Fozia and the Quest of Prince Zal

by Rosanne Hawke

  ‘Ji.’ Fozia’s voice was soft.

  Izaak’s finger traced the embroidery of Fozia, her little sister and her parents. He gave a deep sigh. Then he smiled at her with such sadness that she frowned. What had the adults been talking about?

  11

  Prince Zal

  The dishes were done and Fozia was helping cut cloth, ready for Aunty Meena’s next sewing class. It had been a few days since Fozia had told the boys about Prince Zal. She missed saying his name.

  Amir echoed her thoughts. ‘You’ll feel happy if you tell us some more of the story. Does the leopard try to eat the prince?’

  Aunty Meena shushed him.

  Fozia wasn’t sure she could tell more of the story, and she glanced at Jehan. He handed her a picture he had drawn. It showed a girl and a boy on a maroon flying carpet.

  ‘This is khubsurat,’ Fozia said while Amir grinned like a monkey. ‘Is it Najya and Prince Zal?’

  Jehan bit his lip. ‘I was thinking of you and me.’

  ‘Hie.’ Perhaps she could have new brothers and not be disloyal. Perhaps her heart could grow bigger for Jehan and Amir, while her family kept its own special place.

  ‘We can help tell Prince Zal’s story,’ Jehan said quietly.

  Fozia blew out a breath. She knew that Zal came to life in her heart when she told the story.

  Aunty Meena looked up from cutting cloth. ‘What is the name of the boy in your story, Fozia?’

  Fozia couldn’t answer, but Jehan said, ‘It’s Prince Zal. He’s named after a hero in a book of Persian stories. He grew up to save his people.’

  ‘When he was little, a huge bird called the Simurgh kept him alive in the mountains as if he was her chick,’ Amir added.

  Aunty Meena nodded and went back to her cutting. ‘Zal is a common enough name.’

  Jehan looked at Amir in surprise. ‘How did you know the bird was called the Simurgh?’

  Amir grinned. ‘Shakila’s ummie told me the story when I was playing with Raza. Soon I’ll know enough to go to school with you.’

  Fozia took a deep breath. ‘Accha, this is what happens next …’

  The carpet hovered near the leopard pit. Prince Zal’s heart thumped. Was Toto right? Could he do this by himself? He focused as the leopard tore towards him through the trees. Would she jump at the carpet again? He steadied his breathing. She loves riddles and is a mother.

  The leopard stopped right under him as before. Zal remembered with a shiver how high this huge leopard could spring.

  ‘You have returned, Prince Zal?’ She spoke in a loud purr, but Zal didn’t like her tone. He drew in a breath and remembered he was a son of the king.

  ‘I have come to ask you for a promise on behalf of Paristan.’ His voice rang out much stronger than he imagined it would.

  ‘Hmph! And how will you extract this promise from the greatest beast in this magical jungle? Hmm?’

  ‘Um.’ What riddle could he think of? Then he had a startling idea. It was dangerous, but if Toto was correct, he could pull it off. ‘You tell me a riddle,’ he said, ‘and if I answer correctly or flummox you, you will promise to stop harassing the pariyan.’

  The leopard turned in a circle and laughed so loudly all the birds erupted out of the trees around them. ‘This will be too easy. You will never be a badshah because when you get this wrong, I will eat you. And then I will eat your little sister.’

  Zal felt himself grow cold. How did she know Najya was younger than him? He was stupid to ask for the riddle.

  But then Zal recalled Toto’s words – you can do anything – and he brightened. ‘Ask away,’ he said, sounding much more confident than he felt.

  ‘So, if I find a little girl in the jungle, should I eat her?’

  ‘Nai,’ Zal said, thinking of Najya and hoping that wasn’t the riddle.

  The leopard prowled on the jungle floor.

  ‘I won’t eat her if you can foretell correctly whether I do eat your sister or if I let her go.’

  Zal’s hands shook. What a responsibility. What could he answer that would confound the leopard? And not put Najya in danger? He couldn’t say eat his sister. He thought about it while the leopard watched with a huge smirk on her face.

  ‘I know what you will say,’ she growled. ‘You love your sister, don’t you? Mmm?’

  Zal swung each answer about in his mind, looking at all the possibilities. Finally, he decided. He took a shuddering breath. ‘I say that you will eat her.’

