Climbing the Date Palm

by Shira Glassman

  “--a dragon, yes, I know. Which makes the whole thing sound a bit like a bedtime story.”

  “It’s true! It’s not a wild dragon. He’s a wizard with a dragon form.”

  “You know,” Farzin began, but Kaveh never got to hear the rest, because there was a great noise behind him. He turned around to see several guards approaching him with arrows already lifted to their bows.

  “But I bribed the guard! I--”

  “It’s probably a new shift,” Farzin pointed out, his heart sinking.

  “Get that man!” shouted an angry voice. “He’s working with the traitor!”

  “I’m going for Riv! I love you! Don’t you dare die!” Kaveh shouted, jumping onto his horse and kicking its sides.

  Arrows flew through the air toward him, and several found their mark. “You dogs!” Farzin cried in agony. “You’ve hit the king’s son!”

  The guards scurried about in panic, realizing he spoke the truth. Kaveh’s horse galloped away with Kaveh astride it, but he was swaying unevenly and there was blood forming at some of the places the arrows had hit. Farzin watched the horse until it was out of sight, unable to tell how Kaveh had fared. He clasped his hands to his heart, imagining Kaveh’s beat there as well beside his. “I’ll tend it well, and keep it safe, here with my own,” he repeated softly to the empty cell.

  Then he sat down in the dust and, picking up a pebble from the corner, comforted himself with math.

  Chapter 10: The Masked Warrior

  King Jahandar sat on his throne in his great hall, listening to three musicians play and enjoying being full from a satisfying lunch. Strong sunlight streamed in through the windows, making the red clay of the walls bright and alive like fire. To his right sat his oldest son, the Crown Prince, and beyond that the Crown Princess, Azar. To his left sat a courtier, who was falling asleep.

  “A livelier tune next, I think,” Jahandar said when the song had ended, one eye on the man to his left. “We’re all overly soothed by good food and good music.” But a slight cough from the guard at the far end of the hall drew his eye, and he held up his hand to stay the musicians before they could start. “What is it?

  “Sire, there are two Perachis at the door asking for audience with you,” said the guard. “They’ve come from Queen Shulamit’s court, and they bear gifts and news.”

  Jahandar lifted his eyebrows. “Very well -- thank you. Musicians, you may rest. I’ll see you during the next meal. Guard, permit the emissaries to enter.”

  The guard disappeared and came back leading two men. One of them had the darker skin of their neighbors to the east; the other was much taller and broader than anyone in their region and had lighter skin. His dark-blond hair was cropped short, and the lower half of his face was hidden behind a piece of cloth.

  Azar stared at him, blinking and without saying a word.

  “Come closer,” the king invited.

  The two men approached the throne and knelt on one knee.

  Jahandar studied them carefully. The darker-skinned man was of advanced-enough age that his shoulder-length hair was streaked with gray. He was slender but looked powerful. All he could see of the blond man’s face was blue eyes that were both piercing and beady under thick eyebrows of dark gold. Both men wore what looked like ceremonial armor: tunics of black leather over simple black clothing. The center of each tunic was decorated with Shulamit’s court seal, crafted in metal. “Welcome to my court, men of Perach,” said the king, holding out his hands in greeting. “You may rise.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” said the older one as he rose. The other simply nodded solemnly.

  “What brings you to my court?”

  “We have news, Your Majesty,” said the masked man, speaking for the first time with a heavily accented voice so deep and booming that Jahandar noticed everyone around him start a little from its unexpected power.

  “We also carry gifts from our most esteemed queen, Shulamit bat Noach,” said the older man, holding up a wooden box covered with intricately carved designs. The king beckoned for him to approach, so he stepped closer and placed it into the king’s hands.

  “Ahh, I love the scent of jasmine,” Jahandar murmured as he opened the box. Briefly, he inspected the scented oils, teas, spices, and tiny carved figurines the foreign queen had given him. “Tell your queen I give her my thanks. For what purpose does she send me these gifts?”

