked up out of the debris.

  “Suleiman, I don’t think you’re a lion.”

  “Not a lion? But…Ah, well, what am I then, a mighty steed or...?”

  The girls looked at one another in growing dismay.

  “Suleiman,” Layla said gently, “you have horns. I think, well, I think you’re a goat.”

  The straw-covered eunuch-goat stiffened in incredulity. A short tail flicked beneath the hay. “No, that’s not right. You’re mistaken. Perhaps I’m some exotic animal you are unaware of.” He shook his head and straw flew everywhere. Two triangular eyes peered worriedly out at them. “I’m a wildebeest, mayhap. They have horns. Or maybe a dragon from the Far East—I heard of them once…”

  Ara shook her head, trying to hide a smile. “A goat.”

  “No.” He stamped his foot. “I’ve already had a lesson in humility. One was more than sufficient.”

  Suleiman turned his head, looking in growing horror at his body, which was undeniably that of a middle-sized black goat. A small, stringy beard framed an increasingly disgusted expression upon his face. Tiny black hooves stamped a beat of frustration. “I simply won’t have it,” he declared and dove back under the straw. “I’m not coming out until I’ve changed into something suitable.”

  “Suleiman, I don’t think throwing a tantrum is going to help.” Ara reached in and grabbed a horn with both hands. “Really, you have to come out. Now! We have to find a safe place for you to hide. The wazir is searching for you.”

  “No, no, no!”

  Layla dug into the hay and, lifting the straw off Suleiman, stared sympathetically into his eyes. “This is your last shape. We have only until midnight. Suleiman, truly we need you. By tonight, you will be back to your own most suitable form, but we must hurry.”

  “But,” he insisted, backing farther into the hay, pulling Ara along, “it’s just not right.”

  The clatter of men and horses on cobblestones pushed both the girls into a panic.

  Ara hauled desperately at his horn. “Suleiman, you can be a live goat now or you can be a dead goat when the wazir arrives. Please, we must leave now!”

  Reluctantly, Suleiman clambered out of the hay and shook himself. A quick, disgusted look reconfirmed his goat shape. “How long do I have to be a...?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

  “Goat,” Ara finished for him. She pulled him along the path toward Tahirah’s. Layla put her arm across his back, wrinkling her nose at the strong goat smell.

  “Hurry, I hear voices!” Ara urged.

  “I’m coming.” But Suleiman dragged his feet as he noted the direction they headed. “Must we go to the Palace of the Partal? I don’t want anyone to see me in this state, particularly not Tahirah.”

  Many footsteps crunched the stones on the path beyond.

  Ara blanched at the nearing sounds. “No time to run.”

  Frightened and miserable, Layla agreed.

  Ara looked around for a safe place to hide. The stables; many dark corners, and a goat there would not be unusual. They ducked inside.

  The horses nickered at the girls but snorted at Suleiman. Layla climbed the narrow ladder to the loft with Ara pushing Suleiman close behind. The building was silent but for the sound of horses chewing and the occasional rustle of a mouse.

  “Maybe they are searching the gard—” Ara broke off when the big stable door creaked open. Layla shivered and edged closer to Ara.

  “We’ll check the stables,” a voice called. Straw rustled below and a horse whinnied. The soldiers passed, swords drawn, poking and peering into each stall. “God’s blood, no damaged animal here,” the beefy man said in Castilian Spanish. “The Grenadan wazir is becoming stranger and stranger.”

  The thin man with the bushy eyebrows removed the saddle from his horse and rubbed him bris
kly with his blanket. “I’ll be glad when this is over. All this sneaking around in enemy territory makes me nervous. The sultan looked at us so hard, I was certain he saw through our story.”

  Layla put a trembling hand on Ara to steady her as they peered down through the slated eaves.

  The other man lifted a halter from a hook. “You worry too much. Soon the trap will spring and the sultan will be caught. What do you think the king wants him for, ransom or death?”

  Ara started slightly. She met Layla’s eyes, now wide with fear.

  “I neither know nor care. I just have to get this map and message to the army. Our men will surround the sultan at dawn. Right when they are all crouched in devotion to their Islamic God.” He laughed.

