by L-J Baker
Takush gave him a look which clearly said she thought he was taking this all too lightly. Fakir claimed one of her hands and patted it.
“I’ll be back in two shakes of a rat’s tail, dearest lady,” Fakir said. “Then we’ll rescue Mrs. Nipper. Eh, Nipper?”
He trotted out. His whistling faded. Takush turned a thoughtful look on Adijan.
“If you’re determined to bring accusations against Hadim,” Takush said, “I think we need the head of the family along. Cousin Nasir –”
“Good thinking,” Adijan said. “Can you send someone to fetch him? And have him bring his brother the priest. We may need one. Oh, and Auntie, I’ll need someone to go to my old neighborhood. Send Qahab and Fetnab and Zaree. They all know where Shali and I used to live. Get them to invite as many people as they can to a wedding feast. At Hadim il-Padur’s house.”
“Are you mad?” Takush said. “You can’t –”
“Trust me, Auntie. This once. Oh, and I’ll need an earring. Clear glass. Just one.”
“Adijan –”
“I know what you’re going to say,” Adijan said. “But I have to try. I’m all out of time and clever plans. I can’t even kidnap her. She’s his wife. Murad has enough money and contacts to hunt us down even if we ran off to hide in the Devouring Sands. I only have this one chance left. I have to take it. And I have to do it fast.”
Takush frowned as she studied Adijan.
“Auntie, please help me,” Adijan said. “I have no idea if this can possibly work, but if these weeks without her have taught me anything, it’s that I have to take even the slimmest chance to get her back. This has already cost me a hand. I’d give my other one and both legs for Shali.
“And – and I know that she might not want me. I realize that. But – but even if she says she’d rather be married to him, I have to know what she really wants. I – I have to hear her say it. Without drugs.”
Takush gently touched Adijan’s cheek before she strode to the door. “Zaree! Fetnab! Qahab! Kilia! Quickly!”
Adijan paced the street. The dangling glass bead of her earring tapped the side of her neck. Where was Fakir? What was keeping Fetnab?
Her impatience drove her ten paces down the street and ten paces back. Dust accumulated on her black leather boots and dulled the silver thread. Shalimar was married. To Murad. Had she said yes? Adijan could hear, with brutal clarity, that devastating little word as Shali whispered it at the divorce hearing. “No” was supposed to blight all hopes, not “yes”.
A group of people marched around the corner. Fetnab and Zaree walked with her old friend Curman and his wife. Jamaia the fruit seller strode behind them. Adijan smiled. There must be three or four dozen people. And, of course, Mrs. Urdan, their old neighbor, and her four children. She’d not miss the chance of free food.
Fetnab whistled and raked a provocative look over Adijan. “Well, well, well. You made your fortune after all.”
“Not quite,” Adijan said. “Go and get yourself looking sexy. I’ll need you to charm some poor man’s eyes out of his head.”
“Only his eyes? Oh, sweetheart, I can do a lot better than that.” Fetnab winked, patted Adijan’s backside, and skipped into the friendly house.
Adijan noticed the reserve with which her old friends and neighbors regarded her. To her distress, they bowed low to her. “Hey, Curman, you thief! Don’t tell me you don’t know me?”
“Adijan?” Curman straightened. “Look at those clothes. I thought you was some big rich sort from the caliph’s palace. What’s this about rescuing Shalimar?”
“Adijan.” Jamaia shouldered forward. “I brought these. For Shalimar. A present, like.”
Jamaia pulled two large oranges from her bag.
Adijan smiled. Her eyes misted as she reached for one. She should’ve thought of this herself. So much for her planning skills. She held it close to her nose and inhaled. Shalimar.
“Take the bag. I have a dozen.”
“Um,” Adijan said. “Can I get you to keep them in the bag for me? You see, I can’t hold more than one.”
They all stared at her stump. She saw the looks that she dreaded and quickly tucked her arm behind her back.
“Make way!” Qahab called.
The small crowd parted. Puzu and one of his countless cousins carried a large rolled carpet on their shoulders. Behind them, two youths shoved a cart packed with shining lamps, urns, chests, and pots.
“Adijan!” Puzu gaped. “You look – you look like you found a genie in a lamp.”
