Climbing the Date Palm

by Shira Glassman

“War. Say it. War. If it starts a war. Stop being scared. We can handle it.”

  “If this starts a conflict, then I basically just sold out my army because I can’t bear the idea of laying with a man on a regular basis. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “I’m the captain of your Guard, and I signed up to do everything I can to protect you with my life. That includes protecting your body.”

  “I have the whole country to look out for, not just the army.”

  “Do you really think the City of Clay folks have enough of an army to provide a real threat to Perach? Because I don’t. I think--”

  “I know I’m probably going to have to send you and your men in there,” Shulamit said wearily. “I just want more time to try it my way.”

  “You’ve had weeks! We found a... some jeweler who shtupped the king a million years ago. Not the glorious moral goddess you were hoping for. We tried it your way.”

  “She wasn’t the one. It wasn’t her. She’s still out there.”

  “This meshuggineh poem was always a farfetched long shot!” Rivka barked. “I know you want a peaceful solution, but this isn’t it. This one’s a waste of time. If you really wanted a diplomatic way out you should have dropped this and spent your energy thinking of a different--”

  “I have been trying to think of another one! My brain hurts from trying! There’s something profoundly wrong with the fact that all I can think about morning and night is King freaking Jahandar. He’s there when I fall asleep, and there right there all over again when I wake up. Maybe you’re right -- maybe there is another peaceful way. I just wish I had more time to think.”

  “We don’t have more time. And now we have even less time, because of this insane execution-by-fire business.” Rivka stood up, throwing up her hands. “You go on and wait ‘til the very last minute, but if something goes wrong with this rescue because we ran out of time, it’s on your head.”

  “I can’t just worry about my head -- I have to think about my country!” Shulamit called after the captain as she stormed out of the kitchen.

  Isaac stood up and sighed.

  “She thinks I’m only worried about making Jahandar mad at me, and that’s not it. I mean, it’s part of it, but it’s not... It’s my responsibility as queen not to go starting up conflicts with other nations. Even if she thinks they’re not worth worrying about. I don’t agree with that, anyway. They’re not as powerful as we are but they’re not nothing...”

  “She’s very confident,” Isaac admitted. “And she loves you and she knows that she has talents that she can use to protect you.”

  “I wish I didn’t need protecting.”

  Isaac circled the table so he could lay a heavy, comforting hand on her shoulder, and then exited into the clear night air.

  Shulamit looked at Aviva. “You keep saying that Kaveh’s attractive.”

  “In the conventionally accepted way, yes.”

  They remained in deep conference for a good while.

  ***

  When Shulamit reached the prince’s room, she found guards inside just as Rivka had mentioned. She ordered them to the outside of the room and then shut the door. Kaveh didn’t acknowledge her, remaining tightly curled into a ball of emotion in the corner of his bed. She sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I promise I’ll let Riv and the others leave in time to save Farzin if I can’t find the mystery woman in time,” she said gently. “I won’t let him die.”

  Kaveh responded without moving, or even looking up at her. “I see him burning in my mind. His face torn with pain, the charred remains of his limbs--”

  “Shh... Stop... stop.” She ran her hand lightly over his back. “My brain does that too. It’s so busy that sometimes it likes to make up nightmares to keep itself entertained. I hate it.”

  Kaveh rolled over to face her. “He’s the best man ever born, Shulamit. All he wanted was for people to be treated fairly.”

  “Then you’re lucky that you met him, and that he loves you.”

  “I’ll die if he does.”

  Shulamit nodded. “I know. I’ve asked you this before, but -- is there anything else you can tell us about who the woman from the poem might be?”

  Kaveh shook his head. “The only romances of his I know about are my mother and stepmother.” He snorted weakly. “It feels strange to think of anyone loving my father. He’s become such a monster.”

  “At least he’ll be nicer to you now that he thinks you’re paired with a woman.”

  “You look like the idea makes you want to throw up.”

  “It does, a little. My stomach feels like there’s a big rock inside.”

  “Maybe it won’t be that bad. You’re close to me now, right? It would just be... a little bit closer.”

