The Golden Dreidel

by Ellen Kushner

  The dreidel spun straight toward the Demon King. With a cry of triumph, the demons surrounded her and caught her in a giant net.

  Sara was too mad to be scared. It shouldn’t be this easy for them. She shouldn’t be all alone with nothing to fight them with. They didn’t pay any attention to her, as if she were not even there, as if she weren’t really playing, like the kid nobody wanted on their team. They just loaded the dreidel girl across the back of one of their monstrous steeds, wheeled, and rode away.

  “Come back!” cried Sara. But it was too late. The Golden Dreidel was in the hands of the Demon King’s armies.

  SARA WATCHED HELPLESSLY as the demon army thundered off toward the mountains, with the Golden Dreidel bound fast. They went as they had come—backward. It should have been funny, but it wasn’t at all. It was like watching a movie in reverse, when you know that it’s going somewhere really awful. Soon there was nothing to see but a cloud of gray dust, and after that, nothing at all.

  The sky was still blue, the grass green. The yellow flowers nodded in the warm breeze. Sara wondered if she should try spinning. But she wasn’t sure what that really meant. Look what had happened last time! Had the dreidel’s spinning called the demons forth? Could Sara unspin what had just hapened? Or would she only make things worse?

  Maybe spinning just predicted what your fortune would be…. But did she really want to know?

  “Oh, dear, dear, dear, and possibly even lackaday, if it comes to that.” Sara whirled around to see a tall, stately woman, with skin the color of golden honey, standing right behind her. “Lost her already, have you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Sara gasped, startled out of her wits—where had this woman come from?—and uncomfortably aware of just who she was talking about. “It wasn’t my fault—I couldn’t help her, I tried!”

  “Not good, child.” The woman’s voice was like honey, too, deep and slow and lovely. Her jet-black hair ran down her back in dozens of tiny braids, dotted with bells and bright beads. “I would say you’d lost your luck, but we’re not done with the game yet. Now, think carefully: how did she land this time, when they caught her?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t see.”

  “Close your eyes,” the woman said. “Try seeing that way.”

  “Right before they came, it was a nun—and before that, it was—it was shin.”

  The beautiful woman looked grave.

  “That’s bad, huh?” Sara couldn’t stop talking, she was so nervous. Was it her fault, somehow? Would they lock her up? Or turn her into a menorah or something? “What will they do to her?”

  “It’s not so much what they will do to her, as what we will do without her.”

  “Um,” Sara said, “who’s we?”

  “Forgive me.” The woman raised one slender arm. The bracelets on it clattered and jingled. “I am Belkis, Queen of Sheba.” She gestured behind her, and Sara saw that they were not alone: a string of camels, decked in tassels and striped cloth, with attendants and lots of baggage wrapped in more bright cloth, stretched out behind her. “I was journeying toward the Tree of Life,” said the Queen, “to meet my husband, King Solomon the Wise. It was he who bound the Demon King in the first place—forever, we had hoped. Your little friend is our daughter, our beloved child—our youngest, and most rash.”

  This wise, proud queen is the dreidel’s mother?! Sara thought, her heart sinking. Am I in trouble now!

  “Did the—did the demons turn her into a dreidel?” Sara asked.

  “Oh, no,” the queen smiled. “Her father did that.”

  Sara wondered what the dreidel girl had done. Some-thing pretty bad, she imagined—something a lot worse than not setting the table or not finishing her homework.

  “At first, I did not like it,” the queen said. “But you know how she is. It is so hard to say no to her.”

  “You mean, she wanted to be changed?”

  “In a manner of speaking. She begged us both, day and night, to be allowed to travel to other worlds! I knew she was much too young—but Solomon could deny her nothing. And so King Solomon sealed her with four powerful magic letters, to keep her from harm. It was for her own protection, you see.”

  “It was?”

  The queen nodded. “For a while she roamed free, tasting the customs of many different worlds, able to change at will if things got too much for her or danger threatened. Her father thought it was educational. But here at home, the demons were growing in strength.”