  Ara looked back at Suleiman. Her father would die. She trembled, praying to Allah that they would not succeed. She must get to Tahirah with the information and—

  Suleiman’s ears perked up. “I’ve got to get that paper,” he whispered, and before the girls could grab him, he turned and stumbled down the stairs into the stable hall, chewing on a clump of hay.

  “What’s that?” The thin soldier swung around, his sword grasped in both his hands.

  “Just a goat, you fool, looking for food. Relax. Put the map away, we need to leave.”

  The soldier placed the paper in his saddlebag, closing the flap firmly. “Get out of my way,” he yelled at the goat as both men ambled out of the doors. The moment they entered the paddock, Suleiman raced for the saddlebag and deftly opened the pocket with his teeth.

  “Hurry,” Ara hissed at Layla, still climbing cautiously down the ladder.

  While Suleiman frantically nosed the contents of the saddlebag, the girls stood in indecision.

  Suleiman flicked his eyes at the girls and bleated, his muffled voice not to be ignored. “Run now, out the side door.” Startled, they moved to flee. He grabbed the map and tugged. A corner of the map edged out. Ara, looking over her shoulder beyond Suleiman, whispered urgently, “They’re coming back!”

  He pulled harder, ripping the paper. Suleiman nosed the flap back down and galloped out the door, only half of the map clenched between his teeth.

  Chapter 38

  Layla’s harsh, uneven breathing came from behind Ara. They had run for a long time, racing from shadow to shadow. Ignoring Suleiman’s grumbling under his breath about lessons and magic, Ara clutched the ripped map. A pungent, musty goat smell reminded her that they needed to hide him. Hearing no more footsteps, she peered around a large olive tree. After a careful look, they all rushed from bush to bush until they came up to the inner palace wall. From there, Ara edged up to a corner of the palace and stuck her head around the side. “All clear.” She waved them forward, still looking out for the wazir and his hunting companions.

  When no guards challenged the trio, she felt her hopes rise.

  Suleiman backed up into the bushes. “I’ll wait here for you. You can give Tahirah the map.”

  Ara gave him her sternest look. “You must return with us. We need you there for the lesson.”

  Scooting from building to building, the girls pushed, pulled and prodded the reluctant goat onward. Suleiman argued with them the whole time.

  With only a short dash between them and Tahirah’s rooms, the sound of raised voices echoed down the path. The girls ducked behind a wooden gate as the wazir, coddling his injured hand, strode by with four sentries. “You! Guard this building. Don’t let anyone in,” he said of Tahirah’s rooms. “And you, find that animal now.”

  “What animal?” a sentry asked in a bewildered voice.

  “What animal?” The wazir whirled on the poor man. “I don’t know what it is now. A damaged animal. It was struck with an arrow. Find it!”

  The men looked furtively at each other before one responded, “But, Wazir, what about the eagle? That was what we shot.”

  The wazir’s voice got even louder. “Are you challenging me? Find that animal. It may be with the sultan’s daughter and niece. Take it from them and kill it!”

  Layla gasped and the wazir jerked his head around toward the noise. “What was that?”

  Ara clasped her hand over Layla’s mouth and pulled her back into the shadows of the garden.

  Suleiman examined the scraped spot on his tail where the arrow had nicked him.

  The guards looked at each other in dismay. “The wind, Abd al-Rahmid, nothing more.”

  The wazir ground his teeth. “You two, check over there. You, recheck the stables. I was sure he fell over there. He has to be around here somewhere. You stay here and let no one in to see the Sufi witch. She must be involved somehow.”

  His voice changed then. “Guard the harem entrance. The sultan’s daughter may seek to return there. Something is broken in the Court of the Lions, and I need to speak with her.”

  With that he marched to the front of the Palace of the Partal and banged on the door.

  Ara and Layla’s eyes met.

  The girls crept deeper into the garden, trying to muffle the sound of Suleiman’s goat feet. When they were far enough away, Layla whispered in Ara’s ear. “Does that mean that the final broken symmetry is the Court of the Lions?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But his voice sounded funny. Sly.”

  Layla twisted her tunic hem in her hands. “He always sounds so to me.”

  “True.”

  “Now what? Where do we hide?”

