"My name is Diribani, sire," she said, tasting marigolds and jasmine with the words. "I only wanted to persuade the captain to let another girl go free from his men's rough treatment. I throw myself on Your Highness's mercy for the trouble that followed."
68
"Word of God!" the prince exclaimed softly. The crowd's excited buzzing drowned the governor's astonished curse.
Diribani scooped up the flowers and jewels she had just spoken. The prince urged his horse closer and leaned from the saddle to accept them. Thin, strong fingers plucked the offering from her hands, leaving her briefly dizzy, as if he had relieved her of a greater burden.
She shook her head, denying the fanciful thought. Hunger or fear was a more likely cause for the strange moment of lightheadedness. This day was nothing like any other she had known.
Ma Hiral's wailing was lost in the cries of wonder that filtered through the crowd as those in front told their neighbors what had happened. Steel rang, soldiers drawing swords from sheaths. The prince motioned his men to keep their places, and the governor followed suit.
Reluctantly, Diribani thought, glancing over in time to see an avaricious light gleam in the governor's eyes. A great calm descended, stilling her wild thoughts. She must be prepared to meet the destiny Naghali-ji had assigned her. Wisdom. Good fortune. Death.
"What foul sorcery is this?" Alwar demanded, though he licked his lips when the prince handed him Diribani's offering. The governor dropped the flowers into the street. The gemstones he rolled in his fleshy hand.
"No sorcery, sire." Diribani continued to address the emperor's son. Ma Hiral had been right about the governor; Prince Zahid was the man she needed to convince. "The goddess Naghali-ji blessed me earlier, at the well."
The crowd murmured again, some touching their foreheads to
69
the ground in reverence. A few white-coats muttered "witch," but not loudly, outnumbered as they were by worshipers of the twelve.
"Did she?" The prince's eyes lingered on Diribani's features, as if he found them as pleasing as she found his. He had kept back a branch of jasmine. He sniffed it thoughtfully before tucking the spray of flowers into his horse's headstall.
"The girl's a menace to public safety, Your Highness," Governor Alwar interjected. "We'd be putting down riots whenever she showed her face in the street." His fist closed around the jewels. "I'll take charge of securing her, lest she break the emperor's peace again in this wanton fashion."
"Please, no, Your Highness," Ma Hiral sobbed. "Don't let him take her!"
"Your mother?" Zahid asked Diribani.
After she had spoken with a goddess, how could a mere prince awe her? Diribani breathed deeply. "My stepmother, sire. Ma Hiral has treated me like her own daughter."
The royal eyebrows lifted in appraisal of the lotuses and lilies, diamonds and emeralds that sprinkled Diribani's pink lap. "Are there more of you at home?" the prince asked. "Other daughters blessed by this Gurath divinity?"
"No, sire," Diribani said, but then she hesitated. "At least," she added, needing to be absolutely truthful with him, "Tana hasn't come home yet, so we don't know--"
"Yes, Your Highness," hissed a familiar voice beside her. "The goddess has touched me also."
70
***
CHAPTER EIGHT Tana
SNAKE !" Governor Alwar wheezed. "Kill it."
A tan-and-gold shape slithered in front of the prince's horse, which neighed and pawed the air. "Steady, Dilawar." Zahid turned the bay in a tight circle. "It's only a ratter, no danger to you." He spoke more to reassure the people nearby, Tana thought, than his horse, which had already responded to Zahid's calm hands on the reins.
A white-coat who wasn't afraid of snakes? Tana's opinion of the young man climbed. She knelt between her mother and Diribani. Setting down her full pitcher, she touched the back of her fingers gently to her sister's bruised cheek. Diribani's face was full of amazement and curiosity, but no fear. Tana tucked the memory of her sister's expression away in her heart. She knew she would cherish it in days to come. Assuming, of course, she lived past sunset. At the moment, it didn't seem likely.
"Tana." Her mother clutched her arm. "My child, what has happened?"
71
She had no answer her mother would want to hear, so she kept silent.
