The Princess Who Tamed Demons (12 page)

"Is it the world which is strange or we humans
who make it that way?" I countered. I was feeling oddly
philosophical, but now was not the time. I put my hood up and we
started back toward the palace. We crossed the hot-baked
cobblestones of the square, and this time we went down a small side
street that would help us avoid the busyness of the
market.

The stench of garbage here was not so bad,
crammed together though the houses here were. 'Houses' probably
boasted more than these had to offer. They were cubes of hastily
assembled mud-clay, one heaped on top of the other as if a giant's
child had placed them as building blocks. Precariously sloped
stairways crisscrossed the upper levels and overshadowed the houses
below. It was a ramshackle of humanity, pressed together into a
mutually smothering, unsanitary embrace.

"Nice neighborhood, Linn. I bet you only take
the girls you have a crush on to see the sights," I
teased.

He looked darkly at me from the corner of his
cowl. Or so I imagined. I couldn't see his face, nor he
mine.

"Joke when we are safely ensconced back at the
palace. The first order of business will be a bath, no
question."

I smiled at Linn's suggestion, and I was
already anticipating how the scalding water would feel, like wet
silk sliding over my skin, when the shadows of the ramshackle
buildings along either side of us blotted out the sun. A few
heartbeats later I heard the sound of feet pounding on the cobbles,
and three black-robed figures rushed out to block our way. I was
already tipping my cowl back, aware of two more black-robed men
attacking from behind.

Really? Was this as creative as they could
get?

I pulled out a whip from the folds of my robe.
Smack
. I threw my arm forward, my wrist snapping, and the
whip curled perfectly around the neck of the nearest attacker in
front of us. His cry got strangled half-way out, and he fell
writhing as I dragged his body forward. I drew my short-sword with
the other hand, preparing to try my blade on the two attackers
behind me. If they expected me to be just armed with a simple
dagger, then the idiots had underestimated me, and Linn had claimed
that he could 'handle himself' in a situation, whatever that meant,
so hopefully he would have a few surprises for our attackers
too.

Looking backward, I was confused at first. The
two black-robed figures were backing away instead of trying to use
their advantage. They each drew something small and slender from
their robes. My eyes widened, and I reacted too late.

"Ahhh!" I stumbled to the side, aware of the
dart embedded in my leg. The two black-robed figures had blowguns
aimed, the deadly whistle of projectiles also coming from the other
side of us, where I turned to look just in time to see Linn
collapse with twitching arms.

"No!"

I began to feel drowsy. Whatever they'd laced
those darts with….

Two more sank into my butt, and the sword
dropped from my jerking fingers. I groaned, falling to my knees.
The handle of the whip spilled harmlessly from my other hand, and I
had a perfect, final view of two black-robed figures advancing on
me cautiously as my sight dimmed, all thoughts blown away like sand
in the wind.

~***~

My eyes opened, and when the memories flooded
in I sat bolt upright.

"Linn!" I looked around, but he was nowhere to
be seen. Someone had dressed me in a cream silk gown, its fabric so
sheer that certain places were less covered than I would have
liked. My head was pounding, but the pain was rapidly receding. I
groaned as I put my feet on the floor, stood up, and got my
bearings. The room had two wide, open windows, their mauve curtains
flapping in the mid-day breeze. The room was spacious, stucco walls
painted the colors of sky at daybreak, and a simple oak table had
four chairs to keep it company. Potted plants based in turquoise
ceramic populated the corners of the room, giving the place a
comforting scent and a lived-in feel.

It may have felt cozy, but I ached all over.
Whatever toxin had been in those damned darts had left me with some
stubborn aftereffects.

Heavy footfalls. "You are awake.
Good."

Ghayth strode in, his midnight eyes twinkling.
He was bare from the waist up, his silk shorts a burnt orange, and
his feet were equally au naturel.

