Toads and Diamonds (24 page)

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"A palace tradition," Ladli explained. "On the princes' birthdays, their sisters and their friends set up stalls in the garden. The boys have to bargain for the things they want."

"When the princes are young, we offer toys and sweets," the girl eating the pinkfruit said. "For someone Prince Zahid's age, it's armor, jewels, paintings."

"And sweets," the other girl said.

They all laughed. "Boys are never too old for sweets," Ladli agreed.

At the end of the table, Ruqayya glanced up from the letter she was reading, but didn't ask them to share the joke.

Despite the princess's earlier assurance that Diribani would get used to life in the ladies' court, her loneliness intensified. The only good thing about Zahid's continued absence was that Ruqayya had given Diribani permission to install her birthday gift in the prince's suite. As promised, Nissa's father had executed one of Diribani's flower drawings in a large panel of white marble and colored stone. Diribani had been pleased with the effect, and hoped the prince would enjoy having a garden vista from his room no matter what the season.

It was supposed to be a surprise, but many of the servants had stolen inside to see it. Their descriptions inspired some palace ladies to decorate their rooms in a similar fashion.

When construction noise and dust enveloped the palace, Diribani escaped outside. In the fleeting cool of the morning, she wandered the fort grounds. Followed by her maid and guards, she visited the library and prayer hall, artists' workshop and marketplace. Beyond Fanjandibad's walls, a golden blanket of mustard

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flowers spread across the plateau. Cereal crops ripened and were cut, husked by tramping cattle, and winnowed with the help of the blustery winds that heralded the hot season's arrival. As if the birds felt that burning breath on their necks, flocks gathered to fly north.

During the increasingly sultry afternoons, when workers set aside their chisels and hammers so the palace ladies could rest, Diribani paced the covered galleries, as restless as a hunting cheetah on a jeweled leash. She watched the birds, wishing she could fly, too. But, rather than following them northward, she would go northwest to Gurath's temple grove and Tana. Or east to the border, and see what was happening with her own eyes.

One day, Ladli caught her at it. Taking advantage of Diribani's preoccupation, the older girl walked up behind her and tapped Diribani's shoulder.

Diribani whirled, but Ladli danced out of reach, her feet moving in a familiar pattern. "You should have caught me," she teased. "Out of practice, teacher."

"Don't expect me to dance without drums," Diribani said.

"Hah," Ladli scoffed. "You don't need musicians for this. It's all the outward show with you people."

"What do you mean?" Despite her initial protest, Diribani rearranged her yellow dress wrap for dancing. The gallery was wide enough, and empty.

The other girl thumped her chest. "Heart drum, spirit drum. They're inside you, silly. Only listen."

Challenged, Diribani matched her steps with Ladli's. The palace drowsed around them, with most of the ladies escaping the heat in the shady garden or the bathing room's cool pools. As in the prayer

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hall that first time, the silence felt awkward. Diribani wished she had the drums' help to keep her feet moving steadily. Sweat gathered under her arms and behind her knees.

Ladli's left hand swept out. Diribani missed seeing it, and took a glancing blow on her elbow. Her dance partner's mocking expression goaded her to keep going.

What would Tana say if she knew a pampered palace beauty had mastered dancing without drums? If Ladli could do it after a few months' practice, Diribani would, too. She listened as hard as she could, trying to hear what the other girl heard. In the garden, a peacock screamed. Down a corridor, a woman scolded her maid with equal harshness. Closer, Diribani's feet struck the floor. Her breath hitched in her throat. Under those noises, a thread of sound reached her ear. Soft, but steady. She almost--There.

Her heartbeat.

Heart drum. Heartbeat. Diribani flushed with chagrin. How had a white-coat understood this mystery before she did?

When Ladli laughed, Diribani realized she had said the thought aloud. "Because you people don't shut up," the other girl said cheerfully. "You talk and sing and dance and carry on. Listening is our practice." Again, Ladli thumped her chest. "Why do you think prayer halls are silent?"