The snake had disappeared between the buildings. The bay-horse snorted, eyeing Tana with equine distrust. She would not have blamed Dilawar's rider for looking at her the same way.
Again, the prince surprised her. He surveyed Tana with the same impartial expression he had shown Diribani before she spoke flowers. Though Tana didn't sense the same heat his eyes had held for her beautiful sister, his voice was courteous. "Will you tell us your story, Mina?"
Tana wondered how many miracles an emperor's son witnessed on a daily basis. Perhaps they were common at court? Thank the twelve, it seemed that reason, not fear, governed Prince Zahid. Not like Alwar--the governor's face had turned as white as cheese when the ratter appeared.
Tana gathered herself to answer. "My name is Tana, sire," she said. She felt a teasing sensation, as if grains of puffed rice were popping a breath away from her lips. "I also met Naghali-ji at the sacred well outside of town." As she spoke, one, two, three tiny spotted frogs winked into life and leaped away from her. A large toad followed more sedately.
One of the frogs landed on Diribani's wrist. It posed there, skin brilliant, like an enameled charm, before springing off. Diribani laughed. "Oh, Tana!"
"Lucky frogs!" Intent on the unexpected prize, a ragged child pounced. He missed. Turning to Tana, the boy cupped grimy hands to make a begging bowl. "Please, Mina-ji, say one for me."
"Over here, Mina Tana! May I have one?"
An overseer's child tugged on his nurse's coat. "Lucky frog! Mine!"
72
The prince chuckled. His amusement and the children's enthusiasm were nothing like the reaction Tana had expected. She couldn't cry--she was too parched with dread for that--but she found she could smile. She shook her head. "The creatures appear as the goddess wills, not I," she explained. Again she sensed the not-quite-feeling as her words took shape, like a flying spark that turns to ash when you try to catch it between your fingers. Too quickly for the eye to register, something crossed the distance between emptiness and life.
The goddess's will, Tana supposed, sending her messengers to earth. This one was a blind snake. Small and pink-skinned like an earthworm, defenseless against the hot afternoon sun, it nudged her leg, seeking the safety of its burrow.
"Ch-ch-ch." Waving a broad leaf, the melon vendor leaned around Tana. He coaxed the snake onto the leaf and rolled it into a protective tube. "What?" he said to the people drawing back. "Blind snakes eat ants. Can't have too many of these little fellows in a melon patch, I tell you, bounty or no bounty."
Only the white-coats reacted the way Tana had feared since she discovered what Naghali-ji had done to her.
A vein pulsed in the governor's thick neck. "Kill the witch and every one of her foul brood!" he croaked. "The dirt-eaters' cursed snakes won't pollute Tenth Province!"
Soldiers advanced, swords raised high, but the prince stopped them with a curt gesture. "My father would be most displeased to hear that civil authorities had interfered with a local religious matter. We absolutely forbid that either of these two young women be harmed."
"As you will, Your Highness." The governor accepted the
73
rebuke with a show of outward humility. His horse tossed its head, as if a hand had jerked its reins.
Prince Zahid spoke gravely to Ma Hiral. "It seems you and Gurath have been twice blessed in Mina Tana and Mina Diribani."
Diribani's hand found Tana's and squeezed in reassurance. Tana couldn't understand it. The prince's respect sounded sincere. But he was a Believer! A flesh-eater! Hadn't she seen the oxcarts filled with hunting trophies, the corpses of antelope and lion, pheasant and duck and deer? According to Al
war's proclamations, their religion despised snakes. How could Prince Zahid be so accepting of both Naghali-ji's miracles?
The prince glanced at the stone-faced official beside him. "However, His Excellency has identified a problem," he continued. "People live uneasily with wonders in their midst. I'm afraid, dear ladies, that you cannot remain in Gurath."
Dismayed, Diribani and Tana stared at each other, then protested in unison.
"But, sire--"
"Please, Your Highness--"
A pink peony and two rough diamonds pelted a snake's bright-green head. The grass viper hissed.
Along with everyone else, Tana held very still, watching the poisonous snake. The grass viper coiled upon itself, tail twitching in warning.