“Necklace,” she said. “The genie was in my necklace. Where is Fakir?”
“He said he had to change and oil his beard,” Puzu said. “Hey, this wedding isn’t his to your aunt, is it?”
“No. With any luck, it’ll be mine. To my ex-wife. If Fakir ever gets here.”
Puzu’s eyes bulged. Adijan turned. Takush had emerged from the friendly house. Dressed in her best, she looked splendid. But it was probably her dozen or so employees, professionally spruced up to display their assets to maximum effect, who captured Puzu’s attention.
Takush brushed dust from the sleeve of Adijan’s robe. “The women are ready. Why on earth did you want all these people here?”
“Because Hadim is a snake. Fakir is late. And so are Cousin Nasir and his brother.”
“He’ll come,” Takush said. “I told the messenger to tell him how important it is. And it’ll take him time to find his brother.”
“I can’t wait any longer.”
“If we must go before Cousin Nasir arrives, he knows the way to Hadim il-Padur’s house. There’s Puzu. Surely Fakir is –”
“Hullo there!” Fakir called. “Nipper! Dear lady!”
The crowd parted for eight men carrying the poles of an open palanquin. Fakir lounged on the litter. Sunlight glinted off his glossy, freshly oiled beard. In his best clothes, he almost looked the part of a man of wealth and leisure. He spoiled it by beaming genially at everyone and waving.
“Had a thought,” Fakir said. “Enchantress would travel by flying rug. Like Nipper did. But can’t hire them. Not easily. Not with your enchanter friend what’s-his-name asleep. So, I rented this.”
“Good thinking,” Adijan said.
Fakir smiled. Takush flashed another surprised look at Adijan.
Adijan helped her aunt settle on the litter beside Fakir, who opened an umbrella to hold over Takush. Adijan took her place in front of them. She smoothed her shirt, arranged the folds of her robe, and wiped the dust off her boots.
The cavalcade drew as much attention in the poor quarter as a flying carpet. People stopped to stare and point. Children skipped beside the litter bearers begging for coins. Fakir threw copper curls. Adijan dug most of the remaining silver and copper coins from her purse and passed them back to him.
“We’ll probably need to slip something to a few flunkies before they let us in,” Adijan said. “You’re much better at it than me.”
“Only too happy to do it, Nipper. Besides, enchantresses wouldn’t do it. Would they? Not themselves. Too important. Get their right-hand man to do it. Factotum. Secretary. Major domo, or what-have-you.”
“Just don’t throw it all to the beggars, Secretary Fakir,” Adijan said.
Fakir beamed.
As they neared Hadim’s house, Adijan’s nerves tightened. Shalimar might be happy marrying Murad, but not as happy as Hadim was for her to do it. And if Shalimar wasn’t happy, Hadim wouldn’t care. He probably hadn’t bothered asking her.
Festive banners and the waiting palanquins of the rich wedding guests crammed the street. Bearers, servants, and bodyguards stood around talking or sat in the dust playing with gaming bones. Some servants kept the beggars closely ringed to a small area of the street at a discreet distance from the festivities. Hadim would not have sent out more food and drink to the city poor than the barest minimum that would’ve impressed his new relations with his largesse.
“Make way!” Curman shouted. “Make way for he
r Excellency, the enchantress!”
Liveried servants stood close to the gates of Hadim’s house. One was the sour doorkeeper Koda. Camel crap. She’d have no chance of getting inside if he recognized her. If she’d been smart, she’d have disguised herself in a woman’s finery. She could’ve worn a veil and no one would be any the wiser. Too late now.
“Oh, All-Seeing, All-Knowing Eye,” Adijan whispered, “if you’ve ever liked me even the tiniest bit, now would be the perfect time to show it.”
Over her shoulder, she said to Takush, “Get the girls to go and talk with Hadim’s flunkies. Especially the sour looking one near the door.”
Takush nodded.
“Make way there!” Curman shouted.
Three of the liveried servants moved to intercept the approaching palanquin.
“In the name of our master, the munificent and magnificent Master Merchant il-Padur, we bid you a thousand, thousand welcomes at this time of celebration,” the tallest one said.
