Rivka put their things in the room and then stopped at the cook’s stewpot for a plate of something that looked like overcooked chicken and smelled mediocre at best. She could also tell by looking at it that it was going to be too spicy, so she heaped yogurt onto it until the cook glared at her. As if she cared.
***
Shulamit was sitting and eating her lamb kabobs and other finds from the market, when Rivka appeared with a loaded plate. “I should have done that,” Rivka commented. “Look at this.” She glared at her food.
“I bought you a mango,” said Shulamit brightly, handing her the second mango. Until that moment, she hadn’t been entirely sure whether it was Rivka’s dessert or her own midnight snack. To her surprise, she was genuinely happy that she had decided to give it to Rivka.
“Thank you, Shula!” Rivka began to attack her plate of strangeness with gusto.
Shulamit’s face froze slightly, so Rivka reminded her in a whisper, “I can’t call you Queenling here. Too risky.”
As if to illustrate her point, a group of drunk men at a nearby table had noticed them and began to heckle. “Hey! How come she’s got better food than the rest of us?” shouted one.
“They’ve got mangoes!”
“What is this swill?”
“I want some of that lamb.”
One of the men approached the women’s table. “That’s not fair. Why did he give you better food than everyone else?”
Shulamit looked up from her plate of food with an expression of deep anger, almost like a threatened animal, but before she could say anything, Rivka leapt to her defense. “She bought it in the market. Fowl makes her ill.”
“Yeah, well, this food would make anyone ill. Hand it over.”
Rivka stood up to her full height, towering over him. “You really don’t want to mess with me,” she growled at him, fingering the hilt of her sword. “Or I might have to buy you a drink with this steel.”
The man’s eyes opened into wide circles, and he backed away, stumbling. “My apologies, sir.” He went back to his table, and nobody bothered them again.
“A traveling comedian he’s expecting, not a warrior,” Rivka muttered, going back to her food. Shulamit was looking at her with an expression warm like the firelight that lit the room.
“Riv -- thank you.”
“Oh, that was nothing! Aren’t I your -- what did you say -- hired muscle?”
“No, I mean -- thank you for believing me.” She paused. “Back at home, I’m a queen. I used to be a princess. So many people think I made up my food problems to get attention, or that I’m just lying to get everyone to take my preferences more seriously.”
“Hey,” said Riv through a mouthful of chicken curry, “never underestimate your right to the things you like. You have a right to eat mangoes if you want to. Or chase women.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Shulamit, smiling with half her mouth. She appreciated Rivka’s support, but “chase” had made her feel awkward. There was a strong physical component to her longings, true, but she hoped Rivka knew that it went beyond that. She was looking for a woman to love, for the sweet mutual understanding of hearts that share each other’s secrets—not just a concubine. “But anyway, I really do get sick if I eat the wrong things, or even the right things prepared the wrong way -- near the wrong things, I mean. And I’ll get sick whether people believe me or not. Aviva was the first person to believe me -- and sometimes I feel like she’s the only person. Even though I’ve finally gotten the palace cooks to serve me food that I can eat safely, they all just think I’m being finicky.”
“No wonder you fell in love with her,” Rivka observed.
“So why did you believe me?”
Rivka smiled thoughtfully. “Because you talk to me like a human being,” she said, “and not like I’m just part of the peasant crowd beneath your feet. Because you’re not the type of person to play the game you just described. You’re interested in me and in my story -- I know there are questions you’re dying to ask and just haven’t worked up the nerve. I see it in your face. It means you see me as a person.”
They continued eating in peace, their friendship growing by the firelight like a sprouting plant under the rays of the sun.
