Shadow Spinner (24 page)

Dunyazad nodded, but pushed away the brocade bag when I held it out to her. “Keep it, Marjan. Shahrazad put some of her own most precious treasures in there for you. Your friends will be provided for—you have my word. They'll have the protection of the queen. Now,
go!”

I still didn't move. “But, Dunyazad, how will you . . . The Sultan's brother, he's been killing his wives, too. How . . .” I didn't know how to say it.
How will you make sure he doesn't kill you? And even if he never does, how will you ever love him?

“He says he's changed now,” Dunyazad said. “He's
vowed to honor me above all other women and never to hurt me. He is . . . gentle with me,” she said. “And
very
pleasing to look upon.” She smiled bravely, but I saw a tremor in it. “Anyway,” she said, “he's moving here to govern side by side with his brother. Shahrazad requested it, so that
we
would not be parted, and the two brothers agreed.” She hesitated, and her eyes grew serious. “It's the best we could hope for, Marjan. I can live this way.”

She clasped me to her, then held me at arms length. “I've already been gone too long. May Allah give you a long and happy life. I'll never forget you.”

Then she nudged me out the door.

Heat and blinding sunlight engulfed me in a wave. Revelers crowded the street. Above the clamor of voices rose the music of horns and drums and tambourines. Lengths of colorful cloth hung down from the roofs of buildings and canopied the streets. A man passed by me swinging a censer; the fragrance of incense mingled with the smells of animals and sweat and dung. Above the crowd, I could see camels' humped backs. I moved toward them and saw Zaynab sitting in a pannier basket slung over the side of a kneeling camel. A pigeon perched on her shoulder, pecking at her hair. She waved and called out, “Hurry, my dear!” I pushed through the crowd; a man standing by the camel helped me into the pannier, which had a canopy and a cushioned seat. The man moved to the front of the camel and pulled on its lead rope; I held on tight as the camel lurched to its feet, pitching us forward and backward and forward again as its legs slowly unfolded. Now we were high up in the air. Traveling like Princess Budur. From up there I could see the whole caravan of camels and riders. I spotted Shahrazad and
Dunyazad's father, and the scar-faced man who had frightened me at the storyteller's home. The eunuch mounted up on a camel, and the storyteller, astride another one, turned back and waved at us. His glance snagged on Zaynab's; she blushed and turned away. He
does
like her, I thought.

But where was Ayaz? I wondered. Surely the storyteller wouldn't leave without him!

The camels plodded forward with a rolling gait, their bells jingling, their tassels swaying. We moved against the current of celebrating people, who flowed through the street toward the palace: on foot, in carts, in litters; camel-back, horseback, donkeyback, muleback.

It was odd how, in the middle of this joyous celebration—Shahrazad's triumph!—I felt so sad. Things were ending: my life in the city, any hope of ever seeing Auntie Chava and Uncle Eli again. Or Shahrazad and Dunyazad. Or little Mitra. Or . . .

I had a sudden vision of Soraya floating facedown in a beautiful pond, and my sadness deepened. I had never thought of her as a friend, even though she had helped me. But she had only been trying to survive—like the rest of us. She had made her choice and had died for it.

I turned to look back and watched the palace shrink behind us, thinking again of Shahrazad, married to a man whose deeds were so steeped in blood that he would never shed the guilt of them. I could feel sorry for him now—could understand his crippled heart—but I didn't think I could forgive him, as Shahrazad had done. I wasn't sure that it was
right
to forgive him.

And Dunyazad . . . I would pray for her.
She
would not forgive easily.

All at once, above the flutes and tambourines and glad
voices, I heard a shout: “Uncle!” I twisted round and searched through the crowd until I saw someone running toward us. It was Ayaz.

The storyteller called out to him, and then Ayaz was running past us, scrambling up behind the storyteller onto his camel. Ayaz said something to the storyteller; their camel wheeled round and drew up beside us. “Marjan!” Ayaz said, smiling wide. “You owe me money. Lots of it!”

I nodded, feeling an answering smile steal across my face.

