The Stone Lions (7 page)

Once safe in the sleeping room, she huddled
in a corner, cradled the lizard, and sobbed.

Chapter 10

When her tears had finally dried, Ara lay in
her bed, numb with shock. She gently soothed the still stunned
lizard before settling him back in her caftan hood. Night came and,
with it, the normal life of a harem. People moved through her room
getting their bedding and preparing for sleep. On her finger,
Layla’s ring reminded of her folly.

“Child, what is wrong? Are you ill? I was
told you were sick and in bed.” Su’ah leaned over Ara and stroked
her hair. Layla hovered beside her, stepping from one foot to the
other.

“I have a headache,” Ara said as she turned
restlessly in her bedding. She wished they would go away. How could
she explain all that had happened? Suleiman was a lizard because
she had misbehaved. The tears rolled again.

“You’re crying,” Su’ah stated with alarm.
“What happened? Did you get into trouble? Are you hurt?” She sat on
the edge of the bed and checked her charge’s forehead.

“My head aches,” Ara repeated.
Why won’t they go and leave me alone?
“I just want to
sleep.”

“I knew you were coming down with something.
You shouldn’t have gone traipsing around this evening.” Su’ah
tucked the blankets around. “Why, you’re still in your caftan. Let
me help you off with this.”

“No, please.” Ara feared for the lizard in
her hood. “I’m fine. It’s only a headache. I’ll undress for sleep.
Please, Su’ah, get me some mint tea. I think that will help.”

“Of course, dear. Let me go find a kitchen
servant and order you tea. I’ll be right back. Layla, maybe you
should sleep with me tonight. I don’t want you and the other
children catching this,” Su’ah added over her shoulder as she left
the room.

“Ara, can I do anything?” Layla asked
quietly.

From beneath the covers, Ara pulled the ring
from her finger and handed it to Layla. “I found it. Please, go
away. I don’t want to talk. Can’t everyone leave me alone?”

Layla stared at the ring in her hand. “Oh
Ara, thank you.” She hesitated then turned to leave, saying, “May
your rest be easy.”

“Wait.” Ara sat up, suddenly alert to the
difficulty of hiding the lizard Suleiman in the harem. “You
must
promise to tell no one,” she
whispered, reaching into the hood of her caftan.

“Tell what?” Layla leaned over to listen. She
jumped and gave a little yelp when Ara held out the lizard. “What
are you doing with that lizard?”

Ara choked. “I can’t tell you—but you must
promise that you will hide him very, very safely. He must be
protected from any harm. It’s so important, Layla. Please do this
for me,” she pleaded. She clutched Layla’s hand. “Su’ah mustn’t
find him, and you must tell no one. Promise!”

“I promise,” Layla wrinkled her nose at the
lizard and reached for him carefully. “Will he bite?” she
asked.

“No, and he won’t run away. He needs food and
water. I think they eat bugs. Tomorrow, I’ll be able to take care
of him, but if I keep him here tonight, Su’ah will find him for
sure.”

“What’s Suleiman going to say when he finds
out you’re keeping a lizard in the palace?”

Tears threatened to roll down Ara’s cheeks.
“He’s gone. Don’t say anything to Su’ah or Father until I tell
you.”

“Suleiman ran away?” Layla whispered in
disbelief. “He wouldn’t! He loves us.”

“He didn’t run away,” Ara sniffed. “Su’ah’s
coming back. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Please, just don’t say
anything, not about Suleiman and not about the lizard.”

Chapter 11

Tahirah, attended by her handmaidens, walked
steadily forward into the Hall of the Ambassadors. She was
uncomfortably aware the walls of the Alhambra had weakened further
during the previous night. Inside her sitting room, a single tile
within a vertical reflection twisted. Nothing she tried would
remedy it.

Not long before, she had seen a dark gloom of
evil hanging near the sultan’s daughter, the one named Ara.

Tahirah’s head still throbbed from the waves
of aftershock. She stopped after entering the Hall waiting upon the
sultan’s command, and he acknowledged her entry with a nod. As she
moved into the room, the light that twinkled through the stained
glass ceiling hit her eyes like a shard of that same glass.