Chapter 4: Boots
Shulamit lay in bed, wide awake because she had spent the morning sleeping, her brains slowly cooking from being up and down at the wrong times. She wasn’t comfortable in the tiny bed, and moonlight poured in through curtains that were pretty, but too sheer to be of much use. Rivka, surely worn out from riding all day, had fallen asleep within seconds of flopping down onto the other bed, so the queen was all alone in her reveries. She thought of Aviva and ached. She thought of her father and wept a little. She thought of how helpless she had felt earlier when the drunk man had challenged her in the dining area, and she wondered how the inn could possibly have the “most inviting kitchen in all of Ir Ilan” as the sign outside had claimed, if the food was really as bad as he and Rivka both seemed to think.
Wonder, wonder, wonder. Too much light. Too much awake. Nervous energy set in. She peered over at Rivka to make sure she was really sound asleep, but then chided herself -- any companion, even a sleeping one, would make it impolite to pet herself to wear herself out. Not that it would work in her current mood. Most likely, she would sob and miss Aviva instead of tiring happily.
If only she could fall asleep.
It seemed as if hours had gone by when she realized there were noises in the hallway. She listened to them for a few minutes, trying to entertain herself and take her mind off Aviva... Aba... Helpless... by imagining possible scenarios to cause the noises. Perhaps a party of guests had shown up late. But then why were there noises for a moment, and then nothing, and then more noises, and then nothing again?
In fact, the sound appeared and disappeared with regularity.
Since she wasn’t sleeping anyway, she slid out of bed. Wrapping her scarf around her shoulders, more out of modest instinct than cold, she padded quietly to the door and lowered herself to the light pouring from its base. It was set high off the floor, the hallway was illuminated for safety, so with her head against the floor, she could peer out into the hall.
Someone wearing a pair of boots walked out of one of the rooms at the far side of the hallway and shut the door. The boots stood in the hallway for a moment, then hurried to the next room. The door opened. As the person slipped inside the room, Shulamit’s heart started pounding heavily, filling her with nauseating dread as when she had first heard of her father’s accident. A few minutes later, Boots appeared again, and the behavior repeated.
Shulamit hurried over to Rivka’s bed and shook her by the shoulder. “Rivka! Wake up -- I think someone’s robbing the rooms.”
Rivka’s chest heaved deeply in the breaths of sleep. She did not wake.
“Riv!” Shulamit hissed, right into her ear. Rivka had an interesting, unfamiliar scent, possibly from running around in armor all day. Then, because nothing else had worked, the queen took Rivka’s face in both her hands and shook her head slightly but urgently.
Rivka’s eyes remained closed, and her body was still languid. The word “Isaac,” escaped from her lips like a piece of ash falling on a campsite after the fire was out.
Shulamit could hear the noises getting closer. She smacked Rivka hard in the chest. “Wake! Up!” She isn’t waking up. And he’s going to come in here and--
Whipping her head around quickly, she scanned the room for ideas. At the edge of the room, there was a heavy wooden box where the proprietors of the inn kept extra bedding.
Gritting her teeth in aggravation, she stomped across the room toward the box and tried to lift it. Yeah, right.
She scurried back to the crack under the door and looked across. The intruder was five doors down. Okay. No more time to waste.
Still on the floor, Shulamit slid herself to the far side of the wooden box. With all her might, with all her righteous anger and all her fear, she
pushed, pushed, pushed until the box began to slide. Muscles burning, she didn't allow herself to pause until the box completely blocked her door.
The door beside hers opened and closed.
She collapsed on top of the box, racking with silent sobs. Aba! Aba, protect me.
Someone tried the door.
It remained shut.
My God is my shepherd; I do not lack. In lush vegetation He does cause me to recline...
Eventually, the intruder gave up and went on to the next room over.
Shulamit was still.
***
She woke up the next morning at the sun’s first light, cramped and sore, after only a few hours of sleep on top of the wooden box. She tried once again to rouse Rivka, but the warrior was still deeply asleep. There was a lot of chatter outside in the hallway, so she felt safe removing the box from the door once she had dressed so that she could venture outside. It took twice as long because she had calmed down, but since there was no immediate threat this time that didn't matter.