  “She seeks unity with your house,” said the older man.

  “Your son, Prince Kaveh, took refuge within our walls,” said the masked man.

  Jahandar’s eyebrows went up again. “Has he?”

  “Queen Shulamit wishes that you would grant your blessing to her marriage with your youngest son,” said the older man.

  Off to his right came a sharp gasp that told the king that power-hungry little vixen Azar was indeed paying attention.

  “My son’s mind is unbalanced,” Jahandar pointed out dismissively. He wanted no angry retaliation if she discovered her mistake when it was too late.

  “Her Majesty finds him agreeable,” said the masked man. “Perhaps she thinks his face will look good on the other side of the coin of the realm.”

  Jahandar considered this development for some time without speaking. Kaveh was less than a man and more than an embarrassment, and he couldn’t figure out what value this foreign queen saw in him. But accepting the marriage would not only rid him of any obligation to count Kaveh as part of his immediate house, it would also strengthen him as a nation linked with the powerful -- and much larger -- lands to the east.

  “Very well. I consent. Give she who is to be my daughter my blessing for me, and I wish on them a happy reign and healthy children.”

  “Thank you, Majesty,” said the masked man.

  “How is my son? He collapsed during his brother’s wedding and hasn’t been seen since. He must have wandered into your country in his delirium.” Jahandar was lying; he knew the guards at the prison had shot him as he escaped from where he’d been visiting that traitorous wolf, Farzin. Farzin the Fat. Farzin the Fool.

  “He recovers well,” said the masked man, drawing himself up to his full height. “A brave and a strong man, to ride so far while in so much pain. He nearly died, but he never lost his focus. You are wise to be proud of him.”

  Jahandar studied him, uneasy at this last sentence because it sounded like a challenge. He’d been thinking about the man’s size, and his blond hair, but most of all the cloth mask over his face. “You’d know all about bravery, or so I hear, Captain Riv.” Of course. Who else could he be, with his northern coloring, and the cloth mask, coming from the court of Shulamit? He said this to show these foreigners that he could guess who they were, that he was king and had the ultimate upper hand.

  “I fought in wars in many lands, and now I guard the queen,” said the masked man, “so, yes, I know bravery.”

  “Stories of your exploits have traveled beyond Perach’s borders,” said the king. “They say you ride a dragon into battle. The scar you hide behind that mask -- tell me, is it from an enemy, or from the dragon?”

  An inscrutable glare came from the foreigner’s blue eyes. “The dragon would never hurt the one he loves,” he growled.

  Jahandar eyed the other man, the older one, suspiciously, but he held up his hands. “I’m not the dragon, Your Majesty.”

  “My apologies,” said the king.

  “No offense taken, Your Majesty.”

  “Captain, we’d love to hear one of your adventure stories,” said the king. “Will you take wine?”

  “If you’ll give it,” said the masked man.

  The king clapped his hands loudly, and two servants appeared from a side door. He ordered wine and fruit from one and bade the other bring chairs for the travelers. They sat down, and the masked man told them all about how Captain Riv -- before he was Captain Riv -- and the dragon, of course, had fought and captured the twin brothers who were highwaymen on the roads of Imbrio, to Perach’s immediate north.
There was also the tale of the rescue of the lady in blue, far away across the sea at Port Saltspray. Everyone was enthralled by his cavernous voice.

  ***

  None had been as captivated as Crown Princess Azar. As soon as the masked warrior had opened his mouth, Azar momentarily forgot to breathe. As he continued his stories, she looked away in embarrassment, but she could feel his presence affecting her heart like the earth pulls on falling feathers. Though they float, they can’t help but travel mercilessly downward.

  Azar straightened her shoulders and sat upright in her seat, irritated with herself. Not only was she a married woman, but she was wed to the future king of the city! What right had this strange man to speak with such muscle in her presence?

  Ah, but even when he was silent, those smirking blue eyes, those pointed eyebrows...

  Haughtily, she looked away again. It didn’t help as much as she hoped it would.

