The Stone Lions (17 page)

Ara couldn’t speak.

“Of course, Zoriah,” Layla finally
answered.

As they left the hall, Ara muttered under her
breath, annoyed at Zoriah and frightened of what could happen.

“You know she’s right. We have to learn,”
Layla said quietly, so the servants accompanying them wouldn’t
hear.

“But not now,” Ara snapped. “We have no time.
What if we fail? Neither of us sleeps at night for worrying.”

“She doesn’t know that, and we can’t tell
her,” Layla said.

“But the wazir is doing something with the
Castilians. I know he is.”

Layla placed her hand on her cousin’s
shoulder. “Nothing we can do will change that. We must stick to our
task, repairing the Alhambra and Suleiman with it.”

Ara sighed and then shuddered at this new
thought. “What if the wazir comes looking for us?”

Ara watched as her own fear bloomed in
Layla’s eyes.

The girls climbed upstairs to their room,
both too tired to talk. Cleaning and scrubbing, airing carpets and
polishing floors had taken much of the evening. Zoriah had checked
before they had finished and suggested that the kitchen staff could
use help the next day with counting a shipment of food that had
just arrived. It had been a
long
evening.
As they stumbled into bed, Ara fervently hoped Zoriah would find
some other girls to take under her wing and train. She wasn’t sure
she would survive her lessons.

The next day servants joined them directly
after breaking fast, and the girls followed them to their tasks.
The evening ended as the previous one, with both girls falling into
bed exhausted.

It seemed morning dawned before they had
barely closed their eyes. The voices of the muezzins rang out the
call to prayer.

“I’m sore all over,” Ara protested as she
slowly pushed off the bedcovers. “I thought we were done with
scrubbing and polishing and cleaning when the Christians left.”

“And counting jars and jars of olive oil,”
Layla added recalling tallying the large shipment unloaded from the
wagon the previous day.

“Break fast time!” chimed a shrill voice near
Ara’s ear. Suleiman clambered off her pillow and skittered over to
the bed’s edge. “Hurry, get up. We need to eat.”

Ara eyed the mouse with sleepy annoyance.
“Can’t you think of anything but your stomach?”

Suleiman drew his portly mouse-self up to his
full height. “Of course, there are many things of equal importance
as one’s health. One is treating your elders properly. You are a
girl and I...”

“Are a mouse.”

Layla, ever the peacemaker, sat up and
offered her outstretched arm for Suleiman to climb. “You are our
tutor and friend. First we pray to Allah, the gracious, and then we
will go with much speed to break our fast.”

Ara muttered under her breath as she stared
at the ceiling with ill grace, then blinked in shock, suddenly
awake. “Found one!” There on the ceiling was a double reflection
symmetry. This one was blue and gold with umber edges. But it was
complete, not flawed in any way.

Layla leaned her head back to see. “It’s
always dark when we are here. The symmetries are all around us and
we have never noticed.”

“Good, you found it,” Suleiman said, sounding
impatient. “We now know that you can identify it. Now hurry, we
must eat!”

Chapter 24

It was a day among days: the sunlight was
brilliant, a gentle breeze blew, and all seemed right in the world.
Suleiman, full of mouse energy, took an interest in all their
activities. Perhaps too much so, thought Ara, still miffed at the
mouse's boldness. Zoriah had taken pity on them and, handing them a
basket of food for their mid-day meal, shooed them out into the
gardens.

Celebrating their release from work, the
girls walked through the gardens, floated leaves down the many
streamlets and chased each other around the trees. A tiny reprieve
from the strain of the past weeks.

Ara found one more symmetry while dallying in
the Garden of the Lindaraja and showed Layla the small row of green
rosettes displaying both horizontal and vertical symmetries.
Suleiman, after scanning the sky for hawks, sat down under a lacy
fern surrounded by four almonds, three pomegranate seeds and a
hefty piece of bread scavenged from the basket. As the day
dwindled, Ara and Layla again felt the pressure of time. They
packed up their belongings and their mouse and headed back to the
palace.

Fatima, Maryam, and Rabab were sitting in an
enclosed garden embroidering when the girls walked by. Rabab,
telling a story, held Fatima’s rapt attention.

“I’m not one to gossip, but I know what I
saw,” Rabab said. “The wazir was talking at the Palace Gate to a
couple of Infidels, and a more disreputable couple of men I have
never seen. One of them, standing behind the other, had something
wrong with his legs, poor man. Looked like he had two clubfeet. The
other man had a plumed hat and a scowl on his face you wouldn’t
believe. I couldn’t understand a word they said, what with the two
of them waving their hands in the air and shouting in that strange
barbaric language of theirs. The wazir looked angry too. He kept
looking back at the palace as if in disbelief. I know the sultan
told us to be polite to those people, but no good can come from
running around with the People of the Book.”

