The Second Mango (The Mangoverse Book 1)

by Shira Glassman

  “Two years,” said Rivka, “during which I fought in three wars, rescued some people, captured some criminals, and served as temporary bodyguard where need be.”

  “Where did you learn to fight?”

  “I spent a year as the gatekeeper in a bawdy house, if you can believe it,” said Rivka with a smirk. “Every time a warrior passed through its doors, I paid him to teach me a new skill, or give me sparring practice.”

  Shulamit giggled in evidence of her young years. “I don’t know whether to wish I was you or not!”

  “We’re about to introduce you to a whole temple full of women, so how about not,” said Rivka. “Although while we’re on the subject, you could stand to learn to defend yourself. One never knows. And think of last night.”

  “But I’m small.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. There are fighting techniques, used for defense, where agility and a clear head mean more than brute strength. I’ll teach you, if you let me.”

  Shulamit froze. Rivka was still naked, and she would not -- not! -- let herself peek. “You don’t mean right now, do you?”

  “Of course not. It’s far too hot. Unless you want a demonstration here in the water--”

  “No! I mean -- oh, dear.” She fidgeted. “Thank you for offering. Maybe at the campsite tonight?”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Despite their best intentions, further aggravations plagued their journey that day. Deep into the afternoon, thunder opened up the sky and turned the ground into a sea of mud. The women huddled together atop the horse under the pelting rain. “It’s not the safest way, but we have to fly,” Rivka told her. “It’s the only chance we have of reaching dry ground by nightfall.”

  “Whatever you think is best!”

  The horse transformed and carried the women into the splashing sky. The deep-green wings beat valiantly against the wind, and both Rivka and Shulamit cheered her each time she refused to let the powerful gusts carry her off course. Twice, lightning split the sky and Shulamit yelped after each.

  The most terrifying moment, however, was when the dragon’s strength began to flag. “She’s flying lower!” Shulamit cried frantically.

  “Come on, Dragon,” Rivka urged. “See that rocky ground over there? That’s all. That’s all. Good girl.” She petted the deep green-black scales.

  With renewed energy, Dragon gave it a final push. As soon as they reached solid ground, she landed and almost instantly turned -- no, collapsed -- back into her horse form. “Good girl,” Rivka repeated. “Come on, let’s get down and let her rest.”

  After a good long rest, during which the rain thankfully died down, Rivka and Shulamit walked beside the horse down a rocky path. They were still some distance from the temple, but there was no reason they couldn’t keep walking until nightfall. Besides, Rivka had mentioned they might find an area where it hadn’t rained, so they they’d have firewood for their camp.

  That night, as promised, Rivka showed Shulamit a few self-defense basics. In the glow of the campfire they eventually succeeded in lighting, Shulamit practiced throwing Rivka’s closed fists off her wrists by twisting her arms in a spiral. “Another thing you need to remember,” said Rivka, “is not to let your feelings about your attacker interfere with your defense.”

  “You mean, if I like the person, and he tries to hurt me, I might not defend myself as well?”

  Rivka nodded. “Not only that -- another thing that could happen is that you hate him so much that it takes your focus away from your performance.”

  “Oh, okay, good point.”

  The lesson was a hard workout, and between its vigors and the trials of the day, both women were ready for sleep before long. Shulamit’s mind was as full of reveries as her belly was full of dried meat and dried fruit, and she lay there imagining the future.

  After all, tomorrow they would meet the holy women. Though there was no guarantee that any of them would be the husband-fleeing lover of her own sex who Shulamit sought, she still anticipated with great relish the idea of being around such virtuous and mysterious women for a few days. She thought lots of different types of women were beautiful, but it was a good woman she sought above all other concerns. Aviva was fragrant and adventurous and made her laugh with her odd pronouncements, but at the core, it was her warmth and kindness Shulamit missed most. Sometimes the ladies-in-waiting treated her as if she were a curiosity, their friendship singed with amusement. Aviva never laughed at her unless Shulamit was already laughing at herself, and she had seemed genuinely interested in what she was talking about instead of listening politely because she was royal.