  The leopard’s smile turned into a snarl. ‘Then I can’t eat her or the prediction will be correct.’

  ‘Now will you let her go if you find her?’ Zal asked.

  The leopard wailed. ‘I can’t let her go either because you predicted I’d eat her, and how can I let her go if she is eaten?’ The leopard prowled around the trees, muttering. ‘How can I get out of this riddle? How can I eat her? There must be an answer. I must win.’ She prowled and snarled and her tail flicked so violently the bushes wilted.

  Finally, Prince Zal said, ‘Enough! Will you stop trying to eat the pari children and my sister? Would you like your cubs being killed and eaten?’

  The leopard sat on her haunches, her eyes tight with pain. ‘A hunter did. He took them – all of them.’

  Prince Zal felt a moment of compassion, but pushed it away – he had to win his case for Najya’s sake. ‘If you know this grief, why visit it on others?’

  ‘Revenge, Badshah Zal, revenge. Have you never felt the compulsion?’

  ‘Does it make you feel better?’ Zal ignored being called ‘King’; the leopard was certainly disoriented by being tricked.

  The leopard fell silent for a long time. Then she sighed. ‘You have my promise. I won’t harm the pari children or your sister.’

  ‘Shukriya.’ Zal wondered if he could trust her. Would she forget? Change her mind? The leopard lay on the jungle floor and put her chin on her paws.

  Prince Zal could only hope. He whispered to the carpet to make haste and fly back to Paristan.

  12

  Fozia

  Thursday was the last day of school before the spring break. Miss Parveen was obviously distracted and let the girls read for too long. Fozia played ball games with the little girls for ages before Miss Parveen called them back to the tent. The older girls crowded around their teacher after school.

  ‘We will miss you, Miss Parveen,’ Shakila said, even though her eyes were shining. ‘We can’t wait to see you in your wedding outfit.’ Some of the girls giggled.

  Fozia handed Miss Parveen a gift wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. She had crocheted around a purple dupatta for Miss Parveen to wear during her wedding week in Lahore.

  Miss Parveen put her arm around Fozia. ‘Shukriya,’ she said. ‘You have been such a help to me, piari Fozia. It isn’t easy teaching so many classes in a tent.’

  ‘I can’t wait until you return,’ Fozia said quietly.

  ‘Don’t you worry, we’re only going away for a few days. We’ll be back for the wedding party here, and I’ll be here to coach you all through the exams. I’ll be living with Shakila’s family then.’

  Fozia smiled. She knew that Miss Parveen and Izaak would have a room of their own off the courtyard. More girls gave Miss Parveen gifts and hugs, and Fozia watched, happy that Miss Parveen would still teach after her marriage.

  When Fozia and Jehan returned home from school, the house was in an uproar. Aunty Meena had invited Shakila, Raza, Mr and Mrs Waheed and Izaak for a late lunch. Jehan was given the job to wash the two windows. Amir had to wash the dishes in the courtyard. And for once the boys weren’t arguing or complaining about their jobs. They gave Fozia knowing smiles.

  Fozia helped Aunty Meena prepare chicken curry and rice. She supposed the celebration must be for Izaak’s wedding. In a few days, he would go to Lahore to marry
Miss Parveen. After the wedding festivities in her parents’ house, he would bring her and her relations back to have the wedding party in Shakila’s house. Fozia smiled at how happy Shakila was at school that morning. She was still excited when she arrived at the door with Raza and her parents and her uncle Izaak.

  ‘Fozia!’ Shakila hugged her and jumped on the spot. Her mother hushed her, and Fozia smiled. The wedding certainly was a huge event.

  The food was ready and they ate it together. Mr Waheed said, ‘How delicious!’ every time he tasted a dish – even the ones that Fozia had cooked.

  ‘Fozia helped me,’ Aunty Meena said. She looked so proud that Fozia ducked her head in embarrassment. She only did what she would have done for her ummie. Not that they ever had many guests. Her mother had always been too tired from working long hours at the brick kiln.

  Uncle Akram cleared his throat. He didn’t often talk at gatherings, so Fozia watched him in surprise. ‘We wanted to have a little celebration today as we have a gift for Fozia.’

  She caught her breath. What sort of gift? The only gift she ever thought about was finding someone from her own family.

