by L-J Baker
Hadim’s face pinched with rage. “Honored Brother, I should not have to endure these lies and baseless accusations! Let alone have all my friends, relations, and acquaintances hear them.”
“I understand,” Murad said. “A man’s honor is his most valuable possession. This is your house, brother-in-law, but her accusations touch my honor. Now, you. If you cannot prove your case, you will have slandered me. You will be flogged and have your tongue ripped from your mouth and fed to the birds.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adijan licked her lips. If she failed to convince Murad, she stood to lose more than just Shalimar. But if she didn’t try, she had lost Shalimar already.
“Exalted One,” she said. “I say that you have been deceived by Hadim il-Padur. Shalimar has been married to you against her will.”
“Perhaps you had better begin by identifying yourself.”
Adijan bowed. “Exalted One, I am Adijan al-Asmai.”
“Not the enchantress from Emeza, then?” Hadim said.
Adijan shot him a glare. “Exalted One, I entered this house under the name of my friend because I wouldn’t have gained admittance under my true name.”
“Perhaps, Honored Brother,” Hadim said, “you don’t realize just who she is. Adijan is the person from whom I divorced my sister.”
“Now I know the name,” Murad said. “That certainly casts a shadow behind these accusations.”
“Sir, Shalimar did not marry you of her own free will.”
“And, yet, she gave her consent in the temple,” Murad said. “I heard her myself.”
Hadim smiled.
“Shalimar may have said ‘yes’ during the ceremony,” Adijan said, “but she didn’t know what she was doing or saying.”
“Is it your claim that I have been deceived into marrying a woman of few wits?” Murad said. “Hadim has been open with me about this deformity of his sister’s. That is no basis for the accusations you have leveled against me or my brother-in-law.”
“I did warn you, Honorable Brother,” Hadim said, “that she is a malicious liar. I hope the punishment may be carried out quickly.”
“I know better than anyone, Exalted Sir,” Adijan said, “that Shalimar is capable of making up her own mind. But not when she’s drugged.”
Murad frowned. “Drugged?”
A hush permeated the chamber. The male guests leaned forward in a whisper of expensive fabrics. Women crammed in the doorway to the garden murmured their surprise.
“She was drugged when she agreed to divorce me,” Adijan said. “And she’s drugged now.”
Hadim snorted derisively.
“Mrs. il-Padur can tell you,” Adijan said. “Shali doesn’t sing any more.”
“This is intolerable!” Hadim said. “Not only does she slander you and me, but she has the temerity to involve my frail old mother.”
Murad thoughtfully stroked his grey beard with ring-heavy fingers. “In truth, I was surprised at how docile and lifeless my bride is.”
Hadim spread his hands. “She is not like other women, Honored Brother. And the excitement, of marrying so noble and illustrious a man, has disturbed her more than usual. In a day or two, Honored Brother, I’m sure she will calm down.”
“Of course, she’ll be better in a day or two,” Adijan said. “That’s when the drug wears off. But I can make her better now. I have the antidote. Then you’ll see that the real Shalimar is lively and happy.”
“Preposterous,” Hadim said.
“Ask her mother!” Adijan pointed to the garden doorway. “Ask the woman who feeds Shali the drug. Ask the servants. There are forty people outside who know Shalimar. They’re her friends and neighbors. People she bought baskets off and did sewing for and looked after their kids. Ask them if Shali is normally dull and lifeless.”
Hadim began to speak but Murad interrupted him. The Seneschal looked troubled. “People trusted her to look after their children? And she shopped at markets? That seems improbable. It is true that I have met my bride only briefly, but, I confess, her demeanor did disturb me. So completely passive. And barely able to speak a word.”
“As I said, Honored Brother, her few wits cannot cope well with such a grand and arduous occasion. She –”
“Camel crap!” Adijan said. “Shali loves weddings. She loved ours. The excitement made her more lively, not less so. Ask her mother. Ask any of her friends. Have your servant go out and question them. They’ll tell you.”
Murad stroked his beard.
“I know which drug he’s used,” Adijan continued, “because he hired some people to set me up with a whore for Shali to see. They fed me the same stuff.”