  When the men had finally left, Azar turned to Jahandar, waiting for him to say what was on her mind. He didn’t disappoint. “Hard to believe a man like that is one who favors men,” he muttered thoughtfully.

  Meanwhile, Azar was thinking to herself how hopeless she was, first with her ill-fated love of Prince Kaveh, then this sudden and infuriating attraction to a foreign warrior who also loved men! She loved her husband, but his voice didn’t make her blood bubble the way the captain’s had. “He said such nice things about Kaveh,” she commented, because she was thinking about that too.

  “Hm. Yes, I noticed that. I hope it doesn’t mean anything.” He emphasized the penultimate word in a grim tone.

  “Surely nobody would cuckold a dragon,” Azar pointed out.

  “A comforting thought.”

  ***

  Outside the palace, when they’d turned a corner and it was safe, Isaac peeled away his mask. “That went well. Much easier to breathe now.”

  “You’re a strange one! I don’t think you told a single lie, yet you managed to convince him you were Riv.” Tivon shook his head. “And I know for certain, because I know you, and I listened and kept track. If I were Riv, I’d be a little bit scared of you.”

  “Yes, well, Riv knows I’d die for him,” growled Isaac with such intensity that Tivon mentally scurried back from the line he’d crossed.

  “Our first mission is accomplished,” Tivon pointed out. “We got the king to accept the marriage without him suspecting your lizard form is anywhere near his prison.”

  “I’m glad you found a way to mention that you weren’t the dragon, either.”

  “I’m not as sneaky as you are, but I can still think on my feet. Meet you back at the inn?”

  Isaac nodded. “Time to go find this engineer of Kaveh’s.” With that, he transformed into a small green lizard and scurried down the river toward the prison.

  Chapter 11: Burnt Sugar

  In the long light of the afternoon, the lizard Isaac scuttled over the rocks and clay of King Jahandar’s prison fortress. He had poked his scaly nose in and out of several cells so far, and found a weeping and disheveled woman, two old men, and several men who were the right age but who were either too thin, too toned, or too short to match Kaveh’s description of his beloved. When the next cell contained two attractive young women quarreling over which of them was at fault for their arrest for pickpocketing, he began to wonder if the king had hidden Farzin away in some secret underground chamber, reserved for only the most dangerous criminals. It didn’t make sense for Farzin’s personality or deeds, but Isaac knew Jahandar wasn’t interested in any version of reality he hadn’t made up himself.

  However, he had better luck in Cell 15. A heavily built young man had fallen asleep in the middle of the floor, his head resting on his arm. Isaac remembered Kaveh thinking of his beloved’s face as ‘flabby’ and he noticed with satisfaction that the man’s cheeks puffed out slightly. A pebble had slipped out of his hand, and all across the dust in front of him were lines and figures.

  Isaac crept through the window high in the cell and made his way down the wall, thinking carefully about his next move. He didn’t want to startle Farzin awake in some way that might upset his nerves; he felt bad enough for him already.

  ***

  A beautiful, bass voice cut through Farzin’s slumber. The song was soft and soothing enough that it woke him gradually, before he could understand the words.

  “Upon a tree beyond the lake

  The golden apples grow,

  Protected by a fearsome snake

  Who sleeps coiled up below.

  The knight approached to take the fruit

  And fight the scaly beast

  Who rests against the apple’s root

  And dreams to life a feast.

  The snake became a dragon bold

  To guard the magic tree,

  But not all knights are after gold

  And precious few are free.

  ‘Please share with me,’ cajoled the knight,

  ‘Or I shall starve tomorrow.’

  ‘Then share my life,’ the serpent sighed,

  ‘And end my lonely sorrow.’

  So now the tree is watched by two

  And flourishes--”

  Farzin lifted his head from his arm, peering up at the window. He squinted as his eyes, used to the cell after so many days of darkness, met the tiny source of indirect light head-on. “Who’s there?”

  The song stopped, replaced by a spoken voice. “Kaveh’s alive. I’m guessing who you are because of all those calculations on the ground.”