  ‘Jehan,’ Uncle Akram said, ‘please help me bring it.’

  Jehan hopped up immediately and followed his father. After a few minutes they returned, carrying a new charpai. It was for just one person to use, and was woven with red-coloured rope. The charpai legs were covered in Jehan’s curving designs. They reminded Fozia of the patterns on her carpet.

  Jehan and Uncle Akram put it against the wall. Then Uncle Akram regarded Fozia so long she squirmed. ‘This is for you,’ he finally said, ‘because we want to say today how thankful we are to Khuda to have you in our family. You are a caring and helpful girl. We all love you and we hope you grow to be happy with us.’ He stopped suddenly and sat down. Aunty Meena smiled at him.

  Fozia’s vision grew foggy. ‘Shukriya,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you for caring for me so well.’ She could say nothing else. Jehan and Amir jumped up and clapped. They sang the happy song: ‘Khushi khushi’.

  Everyone laughed then. Amir even told them about Fozia’s story. She tried to hush him. She didn’t want to tell the story today in front of adults, but Amir ignored her. ‘Prince Zal has a quest and he’s looking for his sister.’

  There was silence from the adults in the room. Izaak frowned as if he were thinking hard. Then Aunty Meena said, ‘It’s not an unusual name.’

  ‘Zal was a hero,’ Amir said. ‘Fozia tells amazing stories.’

  ‘I’m just telling the stories my ummie and abu told,’ Fozia added quickly.

  The chatter started up again and Shakila said, ‘Chacha Izaak said we can use his phone for a short while to try Skyping Kelsey.’

  Fozia nodded, thinking of the odd look on both Mr Waheed’s and Izaak’s faces. Soon, they asked permission to leave.

  Mr Waheed turned to Aunty Meena. ‘Shukriya, Baji, for a wonderful feast. Give us leave to go home now. Shakila will stay with Fozia and bring the phone back with her later.’ He put his hand on Fozia’s head in blessing. ‘We pray you’ll be happy with your new family.’

  Fozia bowed her head. ‘Shukriya.’

  Amir put his arms around her neck. Fozia knew she should be happy. This was the best family she could be with if she couldn’t have her own. Could she love them? She had tried not to, in case it wasn’t for always, but she was defenceless against the charm of Amir’s hugs and Jehan’s caring gaze.

  ‘I’ve always wanted a big sister,’ Jehan said. ‘One who could get water from the river.’

  She tried to smile. ‘We have a tap now.’

  ‘I know, but I still want you as a sister.’ He chuckled while Fozia swallowed the knot in her throat. She put her arms around both boys. ‘I love you,’ she said softly, the words new and helpless like seedlings.

  Lali wagged her tail and licked the hands of all three children.

  Skype did work on Izaak’s phone, and Kelsey was as excited as Shakila. Fozia wished she could feel like that. She only ever felt thankful in a quiet way. Kelsey spoke about a party she was having that night. ‘People will pay a dollar to come, and a dollar to do each of the activities.’

  Fozia could tell Kelsey was raising money for someone, so she said, ‘I’m raising money, too, to pay the money my family owes to the brick-kiln owner.’

  Shakila looked at Fozia. ‘How much money do you need?’

  Fozia hesitated. ‘It’s a lot – forty thousand rupees.’

  Jehan cut in. ‘That’s about four hundred Australian dollars.’ Fozia looked at him in surprise and he grinned.

  ‘Wow, forty thousand rupees sounds so much more than four hundred dollars,’ Kelsey said. ‘How are you raising the money?’

  ‘I’m crocheting a carpet, just like the one in the story, and I’ve asked Izaak to sell it online.’ She turned to Shakila. ‘I think I’ll need help with cross-stitching the flowers around the edge – they’re taking so long to do.’

  ‘Zarur.’ Shakila’s eyes were shining.

  ‘Can you show me?’ Kelsey said.

  Fozia took the phone to her new charpai and spread the crocheted carpet on it.

  ‘That is stunning, like a real Persian rug.’ Kelsey’s voice softened in wonder. ‘Please tell me when it goes online. My nanna would love to see it.’

  Shakila jumped up. ‘Actually, why don’t we take some photos after we’ve finished Skyping so Chacha can put it online today?’