It had not occurred to Tana that the goddess's gift might include the venomous nagas. She touched her lips, but felt no burning or other sign that this one's poison had touched her. Tana was painfully aware that the crowded street offered too many targets for an agitated viper. A sea of frightened faces surrounded her. Her mother's
74
face held despair; the governor's, loathing; the prince's, a wary alertness. Only Diribani seemed confident that Tana would deal with the danger she had brought into their midst.
Hardly daring to breathe, Tana reached for the silver pitcher. She lifted it behind her back and turned it upside down, trying not to think about the high price she had paid for the water draining onto the ground. The snake turned slowly as it looked for a way out. When the creature faced away from her, Tana brought the pitcher swiftly down. Her fingers shook as she tamped the silver rim into the dirt, trapping the snake inside.
"Rather a mixed blessing," Prince Zahid observed.
Afraid to reply and let loose a cobra or a krait, Tana folded her hands over the trapped viper. She couldn't contain her worry as easily. Where would she and Diribani go if the prince cast them from their home? The breath whistled out of her throat, but to her relief, nothing left her lips but air. She had to utter words, it seemed, in order to bring forth frogs and toads and serpents.
"An unusual situation, but my duty is clear." The prince studied the kneeling girls. A glint of humor flashed in his eyes, though his voice remained serious. "Our esteemed governor prefers that Mina Diribani not disturb the serenity of Tenth Province, so she shall accompany our party to Eighteenth Province. As a guest of the crown, she may reside at the ladies' court in Fanjandibad in all honor and comfort."
"Fanjandibad!" Diribani clasped her hands together, her expression brightening.
Tana, too, dared to relax. She remembered that Ba Javerikh had spoken of the painters' workshop there. If anything could reconcile Diribani to leaving her home, the prospect of studying with
75
master artists would tempt her far more than life in a palace. After the near-riot Tana had witnessed, she had to agree with the prince. In Gurath, Diribani might not be safe from her neighbors, let alone Tenth Province's governor.
A muscle moved in Governor Alwar's jaw. Because the royal command had prevented him from killing the snake girl, or from keeping the girl who spoke diamonds? When he eyed the bejeweled ground around Diribani, ignoring the snake trapped under the silver pitcher, Tana had her answer. Greed ruled the man. Alwar must be furious that he had made too much of Diribani's power to cause unrest. His hasty reaction had given the prince an excuse to carry off a walking jewel mine. "The emperor's justice is renowned" was all he said aloud.
The prince's next words confirmed Tana's respect for both his intelligence and his character. "Fanjandibad does not covet Gurath's blessing," he said. "The largest share of Mina Diribani's jewels shall be returned to glorify Tenth Province, under His Excellency's able administration. Minus a sum for the construction of a habitation for her sister, by this sacred well. Some distance from town, is it?" At Tana's nod, he continued. "Mina Tana shall make her abode there, where any poisonous snakes may be released in the wild lands without endangering the emperor's subjects in Gurath."
"An admirable solution, Your Highness," Governor Alwar said, immediately restored to good humor.
Although she understood the prince's reasoning, Tana didn't quite share the governor's satisfaction at the result. Oh, she understood why she couldn't go to Fanjandibad. The royal ladies would love Diribani, but they'd hardly want a snake girl in their court. It was Tana's misfortune that her relocation also dashed the future she had dared to imagine earlier. If she couldn't set foot in the
76
marketplace, how could she provide for her family through the trade she knew best? The royal command had spared her life, but, for everyone's safety, Tana would have to spend it in the countryside. She had no illusion about what Alwar's soldiers would do if they caught her in town once Zahid and his entourage had gone. Without taking her life, the local white-coats could make it very unpleasant. At least the farmers should be pleased, she thought with some bitterness. If left alone, the nagas would hunt rodents and pests in their fields. Or, if people preferred to collect Alwar's bounty (which the prince hadn't mentioned stopping), they could trap her snakes and turn them in--
Her snakes?
Tana caught herself. Naghali-ji's snakes. Tana's punishment, and Tana's penance, was that she never speak again without fearing what might follow.