“Where are we going?” Ayaz asked the storyteller.

“To a new life!” the storyteller shouted.

A new life.
Like in stories, where you could set off on an adventure and come to a land where having a crippled foot or being born poor or a woman was no obstacle to living out your dreams.

I turned forward, tried to catch a glimpse of the green hills beyond the city, imagining my new life.

T
he story of Shahrazad, the queen who saved her own life and the lives of many other women by telling tales for 1001 nights, originated long ago—probably a thousand years or more. Though some scholars have speculated that the story may have begun in India before migrating to Persia, many point to a lost Persian book of fairy tales called
Hazar Afsaneh,
or “Thousand Stories,” as the true source. From Persia, Shahrazad's story moved to the Arabic world, where it was performed and passed on, constantly changing, for century after century.

The tales that Shahrazad told come to us from many times and places, including ancient Mesopotamia and India, early medieval Persia and Iraq, and Egypt of the late Middle Ages. Shahrazad and her stories were introduced in the West in 1704 by Antoine Galland. They have continued to be told and retold, becoming beloved of people all over the world.

In writing this novel, I have used Richard F. Burton's English translation—
The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night
—as my guide. I've added new characters and behind-the-scenes events but have tried not to alter the basic action set out in Burtons version. Since the names in the tale of Shahrazad are of Persian derivation, I have given my story a Persian inflection. Where I have made up characters not included in the original tale, I have given most of them Persian names. Shahrazad, Dunyazad, and their father, as well as Shahryar and his
brother, are introduced in the original tale. Marjan, Ayaz, Mitra, the bazaar storyteller, and most other characters are my own inventions. Zaynab was inspired by one of the stories Shahrazad told, “The Wily Dalilah and Her Daughter Zaynab.”

In my novel, women are veiled in the Persian way, with an older version of the
chador.
While veils in many Arabic countries cover most or all of the face, the Persian veil covers hair, ears, and neck, but leaves the “moon of the face” exposed. I have also followed the Islamic practice of combining some of the traditional prayer sessions, so there are three instead of five every day. One thing that might confuse Western readers is the practice of “making ablutions touching earth.” In Islam, it is important to wash in a certain way before praying. However, if water is not available, it is permissible to make ablutions with sand or earth.

The tale of Julnar is part of what Burton calls the nucleus—thirteen tales common to early manuscripts of Shahrazad's stories. The order of the tales varies in different versions; I have taken the liberty of setting the Julnar tale last.

Susan Fletcher's
previous books include
The Stuttgart Nanny Mafia
as well as the Dragon Kyn trilogy composed of
Dragon's Milk, Flight of the Dragon Kyn,
and
Sign of the Dove.

She lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her husband, their daughter, and a cat named Nimbus.

First Aladdin Paperbacks edition November 1999

Copyright © 1998 by Susan Fletcher

Aladdin Paperbacks
An imprint of Simon & Schuster
Children's Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

All rights reserved, including the right of
reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Also available in an Atheneum Books for Young Readers hardcover edition.
Book design by Angela Carlino
The text for this book was set in Adobe Caslon.
Manufactured in the United States of America
16  18  20  19  17  15

The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Fletcher, Susan, 1951-
Shadow Spinner / by Susan Fletcher.
p.  cm.
“A Jean Karl book.”
Summary: When Marjan, a thirteen-year-old crippled girl, joins the
Sultan's harem in ancient Persia, she gathers for Shahrazad the stories
which will save the queen's life.
ISBN-13: 978-0-689-81852-3 ISBN-10:0-689-81852-1 (hc.)
1. Scheherazade (Legendary character)—Juvenile fiction. [1. Scheherazade
(Legendary character)—Fiction. 2. Storytellers—Fiction. 3. Physically handicapped—
Fiction. 4. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 5. Iran—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F6356Sh 1998
[Fic]—dc21 97-37346 CIP AC
ISBN-13: 978-0-689-83051-8 (pbk.)
ISBN-10: 0-689-83051-3 (pbk.)
eISBN-13: 978-1-44244-681-6