Climbing the Date Palm

by Shira Glassman

  “The river’s not too far ahead,” rumbled the dragon beneath them, “and I even think I see some lights beyond that.”

  “We’re almost there!” cheered Shulamit weakly, still glued to Rivka’s breastplate. Then lightning struck close by, and she screamed, burying her face and shrinking into the smallest volume possible. Thunder cracked all around them, like the sound of things breaking.

  Aviva squeezed Shula affectionately, but Rivka knew she was nervous as well. “I don’t want to be a sufganiyah.”

  “What?” asked Rivka.

  “Fried,” explained Isaac.

  Shulamit started to cry. Rivka rubbed her back, wondering if Shulamit could feel that her heart, too, was beating faster.

  The three women held each other in a cluster of rain-dampened skin as Isaac gave the ride over the river a final push. He landed on the opposite bank, and they scrambled off his back, the younger ones huddling under his wings to get out of the rain. “I’m sorry,” said Shulamit. “I know you probably want to transform so we can all walk, but I couldn’t resist! It’s just coming down so hard!”

  “It’s fine -- I just need to sit for a minute.”

  Rivka looked at him with concern as she stood unflinching in the torrential downpour. “If you’re tired, I can carry you again.”

  “That might be a good idea. Even if this Aafsaneh agrees to Shula’s plan, that doesn’t mean Jahandar will definitely listen to her. Ohhhhh, yes, definitely keep doing that.” Rivka had started pounding on his back on the spot right where his wings met his body. “Anyway, as I said -- you and I should go back to the capital and have the army ready at the City wall, just in case. And that means lots more flying in a hurry.”

  “But if the army shows up, won’t Jahandar take it as a threat?” asked Shulamit. “Even if things are going well?”

  “Not if we bring Prince Kaveh back with us,” Isaac explained. “That way, if all goes to plan and Aafsaneh manages to convince him to be more compassionate, we can say we’re there to deliver your bridegroom and provide royal escort for your wedding. If not, well... you would unleash Rivka anyway. Or so you said.”

  Aviva grinned. “Isaac, are you the reason people talk about snakes when they want to make something sound sneaky? Because I like your recipes.”

  “I’m just glad he’s on our side,” said Shulamit.

  “Are you two ready to come out from under Tateh’s wing? Because I’m tired, and it’s Rivka’s turn to carry me, but once I transform the wings go away.”

  Shulamit looked at Aviva, then said, “I guess we can brave it.” They held hands and yelped as they ran out into the rain.

  Rivka hefted her now-serpentine husband onto her shoulders, and the three women trudged through the muddy ground away from the riverbank and toward the vineyard.

  By the time they reached their destination, dawn was only a little while away, but the rain hadn’t slowed down. The first few peasant houses stood still and quiet, but soon Rivka began to notice noises behind her, near the houses they’d already passed. Twice she whipped her head around, only to see nothing but muddy footprints that hadn’t been there moments ago, quickly being obliterated by more rain.

  Soon she realized what was going on. The people in the first houses along their path had sent scouts down to the farther houses, and men holding farming implements in threatening poses were beginning to block their way.

  “I’d better go on ahead and explain we mean them no harm,” Shulamit began, about to take off.

  Rivka caught her by the braids. “I’m supposed to protect you, and I veto that plan. I’ve got the sword -- we’ll stick together.”

  “I thought I was queen?”

  “That’s why you have bodyguards.”

  “Those look scary,” Aviva pointed out, eyeing the rakes and poles.

  “Yeah, they do,” Shulamit admitted. “I just thought maybe they’d put them away if--”

  “Birds are territorial,” Isaac reminded her. “Remember earlier, how you noticed I have a way of being... a bit slick? And Mistress Eshvat is an unashamed hedonist, like a cat? I think our Lady Aafsaneh has some bird qualities as well, and while I doubt these men are also Bird-Masters, if she’s as wonderful as Jahandar wrote, I bet they’re very loyal. They might repel you even if you came to them in friendship.”

  “So what do we do?” Shulamit eyed the men beginning to approach them from both sides.

