Toads and Diamonds (5 page)

45

Ideas tumbled over one another in Diribani's head, each more splendid than the last. "Gurath needs a library, Father was always saying, and we should have a better guesthouse for foreign merchants. And a theater. And painters!" She clasped her hands. "Oh, Ma Hiral, we could build a workshop, like the one in Fanjandibad, and maybe the painters would teach me, and--"

"Painters!" Ma Hiral shook her head. Exasperation roughened her voice. "Listen, Diribani. No one must know that you've been so favored."

"What?" Diribani turned. "You can't mean to keep me in the house until..." Her voice trailed off as she took in the seriousness of her stepmother's expression.

"Not forever." Ma Hiral's voice softened. "Just until this gift passes."

"Passes? You make it sound like a fever," Diribani said. "It's not leprosy or the plague." Small chunks of lapis lazuli spattered like hail on the floor, bruising the petals of three pure white roses. The joy she had held inside since the encounter at the well was congealing, cold wax in her veins. Stiff legs walked her to the shuttered window. She longed for a glimpse of the sun, a breath of air. "Shall I sit behind a screen like the Believers' wives, voiceless and invisible in my own home?"

"Do be sensible," Ma Hiral said. "When it's over, we say that one of dear Javerikh's investments paid off unexpectedly. As long as we pay the guild fees and taxes, the authorities won't ask difficult questions."

"But it's a miracle!" Diribani braced herself against the window frame. She wanted to claw aside the shutter and shout her news to the rooftops. "I can't pretend it never happened!"

46

"Who's asking you to? Once you've finished speaking jewels, you can tell whoever you like." Ma Hiral clicked her tongue. "You're no longer a child; don't pout like one. If your gift is discovered, Governor Alwar will have a hard time deciding whether his prison can hide you from the emperor's spies long enough to squeeze more diamonds out of you, or whether his religion requires that he burn you as a witch."

"Burn as a witch? Naghali-ji wouldn't permit that." Diribani's voice broke. Her hand closed around an ashoka blossom until red juice stained her fingers. "Would she?"

Ma Hiral sighed. She crossed the room to stand beside Diribani. Two doves landed in the courtyard and pecked at the dirt. A green spark startled one bird into a sideways hop. Ma Hiral dashed outside. She flapped her skirts to scare off the doves, then retrieved the overlooked emerald. Inside, she polished it on a fold of her dress wrap.

"Ten ratis, or I'm the princess of Fanjandibad," she said grimly, and handed it to Diribani. "In this degraded age, who knows what the holy ones will do?" she continued, as if there had been no interruption. "The governor orders Naghali-ji's sacred messengers to be killed like vermin. White-coats slap us in the street with one hand while their other steals the last coin our poor purses hold, and yet the twelve are silent."

"But we don't have to dress like Believers, or worship in their prayer halls," Diribani protested. "The white-coats leave our temple groves alone."

"Not by Alwar's choice," her stepmother said. "Fortunately, Emperor Minaz is more open-minded. Or more patient. After all, it took his ancestors many years to bring the Hundred Kingdoms

47

under their fist. As long as the emperor controls our earthly fates, he is content to let his foreign truth touch our souls in its own time."

"Then wouldn't the emperor say that our religious matters were none of Alwar's business?" Defiantly, Diribani tossed the emerald and caught it, tossed and caught it again. "His god doesn't rule Naghali-ji, and she gave me--"

"When the goddess blesses you with good fortune, it doesn't mean you throw her wisdom out the window. Think, silly girl." Ma Hiral snatched the descending emerald from the air before it landed in Diribani's palm a third time. "To a man as corrupt as Alwar, greed
is
a religion. I'd wager this emerald that his treasury sees more of him than any prayer hall. Please, I am begging you on my knees, do not speak and give that snake-killer cause to destroy our family."

Diribani set her chin. "I still don't believe the goddess wants me to hide in my room, hoarding her riches like a miser."

"Mother Gaari, give me patience. What sins did I commit in my previous lives, to be saddled with two such headstrong girls?" Ma Hiral flung up her hands. "I'm only suggesting you use common sense. Is that so difficult?"

As her stepmother stomped away, muttering dire predictions under her breath, Diribani leaned against the window frame. Insides churning, she stared through the shutter slats at the empty courtyard. She didn't like fighting with her stepmother, but she could not agree with her wrongheaded ideas. Of course, they hadn't eaten today. Hunger and miracles were bound to stir the most ordered lives into turbulence. Practical Tana would know what to do; she always did.

