The Stone Lions

by Gwen Dandridge

  “No, wait, I see it,” Ara jumped in. “May I describe it?”

  The mathemagician smiled her slow smile. “Of course, child, go ahead.”

  “Well, it starts with a triangle that already has flipped over a vertical line.” Ara looked at Tahirah, who nodded encouragement. “And then, well, it glides to a new position and flips over a horizontal line.”

  Suleiman butted her gently with his horn. “That’s my girl. Glide, flip.” He bobbed his head emphatically.

  Layla lay on her stomach to more closely observe the pattern. “But it also rotates. It’s like the double reflection in that if you look at it upside down it looks the same.” She looked up, her eyes bright with confidence.

  Everyone turned to the dainty dark-eyed girl. Suleiman blinked. Tahirah shook her head in amazement. “The girl who thought she couldn’t do mathematics. Layla, that is very clever of you. Yes, it could be seen as rotating. In fact that is one of the differences between the glide reflection symmetry and this one. Even though there is a rotation, the way we define the movement of this symmetry is in the glide and flip movements.

  “The other difference is that this pattern always starts with a symmetrical object, one that reflects. That object then glides and flips again. The glide reflection always starts with an asymmetric object.”

  Bang! bang! The noise echoed all the way from the front of the palace, through the closed doors and into Tahirah’s room. Gazes meeting, the girls started to rise.

  “You must leave,” Tahirah whispered before calling, “Yes, who is it?”

  The servant’s voice sounded frightened. “It’s the wazir again. He demands to see you, Sitti. What should we do? He’s banging on the front door, and soldiers are with him.”

  Ara and Layla blanched and the goat backed up toward the window. Tahirah’s lips were white, but she kept her voice even to her servant while anxiously pushing the children and Suleiman to the window. “Send a runner to search out the sultan’s other advisors, and then please invite the wazir in. Inform him that I will be out as soon as I am presentable.”

  Ara grabbed Tahirah’s hand. “We heard the wazir talking. We think the last broken symmetry may be in the Court of the Lions.”

  Bam! Bam! The noise came again.

  Tahirah pulled away. “Right now, you need to be safe. Get to the harem as soon as possible. It’s the only place he can’t go.”

  “But what about the Court of the Lions? The last symmetry?”

  Tahirah’s body was turned toward her door as if expecting it to open. “Look in the harem. Possibly the symmetry is there. If not…” She left it unsaid. The Alhambra would fall.

  “I’ll contact you as soon as I return. Hurry,” Tahirah pressed. “Climb down as quickly and quietly as you can. The wazir has men checking each door. I’ll distract him as long as I can. Here.” She handed Ara a shapeless gray hijab. “Take this. It belongs to one of my handmaidens. Perhaps one of you can disguise yourself in it.

  “Suleiman, you’re going to have to jump. As soon as you’re safely away, I’ll go to the door to meet the wazir.”

  Ara climbed down first, with Layla right behind. Suleiman, after a slight pause, closed his eyes and launched himself from the window ledge, landing with an “ouff” on the ground. Ara bent over Suleiman, reassuring herself that he was not hurt before the trio sprinted for the gardens.

  All three of them were out of breath. They stopped for a rest beside a small stream deep in the Alhambra. In the low light of dusk, the gracefully spreading trees looked ominous—fingers and limbs reaching out. The one-eyed stare of the moon, rising up from the horizon, glared at them as if in reproach. Even the magical sound of the nightingales felt more akin to a dirge than a ballad.

  Suleiman, bruised from his adventures, bent stiffly to lap water from the stream before collapsing next to Ara. She listened to him mutter over and over to himself, “But what lesson could I learn as a goat?”

  She wrapped her arms about her chest to ward off the chill. A pattern on the low wall near the stream had caught her eye as she stumbled over a hedge. A glide with a vertical mirror, but not a broken one.

  Layla, shivering with fear and cold, tugged Tahirah’s hijab up around her shoulders. “We’ve got to get into the harem.”

  Ara rubbed her nose in frustration and exhaustion. “Yes, but how? We can’t just dance in with a goat! If we reach the entrance, we could get in but for Suleiman…” She looked at her cousin contemplatively, and then back at Suleiman. Amusement danced across her face.