The guests of the inn were milling about like ants out of a kicked pile of sand, and many of them looked angry or sad. Here and there she caught phrases:
“Ten thousand it was worth! And never mind that, it was a gift from my late husband! My late husband!”
“--Never be able to find another like it.”
“How will we pay our bill?”
“He took my earrings!”
“I’m missing fifty. What about you?”
“We should have stayed in that other--”
“I didn’t hear a thing!”
“To think I should finally sleep soundly, only to wake up to this.”
“I wonder why he left my necklace?”
“Maybe it’s not real.”
As Shulamit feared, the hotel had been robbed. Nobody had been cleaned out entirely, but the man with the boots had been in and out of every room. Or woman. Ever since meeting Rivka she had been unsure if everyone was the sex they dressed to be.
She scratched her head thoughtfully, concentrating.
Rivka finally appeared in the common area carrying both women’s bags, where everyone had gathered to discuss the crime, when the sun was bright in the sky. “I can’t understand what happened,” she told Shulamit. “I wake up at dawn. We won’t be able to make it to the temple by nightfall. I’m not like this. I don’t understand.”
“I think I do,” the young queen said under her breath. “You remember how spicy dinner was yesterday?”
“Dinner was awful.”
“This inn bragged about its food. But what I got from the street vendor was much better.”
“Maybe they’ve got a substitute cook.”
“I don’t think so,” said Shulamit. “I think the cook’s the one who robbed everyone. I think the spice in the food was covering up the taste of a sleeping drug.”
Rivka’s eyes narrowed into angry little slits, and her hands curled. “That shtik drek.” More northern invective followed.
Shulamit swallowed uncomfortably, not recognizing any of the words, but the tone was unmistakable; Rivka’s radiating rage was unsettling her nerves even more. “I had my own food, so I was awake. I saw him creeping around from under the door. Well, I saw a pair of boots, anyway.”
“You were awake? When he came in our room? What did he take? Were you pretending to be asleep?”
Shulamit blinked. “Actually, I blocked the door with that big wooden box.”
Rivka lifted an eyebrow, clearly impressed.
“You wouldn’t wake up! I was scared!”
“If he came in the room and found you awake he might have killed you,” Rivka observed. “Everyone else in the inn was asleep, and cooks have knives. Plus, you don’t know how to defend yourself. I was going to talk to you about fixing that.”
“You there! Stop talking.” The innkeeper called out to them. They quickly straightened up and ended the conversation. “We’re going to search everyone,” he informed the grumpy guests, “because I locked the door last night and only just unlocked it this morning to receive the milk delivery from the goat girl.”
“You could have stolen everything yourself and given it to the goat girl! She’s your accomplice!” called out one of the guests.
“No, I saw the transaction,” said another guest. “He gave her two coins, and she gave him two bottles.”
“I saw too.”
“I hope we’ve settled that,” growled the innkeeper. “The search begins now.”
“They’re going to find your breasts,” said Shulamit under her breath.
“Shut up,” Rivka barked.
It turned out that too many bulky things had been stolen for a search that thorough, but both women still breathed a sigh of relief when they had passed the innkeeper’s seal of approval. They watched intently while the cook was searched, but nothing was found on him either.
“Are you done yet?” the cook bellyached. “I have to get back to breakfast. Some of us have honest work to do around here, you know.
Shulamit’s eyes flew open wide. “Rivka!” she whispered furiously to her companion, forgetting to use the male name in her excitement. “He hid everything at the bottom of the cauldron. It’s a perfect hiding place for metal goods!”
Without another thought, Rivka stomped across the room to the enormous stewpot and crashed its contents across the floor. Guests fled from the wave of boiling water and undercooked couscous.
And necklaces and earrings and coins bearing pictures of Shulamit’s father.
“Yes, some of us have honest work,” the innkeeper observed with a lifted eyebrow. Two of the guests seized hold of the cook on either side.