  Shulamit lifted an eyebrow skeptically, but she didn’t stop him because she wanted desperately to see if she could handle this. She still wanted to rescue Farzin and see justice done, but it frustrated her and made her feel like a child that so much of her motivation these past few weeks had been the simple selfishness of avoiding what for many people was ordinary intimacy.

  Kaveh pulled her down beside him onto the bed and ran a featherlight hand down her arm from her shoulder to her wrist. She took a long, slow breath, trying to pretend he was just massaging her to calm her nerves. For a moment, she was tempted to pretend she was somewhere else.

  “Does that feel good?”

  She didn’t know how to answer. But. This was nothing. She could handle it.

  She forced herself to put her arms around him, and he responded in kind. Not kissing -- she couldn’t -- instead, they just held each other in an awkward, sweaty silence. Shulamit was drowning in the smell of man, and it was scary and unfamiliar. His body was harder, bonier, more toned than Aviva’s, but he was trying to be gentle, and she appreciated that.

  I don’t like this! she screamed to God.

  “Keep going,” she said in a tiny voice. She was a queen, daughter of her father. Weaknesses were made to be conquered.

  Then two things happened at once that broke her courage. Kaveh timidly slid his hand inward to wrap three fingers around her breast, and she felt the beginnings of his body starting to respond against her pelvis. It was as if someone suddenly blew out a torch. She panicked and pushed him away.

  “I’m sorry... I’m sorry... Are you okay?” Kaveh babbled nervously. “Please don’t call off the deal. I wanted to show you it wouldn’t be so bad, so you’d try harder to save him. Oh, my--”

  “Please go away.” She sat up and crunched her body into a curled-up knot, her hands cupped over her nose and mouth. Her skin was crawling all over. “I’m sorry. I need to be alone.” She had even forgotten for a moment that this was supposed to be Kaveh’s room.

  He disappeared, and she sank into her own mind, thoughts scattered, not even knowing what form her prayers should take.

  The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by two pairs of very familiar, muscular arms. “Oh, Malkeleh, Malkeleh, what did you do?” cooed Rivka, plaintive and soothing, holding her almost too tightly -- but Shulamit needed it.

  “Do you need me to transform?” Isaac asked, probably worried that in the body of a human male he might be upsetting Shulamit to be so close to her at this vulnerable moment. Not waiting for an answer, the room suddenly filled with his dragon form, and he wrapped both wife and adopted daughter in his wings.

  Shulamit burst into tears. “I’m -- so-- weak!”

  “Shhh...” Rivka patted her hair over and over again. “No, you’re not. You aren’t now, and you never were.”

  “I just couldn’t bear it. It was like someone was trying to get my blood to flow the wrong way in my body. Like I was swimming against a strong current. Oh, and, Rivka--” She couldn’t even describe the unsettling feeling of Kaveh growing hard against her.

  “You did good,” said the dragon in his deep, echoey rumble. “Don’t be ashamed if you try things that wind up not working.
Trying means you have courage. You don’t have to succeed for that to mean something.”

  “Isaac, how am I ever going to go all the way through this with anyone, enough to get myself full with an heir?”

  “Maybe you don’t have to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe I can figure out a way to get Kaveh’s seed inside you with magic,” he explained. “After all, when Rivka and I... I have magic spells that kill my own seed -- there must be a way to reverse the spell and reanimate seed outside the body... and get it back inside of you somehow. Maybe even with Aviva’s help, so it’ll feel like she’s the one impregnating you.”

  “That... would mean the world to me,” Shulamit said to him, slowly and deliberately.

  “Come back to our room,” said Isaac brightly. “Nothing to do with this, but maybe it cheers you up. I just remembered I’ve got a present for you.”

  ***

  Shulamit woke up the next morning determined to give the search for Jahandar’s mystery girlfriend one final attempt before acquiescing to Rivka’s plea for marching orders. She was, therefore, thoroughly distracted by her own thoughts as she tried on her wedding dress for Aviva’s father, who was a tailor.

  “I keep forgetting how thin you are,” said Ben, looking over his handiwork, “but I think I’ve finally gotten it right.”