  Sara tried to look as if she understood. “They’re evil, huh?”

  “Evil? No. They come from the breath of the Creator, as we all do. Troublemakers are what they are. Demons love confusion. They love mistakes—especially other people’s. A demon will trick you into your own worst self, if he can. And then you are in trouble indeed. Why, once King Solomon himself was tricked into—but please,” the queen suddenly interrupted herself, “forgive me! I am so rude. You are a guest in our land. You have come a long way, longer than you know. It is unthinkable that I not offer you some refreshment.”

  She clapped her hands, and her attendants set out brass trays heaped with good things to eat and drink. There was rice mixed with nuts and raisins, and a yogurt smoothie drink that tasted like almonds. Sara’s favorite was rice pudding with the smell of roses, sprinkled with flakes of real gold leaf. When they were done, attendants handed them little bowls of water scented with orange flowers to dip their fingers into, and fine linen napkins to dry them.

  “That’s better,” the Queen of Sheba said.

  Sara had to agree. But now that she was rested and fed, her mind was full of questions. “What is this place?” Sara asked.

  The queen smiled. “For us, it is home. And for you, too, Sara, for your roots are here with the Tree, and you live and learn among its many leaves.”

  “What tree?” Sara looked around the meadow.

  “I get ahead of myself,” said the queen. “Be patient with me, and you shall know what you need to know. Beginning with my daughter, who loves movement and change and who came to your world with just one thought: to run free in a place where the letters dance so quickly it is almost impossible to keep up with them. But her father and I had sent her there for a different reason: to keep her safe, so we need not worry while we worked hard to defeat the demons here.”

  Sara couldn’t help wondering what sort of parents thought of her world as a safe place for a kid to run free. It must be nice to be magic, she thought.

  The queen went on. “Long years we struggled against Ashmedai, the Demon King, and his minions, to bind them all in Solomon’s Cave. At last the deed was done, and the time seemed right for our daughter to return. But over the years, the way had closed. We knew that she was there, but she could not get home! We did not know what to do. We were so glad that you were able to open the door, my dear!”

  This was the first time a grown-up had thanked Sara for breaking the TV screen. She felt a little better. Maybe it was all going to be all right after all. If she’d failed to protect the Golden Dreidel from demons, at least she’d brought her home.

  “How the demons escaped, I do not know.” The queen shook her head with annoyance, like Sara’s friend’s mom wondering how the dog got out of the yard. “Perhaps the opening of the door set them free; a small price to pay for my daughter’s return. But now that they are on the loose again, we must get her back!”

  “But you said they wouldn’t hurt her,” Sara said anxiously. “And the magic letters, won’t they keep her safe?”

  “Those letters protect her, true…. But even more importantly, she is their keeper. You see, Solomon put great power into her. The four magical letters she is sealed with come from the Tree of Life. Do you know the Tree of Life, Sara?”

  Sara thought of Shabbat services, when the Torah scroll was taken out and the rabbi held it up and said, “It is the tree of life of all who hold fast to it, and all its paths ar
e peace.”

  “Is it a Torah?”

  “That is one of its branches. You and my daughter are, too, and so is the entire alphabet, every letter in every language.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “The Tree is at the heart of everything, all learning and all creation. It is what has been and what is to come, the source of all that is good. In taking the power of those four letters from the tree and sealing them into our young daughter, Solomon was wise, as he is always wise…but also he took risks, as the wise sometimes must.

  “Now she must return that power to the Tree—or the very heart of the world is lost. I do not fear for my daughter’s life, or for her courage. But without the letters that our child carries, the Tree of Life itself may die, and all light and music, knowledge and wisdom slowly cease. It means an end to all growing things—an end to going forward. Demons like to go backward, for they do not like things to change and grow.”

  “Tell me more about the demons,” Sara said. “I don’t think there are any real ones in our world.”