At the far end of the room sat the sultan,
the neutral expression on his face belying the tension in his body,
but Tahirah could sense it.

He raised his hand in a vain attempt to rein
in the sharp-voiced woman beleaguering him, then lowered it to the
throne in disgust.

Fatima didn’t appear to take notice. “It’s as
I said last year,” she told him. “You can see that I was right. I
say this for the child’s welfare. She needs to be taken in hand
before it’s too late. She runs around out of control. She
frightened us all with blood in the channels.” She nodded to
reinforce her conviction. “A diet of bread and water, perhaps,
would help her see the anguish she inflicted on me. I mean us.”

Tahirah remained in place. A harem dispute
was being brought before the sultan. There must be much discord
among the women for this to happen.

Fatima glanced around for approval as she
rambled on. “It’s time to find her a husband. There’s no reason to
put this off. I was married at ten, and Ara’s a full two years
older.”

The sultan, who had been absently drumming
his fingers, looked away as if attempting to gather his
patience.

Zoriah shook her head at Fatima and exchanged
an anxious glance with Maryam. “Beet juice. It was only red
dye.”

The sultan nodded and spoke with great
restraint to the older woman. “I want to thank you for bringing
this
again
to my attention, Fatima, but,
you will recall, she is my daughter.” The room was silent. “I will
decide when it is time for her to be married and to whom.”

He softened his words. “Ara does need to be
more aware of the effect her behavior has on others. While I am
displeased that she has been cause for concern, it was only dye.
Ara will clean the
dye
from the lions.” His
emphasis was another reminder that the stain was not blood.

Tahirah used her magic to seek within the
room’s deepest recesses for his lion. It was as she feared: his
lion was not at his side, nothing that anyone would notice but a
Sufi mathemagician.

“It was all very upsetting,” Fatima added,
not the least troubled by the difference between dye and blood.
Even from a distance, Tahirah could hear the sultan grit his
teeth.

Maryam, veiled before her brother-in-law,
spoke cautiously. “Sire, it’s not my place, but out of my love for
my sister’s memory, I would speak. The child meant no harm. Ara was
only trying to aid my daughter. Her curiosity sometimes gets the
better of her, but this is a forgivable quality in one so young.
Especially one who lost her mother so early. But this, ah,
inquisitiveness is offset by her good heart, kindness and the care
she shows to those she loves. I ask that you react not in anger but
in the wisdom and reason that you have always shown.” She stopped,
as though wary of saying too much.

Several servants—who were rushing about
trying to appear busy—peered over their shoulders at the sultan and
the bevy of women. The sultan sat stone-faced, staring into space.
“Zoriah, how speak you?”

The woman he had asked appeared torn, then
set her shoulders and raised her head. “The harem’s peace has been
disrupted. The child must come to an understanding of her
duty.”

Rabab joined in with her quavery voice. “But
she’s a sweet, well-meaning child—if wild, reckless and
willful.”

Tahirah coughed as she stifled a chuckle,
pulling her shawl across her face.
Painting the
girl black with her praise
.

Maryam tried once again. “Ara was born in
this very building, was she not? She would never do anything to
harm the Alhambra. She’s just a very bright child, curious about
how things work.”

“Oh, yes, she even fusses over the lions of
the fountain. Remember when we lost her when she was a bit of a
thing? Fell asleep under the lions. It looked for all the world as
though they were circled around, protecting her,” Rabab recalled.
“She insisted the lions talked to her. Of course, she was barely
old enough to speak.”

Tahirah turned her head to the side. What’s
that? The child has an affinity with the stone lions? Of course,
Ara was born here. Maybe…

The sultan leaned back and looked over at the
Sufi, acknowledging her with a nod before responding to the women.
“You have all had your say. You are free to retire to the harem.”
The chill in the sultan’s voice left no room for discussion. “You
will be told when I have made a decision.” The women exchanged
worried glances and started filing out. Fatima looked as if she
wanted to speak again, but Zoriah grabbed her arm and pulled her
toward the door.

“Zoriah, stay a moment, my wife. I wish a
word with you.”

At the doorway, Zoriah conferred quickly with
Maryam and Rabab before returning to her husband’s side.