Hadim snorted. “Inventing more complaints is not proof of anything but your malice. You –”
“It’s called shaz,” Adijan said. “And the antidote is ahrar el jins.”
A murmur rippled through the chamber and continued out to where the women stood. Adijan noticed two women easing through the crowded doorway. Unnoticed, Takush had worked her way around into the garden. She had her hand threaded through the arm of dumpy little Mrs. il-Padur. Mrs. il-Padur looked distressed.
“Really, Honored Brother,” Hadim said. “Her accusations get wilder. And where is one shred of proof?”
Adijan indicated the approaching Takush and Mrs. il-Padur. “Perhaps Shali’s mother has something to say.”
“Mother?” Hadim twisted around and frowned. “You know you shouldn’t be here. Has that woman forced you to come through?”
Mrs. il-Padur cast a pained look at her son, Adijan, and Murad. She said something to Takush too softly for Adijan to hear, but her hand over her mouth and head shaking was clear enough.
“I understand your loyalty to your son,” Takush said, “but think of Shalimar. And Adijan. She has tried everything to help. But they’ll flog her and pull her tongue out if she cannot prove her case. Can you not say anything?”
Mrs. il-Padur cast a despairing glance at Adijan and burst into noisy sobs.
Hadim leaped to his feet. “I shall not tolerate this treatment of my mother! The sooner Adijan has her tongue out, the better for us all. Really, this has gone on far too long. You –”
“Why are you so determined to shut everyone up?” Adijan asked. “You don’t want your mother to talk. You want me silenced. You’re keen to not have the Exalted Seneschal’s servants question Shali’s friends. And you’re desperate not to let Shalimar speak for herself. Why is that?”
“Because this is a wedding celebration!” Hadim said. “Not a session of the caliph’s court. My patience is at an end. Your criminal antics are offensive to me and my illustrious guests. The only point you have proved is that you can invent unsubstantiated slanders.”
Hadim turned to Murad. “I implore you, Honored Brother, to have your men remove this piece of refuse from our sight. And then we may resume the interrupted celebrations of our happy day.”
Murad stroked his beard. “I wish to know why the mother of my bride weeps on her daughter’s wedding day.”
A faint glow of hope kindled in Adijan’s breast.
Hadim strode to his mother. He angrily waved Takush away. “Come, now, Mother. This is an unseemly display. On Shalimar’s happy day. You wouldn’t wish your exalted son-in-law to mistake your tears of joy, would you, Mother?”
Mrs. il-Padur mumbled something.
Adijan glanced at Takush. Takush shook her head.
“Why don’t we ask Shalimar?” Adijan called. “Wouldn’t that be the simplest way to solve this? Shalimar can tell us whether she feels normal or strange. And if she’s happy to be married to the Exalted Seneschal. Can’t she?”
Hadim glared at her. “My sister should not have to be cross-examined. Especially not on her wedding day!”
“I agree that she,” Murad said, “like any woman of honor, should not be exposed to unpleasant harangues. However, it would answer many doubts if she were to speak.”
Adijan pulled a tiny clay jar from her p
antaloons pocket.
“This, Exalted One,” she said, “is the antidote. Drinking it will uncloud the mind of one affected by the drug.”
“Honored Brother,” Hadim said, “I protest. Administering this – this potion, whatever it may be, would appear that I acknowledged any grain of truth in these wild accusations. My sister is not, nor has she ever been, drugged. The weakness of her few wits would not withstand any such exercise.”
Adijan glared her hatred at him. “There’s one easy way to prove it. Let Shalimar drink this. If there’s no difference in her behavior afterwards, you’re cleared. Surely you can’t object to that?”
“It seems a fair test,” Murad said.
“It won’t take long for us to see the truth,” Adijan said. “The enchanter I bought this off –”
“Enchanter!” Hadim scoffed. “We have no way of knowing where you got it or if it really is this so-called antidote. This – this might even be a drug which adversely affects the mind of my unfortunate sister. And warp it in ways that would appear to bear out these false accusations.”
Murad’s eyebrows rose and he nodded. He looked at Adijan.
“I’ll taste it first,” Adijan said.