  “There used to be,” the queen said, “but they don’t like petroleum by-products. I think they’re—what do you call it? Allergistic?”

  “Allergic,” Sara told her. Well, that made sense. Lots of magical things that were in old stories didn’t seem to be around much anymore. She wondered if fuel oil made demons break out in hives, or choke, or what? She wished she’d known. She could have brought some with her.

  “Do you understand now, Sara?” the queen asked. “I am grateful to you for helping my daughter once. Will you help her, and us, again?”

  “Why me?” Sara asked. “I mean, I’m just a kid. I’m not even magic.”

  “And that is why,” the queen replied. “The demons do not know you. They don’t know what you’re made of. You are something new in the world.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Come with me to the demon camp. I will send riders to warn King Solomon not to expect me right away. After that, we will see what we will see.”

  Sara said, more bravely than she felt, “Let’s go, then.”

  “Thank you,” said the queen. She took Sara’s hand. “But first: I know you left home in a hurry. Perhaps a change of clothes would be useful?” Sara gratefully realized the Queen of Sheba was suggesting she get out of her pajamas. “I am sorry we do not have time to make new things for you, but perhaps these would fit.” From one of the bags, the queen took loose trousers and a shirt of colored silk, with a vest and a cape to go with them, and boots of the softest leather, embroidered with flowers Sara had never seen before. The attendants surrounded her and helped her into her new things.

  “Most becoming,” the queen approved. “And now, please get up on one of my camels. We have a long way to go.”

  RIDING A CAMEL was not as much fun as it looked. It was sort of uneven, like a car with a flat tire. And the leg Sara had hooked over the saddle horn got awfully stiff. The view was good, though.

  They left the grasslands behind and soon were plodding through the desert. It seemed like hours since the queen’s caravan passed through the beautiful land. Sara was so tired she was afraid she’d fall off her camel. She tried to think of exciting things, but her head started to nod. She was dreaming of spinning dreidels—and the next thing she knew, Sara found herself sitting on the ground, while the camels receded further and further into the distance.

  “Hey!” Sara shouted. “Hey, I’m back here!” But nobody turned around. They couldn’t hear her. Soon the camels were just tiny specks.

  She got up, rubbing her legs.

  “You poor child,” said a voice behind her. “How you must be suffering.”

  She turned and saw a bird. Well, not just any bird: a peacock, a glorious splash of color on the desert landscape. Its blues were bluer than a summer sky, and the green and gold of its tailfeathers glowed like jewels at twilight. The peacock was talking to her. At home, birds didn’t talk, except parrots, and they didn’t know what they were saying. But this one did.

  “You admire me,” said the bird. “Anyone would. It is very natural, and nothing to be ashamed of. God made me to be admired. It’s true—everyone else in the world has their work to do. Even God. But I do not.”

  “God works?” Sara asked, distracted by the thought.

  “Of course. In the beginning, God worked very hard to create the world. For six days and nights the Spirit breathed life into creation. Why else did the Creator need to rest on the seventh day?”

  “So how come you don’t work?”

  “Ah.” The peacock inclined its lovely head modestly. “Well. When God made all the animals and gave us our tasks, the Living One asked each of us what we would like. The horse asked for speed and strength to run; the leopard asked for keen smell and sharp claws to hunt.

  “Then all the birds got started: the thrush wanted a sweet voice to soothe the heart, the chickens wanted lots of cute little eggs to lay…. By the time they got to me, what was left?

  “ ‘Creator of the Universe,’ I said, ‘you have made me according to your will. Isn’t it enough that I be beautiful?’

  “God laughed and said yes, that was enough if I thought it was. (I don’t like being laughed at, but, after all, God, you know….) Now,” said the peacock, “don’t you think I made the right choice? Wouldn’t you want to be like me and just stand around and be admired?”

  Sara considered it. “I don’t think there’s much anyone would admire about me,” she said. “I’m not really beautiful or anything.”