Adijan tried to copy one of Zobeide’s expressions of disdain as she leveled a stare over the heads of Hadim’s servants. Fetnab led several of the prostitutes toward the front gates of Hadim’s house. Koda hadn’t seen them yet, but most other men were watching them.
“This cannot be the house,” Adijan said. “Not this… this shabby little hovel. My friend Murad cannot be in there. They can have no more than three or four cooks.”
The tall servant’s eyebrows lifted.
“Oh, glorious and powerful mistress,” Fakir said, “this – urn. The thing is –”
“It’s unbelievable, is it not?” Adijan pointed to Curman. “I want that man flogged for bringing me to this squalid dump. Now, get me to the right place. Fast. I would hate to unleash my magical powers on you. Or anyone.”
The tall servant swallowed. Adijan turned away and curled her lip. In the corner of her eye, she saw Fetnab sashay past Koda.
“You there,” Fakir said. “Which way is it to the house of Master Merchant Hadim il-Padur?”
“But, oh noble and enlightened sir, this is my master’s house,” the tall servant said.
“Are you sure?” Fakir asked. “This is not what my mistress the enchantress expected. Not at all.”
While Fakir and the servant had another exchange, Adijan watched Kilia and a couple of the other women draw the door servants a few paces away. The sour Koda also watched Fetnab, but he had yet to move from his post or lose his scowl.
”…not expecting an enchantress,” the tall servant was saying. “Perhaps –”
“So few beggars,” Adijan said. “This Hadim person must be some inferior sort of tradesman if he can only afford to feed a dozen or two poor at his sister’s wedding. Murad must feel insulted.”
The tall servant cast an unhappy frown at the small cordon of beggars.
“I am insulted,” Adijan said. “I have trailed these riff-raff behind me all the way from the caliph’s palace. It’s unthinkable that I must stain my name by having to send them away empty-handed. From a wedding! Fakir, I am most displeased. Do something, or I shall have you flogged.”
Adijan lifted her chin and looked away as if surveying the street and finding everything inferior. She heard a whispered exchange between Fakir and the servant. Koda had turned away from the doorway to talk to Fetnab.
“Oh, sublime mistress,” Takush said, “it is not fitting that you should sit out here in the street while these servants haggle.”
Adijan could’ve kissed her.
Takush, Fakir, and the servant engaged in a rapid, whispered, conference. At the conclusion, the palanquin lowered. Fakir got off and helped Takush to the ground. Adijan nearly made the mistake of standing.
Fakir stepped up to the tall servant. After a few whispers, a coin changed hands. The tall servant smiled and bowed extra low to Adijan.
The palanquin swayed as the men lifted it. At just that moment, Koda glanced her way. Adijan’s heart stopped. Fetnab quickly stepped closer to the doorkeeper and put a hand on his arm. Koda turned back to her.
Adijan let out a pent-up breath. “Announce me. And do it properly.”
“A thousand, thousand pardons, magnificent madam,” Hadim’s servant said, “but I don’t know who –”
“Fakir, you will remain with the rabble. See that they are fed.”
“Oh, powerful madam,” the tall one said, “how shall I inform the major domo to announce –?”
“How many enchantresses do you expect to attend this wedding?” Adijan said in imitation of Zobeide’s most scathing tones. “I am Zobeide Ushranat il-Abikarib il-Sulayman Ma’ad of Emeza.”
The servant looked impressed. He bowed low and walked backwards before the palanquin all the way to the doors.
The twanging of utas and the buzz of laughter and conversation grew louder. Adijan’s back itched where she imagined Koda’s stare bored into her. She expected his shout at any moment.
Servants bearing trays of food, empty plates, or wine jars paused their scurrying to bow low to the palanquin. Adijan could smell the mingled scents of many boiled, braised, and grilled dishes, and pipe smoke.
Richly-dressed men reclined on divans. They smoked, drank, and talked. Servants moved between the couches. A pair of young, scantily clad dancing girls gyrated to the uta music in a cleared space near the far side of the chamber. Through a doorway at the end of the room, she saw the garden and a flash of brightly colored clothes. The women would be out there. Shalimar would be with them.