  Shulamit was sure a diverse flock of personalities would inhabit the temple, but beneath their differences, all the women there must have that same inner goodness. Nobody could make their kind of sacrifice without it. She imagined a beautiful sea of mango-colored robes, dyed with turmeric, cloaking delicate, graceful movements and crowned with smiling faces. Maybe they would welcome her with flowers. She had brought a donation for the temple, at any rate. She might be there on extremely frivolous business, but she was still their queen and wanted to do the right thing.

  She glanced over at Rivka and noticed the muscles in her face were twitching in her sleep. The last thought Shulamit remembered before succumbing to slumber was to remember the name she’d heard Rivka murmur the night before, and she wondered if Rivka was once again dreaming about her past.

  The morning to which they awoke was white and silent. The sky was bleached of all color like forgotten bones, and there was no wind to rustle the leaves around them. Rivka packed up the camp without speaking, while Shulamit fussed obsessively over the braided knots at the back of her head, undoing them and redoing them one after the other several times. Finally, they headed off down the road toward the temple, Shulamit growing more nervous with each footfall of the horse beneath them. She really, really wanted to make a good impression.

  When they got to the temple, they hopped down from the horse, and Shulamit turned to her companion. “How do I look?”

  Rivka smiled. “You look great. Don’t be nervous. Confidence is attractive.”

  Shulamit grinned. “In that case, onward!”

  They led the horse inside the temple gates.

  Under the white sky, Shulamit beheld the stillness of the courtyard. A dragonfly landing on a small pool of water on the ground attracted their attention simply because it was the only moving thing in sight. The rest of the courtyard was dominated by somewhere between a dozen and two dozen life-sized statues of women in the simple robes of holy women.

  Rivka and Shulamit left the horse by the entrance and walked down the central path, looking at the statues. There was something terrifying about them -- they were incredibly realistic, and were completely free of dirt, dust, or animal leavings, as if they had just been installed before the women’s arrival. Each one was different, and they seemed to be placed haphazardly around the yard.

  “Why are their faces so...” Shulamit asked in a hushed voice.

  “This one looks like she’s had the life scared out of her. What a thing to carve,” Rivka commented.

  “This one looks angry. I’m scared of her!”

  “Their poses look so natural, so -- lifelike.” Rivka furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. I thought you said there’s no art in holy houses.”

  “Something like this would distract from their meditation and simplicity,” agreed Shulamit. “And no holy house could afford statuary this well-crafted.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me the holy women carved these,” said Rivka. “I won’t believe it. Not with expressions like these.”

  For every single stone face was wracked with pain. In some, it was the pain of anger, of rage, and one statue even looked as if it were ready to attack any observer. In some, it was terror, and in some, merely sadness. Some of the faces were older, and some more youthful.

  Shulamit had paused beside a younger face that was shaped in an expression of sad res
ignation. “She’s so beautiful,” she murmured, reaching out to gently caress the stone shoulder.

  “I don’t like it,” said Rivka, turning away. “Ho! Who’s there?”

  An aged woman had appeared from inside the temple, her yellow-orange robe hanging from her frail, bony body as if it had blown into a tree branch during the previous afternoon’s storm. “Peace, my son. Peace, my daughter.”

  “Peace to you,” said Rivka and Shulamit together, and bowed their heads in respect.

  “I’ve prayed for your arrival for many months,” said the woman. “I’m all alone here and couldn’t go for help.”

  “Help? Why? What’s happened here?” Rivka’s hand flew to her sword hilt instinctively.

  “Please, sit down and have tea with me, my son,” she replied. “I’ll explain everything. You must help us. We have nobody, and we have no money. But you have been sent by God.” She turned around and led them inside the temple with faltering steps.

  “I hope this isn’t a trap,” Shulamit whispered as they followed.

  “Shhh.” Rivka nodded toward her waist, indicating her sword. Shulamit knew that even if it was a trap, Rivka had everything under control.