Why was she taking so long at the well?

48

***

CHAPTER SIX Tana

TANA
waited for her turn at the foot basin, behind a group of laborers who'd come to fill their drinking jugs at the step-well before a long afternoon in the fields. Their laughter and teasing didn't touch the cyclone of Tana's swirling thoughts. Thanks to Diribani's jewels, their family would soon eat better than plain rice and the occasional curried lentils. No longer dependent on Diribani's cousins for shelter, they could buy their own house, where her mother could spend the rest of her days in luxury. And when the marriage broker learned the size of Diribani's dowry, princes would be competing for her sister's hand! But how would Tana explain their family's sudden wealth to the tax collector?

She shifted the silver pitcher on her hip. First things first: selling the gems. Tana couldn't wait to study the stones in better light. She'd get the best prices if she had them cut and then traded them herself. That assumed the Jewelers Guild would agree that Ba Javerikh's tutoring counted as an apprenticeship. And that a white-coat official

49

would issue Tana a merchant's permit in her own name. The only women she knew who traded independently were widows who had maintained their dead husbands' permits. If Tana couldn't get her own permit or renew Ba Javerikh's, where could she turn? She'd be competing directly with Trader Nikhat; it wouldn't be fair to ask for his help this time. Trader Bhim was a nice enough fellow. He dealt mostly in pearls, and didn't seem like the type to demand an outrageous commission for the service. She could ask him.

"Eyo, Mina," the boy behind Tana said. "Your turn."

"What?" Tana looked up. "Oh, pardon me." She rinsed the mud off her feet and refilled the basin, then hurried across the entry pavilion. The shrine's stone carving stopped her short.

Eyes closed, the dancing goddess lifted her arms in blessing.
Diribani had spoken with her.
Tana gulped. Then, as every girl did from the day she was old enough to reach the statue, Tana traced the serpent twined around the dancer's waist. Generations of reverent hands had polished the stone to satin, the whole length of its draped coils. This image of the goddess and her snake, deadly cousin to the common house naga, was known to bring good fortune to petitioners. Tana wasn't sure whether the well had been dug to honor the ancient image, or whether the statue had been brought from a temple grove to bless the well. In any case, the shrine served as a reminder that the water here flowed freely to all souls: overseer and commoner, man and beast.

In the light of the oil lamps that lined the niche, the snake's jet eyes glittered. Tana felt they were fixed on her. Was the goddess displeased that Tana had brought her worldly concerns about permits and taxes to this sacred place, knowing what she now knew? Had

50

the promise she'd made, to be mindful, not lasted the short distance from Gurath?

Naghali's carved mouth smiled its eternal smile; her snake's stone eyes weighed Tana. She squirmed under the flat regard. Surely it would find her lacking. With all the flowers and jewels at home, she hadn't thought to bring one to offer at the goddess's feet. The jewels and flowers weren't hers to give, she argued with herself. They belonged to Diribani.

The snake seemed to dismiss her excuses:
You didn't think to ask. What kind of devotion is
that? The silent question hung in the air.

Bitter as vinegar, Tana's failure stung her tongue. She folded her hands around the pitcher, acknowledging her fault. Then she remembered that she did, after all, have one flower she could call her own: the pink rose Diribani had tucked into her hair.

Warmed by Tana's skin, the blossom had opened. As she held it out, the rose's petals cupped the lamplight, and a sweet scent spilled into the air, offering fragrance like a blessing.

An arm jangling with gold bangles jostled Tana's, knocking the pink rose to the ground. "Oh, excuse me, Mina-ji."

Tana could have shouted with frustration. Instead, she bit her tongue, hard. She stooped to pick up the rose and set it on the altar in the corner, away from the stick of burning incense that the other young woman had placed there. "Peace, Hima-ji," she said through clenched teeth.

"Tana? So quickly, my prayer answered! Come along and join us." Trader Nikhat's eldest daughter transferred a covered basket to her other hand and linked arms with Tana. As they made their way along the busy corridor, the older girl flipped the free end of

51

her dress wrap over her shoulder so it concealed their fingers.
Transaction completed?
she tapped out briskly on Tana's wrist.