Adijan saw Hadim. Her heart thudded against her ribs. The scabby camel turd lounged on a divan beyond the dancing girls. He smiled and smoked from a hookah.
The major domo banged his staff on the floor. “Your Excellency, Eminences, noble lords, most wise and honorable sirs. The sublime Enchantress Zobeide il-Sulayman Ma’ad of Emeza!”
Heads turned. Conversation dropped. Even the dancing girls looked. Hadim coughed out smoke and peered at the palanquin.
“Keep moving,” Adijan said to her bearers. “Quickly. To the dance floor.”
Any time now, Hadim would recognize her. The distinguished-looking greybeard on the divan beside Hadim must be Seneschal Murad. He looked lean, remote, and fastidiously wealthy. She had no idea how fair-minded he might be, but he didn’t look the sort who would enjoy being made a fool of. Murad leaned over to say something to Hadim. Hadim shook his head.
The dancing girls twirled out of the path of the palanquin. The bearers stopped and bent to set the litter down. Adijan stood to bow to the seneschal.
“My greetings,” she said, “oh enlightened and –”
“You!” Hadim’s eyes bulged.
The dancing girls stopped. The utas twanged to silence.
“How dare you!” Hadim thrust his hookah aside and leaped to his feet.
Seneschal Murad watched with a quizzical expression. “This enchantress has upset you?”
“This is no enchantress, Honored Brother. She’s an impostor from the gutter. I offer you a thousand, thousand pardons for this unwanted intrusion on our happy festivities. I shall flog my servants for their laxity.”
Adijan’s heart pounded. No matter how angry he made her, she had to keep her head. Murad was the man she must convince.
“Forgive me, Exalted Sir,” she said, “for having to bring you unpleasant news so publicly.”
“Unpleasant news?” Murad said.
“Sir, don’t listen to this creature,” Hadim said. “She’s a good for nothing drunk and a liar.”
Hadim signaled to someone behind Adijan.
She looked around to see Koda and half a dozen other liveried servants striding across the dance floor. The dancing girls ran aside. Servants lunged for her. The palanquin bearers threw themselves into the fray. Adijan darted backwards. Fists flew. Combatants locked in wrestling tussles. One pair fell onto the musicians. The dancing girls screamed.
Takush hurried away toward the main doorway. The wedding guests watched with interest. One or two looked like they placed wager
s.
“Idiots,” Hadim said. “Get her!”
“Stop.” Adijan held up her hand. “Stop it!”
Men in a different livery converged on the brawl. Adijan guessed they must be Murad’s men. The scuffle threatened to develop into a general melee.
Adijan shoved her hand into her purse. She grabbed her few coins and hurled them into the air. Silver and copper flashed. The coins pattered on the wooden floor. The dancing girls threw themselves to snatch at the silver. The fighters abruptly broke their holds and stopped their punches. They flung themselves into the scramble. Before the fighters could begin fresh hostilities over the coins, Murad’s men stood amongst them.
“Now, Honored Brother,” Hadim said, “you see how this brothel whelp behaves. Koda! Get her out of here.”
“Your hostility puzzles me,” Murad said. “This enchantress acted quickly and cleverly to restore peace. And if she is from a brothel, we surely do not tax them enough. She looks very prosperous.”
“Adijan al-Asmai is no more a rich enchantress than my pet monkey is,” Hadim said. “Koda!”
“Al-Asmai?” Murad said. “That name is familiar.”
Koda touched Adijan’s shoulder. She shook him off and took a step closer to Murad’s divan.
“Shalimar didn’t want to marry you, sir,” she said.
Murad froze in the act of waving away a servant.
“This is outrageous!” Hadim said.
“She was compelled,” Adijan said. “By him.”
“You lie,” Hadim said. “A slander that blackens my good name. Speak one more word and I shall prosecute you.”
“It’s only a slander if it’s not true,” Adijan said. “I’ll say it again, to your face, and to the exalted seneschal, and I’d say it in front of anyone. Shalimar didn’t marry of her own free will.”
“That is a most serious accusation,” Murad said. “Hadim is correct in saying that you tarnish his honor.”
“With all due respect, Exalted Sir,” Adijan said, “the honor he has tarnished is yours. He has destroyed his own.”