by L-J Baker
She awkwardly scooped the coins back into Baktar’s purse.
“I could buy a whole ship and ten fast horses with this.”
She secured the bulging purse inside the folds of her waist sash. She had the money to rescue Shali. But not the time. In her very bones, she felt that she would be too late. She would not put it past Hadim to bribe some oily official to allow them to shave a few days off the waiting period before Shali could remarry. Or, perhaps, Seneschal Murad might have enough political clout to bring his marriage forward a few days. Which he might do if he had seen Shali’s beauty.
Adijan flung herself to her feet to pace.
“Only magic can save me. I need you to conjure up a wind to blow my ship to Pikrut in a day. I need you to call an enchanted horse for me. I need you to whisk me to Qahtan on a flying rug. I need –”
Muqatil pattered back into the chamber followed by servants bearing writing materials.
“That’s it!” Adijan said. “Muqatil, you’re brilliant!”
“One would not dream of contradicting you, oh perceptive madam,” Muqatil said. “How may I –?”
“Flying carpet! Enchanter what’s-his-name takes passengers on his flying carpet. For money. Where did you say he lives? I need to get there. Fast.”
The undulating gait of the camel patiently chewed up the dusty journey inland to Shabak, even during the sweltering heat of the day. Rolled in the thinly padded wooden saddle, Adijan could not help thinking about the bruises she would have when she finally climbed off the ugly, smelly creature. It had already tried to bite her.
“When we get to Shabak,” she promised her cantankerous mount, “I’m going to buy you from the guide and sell you to a butcher. Cheap. For stewing meat.”
With her purse bulging with gold wheels, she could be reasonably confident of purchasing the attention of some greedy official. If she could not buy a nullification of the divorce, she ought to be able to bribe someone to reconsider the case, or even get a re-hearing. That would lame Hadim’s donkey. And, with any luck, the delay would make Murad annoyed with Hadim.
She offered the world a sweaty grin. Oh, to see Hadim groveling at the feet of Murad, or anyone, was like the sweet, cool breath of an oasis to her soul.
Adijan spent the swaying and rocking day of featureless, baked landscapes dreaming up ways she could persuade Hadim to let her marry Shali again. She would need to use her money, her suitably embellished connection with the Enchantress Zobeide of Emeza, and get Mrs. il-Padur on her side.
Night dropped as if the world dove under a blanket. Adijan smelled the town before she saw the faint glimmer of lights. The guide’s camel stopped beside a low building. Adijan caught a strong whiff of wine, fresh piss, stale vomit, and mistweed smoke. Her guide’s camel folded itself down on the ground. The guide leaped spryly off.
“Here?” Adijan said. “But this can’t be where the enchanter lives.”
The man waved vaguely. “Mighty enchanter live in big house, oh noble patron. Too late night. Him asleep. You find room here. With Shammar. A good room. Clean beds. Not many fleas. See enchanter man tomorrow.”
Adijan’s camel chose to lie down. She staggered clear of the shaggy creature and its bruising saddle.
“This way, oh noble patron,” he said. “Need big drink after long day on camel, eh?”
The guide hefted Adijan’s light bag and held open the door to the inn. The strong reek of wine hit her in the face and stopped her in the doorway. A dozen or so bearded faces turned to look. She struggled with the fumes that surged up her nostrils to swirl about her brain.
“Oh, great and glorious lord,” the innkeeper said, “a thousand, thousand welcomes to my humble inn.”
Adijan swallowed. Her gaze kept darting to the jugs and wooden cups the men held.
“Allow me to offer you the very best mat.” The innkeeper made emphatic gestures to a man sitting on a faded red rug in the corner of the room.
“Um,” Adijan said. “I – I don’t want a drink. No wine. Water, maybe. Yeah. Or sherbet.”
“Of course, great lord. Now, my lord, this mat is the finest you will find this side of the Shifting Sands.”
Even had this improbable claim been true, Adijan dared not remain in this room. She did not know how long she would be able to withstand the insidious call of the wine jar. And she had no Zobeide to nag her, to make her feel guilty, or to pour the temptation into a night pot.
“I need a bed for the night,” she said. “My guide tells me you have rooms for rent.”