  Layla looked at her in growing alarm. “Whatever you’re thinking, I’m against it.”

  “Suleiman, can you stand on your hind legs?”

  He barely looked up from his exhausted sprawl. “Yes, most goats can. That’s how they strip leaves off trees for food.”

  “Could you walk on your hind legs by yourself?”

  Something about her voice caught his attention. “Why do you ask?” He tracked her glance to the crumpled hijab. Then he rose to all four feet, quivering. “I won’t! That’s, well—that’s wrong!”

  “You have to! We will hold you up, won’t we, Layla?”

  Layla stared at her cousin in both admiration and horror. “Ara, if we are caught—”

  “If we get caught by the wazir, we are truly dead,” she said. “We might be able to get into the harem this way. There’s no way we can walk in with a goat!”

  Chapter 39

  Tahirah drew herself together. Her power was contained and focused. Control was the key here, control and mastery of herself. She needed to buy time for the girls to escape, and yet it was imperative that she warn the sultan before he was ambushed. She wrapped herself in her white cloak, opened the door and walked down the staircase to the room below. The wazir was there, glaring at her servants. Six of the Alhambra guards were behind him. “Seize her,” he said. “She is a witch and a traitor. She hides unnatural things in her room. Even the sultan’s daughter is under her spells.”

  Tahirah sighed as she might with a particularly difficult child. “This is unnecessary, al-Rahmid. You overstep yourself. I am under the sultan’s protection. No one, not even you, can defy that.” She smiled at the guards, who hesitated to approach a woman and one so well respected at that. “Please, go forth and search. There is nothing to find. And if two of you would stay near—” She searched for the right words. “al-Rahmid is not himself.”

  He turned red. “Witch, you will await the sultan’s return in the dungeons.”

  She raised her palm toward the approaching guards and quietly sat down. Her voice lowered, magic rolling out to resonate with their sense of honor. “There is no need for you to accost me, a woman not of your family.” She looked at each of them in turn. “As I am accused of something that cannot be proved, I would not put you in jeopardy of our laws. I will not try to escape or run. Here I am, and I will remain here until the Commander of the Army comes. He has been summoned and will be here forthwith. If you wish to wait with me, I will have tea ordered.” She gave them an expectant look before sending a servant scurrying off for tea. The guards shifted nervously and glanced back at the wazir.

  Eyes fixed on her, he spoke to the guard, his voice menacing, “Leave us. Two of you stand guard at the door. Let no one enter or leave.” The guards cast a quick look at Tahirah, who looked serenely back, and then they bowed out of the room.

  “al-Rahmid,” Tahirah said once they were alone. “Do not continue down this path.”

  “Enough, woman!” He took three quick strides across the room. But through the walls, a ghostly lion slithered, and then another, until all twelve lions had entered. A low steady growl came from them as they circled the room. Tahirah breathed a sigh of relief. Though the wazir’s magic still held, it was slipping. The lions no longer slept, and their presence gave her confidence. She tapped the ground lightly with her foot. Her magic spilled across the room, and the floor before her cracked and glowed red-hot. The wazir came to a halt a pace away staring at t
he fire and the lions.

  “This is not well done, al-Rahmid. You forget who I am. I know what you plan. It cannot be.” She pierced him with her gaze. “The time has not yet come for the fall of Granada, and you are not to be the agent of it. All you are doing is causing pain and suffering, betraying those who trusted you. Turn from this now. There is still hope for you.”

  As he stood, flickers of flame inched toward him, slowly circling round. The lions roared louder. Fear and pride crossed his face. “This will not contain me for long. What are you scheming?”

  The door thundered with blows.

  “Sitti, Tahirah, are you within?” Layla’s father, the Commander of the Army, called out.

  She looked steadfastly at al-Rahmid. “Choose now, and choose carefully.”

  His face contorting, he backed away. “I have chosen. This day is mine!” He turned and strode quickly out the easterly door.

  Chapter 40

  Ara carefully evaluated her work. The creature dressed in a hijab stared back at her. One hoof, hidden in the folds of material, lightly rested on Layla’s shoulder. “Walk forward again and, this time, keep your tail tucked under. It looks peculiar when it sticks out.”