Tana had to think; the business with Trader Nikhat's sapphires seemed so long ago. But she still had the packet, she realized. It was safe in the iron box, under a floor covered with more worthy gems. Smart Hima, to conduct this discussion in trader-talk. Everyone came to the well; you never knew who might be listening behind a pillar. Tana replied the same way.
Yes.

Hima's smile lit up her plain features. "A party of royal ladies landed in Gurath yesterday, did you hear?"

"No." Tana held the silver pitcher against her other side. She was trying to find her mental balance, jerked from the sad contemplation of her sins to the more interesting topic of business. Hima could be a powerful ally. She had inherited Trader Nikhat's brains, her brother, Kalyan, had gotten all Ma Bansari's charm, and the two younger sisters split her good looks between them. "Prince Zahid's ship arrived early?"

"A whole week," Hima confirmed. "Can you imagine, we spent all
night
readying the inventory." As she said "night," she squeezed Tana's arm and raised her eyebrows in question.

Tana nodded. She'd listen for the soft scratching at their gate tonight. A trusted servant would be sent to collect the pouch of sapphires and Tana's report. Or Kalyan might come himself. She could hope, couldn't she?

"The governor's wife will entertain the royal ladies at the fort while Alwar and the prince are hunting today, so Mother decreed we spend the afternoon beautifying ourselves." Hima giggled. "Might as well put gold leaf on a heifer's ears and call it a gazelle,

52

I told her. When the trays of jewels come out, the customers don't care about me."

"You look very elegant," Tana assured her. Hima's dark hair was freshly washed, her blunt fingers were manicured, and the nails were painted a coral color. To match her gold bangles, metallic embroidery banded her short blouse and peach-colored dress wrap.

"It's sweet of you to say so," Hima demurred, but she sounded pleased by the compliment. "This way. Mother's in a bathing pool." At her signal, a servant admitted them past the folding privacy screens. Several women lounged in and around the pool, while maids scrubbed their skin or washed their hair. Herbs burned in a brass bowl. The pungent smoke drifted out from under the pavilion's raised roof and into the open air. Hima raised her voice to carry over the chatter. "Here's your sandalwood paste, Mother, and, look, I found Tana outside."

"Peace to you, Ma Bansari, "Tana said.

"Peace, Tana." Wrapped in a linen bath sheet, Hima's mother lifted her head from the massage pad and smiled at Tana. Her maid paused for the greeting, then resumed rubbing the woman's bare brown shoulders. The scent of almond oil mixed with the herbs.

One of the younger girls jumped up, sleek as a porpoise, and shook back her wet hair. "Is Diribani with you?"

"No, Mina-ji. She was here earlier," Tana said. "I just came for water; I can't stay."

"Surely you can spare a few moments to visit?" Ma Bansari said. "Hima's maid will tend to you."

Before Tana could protest, gentle hands had stripped her of the silver pitcher and her shabby clothing. Like an errant ewe, she was herded into the pool. Cool water touched her skin, refreshing as

53

mint. The maid scrubbed her back and washed her hair while Tana sat on the steps and let the other women's voices flow around her ears. Hunger and worry and the day's strangeness made a barrier she couldn't climb to make polite conversation. She couldn't tell Diribani's story. It was too unbelievable, until they could see the flowers and jewels for themselves.

Graciously, Hima and her mother didn't comment on her silence. They seemed to expect only that Tana enjoy the maid's expert care.

Lost in a cloud of comfort, Tana waved her farewells when the party left. She put on her old red dress wrap and thanked Hima's maid, who had filled the silver pitcher with fresh water. Silent-footed, the remaining servants packed up the folding screens, the ladies' cosmetics, wet bath sheets, and massage pads, leftover twigs, and herb-burning tray, and departed.

No beggar women in sight. Disappointment mixed with a sneaking sense of relief that Tana had avoided Naghali-ji's judgment on her soul. Diribani's gift would protect their family from ruin; humility was the safest course for a less worthy stepsister.

Aware once more of gnawing hunger, Tana picked up the pitcher. "Home, I suppose," she said aloud. She had thought herself alone in the pavilion until a low voice answered.

"Will you drink?"

"What?" Tana gaped as a tall woman stepped from the shadow of a pillar. Of middle years, she was taller than most men, with handsome dark features and midnight hair knotted at the neck. Next to this impressive personage, Tana felt more insignificant than usual, even if her hair was clean and smelled like sandalwood. She clutched the silver pitcher to her chest. "Why are you asking me?" she squeaked.