One Thousand Nights (22 page)

Recalling what Therissa had told me to do, I bowed, hands clasped in front of me. If one carefully dissected the pecking order of the servants within the palace, then Miram was rather highly placed, but her relative rank did not come into play when the guards were involved. They were a group set off on their own, following their own chain of command, and therefore demanded a certain amount of obsequiousness, no matter who in the servant class they might be dealing with.

It seemed I appeared humble enough, for they nodded, then opened the door and led me outside. We were in a confined space between the palace proper and the outer walls, one whose primary purpose seemed to be storing refuse until it could be carted away, and I fought to keep from wrinkling my nose and coughing. Surely Miram had been here scores of times before, which meant I could not show any particular reaction to the stench.

Breathing through my mouth, I followed the guards as they made their way to a small gate, one not nearly as fine as that which guarded the main entrance to the palace. From there we emerged into a side street, one lined with buildings two and three stories high, apparently residences of some sort. People were coming and going, all on foot, most carrying parcels and bundles, one chasing a flock of squawking chickens over the hard-packed earth.

It all sounded terribly noisy and chaotic, but that was nothing. After winding away along that street for some minutes, we came out onto a much larger avenue, this one choked with people on foot, men on horseback, carts being hauled by oxen and donkeys, and the odd sedan chair here and there, no doubt carrying some member of the aristocracy from the shelter of one townhouse to another. Or did they even call them that here? My only experience was of the palace, so I did not precisely know what the residences of those who did not reside at court might look like.

What I did know was that, even with one guard in front of me and the other behind, more than once I had to dodge out of the way to avoid being knocked over, and several times I narrowly missed stepping in what the horses and oxen and donkeys had left behind. No wonder Therissa had smiled at my eagerness to walk these streets. She had known precisely what lay in store for me, while I, in my ignorance, had thought it would be refreshing. No breath of fresh air here, that was for certain; I would have been better served to find a well-shaded balcony at the palace and catch a stray breeze there. Perhaps away from these streets, and down at the docks, there was cleaner, cooler air to be had, but I knew I could never ask the guards to accompany me there. I had a reason to go to the bazaar, whereas I had none at all for going to the docks.

Except, perhaps, to find a ship there bound for Sirlende, and to climb aboard, and make my way home, so I might go to my brother and beg his forgiveness for my foolishness. Surely he would take me in, even if he would be very angry with me for the way I had abandoned my responsibilities here in Keshiaar.

No, of course I would never do any such thing. It was only a fantasy born of my despair at my current situation. I would never leave Besh. Even if he did not love me, he would be horribly wounded by such a desertion. I could not do that to him, not when I knew I loved him, despite everything.

So I followed the guards as we wound through the streets, and I told myself there was plenty here to hold my interest — the quick chatter of the people around me, faster, more sibilant than the court speech I was used to, the intricate carving on even a simple drover’s cart, the way gold flashed from women’s ears and wrists, and from the ears of some of the men as well. This surprised me, for I had not seen any of the courtiers sporting such a fashion. I also noted that none of the women were unaccompanied, that all had a man — husband, brother, father — with them. Even so, they did not seem terribly discommoded by being saddled with an escort at all times, for they talked and laughed with one another, seeming to ignore their companions outright when it suited them, and I had to repress a smile at the sight.

Finally, we came to the bazaar, and my eyes widened in wonder. In my mind I had imagined it as a group of several score stalls and pavilions, taking up a space close to that of one of the parks that were sprinkled through my homeland’s capital, but in reality the bazaar was enormous, spanning such a huge area that I could not even see the far end of it, only an endless sea of canvas in various shades of beige and ivory, broken here and there by a more permanent stall constructed of sun-bleached wood. In that moment, I was glad of the two guards who flanked me, for not only did they provide a welcome barrier against the masses of humanity who flowed in and out of the bazaar, filling the narrow spaces between the stalls, but they also led me unerringly to my destination, a large pavilion filled with basket after basket of various spices and dried herbs, along with vials of the powdered minerals used for cosmetics.