  “We try anyway. It’s what we came here for.” Rivka’s hand rested on her sword.

  By the time they reached the initial line blocking their access to the grand house at the top of the hill, they were surrounded by suspicious farmhands. “Peace,” said Shulamit. “I’m Queen Shulamit bat Noach. I rule over Perach, to the east.”

  “We answer to nobody but the Swan-Lady,” said one of the farmhands, both fists resolutely fixed on the pole he held.

  “I’m not here to take away your freedom,” said Shulamit. “It’s very important that I speak with your Swan-Lady right away. At least one life is at stake, and the livelihood and well-being of dozens of workers like yourselves.”

  “We don’t know anything about that,” said another man. “Our orders are to keep everybody out.”

  “It’s easy to make up a story to get inside,” pointed out the first man. “Especially if you’ve come with an armed warrior.”

  “This is my bodyguard,” said Shulamit.

  “Fair enough -- and we are hers.”

  “Is there any way I can get inside to talk to her?”

  “No. Please leave. Our wine merchants travel to your lands to sell in the marketplace. You can contact her through them.”

  “She doesn’t see visitors,” said a third man who hadn’t spoken yet.

  “But I can’t wait that long,” Shulamit said desperately.

  “Yes, you can.”

  ***

  Shulamit glanced uneasily at Isaac, who was still draped over Rivka’s shoulders in his gold-and-ivory python form. She wasn’t nearly as good at being crafty as he was. But she knew she was small enough that this just might work.

  With a sudden dart, she attempted to make a dash through the legs of the men standing guard. Immediately she knew it was a stupid, stupid move. There were rough hands everywhere, and something hard hit her on the shoulder, and then suddenly four powerful dragon legs were clutching her to a familiar scaly body. Isaac’s wings closed around her. “I don’t know if I protect you from them or from Rivka,” he muttered. “That was too dangerous. I don’t need scares like that when I’m this tired. I can hardly fly, or I’d got you in there myself.”

  “I’m so sorry!” Shulamit breathed heavily, leaning against his underbelly. “I guess we should have sent you in there as a lizard or something.”

  “Too late now.”

  “What’s going on out there?”

  “My wife tries to fight off a dozen angry farmers with one sword,” said Isaac dryly. He opened his wings slightly for a moment to let Aviva slide inside. “In the rain.”

  “I’m sorry...” Shulamit continued to murmur over and over.

  Aviva held her against her bosom, and Shulamit knew the gesture was intended to help her calm down. “Not being able to see is making this worse.”

  “I have to protect you two. Otherwise I’d be over there helping her.”

  “Can’t we peep through your wings?”

  “If you can...” He shifted slightly.

  In the silver of predawn, Rivka battled off the farmers’ assault as rain continued to pelt the vineyard. Gusts of wind pushed the rain sideways, and her hair swirled behind her in sodden gold whips. “She really looks like she’s working hard, not just fighting those men, but also advancing into the wind,” Shulamit observed.

  “Yes, she works hard,” Isaac agreed, “but to face the wind actually helps her because -- look -- her hair is blown behind her, out of her eyes, so she can see her way clear. Imagine having all that mess fly around your face while you try to swordfight.”
/>   “They’re coming this way!” Shula grabbed on to Aviva and pressed them both closer to Isaac’s torso as three or four of the farmers broke away from the skirmish and ran toward them, poles held high. Isaac continued to keep his wings closed tightly around them like a sleeping bat, only right-side up, but he twisted his neck this way and that so he could snap his great jaws at them, roaring. It was a great, deep sound that Shulamit felt as much as heard, shaking her in her bones, but in a comforting way.

  Unfortunately, with his wings closed in front of him, Isaac couldn’t shoot the buzzing, whirling whips of light out of his fingertips that the queen had seen him use in battle and in sparring-play with Rivka.

  Shulamit could tell from watching her that it was taking all of Rivka’s concentration to not only fight off the farmers’ poles and rakes, but also do so in a way that left none of them permanently maimed. She was concentrating on destroying the weapons, but even that worried Shulamit. She tried to keep tally of how many poles wound up scraped beyond repair so she could pay Aafsaneh once they finally managed to find her -- if they found her. Oh, God.

