The Stone Lions (13 page)

Ara struggled. “She, um, she said…”

“Ara, what did she ask you?” Zoriah
interrupted.

“She wants to know what Rabab said,” Ara
replied with a pleading look.

“Of course,” Zoriah answered, nodding and
smiling pleasantly at the woman. “Tell her that Rabab had an attack
of indigestion, to which she is subject.” Still smiling, she turned
to Rabab. “You will not make another outburst.”

Ara dutifully repeated Zoriah’s words to Lady
Anna, who smiled back but seemed unconvinced.

“What was just said?” she wanted to know.

“She was expressing concern for Rabab’s
health,” Ara said with a straight face. Translating was more
complex than she had imagined.

“Would you repeat their names for me once
more?”

“The one who just spoke is Zoriah. She is
Father’s head wife. Next to her is Maryam, Layla’s mother and my
aunt. Rabab is, um, the one with digestion problems. She is my
mother’s mother’s sister. I think you would say great aunt. Layla,
my cousin and best friend, is sitting next to me, and my name is
Ara.”

“Thank you,” Lady Anna said. “You’re a very
sweet child.”

The ginger-haired boy raised his voice,
making it hard to ignore him. “Mama, I can’t eat this. I want beef,
not food for dogs.” He pushed his legs out to the side. “Why must
we sit on the floor? I bet Father and the other men are not eating
on the floor like paupers.”

“Enrique, try not to fuss, dear. I know this
isn’t how we normally eat, but try to be pleasant. Your father has
his reasons. This fall he’ll make you a page. Then you’ll be with
the men.” His mother patted him on the cheek.

Lady Anna, sitting next to Ara, sat rigid and
turned slightly pink.

“Ara,” Zoriah asked. “Is there a
problem?”

Lady Anna spoke, “Ara, what did she ask?”

“She wants to know what’s wrong,” Ara
answered uncomfortably.

“Tell her the child has a stomach ache from
traveling,” Lady Anna said, looking directly into her eyes.

“The boy is in poor health and misses his
father,” Ara translated.

“Can we get anything for him? Mint tea or a
purgative?” Zoriah asked suspiciously.

Ara translated again.

“No. Thank her for her concern,” Lady Anna
responded before muttering under her breath. “He and I are going to
have a talk. We’ll be right back.” She turned to Lady Theresa as
she wrestled the boy out of the hall. “I’ll not have your child
behave this badly when we’re on a delicate mission. Either you
control your son or I will.” As she left, her voice carried,
“Enrique, mind your manners right now or your father will be told
of your dreadful behavior.”

“What is going on?” Zoriah said, looking from
one to the other.

“She asked him if he wants mint tea. He
thought a walk might help,” Ara ad-libbed.

Zoriah, Maryam and Rabab looked at Ara, their
eyebrows were drawn down in disbelief.

With Lady Anna and the ginger-haired boy’s
hasty departure, conversation lagged. Neither group seemed to know
what to say to the other—an uncomfortable silence filled the room.
The other two younger boys cleaned their plates with nary a
peep.

Before the last course was served, a
grim-faced Lady Anna reappeared with the sullen boy. She shot him a
warning glance as he jerked his arm away and sat beside his
mother.

“The child feels better?” Zoriah questioned
delicately.

Ara translated.

“Oh, yes, his stomach is better, much better,
thank you,” Lady Anna replied, her smile forced.

Servants cleared the banquet foods, and
others appeared with mint tea and dessert. Zoriah motioned Layla
and Ara over.

“This would be a good time for entertainment.
Ara, get your lute, please, and Layla will dance.”

Ara explained to their guests that Layla
would entertain them with a traditional dance, and sat down to tune
her lute.

The women arranged themselves in a semicircle
along the sides of the room. The boys clustered together and talked
quietly among themselves.

Once Layla was ready, Ara started playing the
music of her people. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned wild
windblown lands stretching forever toward a night sky that capped
them like an upside-down bowl. Stars sparkled like fistfuls of
diamonds thrown up into the sky. Dark blue mountains loomed in the
distance. A herd of camels huddled together against the cold of the
dark desert evening. She heard a camel call that dissolved into the
ginger haired boy’s snort.