  “Everything she eats just goes straight to her hair,” quipped Aviva. Shulamit’s long black hair was thick and unruly even for her people’s already robust hair, which was why it usually lived so highly restrained.

  Shulamit rotated completely so the present company could admire her wedding outfit. She had chosen a color between yellow and green that reminded her of new growth (and Aviva of unripe bananas). Ben also carried, in a neat folded pile, the white lace chuppah Leah had crafted. It was stitched here and there with thread of the same yellow-green as the wedding outfit in patterns reminiscent of young leaves and tendrils.

  Mitzi, who couldn’t resist being involved in anything to do with new clothes and thus had insinuated herself into the fitting session, gazed dreamily at the chuppah. When Ben and the servants had left and only Shulamit, Aviva, and Rivka remained with her in the room, she commented, “Ahh, Rivkeleh... you know, I made you a chuppah when you were a little girl. You never used it, but I brought it with me.”

  Rivka looked embarrassed, but Aviva jumped up. “Oh, Lady Miriam, I’d love to see it!”

  Mitzi beamed and floated out of the room. Meanwhile, Shulamit continued to think about Jahandar. Maybe she was one of the court musicians... but she’d have to be either rich or highly ranked. How would I find out if there was a rich musician...?

  When Mitzi returned she carried not only the chuppah, of undyed wool lace, but also a large dark-brown evening gown. Rivka’s jaw dropped when she saw it. “Why do you have that?”

  “It’s your dress from Cousin Bina’s wedding,” Mitzi reminded her.

  “I know. You brought it... why?”

  “I don’t know, don’t you think Isaac would maybe like to see you in it? You looked lovely that night.”

  Rivka clapped her hand to her mouth with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Let’s see the chuppah,” said Aviva. “Oh, lovely! And you made this all by yourself?”

  “Yes, I made it when Rivka was a little girl. I didn’t know she’d grow up so... different.” She turned to face her daughter. “And then you went away and got married somewhere else without it, and it’s never been used.”

  “Sorry?” Rivka said awkwardly. “Sorry I didn’t wait until you could be there, but I waited for three years, and honestly given my mood at the time it was get married that day or risk not getting married before we--” She flailed her hands around in the air in a gesture meant to indicate I am not talking about sex with my mother.

  “Oh, honestly, Rivkeleh, he may be literally a dragon, but he’s so calm and restrained that I just can’t imagine him being any kind of a dragon in the--”

  “Aaaaah!” Shulamit suddenly squeaked. Three pairs of eyes swiveled straight to her.

  Mitzi blinked. “Wha--?”

  “She is a bird! He is a dragon, and she is a bird! Literally!”

  “Who’s a--?” Mitzi’s face was a perfect flower of confusion.

  The other two had followed her line of thought. Rivka’s jaw was hanging open -- it almost reminded Shulamit of the day when Isaac had been saved from the curse and Rivka’s mare had suddenly turned into the man she had loved and thought lost three years ago, buck naked. Aviva, however, had burst into giggles and had started to twirl around the room. “I’ve been beaten at my own game!” she said to nobody.

  Shulamit turned to Mitzi. “The mystery woman. She’s a shapeshifter -- like Isaac. Only, instead of serpent powers, she has bird powers. ‘She is a bird, and she has flown.’ He loved a shapeshifter! This will be easy! There can’t be that many people like her -- as long as she’s still alive.”

  “Isaac said the Cat-Mistress he met mentioned another like her,” Rivka supplied helpfully. “I bet you anything that’s her.”

  “It’s got to be.” Shulamit started shucking off her wedding dress.

  “We just have to get her to tell us where she is,” said Rivka as she and Aviva helped bundle Shulamit more quickly into the lilac-colored clothes she’d been wearing before the fitting session. Meanwhile, Mitzi picked up the wedding dress where Shulamit had tossed it in a heap, and folded it into a more suitable shape.

  “We will! Between the four of us. We’ve got to leave. Now. I’m coming, this time. We’re all coming. Rivka, go get Isaac. Aviva, go put on pants that don’t have turmeric all over them. Mitzi, I love you!” She sprang over and kissed the surprised woman on both cheeks.

