The Stone Lions (11 page)

“I still don’t understand why we don’t tell
your father. He could just arrest the wazir and put him in the
dungeon. Then everyone would be safe,” her cousin said, going back
to a previous argument.

“Layla, Father still won’t even talk to me.
He had his manservant give Su’ah the brushes and soap and tell her
that he didn’t want to see me until all the lions were clean. Maybe
not even then.” She lowered her voice. “What if the wazir turned my
father into a frog before he was locked up? We need proof. And not
just a snake who looks nothing like Suleiman.”

“I don’t know about that,” Layla said,
peeking over the bushes at the sleeping snake. “There’s something
about his eyes and the way his head shakes.”

Ara threw a soap-laden rag at her, and they
chased each other laughingly around the fountain. Finally, they
stood leaning over the fountain, giggling and catching their
breath.

“Do you think Tahirah is right about the
stone lions? You know, that they have feelings?”

“It could be. When I was very little, I
believed my stone lion loved and protected me.” She looked up at
Layla’s questioning eyes and made an embarrassed shrug. “I was very
young! It could be true. Tahirah said they are wary of outside
magic, but you and I don’t have any magic, and they have known us,
well,
forever.
Do you think they might talk
to people without magic?” She looked over her shoulder at her
favorite. “
Maybe
he will talk to me.
Anyway, let’s save him for last so we can give him a particularly
good scrub.”

The crunch of many footsteps came upon them
before they could react. Zoriah and Fatima arrived wrapped in their
hijabs, followed by a pair of harem guards in liveried dress.
Alarmed, Ara glanced at the bushes but could not see Suleiman.
Layla scrubbed at the lion more vigorously.

Zoriah looked critically at the girls. “I see
Layla is working hard. Ara, you’re taking a bit of a break? Tahirah
was called away to Lindejarras early this morning and asked me to
come and tell you. She had hoped to oversee your education while
she is here, but that will have to be put off for a day or so.”

Ara’s felt her stomach tighten in
distress.

“I see this is a disappointment to you, but
there it is. Your father asked me to help in her and Suleiman’s
absence.” She furrowed her brow and spoke to Fatima. “Do you know
when is he due back? He’s been too long away from the
Alhambra.”

Fatima shrugged, as if unwilling to
acknowledge her lack of gossip about Suleiman’s disappearance.

Zoriah turned back to Ara and Layla. “I’m
glad that you are making some progress cleaning this up. A
delegation from the North arrives next week, and your father will
receive them in the Hall of the Kings. Refreshments will be served
in here. This room must be spotless. I am sure that you girls will
see that it is so.” But her voice didn’t sound sure to Ara.

Fatima glowered at Ara in disapproval. “I
would like to say that I’m astonished at your behavior, but I’m
not. You break rules like twigs, and no one but me seems to be
concerned. I was prostrate with fright when I saw blood in the
fountain. It’s not for me to say, but I don’t understand why your
father lets you get away with so much.”

Zoriah touched her arm as if to contain her,
but Fatima shrugged her off, saying, “And Layla, I
am
surprised that you were involved. You were a nice
child, but I see you’ve been led astray.” She sniffed. “I don’t
know how many times I’ve told your mother what a bad influence Ara
is. She defends you both, but I see that I was right.”

“Fatima, Mother of my Mother, remember that
it was just beet juice,” Zoriah said calmly. “I think we should let
the girls go back to their task, don’t you? I’m sure they are very
sorry that you were upset.”

“Of course, they are sorry now. But the wazir
agrees with me. It was an omen, blood or whatever. He told me so.
An omen of death and destruction.”

“Fatima! We have business elsewhere,” Zoriah
interrupted in a determined voice. She moved to the door and out of
the room, gently pushing Fatima before her.

The girls were quiet for a moment. “But she
promised to help us,” Layla frowned, thinking of Tahirah.

Ara almost wept in frustration. “What could
be so important that she would leave us now?” And what would she do
without Tahirah? Then another thought hit her. What would she do
without Layla?

“Does your mother really think I’m a bad
influence on you? Would she separate us?”