  They sat on simple cushions facing the old woman and let her serve them tea, and then listened as they drank.

  “My name is Tamar. I’m the oldest woman here. That is why I’m the only one who wasn’t turned to stone when the sorcerer came to steal a wife.”

  Rivka spewed tea and rocked forward. “What?!”

  Shulamit covered her face with her hands. “Oh, dear Lord.”

  “How long ago was this?” Rivka asked.

  “I’ve lost the days, my son,” said Tamar sadly. “I’m old and brittle, and I do what I can, but it’s not much, not anymore. Each day I tend my sisters. I brush the dirt from their bodies, and sing to them, and tell them I love them. I clean away anything the animals have left, and I pray to God that someone will come and deliver us before age takes me and they’re left untended and stone forever.”

  “You said there was a sorcerer?”

  “Yes, my son. He came to us in the guise of a rabbi, but once he was inside, he tried to seduce my sisters. When he realized that none of us would break our vow of celibacy, he got very angry and regained his true form. In the courtyard during our morning prayers he asked us one by one, one last time, if we’d be the woman who would come to him, and we all refused. His anger has been our curse these many days. I alone was spared, because he had no interest in one so old. I thank God for my age, for it has kept me safe to see to their care.”

  “That sounds absolutely terrifying,” said Shulamit. “Those poor women!”

  The old woman took her by the hands. “And that’s why you must help us, my child. That’s why you’re here.”

  “How can we right this wrong?” Rivka’s brow was deeply furrowed, her stare intense.

  “Go to the sorcerer,” said Sister Tamar. “Go to him, and fight him, and win the elixir that blights all curses. I’ll show you the way on the map. Only then will my sisters be free, and safe, for I’m failing... my son, I’m failing.”

  Rivka looked down at her tea thoughtfully. “I’m in the hire of the queen. I can’t make my own decisions while on her coin.”

  “But we have no time,” Tamar pleaded. “I have few days. I don’t know how many, but once I’m gone, they’ll be forgotten and lost and uncared for. We’re isolated, and nobody comes here by accident -- they’ll never be found. Surely she’ll have compassion if you were to undertake this task and then beg her forgiveness afterwards. She’ll understand.”

  “Ask her yourself.”

  “Ask her?

  Rivka turned toward Shulamit, who nodded slightly.

  Tamar’s eyes grew wide. “Your Majesty! I didn’t know! Forgive me for offering only my humble tea, but it’s all I have.”

  “Then it’s all I need,” Shulamit reassured her. “Riv, can’t we rescue the holy women?”

  “It’s your decision, Your Majesty,” said Rivka, growing more formal since they were now around another person who knew Shulamit’s rank.

  “But how could we leave them?!”

  “It’ll be dangerous. It won’t be anything like traveling around visiting temples,” said Rivka. “You’ll get a taste of my real life, which doesn’t usually include queens and pretty lilac scarves made of silk.”

  Shulamit also understood the words she wasn’t saying, which was This part of the adventure is probably not going to include finding you a sweetheart. “I know. We don’t have a choice. We came here, and now we’re the only ones who can fix this mess.”

  Rivka smiled so broadly it was obvious even though the lower half of her face was covered in cloth. She held out her hand to Tamar. “Then we have ourselves a pledge. We’ll start right away.”

  Chapter 6: Preparations

  “Starting right away” meant from that moment forward they would be in the service of Sister Tamar, not that they finished their tea and immediately hopped onboard Dragon. Rivka had lots of questions to ask about the sorcerer before they set out. She followed Tamar as the old woman toddled around the garden, meticulously polishing each of her stone sisters with a cloth.

  Shulamit followed them outside and heard her asking about the sorcerer’s appearance, about his manner of speaking and his behavior, about his seduction techniques, about whether he raised his voice or became very quiet when angered, and anything else that came up. “I have to know everything you can tell me about him before I meet him in combat,” Rivka explained.

  “Of course, my son,” said Tamar.