Therissa had already told me what I should ask for, so I requested a vial of red ochre for my lips, and another of galena for the kohl. The shopkeeper, whose name was Isala, smiled and took the silver coin I handed her in payment, saying she was surprised that I needed the pigments again so quickly, as apparently Miram had purchased those items only a few weeks earlier.

I gave an off-hand shrug, attempting to mimic my chatelaine’s somewhat brusque manner, and said, “Ah, well, Her Most High Majesty
would
knock over the vials when she was setting down a book the other day — ”

“Oh, my, that would explain it,” the woman said, chuckling a little. “I do hope she will take greater care in the future. That can’t have been easy to clean up.”

“The maids are still scrubbing the stains out of the carpet,” I said darkly.

With a shake of her head, Isala handed me my change. “It will get better, honored one. The stars are shifting.”

They are?
I thought.
Perhaps that is a good omen…
.

Not that I would know for certain, as I had not discussed the stars with my husband in some months. Realizing I was frowning, I thanked her, then stowed the vials in the small embroidered bag I had brought along for that purpose. Then it was time to fall in behind the guards once again as they led me out of the bazaar.

How I wished I could stop and look at everything — at the hanging lamps of brass, and the cunning figures carved of marble in a dizzying array of colors, and the embroidered pillows, and the mirrors whose frames were inlaid with mosaics of multicolored wood and chips of mother-of-pearl. But because I had come here on a very particular errand, and because I knew that gawking at the wares in the bazaar as if I had never seen them before would certainly invite the guards’ attention, I followed them meekly until once more we were winding through the streets of Tir el-Alisaad.

It seemed that we were following a slightly different route this time, for some reason; perhaps the traffic in the streets had its own particular patterns, and so it was easier to head toward the palace along this street rather than the one we had first taken to get to the bazaar. Here there was more foot traffic, and fewer carts, which made the going somewhat easier, although as we walked along, the lane became more and more crowded, until we came to a dead halt.

I could hear why immediately, although I could not see much beyond the shoulders of the people stopped in front of us. A man’s voice, rough with anger, was carrying above the murmur of the crowd.

“…And all his protests for nothing! My brother was innocent! You know me, know my family!”

A wave of assent seemed to swirl through the watching people. It seemed clear to me that they knew the speaker…and I also thought I knew of whom he was speaking. Despite the heat of the day, which even now was making the perspiration drip down my back, I felt a chill go over me.

“Do we have the money for even one horse, let alone enough to pay an entire squad of horsemen to attack His Most High Majesty?”

Another murmur, this one seemingly in the negative.

“And yet they ignored my brother’s protests, ignored common sense, and took his head anyway, just so they could say the culprit had been dealt with! It’s wrong, I say! Wrong!”

Again the crowd shifted and whispered. It seemed they were in agreement, yet afraid to speak up too loudly. And that fear became apparent when the people in my immediate vicinity noted my escort of two guards in the uniform of the palace.

“Quiet, Halmud! There are soldiers here!” someone cried out, and immediately the group began to surge, scattering in all directions.

In that moment I saw the man who had been speaking. He was of medium height, with a heavy beard and equally heavy shoulders, thick with muscles. Dimly I recalled that the executed man’s brother was an ironmonger. As his gaze seemed to fasten on me, my guards pushed forward, faces grim. Yes, they had been sent to protect “Miram,” but it was more important that they go to take this man who had been speaking openly against the Hierarch.

Their purposeful steps only served to increase the panic of the people around me, and I found myself pushed along with them, flowing with a river of frightened humanity down the narrow street, heading out and as far away from the palace guards as possible. I struggled against them, trying to get back to the spot where the ironmonger stood, but it was impossible. All I could do was move along with the crowd and hope that eventually their alarm would subside, and I would be free to return to the protection of my guards.