  “There aren’t any,” Aviva called after her, still grinning like a crescent moon.

  Chapter 18: The World Is Held Together By Simple Syrup

  The City was cloaked in darkness when the dragon and his passengers arrived. Shulamit’s heart pounded with excitement as Isaac gently touched down on the path just outside the city. What if it was too late at night, and the cat woman had already closed up shop? That might easily waste time they didn’t have, waiting around an empty tavern until dawn.

  “Oy, my back,” said Isaac as he transformed back to human flesh.

  Biting her lip, Shulamit started to ask, “Do you need to res--?”

  “No, no, I know we need to get to Mother Cat’s before I can recharge.”

  Rivka put her hand to his back and rubbed it haphazardly as they walked.

  This was Shulamit’s first time in the City of the Red Clay, and she inhaled every vista, dimly lit as they were. Winding paths, some steeply inclined, led them through the alleyways between the red clay buildings. Lanterns and a nearly full moon illuminated block after block of quiet dwellings, guarded in front by fig trees or grapevines. Every time she saw a stray cat, sleeping on steps or cleaning itself in the middle of the street, she flashed a questioning glance at Isaac. But he dismissed these as ordinary animals.

  Aviva fished something out of her pocket and handed it to the queen. “Eat.”

  “I’m sick of almonds,” Shulamit fussed.

  “If you’re hungry when we get to the tavern, we’ll need something from Eshvat besides what we really want,” Isaac pointed out. “Then we start out at a disadvantage.”

  Rivka shrugged. “We have something she wants.”

  Isaac lifted one eyebrow high enough to bump clouds and gave her a look.

  “Those figs... Shulamit, give me a coin.” Aviva had stopped walking and was inspecting a tree in somebody’s yard.

  “What? Here.”

  Aviva picked a few of the figs and then hopped across the green to leave the coin on a windowsill. “Eat.”

  Shulamit dutifully consumed the fruit as they continued walking.

  Soon they reached the great river that ran through the center of the city. After walking some distance down the riverbank, Isaac stopped and pointed ahead. �
�See that light coming from that alley? That’s Mother Cat’s. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to rest.” He melted down to the ground in the form of a huge python, butter-colored dappled with gold.

  Rivka scooped him up and draped him around her muscular shoulders. He gave her an affectionate squeeze and rested his head on one armor-covered breast. Thus arrayed, she strode purposefully toward the light. Shula and Aviva trotted after her, still looking curiously around them at the beautiful and exotic foreign city.

  The hour was late, but the door to Mother Cat’s stood wide open. A small group of women were standing in the doorway chattering to each other in the tones of an extended goodnight. Their clothing varied from the rags of the most overworked cleaning woman to the subtle finery of rank. As each bade good-bye to her companions, she was sent down the street with warm smiles and waving hands.

  Shulamit crept closer. She could see inside now. A woman in her forties or fifties with long, wild hair and a face more striking than beautiful was cleaning utensils and putting them away. Her face was unreadable, but the women closest to her wore expressions that were at once both affectionate and regretful. Eventually, they peeled away like the others and left, and the tavern owner called out after them. “No, really, thanks. Have a great night!”

  When the last of the women had disappeared into the alleys, Rivka flashed a look at Shulamit and Aviva and then stepped inside the tavern.

  “I’m closed,” said Eshvat, her eyes still on her polishing. Then, as if sensing something, she looked up and straight into Isaac’s eyes. “Oh. Hello.”

  “Snake form, as requested,” said the snake.

  Eshvat chuckled in a low, throaty voice and rubbed her temple with the hand that held her polishing cloth. “So you’re back.”

  “You said I was welcome even when you were closed,” said Isaac.

  Eshvat spent a few moments staring him down, her work on pause. “So what are you up to?”

  Isaac slithered down Rivka’s body to the floor and transformed back into his human shape. “We were hoping you could help us.” His tone was deep and seductive, and there was a mesmerizing look in his eyes as he stepped closer to the tavern owner.