"I don't know," Diribani said humbly. She kicked a couple of rough diamonds out of the way. Honeysuckle perfumed the air.

"We pray quietly so we can hear God answer. This isn't so different. When you listen with your body and mind, not just your ears, you can hear what your partner is about to do."

As she danced, and listened, Diribani fancied she
could
hear

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what Ladli was thinking. Beyond the mischief in her voice, beyond the rhythm of their feet striking the floor, Diribani caught an echo of intent. Her hand flew up and met Ladli's, palm to palm.

"Better, flower girl," Ladli teased.

"Thank you, knife girl." Diribani picked up the pace. Her partner matched her. They whirled like twin dust-clouds, hands flashing out to meet each other in flight. Dancing, Diribani had no room in her mind to worry about the continuing silence from Prince Zahid.

And Tana.

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***

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Tana

PUSHING
the corpse cart, Kalyan trudged toward her. Tana's feet stuck to the ground. She couldn't move, trapped between the wretched villagers inside and the man who knew-- who better?--that their hardship was partly her fault. Tana steeled herself for the scorn, the disgust, that must follow when Kalyan looked up and recognized her. He shuffled forward. With every dragging step, her anguish increased. How thin he'd become!

Naghali-ji would have done better to kill her that day at the well, before the taint of death could spread to others. What purpose had her dark gift served, except to make others pay for Tana's failings?

A few paces from the doorway, Kalyan wheeled the pushcart in a half-circle and came to a stop. His back to her, he bent across the cart. Slowly, he folded the dark-green cloth, furling it over the sides. Then he stood for a while. He might have been praying. He might have been gathering his strength for the grim task ahead. Finally, he straightened, turned, and saw Tana.

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She didn't expect his reaction. She certainly didn't deserve it.

Without hesitation, Kalyan opened his arms wide. Tana fell into them. He staggered back, into a mango tree, and slid slowly down the trunk without letting go of her. They sat together in the dirt.

She had intended to be dignified. Instead, she wept into his shoulder. Crying didn't bring toads and snakes, as long as she didn't speak words. So Tana choked and sobbed for the disaster she had caused. She'd imagined that, with Diribani's help, she could lead the people away in a glorious rescue, make all right again, like a princess in a tale. The reality was uglier. By the time Tana walked to the palace in Fanjandibad and told her sister, these sick people might all be dead.

And she was a fool. So stupid, to be happy in the arms of a man she couldn't have. Even if, thank Manali-ji the love goddess, he didn't seem disgusted by her presence. Tana's scarf had slipped to her shoulders, and Kalyan was stroking her short hair. If only she could talk to him!

Well, and why not? Tana's common sense asserted itself. They were alone among the trees. If Tana could speak anywhere on the estate, this was the place. And inside her, beneath the crying, disordered mess of a girl, a plan was taking shape, like a jewel forming in the burning heart of the earth. Even as she wept, Tana considered its many facets.
Wisdom, good fortune, death:
It needed all the goddess's attributes. If Naghali-ji withheld one, the plan would fail.

And Tana wasn't going to worry about that. If Kalyan had a better plan, he would tell her. Reluctantly, she extricated herself from his arms. She had to assume that the biggest obstacle between them still existed. Who knew what kind of creatures would follow her explanation?

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She didn't go far, kneeling in the dirt next to him. "I'm so sorry, Kalyan-ji."

"You found us! I can't imagine how." Kalyan touched the lucky frog that had landed on his knee. Dark eyes searched Tana's. "But you mustn't blame yourself. Are you responsible for the soldiers' actions? Or for the fever? The twelve guide our fates."

"Alwar's men followed me to Piplia." A whip snake slithered on the ground between them.