I looked for something I might be able to use
as a weapon. My eyes fastened to a walking stick propped up near
the table. I lunged for it, and Ghayth placidly observed while I
went into fighting stance.

"What have you done with Linn?"

Ghayth was about to open his mouth when a
lithe, dark-skinned woman slipped into the room and edged in front
of him. She was beautiful, her eyes a vivid blue-green that seemed
to match the jeweled earrings sparkling beside her face.

She entwined her hand with Ghayth's and leaned
up to give the well-built Verse-preacher a passionate kiss on the
lips. Drawing back, she turned to look at me, then glanced up at
Ghayth, then back at me.

"Go down and get changed. I will attend to
our…guest." Ghayth nodded to the woman, then at me.

"Najika, I would like you to meet my wife,
Aisha. Aisha, this is Najika of the Black Kingdom." So saying,
Ghayth turned and walked with heavy steps down the hall. The man
practically shook the floor when he moved.

Aisha sighed. "The man walks like an elephant,
a habit I'll cure him of yet."

I put down the walking stick, uncertain what
to do. This was awkward and I had no idea what to say. If Ghayth
had been the hand behind the blowgun-firing kidnappers, this was a
strange way of showing it. Then again, the fact that I was here and
not safely back at the palace hinted that Ghayth might have a
darker agenda after all.

"I am sorry if he frightened you. My shureem
merely wished to ask you what had happened."

"Your 'shureem'?"

Aisha put her hand over her nose, holding back
a sneeze. "Forgive me. Shureem is a very old Tajmari word not used
in other Kingdoms. It is an affectionate term for husband. Do you
not have those where you come from?"

"We do." I took a deep breath. I wasn't sure
whether to be comforted or alarmed by the apparent normalcy of our
conversation. Yep, I was going to have to go with option two. "Who
put me in this outfit? More importantly, can you tell me
what
is going on, preferably
before
we make small
talk?" Aisha was wearing the same type of sheer fabric I was, only
hers was light cyan, like turquoise dipped in ivory.

"You do not like my clothing? Forgive us, but
my shureem is very firm when it comes to propriety. Women are not
to wear the clothes of men, and you were wearing a library clerk's
robe."

I opened my mouth, amazed this conversation
was even happening. I had been attacked. Linn was nowhere in sight.
For the love of all the sun in the Gold Kingdom, what was going
on?

Aisha must have seen me getting ready to
explode, because she rushed forward and took one of my hands
between hers. "Please, do not be afraid. You are safe here. Ghayth
was on his way to our Mosque with two of his acolytes when they
heard the sounds of fighting. They found you sprawled in the street
with men dragging you away. As soon as Ghayth rushed to question
them, they ran. When he realized that you and your companion were
unconscious, he had both of you taken here to our
villa."

She gave me a solid hug, and for a heartbeat I
just froze. My arms slowly climbed upward, returning the
gesture.

"You must be so frightened. Please, do not
be." She drew back, her hands resting hopefully on my shoulders as
she gave me one of those gently appraising looks. "Won't you come
downstairs? We have tea and fresh fruit, figs, even cinnamon-dusted
oatcakes baked just this morning." I tried to ask a question, and
that was when my rumbling stomach announced in no uncertain terms
that it had other priorities. Something told me that if they had
treated me this humanely, then Linn probably wasn't
too
bad
off. The librarian could wait.

"All right. Lead the way." Aisha guided me,
holding my hand the entire time as if I was a childhood best friend
over for a sleepover.

We entered the kitchen on the lower level.
Down here it was nice and cool, and colorful curtains covered the
rectangular upper windows to keep out the sun's heat.

Ghayth sat at the long breakfast table, a
buffet laid out across its polished yew surface. Scrambled eggs,
freshly chopped peppers, tiny grains of something which looked like
rice but wasn't, melons and cantaloupe carved into bite-sized
morsels, each with a toothpick jutting out the top. My mouth
watered but my body tensed when I saw Ghayth. He was now dressed
more traditionally in a black vest and black shorts, casual attire
for a Verse-preacher.