“Mother thinks that Fatima is old-fashioned
and oversteps her authority. Didn’t she look just like an angry
crow in her black hijab?” Layla said, a bit shocked at her own
outburst. “Mother won’t keep us apart. She says you’re full of life
and have a good heart. She told me you remind her of your mother
when she was a girl.”

“Really?” Ara asked with relief, bouncing
back to her normal confidence. “Well, I think Fatima looks like a
well-fed
angry crow,” she said, giggling.
“Tahirah will be back, I’m sure of it. We just need to find the
broken symmetries as fast as we can so Suleiman can change.”

“Where should we look first?”

“Well, I thought we might—did you see that?”
Ara stared at the fountain. ”I thought I saw one of my lion’s ears
flicker.”

“It must have been the stone catching the
light,” Layla said, stepping up to the lion.

Ara shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’m
just being wishful.”

The call to prayer rang out, signaling the
end of their chore.

“Done with scrubbing for the rest of the
day,” Ara said, sagging against her favorite lion.

“I thought it would never be noon. I can’t
believe we have to do this for a whole week,” Layla said wearily.
She shook her head. It had been a long morning.

Ara woke Suleiman, ignoring his complaints,
and carefully hid the snake in the folds of her clothes.

Behind them an ear flicked in their direction
and then turned back to stone, frozen beneath the sunlight.

Chapter 16

“Have you found it?” Layla whispered to
Ara.

The harem was assembled for the afternoon
meal around the Court of the Myrtles. Suleiman had been left sound
asleep in Layla’s embroidery basket. The low hum of chattering
women and children filled the room.

“No, Zoriah is making sure I’m busy every
day. She thinks I have too much time on my hands. She says, ‘Allah
hates idle hands.’ Fatima must be talking to her. Have you had any
luck?” Ara asked.

“No. There may be a horizontal symmetry in
the Hall of the Two Sisters. Mother and Father walked through there
last night on the way to the garden, and I got to go with them. I
thought I saw one on the north wall as we passed through. I didn’t
get close enough to see if it was broken or not.” A small child
toddled by and scrambled up into Layla’s lap. She kissed his cheek,
and the toddler snuggled up against her, thumb in mouth. His
mother, Dananir, looked over to make sure her son was content
before continuing her conversation with Jada.

Ara grinned at the babe and then looked
around the court to make certain no one was listening to them. “As
soon as the meal is over, let’s go over to the Hall. The days are
passing too quickly.”

Layla wrinkled her nose in distress.
“Couldn’t we go later this afternoon? I have dance lessons
next.”

“I’m supposed to sit with Rabab and sew.
Zoriah saw my stitching and said schooling in the womanly arts was
in order.” Ara rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait until Tahirah gets
back and we continue our lessons. We have to find those symmetries
soon.”

“I know,” Layla agreed, thinking hard. “What
if I join you for your sewing lesson. Where are you going to meet
Rabab?”

“Beside the fountain where the fig tree is,”
Ara said, pointing out the window.

“Dance practice is not too long. I’ll be
there as soon as I finish.”

Zoriah stood up and clapped her hands once
sharply. Everyone looked at her. “The representatives from our
northern neighbors are coming this Saturday—some will bring their
wives. Maryam, I want you and Rabab to be in charge of the
food.”

She turned toward Rabab, who was speaking
into in Fatima’s ear. “The Spanish women from Castile and Aragon
cover their faces as we do. But I am told that the French women
cover neither their hair nor faces. Rabab, you need to inform the
servants so they do not stare.”

“The Infidels are bringing unveiled women?”
Fatima cried out.

“Their ways are different from ours. We also
will not stare. You must remember that the
shaykh
, our sultan, is working to prevent Granada from
becoming embroiled in the conflicts of the North. He will be
negotiating tribute agreements with the Northern kings,” Zoriah
finished smoothly.

Her words set off a buzz among the women.
Finally, Dananir spoke up. “Of course, we wish to help the
shaykh
in this, but we are unused to the
People of the Book. How can we go to this meeting? The Christian
women know not our ways, and we know not theirs.”

Zoriah spoke with the authority of an
experienced leader. “The sultan trusts each of us to behave
modestly and courteously, as befits a woman. Layla will dance for
the women and children. Ara, you will accompany her. You need to be
on hand, as you are gifted with languages.” Her smile challenged
anyone to make more objections. “Everyone must help to make all go
smoothly.”

