Toads and Diamonds

by Heather Tomlinson

  "The steward gave me a small booth, like you asked," Nissa said. "It's under a tree by the east fountain."

  "Good." Diribani jabbed a marigold stem in with the prickly one.

  "I'm only to set out the garlands?" The maid sounded doubtful. "My father has some inlaid boxes you could have."

  "Just the garlands, thank you."

  "Well, save out some jasmine, if you would, my lady." Nissa didn't say that she was disappointed by her mistress's floral offerings, but she took extra care arranging Diribani's hair. She wove the dark strands into a confection of braids and loops, secured with jeweled pins and ornamented with fragrant jasmine. Like the hairstyle, the clothes she brought were also unusual. "From Princess Ruqayya," she said, to keep Diribani from insisting on a dress wrap. Unlike Diribani's practical riding outfits, the coat and trousers were

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  made of the finest silk, with pearls trimming the coat's long sleeves. "Pale pink is exactly right for you," Nissa coaxed, "and, look, the shawl matches."

  Diribani hardly recognized the elegant picture reflected in the mirrored wall of her dressing area. Silk whispered against her skin. Nissa sighed with satisfaction.

  "Your coat is pretty, too," Diribani noticed belatedly.

  The maid smoothed the white cotton over her hips. "Her Highness gave us all new clothes, in honor of the prince's birthday. Gardeners, cooks, maids, porters, grooms, everybody."

  "Very generous," Diribani said.

  After staining the sky the color of saffron, the sun had already dipped below the fort wall when Diribani, Nissa, and Mahan joined the veiled ladies crossing the garden to climb the steps to the upper level of the Hall of Public Audience. A carved screen sheltered the women from the view of the soldiers, courtiers, and favored guests, while allowing them to watch the activity below.

  Up on the balcony, the head scarves came off, revealing hair dressed even more elaborately than Diribani's, threaded with strings of pearls and other gems. None of the women were so indiscreet as to push or shove for the best places at the railing. Amid covert eyeing of the gifts their maids carried, compliments were exchanged and rank was silently asserted. Despite Nissa's efforts, Diribani found herself at the opposite end from Princess Ruqayya, who commanded the best view of the dais and scales. Diribani could barely make out the distant figure of the prince as, with a flourish of drums, Zahid stepped into one of the scale's large round pans and sat down.

  Steward Ghiyas appeared to have matters well in hand. Within

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  moments, well-wishers were filing past the dais to lay their gifts in the opposite pan. Jokes and laughter rose from the men as the gifts piled up.

  Diribani felt a tug on her silk sleeve. She turned to find Ladli standing behind her.

  The young woman's face was flushed with suppressed mirth. "Can you guess what Lady Yisha's giving?" she whispered in Diribani's ear.

  Diribani shook her head.

  "A bag of fennel seeds!" Ladli hiccupped with the effort to contain her laughter. "Can't you see the face of the lucky soul who gets it?"

  "I thought the gifts went to the poor."

  "Oh, yes. There's a big crowd outside the main gate." Ladli had caught the rose and iris that fell with Diribani's words. Playfully, she tapped the blossoms against Diribani's pink silk sleeve. "Lady Yisha must think they suffer from bad breath. My maid said her daughters were so humiliated, they each added a silver coin to their gifts."

  Having been poor not so long ago, Diribani didn't find Lady Yisha's snobbery very funny. "What did you give?"

  "My second-best horse blanket," the other girl said proudly. "Our weavers are the most skilled in all of Fifth Province, and my aunt sent me the pick of this season's work. I'm bringing the rest to the Mina Bazaar." She blushed, for no reason Diribani could see, and flitted off to share her tidbit of gossip with another friend, closer to the prime viewing area.

  "Clever," Nissa murmured from Diribani's other side. "If someone admires the blanket, the steward will say where it came from.

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  So His Highness and his friends will know whose stall to patronize at the bazaar tonight."

  Diribani had wondered about this. No doubt Tana would have immediately understood and approved the mercantile tactic. "Is that why so many young ladies are giving away sweets, and horse gear, and things from their stalls?" She caught a sapphire, two diamonds, and an orchid in her palm.