  Rivka took one of the cloths from Tamar’s bucket of water and helped her polish the statues as she listened to the old woman’s stories. Altogether, they made a shocking tale of a group of kind, trusting souls betrayed by a manipulative liar. He had tried a different approach with each woman, waiting until he had gotten to know the diverse personalities of the cloister and then tailoring his words and behavior to the occasion. He’d started with the most vulnerable -- the youngest and those who still felt some ambivalence about their vows.

  “With some of us,” said Tamar, shaking her finger knowingly and pausing in her work, “he thought we might already have talked about him. He started right off the mark with a little fiction about how he was a hunted man for a reputation he didn’t deserve. He wanted to make sure that if any of us told the others what he had tried, that she wouldn’t be believed.”

  “Such a mensch, he’s not,” said Rivka dryly.

  “We were very unfortunate,” Tamar agreed. “Excuse me, my son. I have to go have a little private moment. I’ll return.”

  “You’re so thorough,” Shulamit observed once they were alone. “I’m impressed!”

  “Well, I do need to know all of this,” said Rivka, “and later on we need to go look at some maps so we’ll know how to get to the sorcerer’s hold in the mountains. But I’m also hanging around because I wanted to help her, and doing it while we talk saves her dignity.”

  By the time Tamar had come back, Shulamit had found a third cloth and was vigorously cleaning statues too.

  She came to the beautiful, sad-faced novice she’d noted earlier. Tenderly she wiped swaths of water across the statue’s feet and wondered if the woman trapped inside could feel it, or sense her in any other way. “I don’t know who you are,” she whispered, “but if there’s any way I can bring you comfort in there, I’ll try.”

  Shulamit’s hands were slower and gentler on this one than on the others, and she couldn’t help wondering what the woman was like. Had she come here out of deep religious conviction and a desire to serve her fellow humans? Or was she living within these walls in order to hide from the outside world? Did she like to read, and if so, did she prefer stories or lessons? With a rush of heat to her cheeks, Shulamit realized she couldn’t bring herself to polish the woman’s entire body -- not her bosom. She knew she would enjoy it and couldn’t live with the guilt of reveling in such a
moment at someone else’s expense. Especially if the woman was awake inside the stone. “Riv?”

  “Your Majesty?”

  “We’re switching.”

  Rivka lifted an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth twitched up knowingly. Shulamit crossed the garden and began to work on another statue.

  ***

  Later on, they pored over maps together. “Up there -- in those mountains.” Tamar pointed on the parchment.

  Rivka squinted. The map was blurry and old. “How can you know that for sure? He was a liar, and you couldn’t believe anything else that he said.”

  “Oh, once we all knew what he was doing, we finally figured out who he was. He’s quite notorious around here ever since he first showed up from who knows where, two or three years ago... or was it... Anyway, they call him the bird-master. He raises birds, but his real hobby is causing trouble with women. We didn’t know that’s who the rabbi was. You see, he had changed his hairstyle and put on the right clothing... And he brought no birds with him, so how were we to know?”

  She left to fetch a candle, for the sun was departing.

  “Will Dragon be able to fly up all that way?”

  “I hope so -- she should be,” said Rivka. “I’ve let her rest nearly all of today, and that makes a lot of difference. She’ll have more than just flying up to the mountains to worry about. The ground on the way there is far too rocky and uneven for a horse. And in between us and the mountain are this lake”-- she pointed to the map -- “this waterfall”-- moving her hand again -- “and this other... rock... thing. I’m not taking a horse in that. We fly.”

  “I’m looking forward to flying when it’s not pouring rain!”

  Rivka grinned. “I’ll show you some tricks while we’re on our way. We have work to do, though. I’m not tossing you into this without more self-defense training.”

  “I’m grateful for it.”

  When the old woman came back, an issue arose over where they would sleep. She refused to let “Riv” sleep in the temple -- for no man, even a holy man, was permitted to sleep there. The sorcerer posing as a rabbi had even camped in the courtyard where his victims now stood in breathless sleep. And Shulamit refused to sleep in the temple without Rivka’s protection.