  Farzin sprang to a more upright position, and he pointed one trembling hand at the window. “Who are you? I can’t see you!”

  “Look down. I’m the lizard on the wall.”

  “What?”

  “I’m Isaac, the dragon wizard from the court of Queen Shulamit.”

  Farzin’s eyes bulged. “You’re--you’re the bedtime story! He found you!” He threw his head back in grateful prayer. “He found you -- and he’s alive!”

  “He wanted to make sure I told you he loves you.”

  “And I love him,” Farzin replied intensely. “Can you help us?”

  “We’ll try,” said Isaac. “Between my magic and Riv’s mastery of multiple combat techniques, there are probably several ways we could rescue you -- especially if we wait until they take you out of the fortress for execution.”

  Farzin wiped sweat from his face and furrowed his brow. “Such a short time -- from here to the gallows.”

  “Then it may cheer you to hear that our queen has another plan,” Isaac continued. “She’s convinced she can find a peaceful solution, one that will save your life but won’t anger the king. Even though her armies, wealth, and power surpasses his, she doesn’t like to make enemies.”

  “She sounds like an interesting woman,” said Farzin. “Maybe I’d like her.”

  “I hope you will,” said Isaac.

  “I did think of an escape plan,” said Farzin, rushing over to the corner where several bits of rubbish sat in the sand. “Look -- one of the guards felt bad for me and slipped me some butter, and here’s a piece of broken bottle that someone threw away near my window. If I rip off a bit of my shirt and ball it up and put the butter all over it, I might be able to use the bottle to catch the sunlight just right and make a torch.”

  “And then what?” asked Isaac politely.

  “That’s where it falls apart.” Farzin hung his head. “The door’s wooden, but there are guards everywhere outside of it. I’d get outside, and they’d beat me again.”

  “It’s still an interesting idea.”

  “What about the workers? Did Kaveh tell you the whole story -- how his father denied them fair payment?”

  “We’ve heard everything,” said Isaac. “If Queen Shulamit’s plans work, she’s committed to find a way to persuade the king not only to free you, but to restore the proper wages to you and your workmen.”

  “I don’t need any money for myself,” said Farzin. “I just want to make sure
the men get what they worked for. Just get me out of here. A quiet life with Prince Kaveh is the only wages I seek.”

  “On behalf of the queen, then, I ask you -- will you share those wages with us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Queen Shulamit doesn’t care for the caresses of men.”

  Farzin blinked. “Oh! You mean -- you mean like me? I mean, the other way around?”

  “Exactly. She’s always hoped she’d come across a prince who felt the same way she did, so that she could produce an heir with someone who wouldn’t trouble her for physical intimacy otherwise.”

  “I see where you’re going with this.” Farzin felt blood rushing into his face. “How does Kaveh feel about it?”

  “He agreed, but made us all promise to rescue you and get the king to pay everyone their promised wages.”

  “He agreed,” Farzin repeated. “Your queen -- is she beautiful?”

  “Her looks are average,” said Isaac. “It doesn’t hurt my eyes to look at her.”

  “Is she smart?”

  “She has a brilliant mind.”

  “Is she interesting?”

  “Farzin, please. Kaveh rode straight to our courts without stopping to have his wounds tended, nearly dying from infection and thirst, because he was so desperate to reach us and beg for our help. To save you. We try to talk to him about other topics, like his father, or what the Month of the Sun is like, and all he wants to talk about is you. He loves only you. Besides,” Isaac added in a deep grumble that made Farzin believe that he really could turn into a dragon sometimes, “Shulamit is more to me than my queen -- she’s like the daughter I don’t have. If she doesn’t want a man to touch her, I won’t let him.”

  “I believe you. I’m sorry. I just... It’s easy to imagine that people have forgotten you, locked away down here.”

  “Kaveh loves you. I nursed him back to health myself, and his thoughts of happiness that fueled my magic were all of you. And your men -- they still demonstrate on the bridge, dwindling though their numbers might be.”