That hope proved to be in vain, however. Some minutes later I found myself in an unfamiliar street, surrounded by buildings I did not recognize. Wildly I looked around me, but I could pick out no landmarks to guide me back to where I had started, nothing that told me where I was.

My own panic rose in me, and I forced it down. The last thing I should do now was lose my head. Very well, I was a woman alone on these streets, which in and of itself was bad enough. But if anyone should guess who I truly was….

Heart pounding, I glanced down at my hand. The skin was a pale golden-brown, several shades darker than my own, with the prominent veins of someone who must do much of her own work. Good. So the enchantment still held, but I could not guess how much longer it would last. I had to get back to the palace, and it seemed I must do it on my own.

I glanced up at the sky. The sun was now nearing its zenith, bright and blinding, giving me no real clue as to which way was east. Very well, I would simply have to ask.

This seemed to be a residential street, but even so, I spied some people about. There seemed to be a well of sorts tucked in between two buildings, and women queued there to fill various ewers and basins and buckets with water. None of those women had any male escort, and I guessed they did not require one to go the few paces from their homes to the well and back again. Even better; that way my own unaccompanied state would not draw as much attention.

I approached one of them, put on what I hoped was a friendly but somewhat meek smile — an expression I doubted the real Miram had ever attempted — and asked, “A thousand pardons, but could you tell me in which direction the palace lies?”

The woman, who appeared to be some ten years or so older than I, with gold rings in her ears and expertly painted eyes, shot me a questioning look. “How is it that you do not know where His Most High Majesty resides?”

“Well, I — that is, I thought I did, but I seem to have lost my way.”

Her expression shifted from skeptical to somewhat pitying as she appeared to take in my lack of a male companion. “If you are looking for employment, I would advise you to go elsewhere. My own cousin was sacked only a week ago, and with no explanation. It would be better to try someplace else.”

“Oh, I am not looking for work,” I began, but she cut me off, saying,

“Perhaps not, but you would do well to heed my advice.” She lowered her voice then. “And if it is not
that
sort of work you desire, I can tell you right now that you are not pretty enough to catch the eye of any of the guards.”

For a second I gaped at her, and then I realized she must think me some kind of prostitute, to be wandering around the streets unaccompanied. Words failed me for another second or two, until I finally managed, “Very well, but I still would like to know where the palace is.”

She lifted her shoulders, pointing with her free hand past the queue at the well. “If you go down this street, and then turn to the right at the first intersection you come to, then you can follow that street all the way to the palace walls. They won’t let you in, though,” she added, apparently unable to prevent herself from giving me one final warning.

Perhaps not, but I would worry about that when I got there. I thought I would recognize my surroundings well enough once I got closer, and after that, all I would have to do was go to the small side gate in the outer wall, and tell the guards there that I had been separated from my escort. No doubt the two guards were even now searching the streets for “Miram”…or perhaps they had hurried back to the palace once they realized their charge was nowhere to be found. At any rate, the guards on duty would recognize me and let me in.

That is, I had to hope they would.

I hurried off in the direction the woman had indicated, and, sure enough, some hundred paces later I came to an intersection with a much larger street, this one with the familiar ox and donkey carts, and the occasional sedan chair, which told me I must be getting closer to my destination. They were the preferred mode of transportation for the women of the court, and not something one saw much of in the poorer districts of the city.

As I walked, I could feel the curious gazes of the men and women in the street settling on me. They had to be wondering who this woman was who had the temerity to walk through Tir el-Alisaad without a single male companion as her escort. All I could do was keep moving forward, not allowing my eyes to meet any of theirs. Perhaps they would note the determination in my stride, and let me alone.

This seemed to work at first, and I allowed myself the tiniest sensation of relief. Gradually the traffic on the street lessened, the carts replaced almost completely by men on horseback or women safely concealed in the confines of their sedan chairs. The buildings on either side were very grand, faced with marble and decorated with intricate carvings, banners of colored silk fluttering from their balconies. And there — not a hundred yards off I saw the street come to its end, high walls of pale stone marking the boundary of the Hierarch’s palace.