The Steel Seraglio (28 page)

“And life out here isn’t so bad,” she continued, passing Taliyah a tiny wooden oryx, ears pricked and head raised at an unknown sound. “It’s not many women who can earn their own bread, and fewer still who can do it through a craft they love. Besides, the attention is becoming quite flattering, don’t you find?”

Warudu had a point: at the market in Agorath, a queue had begun to form in front of the concubines’ pitch each week, and there were disappointed looks at the end of the day when the last of the stock had gone. Along with the usual crowds browsing the stalls, customers far grander in their manner and attire had several times now graced the blanket on which the women of the seraglio laid out their wares. Once, when it was Fernoush and Halima’s turn at the market, one of the sultan’s legates came by specifically looking for one of their woven bracelets for his wife. Another asked if he could commission some of Warudu’s wooden statues for his young son. The camp beamed with pride at each fresh report. Only Zuleika looked grim.

“I fear the attention we are drawing to ourselves,” she confided to Gursoon, the evening they heard the news about the legate. “Gratifying though our success is, the very purpose of this endeavour was to disappear, and on that score at least, I think it’s safe to say we’re failing.”

“At least we’re bringing money in,” Gursoon said. “It won’t be long now before we have enough to buy the provisions and leave.” But her face as she said this was not serene.

A few weeks later, Bethi and Nasreen returned from the market whey-faced and shaking.

“I made a mistake,” Nasreen stared at her feet in shame as she explained to Zuleika what had happened. “A woman came to buy a shawl, and while she was looking for one that suited her, we started talking. She said that she didn’t recognize my accent, and asked me which city I was from. I told her the truth before I had thought to check myself!”

Zuleika could see the girl’s distress, and tried to temper her reply. “It was a foolish mistake, Nasreen, but not a disastrous one. Many traders in the market come from Bessa.”

“You haven’t heard the worst part,” Nasreen wailed. “After I’d told her where I was from, she looked at me so strangely, and told me that I must have had a lucky escape. ‘I haven’t seen a woman from Bessa for weeks,’ she said to me. ‘I hear they’re not allowed outside any more.’ It’s getting worse over there, Zuleika. My sisters must be so afraid!” Nasreen began to cry, sharp, gasping sobs. Fat tears rolled down her face and fell to the ground, making little craters in the sand at her feet.

Zuleika reassured the woman, but absently. Nasreen’s words were ringing in her mind. A thousand merchants came to trade in Agorath. That some of these came from Bessa was almost certain, the two cities being so close. But clearly, they were the only women. It narrowed things down.

There was a new atmosphere, tense and apprehensive, as the concubines gathered for their daily meeting that evening. Everyone knew by now what Bethi and Nasreen had heard at the market, and their thoughts were back home with their mothers, sisters and daughters. Meetings usually began with Farhat, Maysoon, Warudu or Rihan giving a report on the day’s progress, but today, it was Zuleika who stood up first. It was clear at once, from her bearing and expression, that what she was about to say was of serious import.

“We’ve all done well here,” she began. “However, our efforts will be wasted if our presence in Agorath is discovered. It’s been a long time now, and we have put by a fair amount of money—more than sufficient, I think, for the journey to Yrtsus. And we are starting to draw attention to ourselves. What Bethi and Nasreen discovered today has changed things. It is clear that Hakkim Mehdad is ruthless in the exercise of his power, and if we ever had doubts that he would seek us out, I think they are gone now. We have dwelt here long enough. We ought to buy what we need and set off before the end of the week.”

Although this had been the plan from the start, Zuleika’s words were met with a groan of dismay. Taliyah’s face crumpled as she set down her mortar and pestle, which Zeinab had bought her only that week to make the work of grinding pigments go more quickly. The powder she had been pounding spilled out into the sand. Warudu tutted. Umayma set her mouth in a hard line and stalked off towards the cave.

It had been the plan all along, the goal they had all been working towards, yet few of them, now that they were brought up against it, could quite stomach the prospect of leaving.

Even the bandits looked downcast. Each of them, it should be noted in passing, had had more—and more varied—sex in the past month than in the three years that preceded it. Several times they had discussed escaping from the termagant women, but it had become clearer and clearer that their hearts weren’t really in it.

Gursoon looked around her at the disappointment on every face, and felt an answering sadness in her own breast. They had been free in this place to do as they chose, free to earn and to spend and to look men in the eye, as they had never been in Bessa. She bowed her head, reminding herself of the necessity of their swift departure.

Zuleika looked around the group in surprise. “We can’t live in the desert forever,” she pointed out bluntly. “It’s no place for us.”

“Your own experience belies that every day.” The voice was quiet, but charged with passion. The Seraglio looked around to see Rem walking towards the outcrop of rock on which Zuleika stood, just as she had done on the night of their arrival, after they had overcome the thieves.

“We are happy here,” she said, “and we’re thriving. The work goes well.”

Zuleika waved a hand dismissively. “The work isn’t important. It was only ever a means of making enough money for the journey to Yrtsus, and return to a life like the one we knew. We make money, we buy provisions, we leave—that was the plan.”

“Why?” Rem countered.

Zuleika stared at her in consternation. “I’ve just told you why.”

“No, I mean why would we want our old lives back? If we go to Yrtsus, we go back to servitude and impotence.”

“We go to save our lives—”

“What are our lives worth, if we have to live them in hiding?” Rem demanded, suddenly impassioned. “How can we slink into a city that is not our own, and leave all this behind?” She gestured at the valley around them. It was sunset, and the sky was a dream of pink and orange silk, shot through with golden light. It fell upon the hand looms clustered together like big-boned women, Warudu’s workshop strewn with wood shavings, a line of clay pots drying in the cooling day. The light touched every face in the watching crowd, and coloured it with splendour.