  "Mm." Nissa neither confirmed nor denied it, but her eyes sparkled with the same humor as Ladli's.

  Diribani thought of the poor people waiting for the birthday weighing gifts to be distributed. Besides the usual hunger, a sense of hope, too, must be plucking at their bellies. Hope for an ornament that could be traded for food, or a coin to buy a working share in the mines and a chance at a better future. Whereas they endured heat, dust, and flies, she breathed in the scents of attar of roses, orange water, and ashoka flower. The perfumes made her dizzy. She realized anew how four hundred steps--and Naghali-ji's blessing--separated her from the beggars at the gate.

  One of them would get a silver coin, another Ladli's second-best horse blanket, a third Lady Yisha's bag of fennel seeds. The courtiers setting their offerings in the scales didn't consider what people actually needed; the most generous gifts were only given to impress the prince.

  A wash of shame cooled Diribani's rising temper. How was she different? Preoccupied with the Mina Bazaar, she hadn't thought much about the gift ceremony, planning to send Nissa down with a handful of whatever jewels she spoke before the pans balanced. She uncurled her fingers and counted. A sapphire, two diamonds,

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  a nice chunk of jade, and a topaz. A small fortune by the world's usual reckoning. A few words to her. She'd grown complacent. The flower girl, the jewel girl. She hardly noticed anymore. Who was this person wearing a silk coat and slippers, her hair piled high, her face covered? Aside from the two gold bangles Diribani never took off, and the fabric's pink hue, she might as well be a white-coat. Would Ma Hiral or Tana recognize her in these clothes? What would her father have said?

  She closed her sweaty palms over the rough gems and leaned forward until her forehead touched the carved stone screen. She could make a few friends in Fanjandibad, wear the Believers' costume, observe their customs. She could pay for good works with the goddess's diamonds and improve her painting. She could find peace in a prayer hall. She could love a prince, Diribani admitted to herself. Silently, and from afar, since he must never know.

  How foolish, to forget that she could never truly belong here while her gift set her apart. Was Naghali-ji testing her still? Or was this a flaw Diribani hadn't suspected in her own character, that after she had been given so much she only wanted the thing she couldn't have?

  Down by the scales, servers were filing in with platters of food. Most of the men had gathered around the low tables, with only a few people left to offer their gifts. The prince's pan rested on the floor, although the other pan was piled high. It was clear, from the comments, that this, too, was part of the entertainment.

  Zahid's head lifted. He faced Diribani's direction, his expression full of amused resignation. She remembered that she had promised he wouldn't be left sitting there, the one day of the year when the rest of the court could start eating without him. The weight of these

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  small stones wouldn't count so much. She should have brought something heavier. Ladli's earlier words echoed in her head. "All talk, you people."

  Diribani turned to her maid. "Will you take my contribution down to the scales?" Self-disgust made her voice sound angry, which Nissa didn't deserve. "Please," she added.

  "Certainly, my lady." Nissa wrapped her head scarf around her face.

  With Mahan looking on, Diribani counted the jewels into Nissa's cupped palms. The younger girl's eyes widened when Diribani took an emerald of almost ten ratis from her waistband and added it to the others. Lastly, she stripped the gold bangles from her wrist and d
ropped them atop the pile. Until the weight was gone, she hadn't noticed how heavy they were.

  "But, my lady--"

  "Go" was all Diribani trusted herself to say. A yellow lily dropped from her lips.

  Nissa bowed over her joined hands in a gesture that combined two modes of respect, and started down the stairs.

  Diribani watched her maid find a place at the end of the line. Not staying to see which of the last few gifts balanced the prince's weight, Diribani pulled the shawl over "her head and slipped away from the balcony, down the opposite stairs to the garden. Mahan followed, as close as her shadow and as impossible to shake.

  They walked down the gravel paths between the flower beds, canals, and trees. In Moonbird Month, the day's heat lingered into the night. Fountains played to cool the air, jets of water rising and falling in pretty patterns. From inside the audience hall, a roar of acclaim signaled that the weighing had finished. Diribani's nose

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  told her that the main courses were being served. The smell of roasted meat turned her stomach, and even the more appealing aromas of buttered rice, curry, and hot bread failed to wake her appetite. She hoped for a quiet stroll to compose herself, but had to dodge the teams of men with ladders who were lighting the tree-hung lanterns.