“Oh, such rooms, my lord!” The innkeeper shook his bony hands in the air. “For you, I can offer the finest this side of the Shifting Sands.”
Adijan perched on a hastily assembled, and mismatched, table and chair to eat a greasy dish of greyish lumps. The flatbread, studded with dates, proved palatable, but the sherbet was only a fruit pip or two away from well water.
She earned a sour look from the innkeeper when she passed him a couple of curls as a tip. Only after she lay alone in the dark on the grubby, creaking bed, did she realize that her princely appearance had raised expectations in her host’s breast.
She scratched at something crawling across her ribs. This time tomorrow, she might be home. If everything went according to plan, it could be as little as two or three days before she shared a bed with Shalimar again.
“All-Seeing Eye,” she muttered, “I thank you for allowing me to live and prosper this day. I could’ve done without that stinking, bad-tempered camel, but it got me here. And I’m sure I’ll walk properly again tomorrow. I beg you to allow me another such day tomorrow when I go to talk with the Enchanter Hujr. Please, please, please let him be at home. And willing to take me as a passenger on his rug. Everything depends on it.”
Adijan smelled wine again. If she got drunk, the Eye might never let her remarry Shali. If she got drunk, she’d have a hangover tomorrow and might make a mess of speaking with the enchanter. Then she would not get back to Qahtan before Shali’s second marriage.
“You who know all and see all, I beg you to keep Shali safe. Please don’t let that dog turd Hadim hurt her. And I beg you not to let her think too badly of me. And I also beg your daily benevolence for Aunt Takush, the women at the friendly house and Zobeide. Oh, yeah, and for Fakir. Fakir al Wahali, that is. I thank you. I thank you. I most humbly thank you.”
She tried to conjure images of a happy reunion with Shalimar. But she kept seeing Shali bewildered and hurt as she looked at Adijan on the bed with Hadim’s paid whore. And reliving that moment in the court when Shali spoke that soft but soul-destroying “yes” to wanting a divorce. Adijan tried to force them away by imagining Shalimar hurrying toward her opened arms, just like she used to when they were still happily married. But Shalimar stopped and recoiled from the stump at the end of Adijan’s arm.
“No,” Adijan whispered. “Oh, Eye, please…”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Early the next morning, Adijan paused outside what the residents of Shabak referred to as the “big house.” The ruddy brick walls circumscribed a building not much larger than Aunt Takush’s brothel. The Enchanter Hujr’s home would barely serve as the gardeners’ barracks at Emeza.
A stout man answered the door. He looked her up and down before bowing low. He led her into a dingy chamber and indicated a divan with faded upholstery.
“If you would be so kind as to wait here, oh noble and enlightened sir,” the major domo said, “I shall inform my master of your presence.”
He bowed himself out.
Adijan drifted around the room. It might be later this day she saw Shalimar again. Oh, Eye, please let it be today. She had to get this meeting right.
Footsteps pattered toward the chamber. Adijan turned to confront a paunchy man in a strange mixture of twinkling jewels and crumpled, stained clothes. A legacy stone dangled from his left earlobe.
The Enchanter Hujr raked a calculating stare over her. “That fat fool Adi tells me you are an apprentice enchan
ter.”
“Oh learned one, my mistress is Zobeide of Emeza,” Adijan said. “I was told –”
“Zobeide? I know of no Zobeide. Not at Emeza. Baktar is the man. Hmph! For all your finery, sir, you are a rogue and liar. Your mutilation confirms it. A thief, a liar, a smuggler. They have their hands cut off. Adi! Adi, you idiot! Get in here! You oughtn’t leave thieves loose in the house to rob me!”
Adijan bent her left arm behind her back and held her right hand up. “Sir. Please, wait. You’re making a mistake.”
Hujr leveled a finger at her. “You stay there until Adi throws you out. Or I shall unleash on you forces beyond your comprehension.”
“Actually, I’ve a pretty good idea what enchanters can do. You see –”
“Adi! Adi! Where in all the many hells are you?”