  Two eyes glared daggers at her. Layla started forward with Suleiman clomping after. Ara sighed. “Can’t you be more graceful? Don’t hunch over so much. You don’t walk much like a girl.”

  Layla muttered softly, “He doesn’t move like anything human.”

  Suleiman tucked his tail and tried to stand upright. He snarled under his breath, and took two slow, tottering steps. “This isn’t going to work. The guards will see right through this.”

  Ara grimaced. “It will have to do. At least it’s near dark. Let’s go. Keep your head down. No one would believe those eyes are human.”

  They rounded the corner. A guard coming from the other direction cried, “Halt, Sultan’s child. The wazir wishes you brought to him.”

  Ara gulped and forgot to breathe, her wits too frightened to work. Just as she opened her mouth, hoping some useful words would spill out, a small, shrouded figure prodded the guards back with her cane.

  “Since when do you take orders from Abd al-Rahmid? And since when are women’s affairs any of his never-mind?” Rabab, enshrouded in her dark brown hijab, stood her ground while the three cohorts continued their unsteady progress across the walk. Zoriah stood behind, her face hidden but her eyes unwavering. Secure in her rights, her posture defied the guard to harm the old woman.

  “I…I…Sitti, I must,” the guard stammered, shifting from foot to foot.

  “You must!” Rabab said shaking a finger under his nose. “You must mind your own business and stay out of the harem’s affairs. Have you added bullying girls to your work?”

  The guard flinched before the hunched old woman. “But, the wazir ordered me to bring—”

  “And, in the sultan’s absence, I am ordering you to go about your business,” Rabab retorted as the trio hurried through the doorway. “No one who isn’t of the harem is to enter,” she pointed out, “and no man has the right to meddle in our affairs.” She placed herself in the doorway, blocking his view after Ara, Layla and Suleiman entered. “Now, leave us in peace.” Turning her back on him, she walked away. Zoriah firmly closed the door on the gawking guard.

  From the doorway, Ara saw a cluster of children inspecting Suleiman. Hasan looked quizzically at the robed goat, tilting his head to one side. Jada’s eyes dropped down to Suleiman’s feet. Ara backed across the room and whispered to Layla to disappear and meet her later. Too much attention was being given to Suleiman, and Zoriah was sure to ask pointed questions.

  Bam! bam! The great door shook. Zoriah called the eunuch harem guards and directed them to the door.

  As soon as they were in place, she crossed the cool stone floor to stand before Ara. “What is going on?” Her eyebrows formed a frowning V. “Where did Layla and the woman go? Who is she?”

  Still fuming, Rabab removed her hijab. Her white hair was plaited tightly against her head, her mouth set in a fierce line. “This is our place. Who does that guard think he is, anyway?”

  Zoriah was not to be distracted. “Ara, what is going on here? Why does the wazir seek you?”

  Ara silently prayed to Allah, the merciful. “Please, Zoriah, you must help. This is no game. The wazir has set Father up for an ambush. Even now, Tahirah is riding off to prevent his capture. The Castilians are waiting in the mountains to attack. You must alert the guards. Please, what I say is true,” Ara’s voice choked, desperate to make Zoriah understand.

  She turned white but her unblinking eyes bored into Ara. “My husband rode south. Is it truly a trap?” She gave Ara a doubtful look. “How would you know?”

  Ara willed her to believe. “We heard the Castilian soldiers speaking when we were hidden. Tahirah has the written proof of the ambush plot.”

  Zoriah nodded, no longer skeptical, and moments later she and Rabab were organizing the women and eunuch guards of the harem. Hasan was hurried off to roust the rest of the harem.

  Rabab turned to fuss over the exhausted girl. “Where is Layla and…?” Her head tilted as if she were trying to place the new woman.

  “We’ve been hiding. They went to get food and rest.”

  Rabab gently held her for a moment. “This is too great a burden for you. You too must get some rest. My dear, you’re just a girl.” She looked at her with deep concern. “And one nigh on to collapse. I know you’re worried for your father. Believe me, all will be well. Your father is no one’s fool.”