"Come, sit. You look like you need
sustenance."

I sat at the far end of the table, putting as
much distance between the two of us as I could. Aisha busied
herself, cleaning around the kitchen and occasionally slipping in
and out to do various things around the villa. I went to work on
the melon and cantaloupe, stacking up a respectable pile of
toothpicks before moving on to the eggs. Instead of trying to
interrogate my host between forkfuls of food, I waited until my
belly gave me the thumbs-up that it was satisfied, pushed my plate
away, folded my arms, and stared expectantly.

"So."

"So," he agreed, not willing to blink
first.

"You want to tell me why you had me and Linn
kidnapped?"

Ghayth sent me a withering look. "I did no
such thing. I rescued you."

I snorted. "What a
convenient
story.
Since I was unconscious the whole time I can't confirm it, nor can
I prove it wrong. Where is Linn?"

Ghayth waved a hand at me as if telling a dog
to shoo. "He is well. He is at the guesthouse, at the edge of the
property. Still resting I think, though I have arranged my two
servants to leave him food and drink for when he wakes. You may go
see him in a while if you wish, but he will not set foot anywhere
in or around this villa."

"Why is that?"

Aisha's sunny voice interrupted. "Ghayth will
not allow any other man to see my skin unclothed, and your
strange-looking friend, whatever he is, still counts as a man." The
vivacious young woman swept past me, intent on some other task,
humming some infectious tune as she vanished into other parts of
the villa.

"Really?"

Ghayth made a face. "Aisha refuses to wear any
veil or the sadrasa covering." Sadrasa? Ah, so
that
was what
they called those black sacks the women had to wear in
public.

"You mean you don't force her to?" I tried to
keep the shock from coloring my voice. I remembered Ghayth, stern
and unreasonable at our first meeting. Here he seemed—sweet
Kingdoms' mercies, he seemed just a little smitten. Suddenly I
found it hard to voice the question I had originally been yearning
to ask.

"Force her? There is very little that I can
force Aisha to do," he grumbled. "If I didn't love the little
witch, life would be much easier." He looked mournfully at the cup
of juice between his hands, then took a long swig.

I burst out laughing. I know I shouldn't have,
but I couldn't help it. Ghayth went back to stoically eating his
food, studiously ignoring me until the tremors subsided. My sides
hurt.

"Sorry, Ghayth," I said, desperately trying to
make my tone serious. I couldn't help it. Here was one of the most
conservative clerics in Tajma. He seemed hell-bent on forcing
foreigners to adhere to his traditions, but at the same time he
seemed willing to bend over backward when Aisha flaunted one of
those same traditions. It sounded to me like an unstoppable force
had just discovered that it was very much stoppable. Had someone
really done the impossible and tempered Ghayth's iron
will?

"I am sorry for my outburst," I continued,
standing up and moving to the chair next to him. My version of a
peace offering.

"Do not be," he said. "Before we talk of more
serious business, perhaps your feminine advice can be of use." He
said the words doubtfully, as if they physically pained him. But I
brightened and donned my most enthusiastic smile.

"Yes?"

"She will not wear the sadrasa, not
ever
. Do you know what that means?"

I stared blankly at him.

"How can I be the Verse-preacher of one of the
greatest Mosques in Tajma if my own wife will not attend worship
with me? For the time being it is fine, since we are newly married
and it is normal to cloister one's new bride. But in time…in time I
will become an object of ridicule. They will say, 'Our
Verse-preacher cannot control his own wife. Why should we let him
lead us in the ways of the Verses?'."

This was dangerous territory. I was an
outsider and, woman or not, my advice might be more explosive than
anything he was ready to hear. I chose my words with
care.

"My advice? Start by doing little things that
might make her happier to attend worship with you. Maybe then she
would be willing to compromise and wear the veil and sadrasa, just
enough to keep you respectable with your people."