“Sir! Please. This isn’t what it looks like. Sir, if you’ll listen to me. Zobeide challenged Baktar for the legacy. She won. That’s when –”
“Did she?” Hujr closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, sir. They dueled around the statue of Ardashir. That’s when I lost my hand. It was –”
“Oh, yes? Well, you overstep yourself, liar, if you wish me to believe that a young apprentice had any place in a battle for such a legacy. Hmph. You’re nothing better than a common criminal and riff-raff, are you? Adi!”
“Master?” Adi said.
“Sir,” Adijan said. “Riff-raff I might be, but I’m not lying. Nor did I lose my hand to the caliph’s axe. If you would just –”
“Hmph.” Hujr brushed past her and strode out. “Get him out of here!”
“I have gold!” Adijan tugged her bulging purse from her sash. “Gold, sir.”
Hujr stopped and turned. “Gold?”
“Yes, learned sir,” Adijan said. “I came here to make a purchase and hire your magnificent services.”
“Oh, did you?” Hujr stroked his beard. “Why didn’t you say so before? I don’t come cheap.”
“I would not insult so wise and magnificent an enchanter with anything less than gold,” Adijan said. “Muqatil, who was the Enchanter Baktar’s steward, and who now serves Zobeide, spoke much of your skill.”
“Did he, now?” Hujr said. “I know Muqatil the eunuch. Hmph. But I still don’t know that you’re not deceiving me. That missing hand is a warning.”
Adijan closed her mouth on what had already proved a futile explanation. Instead, she jiggled her purse. “Coins do not lie, oh learned one.”
“True. Very true.”
“Do you still wish me to throw him out, master?” Adi asked.
“Fool!” Hujr waved his major domo away, then beckoned Adijan to take a seat. “What did you want to buy?”
With the avaricious gleam in his eye and the way his hands worked together, Hujr might have been a used rug salesman.
“First, oh learned one,” Adijan said, “I would like to purchase from you the substance known as ahrar el jins. My mistress, Zobeide, said you might be able to supply me with some.”
Hujr dispatched his servant to fetch some of the potion.
“You are most fortunate,” Hujr said. “The plant from which it is made grows only in far distant regions. I happen to have a small quantity of ahrar el jins by purest chance.”
Adi returned with a tiny clay jar stoppered with a wax bung.
“That will be two obiks,” Hujr said.
Adijan knew, in her bones, that he asked an exorbitant sum. But she could afford it. For Shali to be freed of Hadim’s drugs, she would’ve paid ten times as much.
“Now,” Adijan said, “to the other matter. I am prepared to pay you in gold wheels, of good Emeza issue, to be a passenger on your flying carpet.”
Hujr sucked in breath.
“You see, sir,” Adijan said, “I must return to my home city. Qahtan, in the sultanate of Masduk. It’s three days walk from Ul-Feyakeh. Which is several days’ walk beyond Pikrut.”
He tutted and shook his head.
“You do offer such a service?” Adijan said. “Muqatil told me.”
“I wish I could help you,” Hujr said.
Adijan’s heart dropped into her embroidered boots. “But – but I’ve seen you. Several days ago over the sea. And you fetch the snow.”
“Yes, I have been known to take people on my flying carpet with me. But that is in exceptional circumstances. You can have no idea of the pain and suffering and effort required to perform such a feat of magic.”
“Oh, I see. I can offer you two gold wheels for –”
“Two!” Hujr’s eyes bulged. “Two? You insult me!”
“Ten,” Adijan said hastily. “I meant ten gold wheels for –”
“Two hundred. And not a wheel less.”
“Donkey dung.”
Hujr stood. “I am an enchanter. My services are not cheap. I suggest you buy a camel. That will cost you less than one gold wheel.”
“Twenty wheels,” Adijan said.
“One hundred and fifty.”
This was not going to converge within Adijan’s price range. And she could not afford to spend all her money. She needed the gold for bribery when she got back to Qahtan.
He watched her with a calculating expression. This was just a game to him: it was her happiness. But the greedy dung lump must be bluffing. Anyone who had to sell snow for a living could not be that highly priced – or choosy.
“Well?” Hujr said. “Do you wish me to fly you to your home. Or not?”
Adijan let out a long sigh. She shrugged and tucked her purse back in her sash.