“Yes, we thought at first only about surviving. And look—we’ve survived. It’s just that we’ve done so much more! Made so much more. We’ve become a city here, in the desert, which sets its face against cities. And now you want to go back to a world where women are bought and sold as the works of your hands have been bought and sold? To a world where the whim of a mad and pitiless man can decree a hecatomb of women, and other men will not raise their voices against him but will hurry to do his bidding? The plan was wise, but the plan is past. The present is this thing that we have wrought.”

Zuleika saw the truth of what Rem said blazing from her eyes. She felt it too; she had been happier in the desert than she had been in a long time. But she hardened her heart, and spoke coldly when she replied.

“Howso that might be, unless we want to live in fear of Hakkim’s vengeance every day, Yrtsus is our only option. Unless you have a better idea?”

She had meant it as a closing argument. But Rem was soaring now, and did not need to search for her answer. It had always been there, a dimly shining vision at the back of her mind since the moment when the sight had first come upon her. Suddenly, through all the strands of what was and what would be, it sharpened into dazzling focus.

“When Hakkim took Bessa, he made a pyre of its laughter and its art. He killed the joy in the city; now it is like a shell. But us he cast out, and in the desert we became a city of our own. That is what we do. We take the city back into the city. We parade the city that should be through the streets of the city that was, and we make it our own once again.” in her jubilation, she had moved very close to Zuleika, and though her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, yet in a sense she spoke to her alone. “That is what we do. We take back Bessa.”

For a moment, Zuleika remained utterly motionless, her mouth open in mute astonishment. Rem’s words hung over the seraglio, a tidal wave suspended before the moment of impact. Then time began to move again. The wave crashed down in a roar as everyone began to cheer. And Zuleika, borne forward on the surge, feeling her anger loosed into a sort of fierce joy, took Rem in her arms and kissed her, hard, on the mouth.

A record of the meeting of the Council of Women, formerly the Seraglio of sultan Bokhari Al-Bokhari, late of the City of Bessa.

This meeting is called to decide our future course of action. In attendance are all four hundred and thirteen Bessan citizens in exile, including our allies Issi and his eight apprentices, and also the twelve men of fortune led by Yusuf Razim, currently inhabiting the caves of the northern Hills.

The meeting was called by Imtisar, Gursoon, Zuleika, Farhat and Zeinab. By their joint agreement, the discussion was begun by Gursoon.

Notes of the meeting to be taken by Rem the Archivist.

GURSOON: I hope all of you can hear me. Many of us have been arguing about what to do next. This meeting is to let the whole community hear what each of us has to say, and then decide together which course of action to follow.

[Many women begin to talk at once.]

But if we are all to be heard, it seems sensible to allow one of us to be the gateway, and determine who speaks at any time. Is it your will that I take this role?

UMAYMA: It should be Zuleika. She’s the one who saved us.

GURSOON: Zuleika, then.

ZULEIKA: I would not do it well. Gursoon speaks better.

SEVERAL VOICES: Gursoon!

GURSOON: Anyone else?

Very well. I will explain our situation as it appears to me; then anyone who wishes may speak, to suggest how she thinks we should proceed. I know that Zuleika, Imtisar and Farhat each have a proposal to make. Who else wishes to speak now?

[There is a silence.]

Then with your agreement, we will begin by hearing those three. Then anyone who wants to comment should raise her hand. We will try to hear everyone who has something to say.

IMTISAR: All four hundred of us! That’s absurd. We’ll never reach a decision!

GURSOON: We’ve been through this, Imtisar. This concerns the lives of every one of us. We must work together to survive. And we work together by consent.

IMTISAR: But every single person? The children? The babes in arms? And don’t forget that most of these men are thieves!

GURSOON: Everyone. The mothers have a voice, if the babes do not. And these men have shared their food and their shelter with us. Now can we get on?

Thank you. Sisters, we have received many blessings here. We’ve avoided our enemy for three years, we’ve kept our children safe, and with the help of our hosts here, and Issi and his men, we’ve even prospered. But we have always known it could not last forever. This place was never made to support so many. We must ration water in summer and fuel in winter. We would all like better food.

[A general murmur of agreement.]

And now it seems that our very success, the sale of our goods in the markets, which brings us so many of the things we need, has put us in danger. We are attracting too much attention. We know that our enemy, Hakkim Mehdad, is single-minded and pitiless. If it should come to his ears that a group of women from Bessa are abroad in the world, he’ll renew his search for us. And though he’s mad, I fear he is also intelligent: it would not take him too long to find us.

It’s clear then, that we cannot continue as we have done. Our first thought was to travel as far away from here as we could; maybe to Yrtsus. Since then, two different plans have been put forward. Others may come out of this debate. But at the end, I think we must vote for one course of action, and decide quickly how best to achieve it. Do you all agree?

MANY VOICES: Yes!

GURSOON: Then, with your consent, I’ll give the voice first to Imtisar.

IMTISAR: There should not even be any reason for debate. We’ve lived here safely enough for a while. But now this monster, this murderer is about to find us, the best thing to do is leave at once. And what will he be looking for? A mass of women, four hundred of us huddled together. Wherever we go, so large a number will attract attention. So we should separate—go in small groups to different destinations: maybe a dozen to Saruqiy, twenty or so to Perdondaris, and so on. We’ll be less noticed, and we can go immediately.

Some have said that if we can get as far as Yrtsus, we’ll be safe from pursuit. But how can we be sure? The one thing we know is that it would still take weeks of preparation before we could leave—and our danger is now.