The hair prickled on Ara’s arm. Did their
coming have something to do with the wazir’s evil? And even if it
didn’t, this would make it harder for her to continue her
search.

The women drifted out of the room in twos and
threes, small children clinging to their mothers or marching
stalwartly beside them. Rabab caught Ara’s eye and reminded her to
collect her sewing supplies before joining her outside.

Ara raced back to her sleeping quarters,
checking walls as she ran. She’d never find it in time now. Where
was a broken horizontal symmetry?

But the first thing she saw when she entered
the room was Layla’s sewing basket with its top flung open. Someone
had found Suleiman! A sharp hiss caught her attention. There on the
cushion curled Suleiman, coiled in a figure eight, his head held
high.

“No caggge!” he hissed. “Nott pettt.”

“But you can’t be loose. People come and go
all the time in here. Someone will see you,” Ara tried.

“Nnoo cagge!” Suleiman insisted, thrashing
when she went to pick him up.

“Suleiman, it’s only for a little while.
We’re trying to undo the magic, really we are. We have over a week
to find horizontal symmetries. Please get in the basket. Layla will
come soon and take you out, but you need to stay here a little
longer. Please, Suleiman!”

She carried the angry snake across the room
and stuffed him into the basket, closing the lid just as Su’ah came
in. “Did I hear you call Suleiman’s name?” the woman asked. “Is he
back from his errand? All the work that needs to be done around
here, and he’s gallivanting around. I don’t know why the sultan let
him go.” She pressed her lips together in disapproval. “Of course,
it’s not for me to say.”

“Uh, no. I was just thinking aloud that I
missed him.” Ara held the lid firmly closed. “I have to go to meet
Rabab now. Would you tell Layla that I have her basket,
please?”

“Of course, child. Here is the sewing you did
yesterday. Seems to me a lost cause, but maybe Rabab can succeed
where I couldn’t. How Zoriah and Rabab hope to train you to be a
proper woman, I’d like to know,” she said, looking at the stitching
with a reproachful eye.

Ara grabbed Layla’s basket and hurriedly
stuffed her own sewing in a bundle before scooting out of the room.
Outside, the sun was warm and a gentle wind blew. Four giggling
children ran past her chasing a butterfly. The spring air smelled
of jasmine and orange blossoms.

Despite the beauty, it did not solve her
mounting problems. Since his transformation from a lizard into a
snake, Suleiman had become less docile. Perhaps that was because he
was a snake, or perhaps it was because he was Suleiman—Ara didn’t
know. The cause did not matter. She still had to keep him hidden
and safe. For the hundredth time, she wished Tahirah back at the
palace. Rabab’s voice carried as she neared the little garden.

“They are dangerous, I tell you. You heard
about the French and their Crusades. They took Jerusalem for their
own a couple of hundred years ago. Can you imagine
our
holy city in the hands of Infidels? Why, most of
them can’t even read, and I heard they don’t bathe. They even eat
snails!”

Ara covered her mouth and giggled, imagining
people actually eating the snails that oozed through their
gardens.

“But the other countries north of here,
Aragon, Castile and Navarre, are worse,” Rabab continued. “How
could Allah let such ruffians loose in the world? The Toledo
library north of here was burned to the ground by those oafs.
Centuries of learning burned to ashes in one large bonfire. What
kind of people would do that?” Not waiting for a response, she
added. “And they’re coming
here
. Allah
protect us. I’m hiding the silver and the books.”

Rounding the corner, Ara saw Rabab and Fatima
sitting with their heads together discussing the upcoming
meeting.

“Well, as senior member of the harem, I was
surprised that the sultan chose Zoriah to organize this event,
young as she is. He didn’t ask me to attend, not that I would have,
you understand. I myself will pray to Allah the whole two days that
we aren’t murdered in our sleep while they are here,” Fatima
said.

Rabab vigorously nodded her head in
agreement. “There you are, child,” she said when Ara entered the
garden. Catching her foot on a tree root, Ara pitched forward onto
the ground. Rabab shook her head in disbelief. “The dance lessons
didn’t help, did they?”