“And play-act,” Hadim said. “Hardly a rigorous test. I absolutely forbid the administration of this unknown substance to my sister.”
“You can’t,” Adijan said. “If Shali is legally married to the seneschal, then it’s his place to forbid or permit, not yours.”
Murad nodded. “This is true.”
Hadim scowled. “But – but Honored Brother, you cannot dream of allowing my unfortunate sister, your dear bride, to swallow this – this potion? And it is utterly unnecessary, because –”
“Oh, for the Eye’s sake!” Adijan shook her arms in frustration. “Just let Shalimar speak. It’s simple. She –”
“Eye!” Hadim pointed to Adijan’s left arm. “No hand. The mark of a felon.”
An angry buzz rose all around the chamber.
“She’s a liar,” Hadim said. “A cheat and thief. I –”
“No!” Adijan said. “It’s not –”
“I always knew you’d get caught,” Hadim said. “You fail at everything you do. You’d manage to turn gold into dung. You couldn’t even make a success of petty theft, could you? Or was it smuggling? Or just plain old lying?”
“Look, you son of a –”
“Honored Brother.” Hadim turned to Murad. “You now see the sort of person who attacks my honor. This good for nothing, worthless piece of dung stands condemned by her own criminal past.”
“No!” Adijan said. “That’s not what happened. Exalted One! I –”
“You cannot expect me to continue to tolerate the accusations of a condemned criminal,” Hadim said.
Murad turned an implacable expression on Adijan. She could all but see the pincers that would tear her tongue from her mouth. He lifted a hand. Adijan flung herself prostrate before his divan.
“Exalted One! I beg you,” she said. “I lost this hand during a magical duel. When my friend Zobeide challenged Baktar for his legacy.”
Murad looked unmoved.
“Sir, I didn’t lose my hand to the caliph’s axe,” Adijan said. “I cut it off myself. I –”
Hadim snorted. Other guests chuckled. Murad’s bodyguards swiftly stepped around to grab Adijan.
“I have heard you,” Murad said. “You have said much about Hadim il-Padur that, if true, would require the harshest retribution I could fashion. However, you have offered no proof. Your amputation would, rather, confirm that you are a criminal whose word is not to be believed. You have already been found to have acted cruelly toward my bride when she was your wife. It appears that this disruption of her wedding is further malice. Even if my honor had not been touched, it would be my duty as seneschal to ensure that you cannot repeat this disgusting action. Take her outside, captain.”
“Exalted One!” Adijan cried. “Even if you don’t believe a word I say, you must listen to Shalimar! Ask her what she wants. She won’t lie to you. Give her the antidote. See the difference.”
The men began dragging her away. Back over her shoulder, she saw Hadim’s smug smile. Murad remained implacable. Takush looked frantic. She darted for the women’s doorway. Mrs. il-Padur, with a hand over her mouth, watched Adijan dragged away.
“Give her an orange!” Adijan shouted. “If you don’t trust the antidote, give Shali an orange. See what happens.”
A fresh scuffle broke out between the palanquin bearers and Hadim’s servants and Murad’s men. One of the women grabbed Takush to prevent her going into the garden. They tussled in the doorway.
“Don’t you want to hear her sing again?” Adijan shouted.
She writhed and thrashed in vain against the hands holding her while still clutching the antidote jar which should have been her salvation. Bearded faces of the guests watched her dragged away.
“Shalimar!” Adijan yelled. This was her last chance to say this. “I love you!”
The men dragged her through the doorway, past the sneering major domo, and into the corridor. Fascinated servants stared at her. The front doors yawned wide open.
“There!” a man called. “That’s Adijan al-Asmai. You see. The priest, my brother, and I have come to – oh, dear. Adijan?”
“Make way there,” one of Murad’s bodyguards said.
“Adijan?” Nasir said. “What is happening? Your aunt’s message –”
“She’s to be taken out to be flogged and her tongue torn out,” the bodyguard said. “By orders of his exalted lordship, the Seneschal Murad. Now, step aside.”
“Auntie is inside,” Adijan said. “Make sure they don’t hurt her.”
The bodyguards shouldered past Nasir and the priest.