  And Rivka was still taking a beating. She was just ignoring it, and fought onward. But between her efforts and Isaac’s mouthful of sharp teeth, Queen Shulamit and her sweetheart remained on Aafsaneh’s grounds, and were not driven away. The sun arose, and as its pink-and-yellow glow flooded the sky, Shulamit saw a woman walking with stately carriage down the path from the great house on the hill.

  Chapter 20: Milady the Swan

  She looked about Isaac’s age, mid-forties, with a fascinatingly unique face -- long and with large, exaggerated eyes. Dark hair gone silver here and there flowed in gentle waves past her long neck to her shoulders, and she wore about her voluptuous figure a filmy cloak of shimmering blue that reminded Shulamit of the sea.

  “What’s this trouble?” she asked, looking around her with an expression of concern.

  As soon as the farmers saw her, those not in Rivka’s immediate vicinity bowed at the neck and approached her. “Milady, these intruders appeared in the night,” explained one of them.

  “But we’ve held them off,” said another.

  “I tried my best not to hurt your men!” Rivka shouted at her, still struggling against a man trying to push her down with a rake. “Milady Swan, we mean you no harm.”

  “What is it that you want, young northerner?”

  Rivka merely looked over at Isaac, deferring to Queen Shulamit.

  The Lady Aafsaneh cocked her head as she studied Isaac. “Peace, Serpent-Master. Why have you come? And what is it that you hide within your wings?”

  Shulamit’s head popped out from where he was hiding her. “Lady Aafsaneh,” said Shulamit, “I’m the queen of Perach. May we please come inside and talk to you?” She grinned nervously. “Oh, and I have plenty of gold coins I can pay you for anything my bodyguard broke while fighting to keep us here. I’m really sorry about that.”

  “You have honor, little queen,” said Aafsaneh serenely. “Men, please lay down your tools and return to your homes. Or into the fields, those of you who have work to do. I’m grateful for your protection and love you all, each and every one of you. You’ve done well here tonight.”

  “Are you sure you can trust them?” asked the first man who had spoken to them.

  “I can see kindness in the dragon’s heart,” was her calm reply. “Come.” She beckoned to her visitors, no longer intruders, and they followed her back to her villa up on the hill. Isaac was once again riding on Rivka’s shoulders in his snake form, fast asleep and probably dreaming of mineral baths.

  The view was beyond beautiful; through brilliant green rows of grapes, growing neatly in diagonal lines, they walked toward a large white house with a red roof glowing against the morning sky. Aviva craned her neck as she followed the others, inspecting the fruit with eager curiosity. There were also fig trees, and here and there an olive, old sentinels, standing watch proudly over the younger specimens of horticulture beneath them. They reminded her of Isaac’s role in the palace, since he also stood guard and doted upon younger beings not related to him by blood, but only by spirit.

  Once just inside, Aafsaneh bade them sit in a cool room away from the sun, but open at the sides and lined with a delicate pattern of geometric tiles. A harp rested in the corner, in front of a little stool cushioned with blue velvet. Aafsaneh’s hand brushed at the strings as she passed it, more of a distracted caress than a deliberate act. The result was an unfocused and random beauty, like the music of nature instead of human artifice. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not really,” Shulamit admitted.

  Aafsaneh clapped her hands and gave orders to the servant who appeared for the visitors to be brought cheese and olives. “Will he need food?” she asked, pointing at the snoozing serpent.

  “He needs rest more than anything else,” said Rivka, stroking his smooth scales faintly, “but he’ll probably appreciate a nosh once he wakes up.”

  “He likes rugalach... and live mice, of course,” Aviva piped up.

  “As he likes to say,” Rivka interjected with an evil grin, “same size, same filling. Ever since he said that, the raspberry ones make me suspicious.”

  Shulamit looked a little bit nauseated, but Aafsaneh chuckled. “He sounds like a lot of fun. Your father?”

  Shula opened her mouth to speak and ran out of steam.