"Maybe," Kalyan said. "But they would have come sooner or later. The governor's been trying to disband the artisan guilds since the day he was appointed. Weavers, ironworkers, dyers--there have been rumors of other villages gone missing. Before the guild masters could denounce him, they needed proof."

"I had thought to tell Diribani and get her help with the prince," Tana said, "but I don't think we have time. If the Jewelers Guild knew about the Piplia villagers' imprisonment, they could appeal directly to the emperor, couldn't they?"

"Yes." Hope strengthened Kalyan's voice. "Will you tell them?"

"You mean, will I take my friends to shock the Believers in Lomkha?" Tana waved at the snakes and toads collecting around her. "No, you'd better do it. Your father's a well-respected guild member; the court officials will believe you. And since you're not chained, it will be easy to get you out of here."

He frowned. "At a slug's pace, I'm afraid," he said. "Or maybe this handsome ratter will carry me."

"I was thinking you might prefer to ride Jasmine." Tana grinned at his surprise. "I'm working in the barn where she's kept. The grooms are mostly sick. You could ride out tonight."

"The guards will chase a horse thief."

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"Not if he's disguised as a courier."

Kalyan's bony fingers plucked at the rags he wore. "In this?"

"Two girls were washing white coats and trousers at the tank. We'll find a pair for you."

Kalyan thought about it. "How will I get into the stables?"

"I'll smuggle you in under the clean saddlecloths, in one of the big laundry baskets. Atbeg, the boy who's acting head groom, thinks too much of himself to put them away. He'll expect me to do it, and I'll make you a hiding place in the storeroom. Only for a few hours." A toad blinked at her, unconvinced, but the trader was nodding agreement. Tana went on. "You'll leave with the sweepers. The gate's open while the guard watches the clerk count out the day laborers' wages. Ride away without stopping, like couriers always do."

Kalyan's fingers drummed on his leg. "You'll come with me, of course."

"No. Even if I could ride, couriers travel alone."

His face tightened. "It won't work. If I disappear, the overseer will kill Piplia's headman and his wife. He warned me when he unlocked my ankle cuffs yesterday morning."

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" Tana said. "You'll be dead."

"What?"

Giggles threatened to break through the tragic expression Tana had assumed. "Alas, your fever worsened," she said sadly. "Vilina will complain about how her parents made her take all the bodies, including yours, and burn them at the cremation ground. I'll borrow her blue dress wrap, shuffle like she does, and push the cart. White-coats will keep their distance, you know they will, but anyone who sees me will confirm her story." She looked down at the ground. A sand boa stretched, displaying handsome scales. "I'm

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afraid you'll have to ride in the cart, too, under the cloth." With the bodies.

"And?"

"Along the way, I leave you at the tank, where the clothes are drying. While I'm gone, you bathe and dress and load the clean saddlecloths for me. I'll push the empty cart here, give back Vilina's dress wrap, and meet you at the tank."

"Very well. But you'll leave me at the well
after
we go to the cremation grounds. You're not doing that job by yourself. I'll change while you're returning this cart."

Grateful for the suggestion, Tana looked up through the trees, marking the sun's progress across the sky. "We've got to hurry. The saddlecloths will be dry soon."

After the sweet fresh air, the stink inside the makeshift prison smelled worse than ever. Tana hated to put on the stained blue dress wrap, especially when she had just gotten clean. But she hoped its bright color would draw the beholder's eye enough that nobody would notice the girl inside.

While the families wept, Tana and Kalyan picked up the bodies and put them in the cart. Vilina wasn't much help, and Tana wondered how Kalyan would have managed alone. His skin had an unhealthy tinge when she rolled the cloth over the top of the cart, but he winked bravely at her.

As she had predicted, the few people who noticed her kept well away from the corpse cart. The cremation ground was a deserted patch of bare dirt just beyond the estate wall. White-coats wouldn't want commoners holding death ceremonies on their land. The closest gate was unlocked, but barred with a heavy log so it could only be opened from inside the estate. Lengths of wood and dry