  ‘But it’s not finished,’ Fozia said.

  ‘That won’t matter,’ Shakila said. ‘Chacha can post the pictures and deliver the rug when it’s ready.’

  ‘Khoob idea,’ Fozia said.

  ‘My aunties have never made a rug like this,’ Shakila said. ‘They will want your pattern so they can do one, too.’

  Fozia and Shakila sat back down with the phone so the boys could see Kelsey.

  Kelsey smiled. ‘I’ll be able to help too when—’

  Shakila butted in and began talking about the wedding. Fozia had never seen Shakila be rude like that before. But Kelsey didn’t seem to mind. Fozia thought about it – it was as if Shakila knew what Kelsey was about to say.

  A left-out feeling crawled over Fozia. Did they have a secret? Kelsey always found it hard to hide a new idea. But Fozia had a secret too, didn’t she? Secrets weren’t always good to keep.

  ‘We’re having new clothes made for the wedding party,’ Shakila said.

  ‘I wish I could see them,’ Kelsey said. ‘Will you have a new outfit too, Fozia?’

  Fozia nodded. ‘Ji, Aunty Meena taught me how to make a shalwar qameez in her sewing classes.’

  ‘Wow,’ Kelsey said. ‘That’s really amazing.’

  Fozia smiled. She enjoyed making her own clothes.

  Kelsey looked so happy for them that she couldn’t keep still. ‘I hope the wedding is wonderful! You must tell me everything, but my dad’s calling me, so I really have to go. Bye.’

  Shakila and Fozia blinked as the screen faded with a blip. ‘How strange that she had to go so suddenly,’ Shakila said.

  Fozia agreed. ‘Ji.’ Everything had been strange today. But she had so much to be thankful for: Jehan’s family who loved her; Shakila to help with the embroidery. And, with Izaak selling the carpet online, she hoped she would make enough money to pay back the brick-kiln owner. There was just one thing pressing on her heart – a secret as huge and troubling as a hidden serpent.

  13

  Prince Zal

  After Shakila had gone home and the boys were playing cricket in the lane, Fozia laid her carpet on her new charpai. It felt much more comfortable to sit on than her mat on the floor. She looked through the letters she had recovered from her house, the ones that weren’t completely ruined and stuck together. She read a few lines: I love you, Fozia and Saima. Please don’t forget me. Her hands sho
ok and tears pricked behind her eyes. It felt as though she could hear his voice.

  Just then the boys returned to the room.

  ‘Can you tell us about the pariyan?’ Amir said. ‘Can they fix Prince Zal’s limp?’

  Fozia glanced down at the letters as the boys climbed onto the carpet with her. ‘Maybe not the limp, that may always be there – he lost some toes, too. But they could heal the leprosy so it doesn’t get worse.’ Fozia knew that it took a year for leprosy to be healed with medicine.

  ‘Fozia?’ Jehan asked. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Ji.’ She slipped the letters under the carpet.

  Jehan grinned as Amir snuggled in beside Fozia with the pups sprawled over their laps. They were too big now to fit on just one lap. Lal laid his head on Nala’s back. She growled softly but she didn’t shake him off.

  ‘Accha,’ Fozia said. ‘This is what happens next …’

  The carpet landed gently on the grass beside the secret mountain lake. Prince Zal could hear singing and splashing. The sound of stringed music and flutes filled the air. The pariyan were dancing in the shallow water while little waves played with their bare feet.

  The princess approached him. ‘Shukriya, Badshah Zal. We knew you wouldn’t fail us.’

  ‘Zal!’ A small figure raced towards him, her brown braids streaming behind her. She shimmered like a pari – but it was still her. She jumped into his arms, and Prince Zal was so happy he wept.

  ‘Najya – you’re safe.’

  It was the first time he had held her since his illness began. He swung her round and round and laughed through his tears.

  ‘The pariyan saved me in the jungle after I nearly drowned in the river. They flew me here.’

  ‘You flew?’

  ‘Nai, they had hold of me, but those wings folded on their backs are not just for show. They can truly use them.’ Then she said, ‘Zal, let’s stay here longer. I like it here. I’m learning so many dances.’

  Prince Zal remembered Toto’s warning about pariyan being dangerous. ‘We’d better not stay too long, Najya, or we may forget to go home.’