After a quick look at the girls, Maryam moved
awkwardly to the end of the bench. “Aunt,” she suggested, “let us
speak of this another time.”

But Rabab went on. “And that’s not all. One
of my friends has a brother, who was told by a very reliable source
that he heard the wazir talking to a wall. I think he must have
been drinking wine. And you know what the Prophet Muhammad, peace
be upon Him, says about drinking. Well, she said that her brother’s
friend saw him with his very own eyes. Abd al-Rahmid was standing
in front of a wall and talking to it. As if he were having a
conversation, you understand.”

“Aunt Rabab, the girls,” Maryam attempted
once again.

Fatima, who had been spellbound up to now,
leaned forward. “Well, normally, I wouldn’t mention a thing. Never
say an unkind word, that’s my way, you know. But I have a friend
whose servant said that the wazir has developed a peculiar dislike
of lizards. He pays the gypsy children to bring him lizards. No,
not special lizards,” she added at Rabab’s raised eyebrows. “Just
lizards. And you know what he does with the lizards? He steps on
them and crushes their heads. Did you ever hear the like?”

Both women stopped in awe of each other’s
tale. Maryam said, annoyance and frustration coloring her tone, “I
saw the loveliest cinnamon and rose-colored silk produced here in
Andalusia. I believe it’s even nicer than the foreign made silk.
Aunt, don’t you think it would make a wonderful outfit for Layla? I
was hoping that you would advise me on this. You have such a way
with clothes.”

Rabab blinked and gazed at her sister’s
daughter’s child. “But lizards, why would anyone kill lizards?”

Ara and Layla stood stock-still, afraid to
move. Neither girl looked at the other, afraid they would give away
their secret. Suleiman trembled in Ara’s sleeve.

Maryam glanced at her daughter before saying
firmly, “I think we should not concern ourselves in the affairs of
the wazir. I’m sure there is a very reasonable explanation. Perhaps
there is some misunderstanding. Someone must have misspoken.” Her
face was tight. “Ladies, I must take my leave of you now. I will
accompany the girls back into the palace. You will excuse me.” She
stood and bowed before gathering her supplies. “Girls, may I join
you?”

Layla responded with a start. “Of course,
Mother. It would give us great pleasure.”

Together they walked toward the Court of the
Myrtles, no one speaking until Maryam’s, “About the discussion you
overheard. I would ask that you not repeat gossip. Fatima and Rabab
are older and wise. I value their advice in many things. But,” she
said with a sigh, “they are not always as discreet as I would wish,
and the walls have ears.” She sighed again.

“Mother…I…” Layla started, “about the
basket.”

Ara almost tripped in her panic. “No,” she
hissed as quietly as she could.

“Yes, my daughter?” Maryam said.

Layla looked at the ground in discomfort
before stammering. “I...I…could I get a pet?”

“Oh, yes, the basket,” Maryam said with a
smile. “Well, what kind of animal do you want? Perhaps Rabab would
let you have one of her parakeets if we were to ask.”

“No, I don’t think I want a parakeet,” Layla
looked down at the ground. “I was just thinking about Aunt Rabab,
though. She’s a good person, isn’t she? And even though sometimes
she doesn’t do everything quite right, we still love her, don’t
we?”

Maryam stopped in her tracks to look directly
at her daughter. “Is there something wrong? Something you need to
tell me?”

“No, I mean, at least not yet. It’s kind of a
surprise, and I can’t tell you for a few weeks. But you know that I
would never do anything bad, don’t you?”

Maryam considered the girls for a long time,
plainly weighing her impressions of Layla’s guilt and Ara’s worry.
“Girls, I trust you with my heart and my honor. My love is always
there for you, no matter what. All I care about is that you are
safe.”

She thought for a moment. “Does it have to do
with the basket?”

Two heads nodded.

“Does some dependable adult know about this
secret?” Again the heads nodded.

She relaxed slightly. “Then I can wait. When
you are ready, I would love to know your surprise.”

I don’t think so
,
thought Ara. She stared at the ground.

The rest of the walk was made in silence.
Maryam looked at the girls quizzically once or twice but seemed
lost in her own concerns. They entered through the side of the Hall
of the Lions and walked around the arched peristyles toward the
Hall of the Two Sisters. Both girls were preoccupied with what had
happened. Layla worried about deceiving her mother, and Ara focused
on finding symmetries. At last Maryam spoke. “I must speak to my
sister-wife, Thana. I’ll see the two of you at our evening
meal.”

The girls hurried into the Hall of the Two
Sisters. Ara peered around behind one wall-hanging after another.
When she pulled back the tapestry next to the arched doorway, she
gasped. A huge crack stretched from floor to ceiling. The Alhambra
was failing, being destroyed at its very core. She ran her fingers
over the break as if she could hold it together, but nothing
happened.