  “Well…” The peacock tilted its tiny head. “You are still growing. But you are so gifted!” it hastened to add. “I bet you can whistle.”

  That was true. Sara could whistle really well—much better than Seth. It made him nuts. She could whistle part of a piece by Vivaldi with bird sounds in it that her mother really liked.

  “Your friends pretend not to care, but they admire you for it, I’m sure,” the peacock said.

  “Would you like to hear me?” Sara asked, pursing her lips.

  “Of course…but later, later.”

  Sara felt deflated. “I guess whistling isn’t that big a deal after all, huh?”

  “But that’s not all, is it? Remember when you did the gymnastic routine with the handstand, and everyone applauded? They were admiring you then. You liked it, didn’t you?” Well, who wouldn’t? Sara remembered the glow she’d felt. “Work is nothing like that. No one admires you for just doing your job. How many times have you taken out the trash without even being thanked?”

  It’s true, Sara thought. No matter how hard I work, it’s never enough. The garbage still has to go out, the dishes still have to get cleaned…. I do homework and study, and it never ends. But if I could be like the peacock and just sit around doing nothing…

  She was picturing it all so clearly, she didn’t notice how the stranger arrived. But once he was there, he was hard to miss: he had a sock stuck on his head over his spiky bright red hair, and he wore a plaid jacket with an undershirt over it. His necktie was around his waist, and his shoes—well, one was a black-and-white leather oxford shoe, and the other was a purple sneaker with green laces. He didn’t look like a clown, though. Sara hated clowns. He looked like someone who had gotten dressed in the dark on three separate days without ever checking a mirror.

  The peacock ignored him, but the newcomer looked them both up and down. “Very nice,” he said. “Ohhh, how I admire you! If I could just have a few feathers of your tail, my friend, I would have a nose-picker the entire world would envy! I’d be sitting there picking my nose with those feathers, and boy, how people would admire me!”

  “As if I care,” the peacock said.

  “Now, you.” The man turned to Sara. “You’re the real thing. I can always tell the genuine article. I admire you already. But I’d like to look up to you. There’s only one problem—I can’t do it from this angle. An
y chance you can do a handstand?”

  “Sure.” But as soon as Sara stood on her hands, so did the little man.

  “No, it’s no good,” he said, staring into her face. “We’re still seeing eye to eye.”

  “I could stand up.”

  “No, wait, I think I’ve got it….” The man reached for his own knee with one hand and fell over, rolling in the dust so his sock got stuck on his ear. Sara couldn’t help it; she laughed.

  “Are you admiring me?” he asked.

  Sara scrambled to her feet, politely trying to hide her giggles. “Not exactly.”

  “Good! I’m bringing you pleasure—I’m making you laugh—and that’s a lot more important! So let’s go!”

  “Wait a minute….” Sara looked around for the elegant creature. But it was nowhere to be seen. “The peacock—it’s gone!”

  The newcomer waved his hand dismissively. “Of course it’s gone. We weren’t admiiiiiiiiiring it, so it took a walk. See, that bird’s not interested in you unless you’re interested in it. It wouldn’t take the trouble to tell you you were on fire if you had flames coming out of your ears.”

  “Is that so?” Sara said, a little annoyed. She’d thought the peacock was pretty nice, actually. Friendly, and sympathetic. This guy was—well, he certainly said whatever he was thinking. “And what about you?”

  “You can trust me. I’m the Fool.”

  “You’re a fool?”

  “The Fool!” He pulled off his undershirt, scrubbing at the dust on his jacket with it. “There are plenty of fools in the world, but they don’t do it full-time. And believe me, it takes work. It’s my job to make people laugh, to turn the world upside down, to shake it and see what comes out. You know the old saying: ‘Better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you’re a fool, than to open it and let them know it’? Well, when I open my mouth, I sure let them know it! But I don’t mind. How can you do any good in the world if you’re always worried about what people might think of you? Just standing around being scared—it’s almost as bad as going backward, like the demons!”