“We are so done here,” growled Rivka. She threw a handful of coins onto the table in front of the innkeeper and stormed off toward the door. Shulamit scurried after her, stifling nervous laughter.
Rivka didn’t speak until they were already on the horse and moving again. “We won’t make it there by nightfall thanks to that nudnik. I can’t believe he drugged me. We’ll have to camp.”
“That’s okay,” said Shulamit. “What about breakfast?”
“There’s dried goat and dried apricots in my bag. Will that work?”
“Probably,” said Shulamit. Then she started to giggle. “You were fantastic back there! I’ll never forget the sight of that tidal wave of couscous.”
“You were pretty fantastic yourself, Queenling,” said Rivka, calming down maybe five percent. “The way you worked out what had happened -- you’re like a little detective!”
Shulamit grinned. She felt her father would be proud of her that day.
Then her eyes widened again and blinked rapidly. “Rivka, if the robber had come into the room and found me awake and killed me, I bet I’d have been in the couscous too!”
“Talk about wheat intolerance.”
Even the horse seemed to laugh at that one.
Chapter 5: The Temple
“Sorry today’s been a bit of a failure.”
“Please,” asserted Shulamit, leaning all the way back in the water to submerge her head down to the hairline. “We caught a criminal this morning, didn’t get killed, put a few miles behind us, and now we’re bathing in this beautiful creek. If this is a failure, I’m looking forward to more of them.”
Rivka scrubbed her face vigorously with both hands. “You caught a criminal. I overslept because I got drugged by some putzveytig who made us late. And now what does the sun do? Shines hotter than usual, and we’re stuck here, getting even later.”
“But can’t we just ride the dragon? Flying is faster than walking, isn’t it?” Shulamit felt awkward around a naked Rivka and was keeping to herself near the trees at the shoreline.
“We were already supposed to be flying,” Rivka admitted. “That’s why I let her rest yesterday, when all we did was walk. Oh, well.”
“It’s okay,” Shulamit reassured her. “We’ll still get there tomorrow.” She squeezed the water out of her long, th
ick black hair. “Is her ability to turn into a dragon the reason she’s so big?”
“I guess so,” said Rivka. “And it’s a good thing, too, or else she wouldn’t be able to carry both of us.”
“Are there many dragon-horses in the north? I’ve read about your country and heard stories, but I don’t remember anything like that.”
“Neither had I,” said Rivka. “I don’t know who bred her. To be honest, I stole her. She belonged to my enemies. But she’s been steadfastly loyal to me, so maybe they mistreated her.”
Shulamit gazed out onto the bank of the creek, where Dragon was grazing peacefully underneath a date palm. She was a large, beautiful, muscled creature, with no signs of her hidden powers save for her size. Somehow, her enormity felt appropriate because her mistress was herself so much larger than Shulamit and her people, so the queen hadn’t even questioned it. “So you won her in battle?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” Rivka dunked her entire head in the creek, then whipped it out again, her wet yellow hair flinging water everywhere wildly. “My family’s always been at war with another family for control of our little valley. They attacked us, and we -- despite what my uncle wanted we should believe -- attacked them. I took Dragon from them one night as they tried to storm our castle. Without her help I probably wouldn’t have lived.”
Still shy of beholding Rivka’s apparently unselfconscious nudity, Shulamit looked away, wondering about the granite tone that had come into Rivka’s voice. “That sounds terrifying.”
“It was the worst night of my life,” said Rivka. “And I’m done talking about it right now.” Her voice had gone grave.
“Sorry,” Shulamit said hastily, mentally groping around for another topic. The name Isaac flashed into her mind, a remnant of the previous night’s horrors, and she wondered if he -- or his death -- had anything to do with the painful topic. She was too scared of upsetting Rivka to ask. “How long have you been a warrior on the road?”
The Second Mango (The Mangoverse Book 1) Page 3