  “No, he’s our dragon, and we’re the treasure he guards. He’s the father God gave us after hers died,” Aviva explained, gesturing toward the queen. “King Noach -- didn’t you hear about the accident with the elephant?”

  “So she really is Queen Shulamit?”

  “In the flesh!” Shula grinned uneasily. She fished out a handful of coins. “See? How many awkward portraits of myself do I owe you for the rakes and poles?”

  “Oh, that must be so weird,” said Aafsaneh, fascinated by the money. “Does it make you feel like you’re giving away part of yourself when you spend it?”

  “I already feel like my kingdom owns me,” said Shulamit. “I have to put them first in so many ways.”

  “I know what you mean. This farm -- it’s been my life, even since before my husband died. He brought me here years ago, and I’ve worked so hard to keep it strong.”

  “I’m sorry you lost him. May his memory be a blessing.”

  “And the same with your father.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, my friends -- why are you here? Why did you fight for hours just to get a chance to talk to me?”

  Shulamit took a deep breath. She had hoped Isaac would be awake for this part, but without a dragon, they were marooned here, and he couldn’t fly without rest. “Milady Aafsaneh...” She considered her words carefully. “There’s a man doing some terrible things, and he’s about to do even worse things, and you might be the only one who could stop him.”

  All the joy dripped from Aafsaneh’s face. “What man?” she asked in a voice of deceptive calm, her expression betraying that she already had some idea of whom the queen was speaking.

  Shulamit licked her lips and fiddled with the edges of her scarf. “King Jahandar of the City of the Red Clay.”

  Aafsaneh’s eyes were fixed on the corner of the room, her lips slightly parted. She was looking inward.

  “You’re the only kind of moral authority who could get through to him--if anyone could.”

  “I-- can’t--” A servant approached with a plate of olives and cheese, and she jerked her head up, startled at the noise. “Oh. Thank you. Thank you. Please, eat.” The servant disappeared the way she had come. “I didn’t think anyone even knew.” These last words were nearly a whisper.

  “Months ago, Jahandar hired a group of workers to perform improvements upon the city,” Shulamit began, taking a slice of cheese from the tray. “They built a new bridge so that the people living in a recently built neighborhood could get their things home from the marketplace more easily. They also repaired decades of damage to the roads. Whe
n everything was finished -- oh, this was all something to do with the Month of the Sun -- anyway, he didn’t pay them their promised wages.”

  “Let me guess. Something about how they should have been proud just to work for him.”

  “Well, basically. But he rephrased it as patriotism.”

  “Sounds like him. None of what you say surprises me.”

  “It gets worse,” Aviva piped up. Aafsaneh cocked her head, blinking.

  “The underpaid workers sat down on the bridge and refused to leave,” Shulamit continued. She told Aafsaneh all about the miniature rebellion, and how some of the townspeople had smuggled food to the demonstrators. “But the really horrible thing is that the king had their leader arrested, and he’s going to execute him at sundown at the end of the Month of the Sun. Execute! Can you imagine? And he’s so bloodthirsty that he won’t even wait until the next morning, because he’s so convinced that this man was trying to steal his throne. All because they wanted fair wages!”

  “Sunlight and ashes, he’s gotten worse.” Aafsaneh looked sick. “Is this because I left? Could I have stopped him from becoming this?” She clutched at something hanging from her neck, and Shulamit realized it was a heart-shaped locket. Was Jahandar’s picture inside?

  “If you come back with us, you might be able to save his life and get all those men their fair pay,” said the queen.

  “No! No, I can’t.” Aafsaneh looked so skittish that Shulamit almost worried she’d transform into a bird right then and there -- something small and swift, not the swan form -- and disappear out into the vineyards. “I still feel for him. I can’t go near him. I can’t go near such a monster if it means risking my heart.”

  “Please, Milady,” said Aviva. “We only have until sunset on the day after tomorrow. Imagine only having one more day to live, just because you had a good heart. They’re going to set him on fire, alive.”

  “Do you love this man?” Aafsaneh asked, turning to face her.

  “No, I’ve never met him,” said Aviva solemnly, looking her in the eye, “yet he is my brother -- in some ways.”