"Ma Hiral." The prince was speaking again. "My sister, Ruqayya, and her ladies at the fort will outfit Mina Diribani for the journey. Will you also accompany us to Fanjandibad?"
Tana's mother twisted her hands together, turning from Diribani to Tana. Diribani looked uncertain as she realized she might be parted from her entire family. Tana tried to disguise her own dismay with encouraging gestures. Diribani must go, and of course Ma Hiral would love to visit a palace. It didn't matter how lonely Tana would be, all by herself at the well. How long would it be, anyway, before one of the snakes bit her and she died in agony? If her mother left with Diribani, at least Tana would have the consolation of knowing they were both safe.
Ma Hiral's concerned expression smoothed out. "Long journeys are hard on old bones," she said. "If it would not displease Your
77
Highness for this lowly one to remain at home, I will entrust Diribani most gladly to the royal family's care."
"Then we are finished here," the prince said. "Captain Tashrif, your charge against Mina Diribani is dismissed. Gather your men."
"Sire."
Tana embraced Diribani. She could not cry; she could only squeeze her sister's waist and press her face into the pink-draped shoulder.
"Oh, Tana." Diribani sniffed. "Your hair smells like sandalwood!" She held Tana's elbows and blinked at her with tear-misted eyes. "You'll write, won't you?" She caught a yellow rose and two rubies almost absently and handed them to her stepmother. "These gifts will pass. Don't I sound like Ma Hiral? We won't be apart forever. I'll visit when the prince comes next to Gurath. You'll return, won't you, sire?" she asked the prince.
He held her gaze. "Yes, Mina Diribani."
Looking from the prince's grave face to Diribani's affectionate one gave Tana the same sensation she felt when speaking snakes: that something vital had passed just beyond her reach.
A white-coat helped Diribani into the sedan chair that had appeared for her. The prince urged his horse away; the chair-bearers followed. Diribani twisted in the chair to wave and blow kisses punctuated with ashoka blossoms. "Good-bye, dear Tana," she called. "Good-bye, Ma Hiral. The twelve keep you!"
Tana and her mother returned Diribani's waves and blessings until the chair turned a corner and she was lost to them.
"Move along, move along." The governor's men dispersed the crowd. Alwar had stayed to supervise the collection of every last jewel dropped during the proceedings. He ignored Tana and Ma
78
Hiral, as did his men. Like all the people resuming their afternoon activities, they gave the upended silver pitcher a wide berth. The melon vendor saluted Tana and took up his pushcart. Slowly, the street resumed its usual b
ustle, eddying around the two women and the trapped snake.
"Mina Tana."
The whisper distracted Tana from thinking about how much she would miss her sister. Indu squatted beside her, his eyes round with excitement. "I saw, from the wall. A snake came out of your mouth! I brought my naga basket and stick to take him out to the jungle, if you want. But, first, could you say a ratter for me? Our old one died, and we've got mice in the pantry."
Before Tana could answer, the boy's grandmother hurried up to them. "Don't pester Mina Tana," she said.
"But, Nama-ji"--Indu turned soulful brown eyes in her direction--"you said you'd had enough of picking little black turds out of the lentils!"
Tana couldn't help it. She snorted with laughter. Even her mother coughed behind her hand. At least with Indu, Tana didn't have to worry about what creature might accompany her words. He'd befriend any animal that slid, crawled, hopped, or flew. She spread her empty hands wide. "It's not my choice, Indu. Pray to Sister Naghali, not to me."
Heavy and cool, a tan-and-gold snake dropped into her outstretched hands. The way she'd been taught as a child, Tana closed her fingers behind the ratter's head and supported its muscular length with her other hand. The goddess must have a sense of humor. Or a mortal woman's weakness for Indu's charm.
"A champion naga!" Indu thumped his forked stick on the
79
ground. "Thanks, Mina Tana. Oh-Naghali-ji-we-are-ever-grateful-for-your-blessings," he added when his grandmother poked him in the ribs.
Toads and Diamonds Page 6