  The moon rose. Its round eye surveyed the last-minute preparations for the Mina Bazaar. Maids bustled around the stalls, making sure trays of sweets were covered against flying insects, and adding final touches to the displays.

  Diribani found hers where Nissa had said it would be, tucked under a flowering tree by the east fountain. Mahan waited at her usual discreet distance while Diribani examined her booth. Cloth-of-gold covered a chest-high table, as wide as Diribani's forearm and twice as long. Hers was the only one garlanded with blossoms from every season and province in the empire. The flowers were rather wilted, despite the length of damp gauze Nissa had draped over them. When Diribani lifted the fabric, she smelled lily, honeysuckle, rose, carnation, and jasmine. Leaning her elbows on the table, she dropped her chin into her hands. The jeweled pins holding her hair in place poked at her scalp. She was afraid to touch them, lest the complicated structure come undone.

  Her thoughts pricked likewise. Without the great emerald, which she had spoken several days earlier and been saving to display at her booth, nothing special remained to her. Well, nothing except for the stubbornness that had so displeased Ma Hiral. It would keep Diribani's head high when the other ladies arrived. After all, she and her sister had once sold their humblest household goods in Gurath's marketplace. Trader Javerikh's daughter

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  could hawk the wilted flowers that decorated her stall, if that was all she had. Yes, and get a good price for them. It didn't really signify, because no family's survival hung in the balance. This bazaar was a game that rich white-coats played to entertain themselves.

  Around her, the garden quieted as the servants finished lighting the lamps and incense burners. Maids dashed back to the audience hall to wait on their ladies. Fountains burbled. Owlets emerging from their nests for the night's hunting muttered "What, what?" at the unaccustomed lights. Moonbirds trilled in reply.

  If she didn't look up, Diribani could imagine herself in a temple grove. She was surrounded by the sound of rustling leaves. Music, too. The notes of stringed instruments and drums wafted through the audience hall's pillared porches. The traditional scents of flowers, lamp oil, and incense hung in the air. With a few chittering monkeys and the whisper of a naga's scales over packed dirt, a worshiper of the twelve could feel perfectly at home.

  Listening to the night's friendly noises, Diribani heard another: the crunch of footsteps on gravel. Someone was walking through the garden. Behind her, Mahan shifted, a reminder that at least three people were present to savor the night's temporary peace. It wouldn't last. The younger ladies, especially, would excuse themselves from the feast as soon as courtesy permitted, and make enough noise for a hundred monkeys.

  The footsteps came closer. No hesitation, so it must be Nissa, tracking down her wayward mistress. Diribani rubbed her eyes. Her wrists felt unbalanced without the gold bangles. She straightened to hear how her impulsive gift had been received.

  A white-coated figure ducked under a tree branch. Too tall for

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  her maid, Diribani knew, even before the lamplight showed a shock of dark curls and the glitter of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds on the dagger slung at the man's belt.

  Zahid bowed. "Good evening, Mina Diribani."

  The prince! What was he doing here? Awkward with surprise, she folded her hands and returned his bow. "Peace, Your Highness." Marigolds fell like tiny suns. Merchant girl. That was a role Diribani could play in her sleep. She just had to act like Tana. "How may this lowly one serve you, honored sir?"

  He stepped up to her table. "You already have. Those bracelets saved me from another hour, at least, of watching people eat."

  He mentioned them so casually! He must not understand what the dowry bangles represented, that to lose them meant to be stripped of fortune and honor. And to give them up to a man not one's husband--scandal. In Gurath, bare arms on a girl of fifteen betrayed her utter lack of good sense. Of course, pale-pink sleeves covered Diribani's wrists tonight. She was dressed like one of his people. She, too, could pretend the bangles were just jewelry. She tried to match his merry tone. "What of the bolts of fabric and sacks of grain Steward Ghiyas was supposed to put by?"