  Ara chewed on her fingernail. “We need to go to the harem, but first we need to see Tahirah. She’s stronger in magic then he is. We’ll be safe there. And we still need to learn the final symmetry.”

  “But how do we get in to her? He stands at the door.”

  Ara thought that over, then grinned. “The same way Suleiman did in eagle form, except we climb.”

  A short time later, Layla teetered on her cousin’s shoulder, stretching for the window ledge of Tahirah’s sleeping rooms. “Hurry up,” Ara hissed. “You’re heavy.”

  “I can touch the sill, but I’m not high enough to pull myself in,” Layla whispered back, struggling.

  Ara’s face was bright red from exertion. “Can you see Tahirah?”

  Layla grunted, “I’m not tall enough, and I don’t hear her.”

  Suleiman looked at the two girls and puzzled over their difficulty. “Layla, can you bend over a bit?” She ducked her head and hunched her shoulders. Suleiman delicately leapt onto Ara, lightly touched Layla shoulders as he bounded into the window. “That was easy.” Ignoring the girls’ comments about his unexpected weight, he peered down from the windowsill. “I forgot, goats can scale anything. I’ll find Tahirah and return soon.”

  Layla jumped down, and Ara collapsed in a heap. “Ugh, you are heavier than I thought.” They dusted themselves off and clung nervously to the dark corners of the wall.

  “Ara, Layla,” came a whispered call. “I’m sending a long piece of fabric down. Wait while I tie it to a column.” Layla’s face was pinched and white, sure that the wazir would stride around the corner.

  Tahirah leaned out, scanning the area. She held her hand to her lips for them to be silent. Then she threw down a length of cloth that she had knotted and twisted. “Here, climb up, but be quiet. The wazir and his men are on the south side of the building.”

  Soon both girls were seated on the floor of Tahirah’s apartments. Ara checked her hands for scrapes and scratches. Layla sat petting the goat while Tahirah stood by the window searching the landscape, her usually calm demeanor strained.

  “The wazir dare not force his way into my quarters, but he made quite a fuss banging at the door. All the servants were asked if they had seen the two of you. Fortunately, none of them had. We must complete our lesson immediately and get you two back safe in the harem.”

  Ara leapt up, waving the map. “But Tahirah, he’s setting a trap for Father. They’re going to ambush him. At dawn, they said.”

  Tahirah took the ripped, crumpled paper and began examining it. “We heard them,” Ara went on,
“when we were hiding in the stables. They’re planning to capture him.”

  “It’s a map of the country south of here, near Lindejarras. Here is the seal of the Castile king.” Tahirah’s finger traveled down the paper. “There it is, ‘capture the Alhambra sultan at…’ then it is ripped.

  “It was a trap all along.” She turned it over. “It does not mention the wazir—at least, the piece we have here doesn’t.” She sighed and her hands collapsed in her lap. “Too many urgencies in one day. Well, first things first. We must complete the last lesson.”

  Ara turned white. “But my father, they’ll take him as ransom, won’t they?”

  Tahirah shook her head, “No, not now. With this paper as proof, I will go to the commander of the guard. We’ll find the sultan tonight, before this trap is sprung. And without alerting the wazir.”

  Layla grabbed her hand. “But this evening is the last span of time we have to break the spell.”

  Tahirah closed her eyes and breathed deeply, her lips moving in a quick appeal to Allah. Returning to the present, she said in a voice that bordered on prayer, “Except to save the sultan, I would not leave you two alone tonight. But know I will return to you before Isha’s prayer, if at all possible.”

  Ara sat down suddenly. “What about Suleiman? Where can he stay?” She frowned at her horned friend. “I don’t know what Zoriah and Su’ah would say.”

  Layla released Tahirah’s hand and hid her worry beneath a hesitant smile. “Actually, you know exactly what they’d say.”

  Looking at the goat, Tahirah shook her head. “Let us complete the lesson, and then we will worry about how to hide, um, Suleiman. That is the least of our worries right now. Thank Allah, the beneficent, the tiles are here, just where we left them this morning. The last symmetry example.” She carefully sorted the tiles into a select pile of ten. “Here, I think this will do. Glide with a vertical mirror,” she said, laying them across the floor. “The pattern is as follows—”