He pointed at Layla and snorted again with
laughter. She looked up to see if any adults noticed. Didn’t look
like it. Zoriah and Maryam smiled at Layla as she danced. Rabab’s
eyes were closed and her mouth gaped slightly. Asleep again. Lady
Anna gently tapped her knee in time to the music. Christ’s wives
and other ladies watched with polite but uncomfortable expressions
on their faces. Ara ducked her head and continued playing, fiercely
concentrating on her music.

She heard the boy’s snort once again and
almost lost a beat. He whispered loudly to the golden-haired boys,
“Look at the way she wiggles.”

Ara gritted her teeth and kept playing. Her
grip on the lute neck tightened as thoughts of throttling one
ginger-haired infidel tumbled about her mind. Father would be at
war, the Alhambra would be lost—all because she attacked a pudgy
boy. Allah would understand.

In her fury, Ara missed the white-robed
figure who stood quietly observing at the entryway.

She snuck an angry look at the boy and was
startled to see he had a slingshot pulled taut and pointed at
Layla. She dropped her lute and shouted, “No.” Too late, she knew.
The slingshot snapped and ricocheted back. The boy was hit smack in
his mouth. He screamed and several adults leaped to his aid. Lady
Anna walked over with a grim look and picked up the broken
slingshot, displaying it to the mother trying to calm her howling
boy. The other Christians were distressed and then angry as they
deciphered the situation. One of Christ’s wives started fingering
the beads in her rosary.

Maryam stood protectively by her daughter.
Zoriah seemed unsure quite how to react. Rabab was now awake and
confused. And Allah’s blessing upon them, Tahirah stood in the
doorway, calmly surveying the scene.

Lady Anna spoke first, trembling in rage.
“The boy will be punished, I assure you.”

Tahirah gazed at the boy’s bloodied nose and
lip, before saying in her perfect Castilian Spanish, “I believe
Justice has already been provided.”

Chapter 19

Later that evening, Layla and Ara joined
Tahirah walking through the torch-lit halls. Their long shadows
moved with them across the walls.

“We’re glad you are back,” Layla said, her
face still a bit pale.

“Where were you?” Ara asked at the same
time.

Tahirah reached out and took their hands. “It
has been quite the experience for all of us.” She gave their hands
a squeeze before releasing them. “I dreaded leaving you two, but I
received an urgent message from an old friend, a woman from
Lindejarras in the mountains. I left immediately, taking only my
guards and two of my most trusted women.” Ara leaned forward. “When
I arrived, she spoke of a plot to overthrow the Alhambra.”

Both girls gasped.

“My friend’s brother travels in a caravan
across Andalusia. She told me that two months ago, three knights
from Seville joined their caravan. Late that night, he heard them
arguing. They were disagreeing about a Muslim wazir in the service
of the Castilian king. This wazir was supposed to have magic, they
said, that could strip the palace of its defenses so that the
Alhambra would drop into their hands like a ripe fig.

“Two of these men didn’t trust the wazir or
his magic, and wanted to take the matters into their own hands, but
the other man persuaded them to let the ‘Moor undo the Alhambra
magic,’ then kill him. My friend’s brother wanted to warn the
sultan, but he was afraid.”

“Why would the wazir do this?” Layla
asked.

“According to the knights, the wazir has been
promised the Alhambra for his own if Granada falls to the
Infidels.”

“I don’t understand, how could the Alhambra
be made defenseless? We have guards and soldiers,” Ara
persisted.

Tahirah reached out to stroke Ara’s hair. She
spoke gently. “The Alhambra is protected by people, it is true, but
you know that the secret of its strength is in the magic built into
its walls by the original Moors and Saracens. They placed the magic
in the artwork, the symmetry on the walls themselves, and that
protects the palace from invaders. With the magic intact, these
fortress walls cannot be breached, the gates are impenetrable, and
the towers themselves will resonate like thunder. Lightning bolts
would shoot any hostile army that dared to trespass.”

“That’s what Father was talking about,” Ara
said, placing a hand on the walls as if she could hold it together
by herself. “He said that the Alhambra protects its own.”

Tahirah looked solemn. “If all the symmetries
broke, the magic would be undone, and the Alhambra would be like
any other palace. No number of warriors and guards could defend it
from superior forces.