Across the street, near the cordon of beggars, Fakir stood up and pointed at her. Beside him, Curman, Qahab, and Puzu surged to their feet. Whatever Fakir said soon had everyone standing. Even Hadim’s servants turned to look. Bored bearers from the other wedding guests stopped their talking and gambling to watch.
Fakir made a sweeping gesture and trotted for the gates. Everyone followed him. They quickly overwhelmed Hadim’s servants and manhandled them out of the way.
Fakir arrived at the gates to Hadim’s house just as Adijan’s captors dragged her out. People quickly joined him and formed a solid wall.
“What’s this?” Fakir said. “What are you fellows doing?”
“Out of our way,” one of the bodyguards said. “She’s to be punished by orders of his exalted lordship, the Seneschal Murad. Now, step aside. All of you.”
“Punished?” Fakir said. “Nipper? What for? Where is your dear aunt? And Mrs. Nipper? What’s going on here?”
“Yeah,” Puzu called. “What’s happening?”
Qahab flexed his considerable muscles and remained solidly planted in the way. Adijan might’ve cried at their amazing loyalty and bravery, though she knew it was futile against the might of the seneschal’s order and armed men.
“Auntie’s inside,” Adijan said. “Fakir, make sure they don’t –”
A bodyguard slapped her face. “Quiet, you.”
“That’s not right.” Fakir took a step closer. “Hitting her like that. Not when she can’t defend herself.”
More voices in the crowd, brave with anonymity, called out against the projected punishment, Hadim il-Padur’s lack of generosity, and even the seneschal.
The bodyguard captain cursed under his breath. He drew his sword. “Disperse or we shall cut our way through you.”
Fakir took another step forward with his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Now, look here, fellows. No need for anyone to get hurt. No need at all. Talk it through. Nipper here –”
“You obstruct the orders of my master,” the captain said. “You will move aside or I shall make you.”
“Fakir!” Adijan said. “Don’t be an idiot. Get out of the way. Find Auntie. Keep her –”
A bodyguard sla
pped the side of her face.
Fakir stood his ground. “Can’t let them do that to you, Nipper. Not just like that. A fellow has his limits. Family, we are.”
The captain stepped closer to Fakir. The crowd wavered. Fakir alone stood firm.
“Fakir, no,” Adijan said. “Don’t make me responsible for you, too. I’ve messed up too much already. Think of Auntie.”
Fakir’s resolution visibly quavered. The captain lifted his sword menacingly. Fakir retreated a pace.
“Move!” the captain said. “All of you, move away.”
“Wait! Captain Fadl! Wait!”
One of Murad’s men trotted down the path to the gates.
“Captain Fadl,” he called. “Our exalted master wishes you to return the prisoner to his presence.”
The captain scowled and sheathed his sword. “You heard. Back we go.”
Adijan was light-headed with relief, and her knees nearly buckled on the way back into Hadim’s house. The guards prodded her along the corridor and back to the main chamber doorway. Wedding guests still sat drinking and enjoying the scandalous spectacle. Takush stood halfway to the women’s doorway flanked by two of Hadim’s female servants. Hadim did not wear his gloating smile. Mrs. Il-Padur, miserable and bent, stared at two women on the dance floor. One wore a dazzling red silk gown and jewel-spangled veil thrown back from her face. She stood in profile, facing Murad. Adijan stopped as if she hit an invisible wall. Shalimar.
Adijan swallowed.
The captain grabbed her arm and held her. “You wait here.”
“There’s no need to be shy with me.” Murad held out a hand to Shalimar. “Surely you know who I am?”
Adijan willed Shalimar to say something – anything – so that she could hear her voice again. But Shalimar’s face remained blank and slack.
The woman behind Shalimar touched Shali’s elbow and whispered in her ear. Shalimar frowned slowly as if her features were mired in thick honey. Her lips moved. Adijan could not hear. Murad and Hadim leaned forward.
“What did she say?” Murad asked.
The woman frowned unhappily. Adijan recognized her. She was the one who had brought Shali to see Adijan with the whore. Adijan’s fingers tightened around the clay jar, though she would dearly have liked to have them around that woman’s throat.