“I must apologize for wasting your time, oh magnificent sir,” she said. “I have been deceived about you. I’ll suggest to my mistress, the sublime Enchantress Zobeide il-Sulayman Ma’ad, that she have Muqatil flogged for sending me on this wild camel ride to see you. Perhaps, when I speak with her, I should also mention how insulted you are by the smallness of the fee you receive for delivering the chests of snow.”
Hujr smiled. “Why, yes, it is very modest.”
“I’m sure, once my mistress wakes from her legacy sleep, she will be outraged to hear that you have been so insulted. And I shall suggest that it shouldn’t continue.”
“No, indeed. It’s wounding to one of my talent to be valued so lowly. Hmph. She has a most distinguished family name. Most distinguished. And it is not as though I regret Baktar’s demise. He was an unpleasant miser. Hmph.” Hujr beamed a genial smile. “Why yes, my young friend. By all means tell her that I am unsatisfied with the amount I received from Baktar.”
“I shall. Perhaps you could suggest another enchanter who would be willing to perform the service for so insultingly small a fee in your place?”
Hujr’s eyes bulged. “In my place? No, no, no! That’s not what I –”
“Peace, oh proud and learned one. You need say no more. I understand perfectly.” Adijan stood. “Is this the way out?”
“Wait!” Hujr leaped to his feet. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”
Adijan waited.
“Let’s say, you don’t get my snow contract canceled,” he said, “and I’ll take you on my flying carpet for… hmph. Eighty wheels.”
Adijan shook her head. “Let’s say that I get your delivery fees doubled, and you take me on your carpet for free.”
Hujr stroked his beard, licked his lip, and frowned. “Double my fee? That sounds good. Perhaps, too good. I still have only your word for this tale about a new enchanter. And you have one hand. Say, seventy wheels.”
“Twenty.”
“Fifty.”
“Thirty.”
“Forty.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Forty.”
If she paid forty wheels, that would leave her only a handful of silver. That wouldn’t be enough to bribe a magistrate to empty his bladder, let alone nullify the divorce. But if she didn’t get back to Qahtan in time, Shalimar would marry Murad.
“Thirty-eight,” Adijan said.
Hu
jr sniffed, stroked his beard, then spat on the floor. “Done.”
Adijan squinted into the wind flowing over Hujr’s shoulder. Below, the sea looked a dark, deep green with smears of white. They moved so fast that the world blurred around them. The magical rug out-paced the screeching seagulls.
Pikrut emerged from the blur while the sun hung high in the sky. The jumble of masts, roofs, and streets looked dizzyingly different from above.
The carpet slowed and descended. Upturned faces stopped to stare. People pointed up at them.
Hujr had sternly warned her about interrupting his concentration, but they dropped alarmingly.
“Is something wrong?” Adijan asked. “Are we falling?”
“I patronize the Golden Palm,” Hujr said. “I can go no further today.”
Adijan frowned as the carpet headed for a large, flat roof. The carpet settled. Hujr slumped and groaned.
“Help me,” he said. “Amirat, that dear, dear woman, knows what I need.”
Adijan struggled to support the tottering enchanter down the stairs. A woman with a matronly bosom swooped on them. Hujr was clearly a regular. To Adijan’s dismay, he collapsed on a bed in the best chamber and immediately fell asleep.
“Just like a baby,” Amirat said fondly if inaccurately.
“When will he wake?” Adijan asked.
“Not before morning. Slept through an earthquake once when he was like that. Must be the magic. Poor lamb. Now, you’ll be needing a room, oh honored and generous one?”
Adijan had no choice but to enjoy the best hospitality the Golden Palm and its motherly proprietress could offer.
Eleven days. Tomorrow would be ten days until Shalimar remarried. Time slipped through her fingers like oasis water. So did money. She patted her flaccid purse.
Two gold wheels. Forty days ago, she would have been astounded to hold so much money. Those two coins were a fortune beyond the lifetime’s earnings of a floor-sweeper. But it might not be enough to buy her back that floor-sweeper’s life and happiness.
The food at the Golden Palm Inn did not come with free drugs. Adijan was more tempted than ever to sample the wine, to take the edge off her fears of yet another looming failure. But she managed to send it back without tasting a drop. Being sober and thinking clearly had never been more important.