“The symmetries hold, in spite of the fault
line of evil spreading through the walls and weakening its magic.
But if we are unsuccessful, the damage will continue and eventually
the fortress will fall.”

“And the lions—what do they do?” Ara asked.
“You said that they are magic.”

“The lions were set in place by three very
powerful mathemagicians hundreds of years ago. Each lion was named
for a quality that would protect the Alhambra. Their anger would be
terrible and inescapable for any who endangers the Red Palace.
Their continued silence concerns me, and I must assume the worst.
The wazir has placed a spell on them. When you broke that first
binding on Suleiman, some of the evil was dispelled, and perhaps
some of the lions' strength has been restored as well.”

Ara’s eyes widened with urgency. “Tahirah, we
saw a lion’s footprint on the ground this morning.”

“The wazir saw it too.” Layla interrupted,
her words tumbling over one another in her hurry to get them out.
“He was going to ask us about Suleiman, but he left in a rush when
he saw the lion’s print.”

Tahirah weighed this information before
speaking. “The wazir must be very frightened. His control of the
lions has slipped, and his magic is unraveling.” She frowned and
pressed her fingers to her mouth. “We must be cautious. He must not
guess you two are responsible for his magic weakening.”

She resumed walking. “If we only had some
written proof, we could go to your father. As it is, it would be my
word against his, and this is a very serious accusation. Islamic
law requires the voice of two women for every man.” Her voice
cracked. “I would not accuse the wazir of treason with no more than
hearsay.”

She remained quiet for some moments, then
said, “As I watched the moon change each night, I thought of you
two. This morning it was just past a quarter full. What have you
accomplished while I was gone?”

The girls looked at each other, then at their
hands. Ara whispered, “We have yet to find a broken horizontal
symmetry, and we must by tomorrow.” She sent an anxious glance
toward Layla.

Tahirah nodded and was silent. She closed her
eyes and for a many breaths she seemed to be meditating.

Her eyes snapped open and she said, “Tomorrow
is a busy day. You are translating for the visitors, are you
not?”

Both girls nodded yes.

“Then I bid you goodnight. But remember, fear
is not our friend, and we will not feed him. I shall spend this
evening in solitude and prayer, but perhaps I can help before I go.
As I entered the Alhambra tonight, I saw the wazir alone in a room
off the Gilded Court. Did you check near there?”

“We’ll go now,” Ara said, pulling Layla along
with her. “Quickly, before bedtime.”

“Good night, daughters of my heart,” Tahirah
called after them, but only the walls heard her speak.

The girls ran through the palace, stopping
only to nod politely to others of the harem as they passed. Guards
stood at various corners, untouched by the apparent enthusiasms of
the youngsters. Children had been running through the halls of the
Alhambra long before these two were born.

As they were about to round the last corner,
Ara pointed to a row of tiles surrounding the doorway. “I
think...No, there’s a piece that changes the symmetry, an extra
shape in the top half that is not in the bottom, not a symmetry,
but not broken. Oh, bother,” she muttered under her breath,
glancing around at other tiles. She had to find the symmetry. What
would happen to her father and all her family and friends if she
did not? The sound of strange male voices raised in anger came from
around the corner. The girls looked at each other in surprise. Who
could be in the Gilded Court this late at night?

“What do you mean the palace is healing
itself?” a voice barked. “You told me it was all under control.
Can’t do your simple math magics?” The speaker laughed at his own
joke.

“Keep your voice down,” the wazir said. “Do
you want everyone to hear? The sultan is already suspicious. He
questions me closely about my relations with you of Castile.

“The symmetries are healing, and the lions
are casting off the sleep spell I placed on them. Someone is
working against me. That eunuch, Suleiman, I’m sure. Somehow, even
in his reptilian form, he’s doing mathemagics.”

More laughter. “A lizard doing math,” the
voice sneered. “What’s he doing, trigonometry?”

Ara could hear the intake of the wazir’s
breath.

The man continued, seemingly unaware of the
wazir’s anger. “What about that woman, the Sufi?”

The wazir laughed and whispered in his harsh
voice, “A woman, an old woman. Sufis spend their lives thinking
great thoughts. Tahirah’s weak. She wouldn’t even
notice
the changes, much less be able to fix them. It
must be the eunuch. He was sniffing around my magic. I should have
killed him.”