  "Vanished." The prince leaned on the table and toyed with the petals of a dark-red peony. "I suspect Ruqayya, but I'll never prove it. My sister's handmaids are known for their ruthless obedience to her commands."

  "Or discretion, perhaps?" Diribani suggested. Several small stones plinked onto the table.

  "No, thank goodness." Zahid grinned at her. "Or how would I have known where to find the diamond girl's stall? I wanted to tell

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  you that I rode out this morning to see the well. It's finished, and work has begun on two more."

  "Oh. Thank you." Pleasure warmed Diribani's cheeks before she remembered Ruqayya's warning. Encouraging the prince's attention put him at risk, she had said. But no one would know about this conversation. Except Mahan. Which might be good. The guard's presence would keep Diribani from saying anything she shouldn't. Unless Mahan was a spy, and Diribani should send Zahid away at once. Merchant girl. That was safest. She spread her empty hands over the wilted flowers. "Alas, nothing here merits a prince's consideration."

  As if Naghali-ji mocked her, tiny diamonds sparkled in the lamplight as they pattered onto the table.

  Zahid's face sobered. "I disagree. You are the one person who can help me."

  She rearranged a garland. "How?" she asked, then squeaked with surprise to find her hands captured between the prince's.

  "Trader-talk," he said. "I fear my understanding is incomplete, and the merchants at the mine are taking stunning advantage of my ignorance."

  "Um." Diribani heard what he said, but how could she pay attention when her entire being was focused at the end of her wrists?

  Prince Zahid had nice hands. Callused palms and smooth dark skin, except for a nasty cut, half-healed, that sliced the side of his hand and disappeared under his sleeve. With the narrow table separating them, she stood close enough to observe other signs of the campaign: His collar didn't quite hide a purple bruise; scratches striped his neck. She frowned in concern.

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  "You don't want me to bankrupt the empire's treasury, do you?" Zahid sounded as earnest as little Indu. "Paying fifty thousand gold pieces for a diamond worth five thousand?"

  "You didn't!" Poppies flipped their orange-red skirts over a chunk of amethyst.

  He laughed at her scandalized air. "How do I know? We do the bargaining with our hands under the table, or one of those embroidered cloths, and I can't remember which finger is ten and which is a hundred."

  Diribani bit her lip to keep from laughing at this nonsense. "Ve
ry well. No peeking." She freed one hand to flick off her head covering. Her religion didn't prohibit Zahid from seeing her face. She snapped the shawl over their still-linked hands, where they rested on the table. "First lesson. It's not which finger, it's where on the finger the other person squeezes that gives you the value."

  "Ah," he said.

  Diribani counted, touching his finger to illustrate each stage. "Fingertip is one, first joint ten, second joint one hundred, palm line one thousand, half-palm ten thousand, wrist one hundred thousand. Denomination, then quantity. Thumb for one, whole hand for five, both hands for ten." Roses and gems punctuated the lecture, but Zahid kept his eyes on her face. Under the cloth, she touched his hands in a quick sequence. "How much did I just offer?"

  "Two hundred three," he guessed.

  Correctly. In fact, he missed only one of Diribani's tests. "You do so know this," she accused.

  The prince kept hold of her hands. "I've heard you can use it for more than numbers."

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  "There are other terms," Diribani admitted. As a child, she had exchanged trader-talk for hours with Tana, Hima, even Kalyan. All the traders' children practiced with one another to gain the necessary fluency. But in the garden's warm, flower-scented darkness, in Zahid's company, the ordinary activity seemed charged with danger. Ruqayya would most certainly not approve. And yet Diribani couldn't pull away. "If you're not going to trade directly for coin, you also heed the names of the stones: diamond, sapphire, ruby, emerald." She traced the signs on the back of his hand.

  "Like this?" Zahid repeated them. Under the flower-weighted cloth, his fingers danced over her skin. His eyes met hers.

  Diribani's lips went dry. She wanted to snatch the scarf and pull it over her head. She wanted to lean closer, wanted the table between them to melt like mist. "More study required," she said and signed, helpless to end the delicious stolen moment. "Exchange in kind, delayed payment, agreed, best offer."