Tahirah watched the frown lines disappear
from his face as he looked intently at his wife and enclosed her
hand in his. The Sufi stood off to the side, unsure whether or not
to approach the throne. The warm blush that rose to Zoriah’s cheeks
as she gazed at her husband transformed her face.
A marriage of the heart as well as the mind
, thought
Tahirah with a smile.

The sultan turned to her as if she had
spoken, still clasping his wife’s hand, his natural warmth and
charm returning. “Greetings in the name of Allah, blessed be His
name. I hope you were not distressed by the events of yesterday
evening. Please do not think that this is our usual way of
entertaining.” The slightest twinkle returned to his eye. “Would
that all my problems were as minor as this.”

Tahirah decided to act. “Forgive me,
shaykh
, I could not but overhear. If I
could be of some small service.” She put out her hand as he started
to frown. “Please, hear me out—this is a favor that I ask from you.
My life has been one of much work and much travel. Children were
not a part of that life. Here is a chance for me to form a bond
with a child, a valuable and life-broadening experience. You have a
daughter on the verge of womanhood whose exuberances challenge
harem life. Consider letting me take her under my wing. I love to
teach, and it would please me.”

The sultan sighed and shook his head. “I
could not impose on your generosity for such a thing. This is a
family matter, a matter between my daughter and me.”

“As Allah has granted me no children of my
own, it would be a gift to me. I also was a child given to
mischief. I remember well how difficult and arbitrary rules seemed.
The honor would be mine if you allow me to instruct your child. A
curious child whose mind is occupied has less time to err. I would
consider it a kindness. Perhaps she and her cousin could show me
around the palace, and I could engage their energies toward
scholarship and learning.”

The sultan glanced at Zoriah with a shrug
before responding. “Perhaps it would be worth a try. She
is
a smart girl. I would be grateful for
whatever interest you show her. I have no wish to inflict pain on
my child, but she must learn responsibility and to live in harmony
within the harem.” He turned to his wife. “Do you agree? Will this
solution please the others?”

Zoriah stood still before finally nodding.
“Yes, that will do. Also, I can start her training in running a
palace.”

The sultan smiled and proclaimed, “Done, it
is decided. We can work out the details later.”

Chapter 12

Ara heard the sound of footsteps at her
bedside and felt Layla’s anxious presence beyond her closed lids.
“Are you awake?” Layla's quiet voice whispered.

Ara opened her eyes. “Yes, but I want to
rest.” Her face was still blotchy from crying. “Su’ah spent all
morning fussing over me. She kept pouring vile teas into me. She
was certain I was going to break out in spots.” Ara shifted
listlessly. “I want to go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick? You look
awful. This is the second day you’ve stayed in bed.” Layla’s voice
was soft with worry. “What’s wrong? You know I had to tell your
father about the dye. He asked me directly. He was angry, but he
said no real harm was done.”

Ara kept her eyes closed. Harm had been done
by her…and nothing would ever be right again.

Layla continued, remorse lacing her voice.
“Did Suleiman yell at you about the dye? He went looking for you as
soon as he saw it in the fountain. He said I looked guilty, but he
knew who was responsible.”

“Where is Su—I mean, the lizard?” Ara asked
suddenly. “How did you keep Su’ah from finding him?”

A frown crossed Layla’s face and she sat down
on the bed. “The lizard? He’s in my sewing basket. I couldn’t think
of any other place. No one goes through my embroidery. I offered
him bugs, but he didn’t move.” She made a face, then straightened,
looking provoked. “Why are we hiding a lizard?”

Su’ah burst into the room. “Did you hear,
Ara? Tahirah has offered to instruct you. Think of that! I’m so
pleased for you.” She bustled about, grabbing clothes, hairbrushes
and a sponge. “Tahirah was quite adamant, I understand, about
seeing you immediately. If she gets some horrible disease from you,
it won’t be my fault. I told her servants that you were unwell, but
no one listens to me.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” Ara laid her
head back on the pillow. All her hopes and dreams were gone,
crushed by one folly. Nothing was important now. She deserved to be
in the coldest dungeon, not basking in the light of a Sufi.