  She patted Ara’s cheek. “Now go. We have everything under control. You have done your part. Tomorrow will see no Castilians in the Alhambra.”

  Ara breathed a sigh. Inshallah, her father would survive this night, and the wazir’s treacheries would be exposed. Now she needed to find the final symmetry. And hope that Suleiman would change back to himself.

  She raced through the harem, looking for Layla. Time was flashing past. Rounding the corner at full tilt, she careened over Suleiman and landed head first on the floor.

  Suleiman, all angles, sat hunched against the wall, well wrapped in the now foul-smelling and sweaty hijab.

  “We found a glide with a vertical mirror,” Layla said, pointing to a pattern low on the ground. “But it is complete.”

  Suleiman looked up, despair showing deep within his triangular eyes. “The evening is upon us, little time is left. We may need to face that this last task cannot be done.”

  “We can’t fail now. The Alhambra mustn’t fall.” Ara scanned the tiled ceiling that arched above her and whispered, “And you must be returned to your original body.”

  Both her friends seemed to gain hope from her words. Layla pushed away from the wall. “Let’s start again.”

  Ara nodded. “Where have you searched so far?”

  “Suleiman and I have been dodging guards and women. This is all we’ve found.”

  The trio thoroughly searched the room. Example upon example of symmetries pranced across the walls, even another glide rotation, but nowhere did they see a broken one. They scurried from room to room, checking for people before they entered. Ara was sure with each new room that the spell would be broken. And in each room she noticed more and more tiny cracks in the walls.

  Time edged on. Bedtime had come and gone. The girls, exhausted before, were now dragging.

  They stopped to rest for what seemed only a few quick breaths. “What if,” Layla said, “there is no broken glide rotation in the harem?”

  Ara slumped to the floor “No, it must be here! At least one. We’re so close. That can’t be. It just can’t.”

  She forced herself to go to the kitchen and grab some food. As she ran back to her friends, a guard standing against the wall snapped to attention.

  “Sultan’s child, a message came for you.”

  Ara blinked hopefully. “A message? From my father?”

  “No, from the Sufi mathemagician. A messenger handed this to th
e guard at the door. I have been looking for you for some time.”

  He handed her a small piece of parchment sealed with wax. She ripped it open. The hastily scrawled message almost shouted: “Meet me in the Court of the Lions by midnight, before Isha’s prayer.

  She looked up, confused. “Tahirah was here? Did you see her?”

  “No, child of the Alhambra. Her messenger came and said it was important.” He coughed uneasily. “The slave, Su’ah, did not know where you were. She is worried and scolding. You should go there now.”

  Ara looked again at the message, breathing a sigh of relief. Tahirah was back. Or was she? Why would she not come directly to them?

  Could this be a trick, or was this the solution?

  Soon it would be midnight and their time would be up. Would it be worth the danger to try? The Court of the Lions was outside the doors of the Palace of the Myrtles. How were they to get there without getting caught? All the guards were alert. She frowned. When had Tahirah sent this message? And where was she now?

  “Please tell Su’ah that Layla and I are fine and not to be angry with me. We will be in bed before she knows it.”

  After thanking the guard again, she returned to Layla and Suleiman and made a decision. “We’re going to leave the harem.”

  Chapter 41

  Torches flickered in the light breeze. The slender, arched columns, so graceful during the day, looked foreboding in the gloom of night. The moon was full and bright to light their way but kept disappearing behind a veil of clouds. Stars flickered as if in warning. Ara and Layla, with Suleiman dragging behind, slunk into the courtyard. They jumped at every sound. The lions were not at their places. The bare fountain looked naked and exposed. Holding hands, the girls inched forward, carefully skirting the central fountain and keeping inside the shadow of the walls. Ara whispered in Layla ear. “This doesn’t feel right. Where’s Tahirah?”

  A body separated itself from one of the columns. The wazir. He smiled and waved his hand. Dark, contorted shapes poured forth in fits and starts. Magic rained on the three companions, sealing all exits from the room and hobbling their movements. The arched doorways were blocked by a thick, transparent mucus that rippled and undulated.