The Serpent's Daughter (23 page)

“Drink the water,” said Zoulikha as she handed the bowl to Jade.

“Besmellāh,”
said Jade as she drank. The water had a slight tang to it from the saffron. She handed the bowl back to the old woman, who passed it on to Yamna.

Yamna took the wet parchment from the bowl’s bottom and rolled it into a tiny scroll. Finally she placed the scroll in a little silver box that hung from a silver chain. A silver hand dangled below the box. Zoulikha slipped the chain around Jade’s neck, leaving the box to lie atop her shirt. Jade felt for it and the comforting presence of David’s ring, only to realize her mother still had the ring. An emptiness washed over her.

“You will be well protected now,” the old women said. She pointed to Jade’s hennaed feet. “Ash leaves and the snake guard your footsteps. The eye of the partridge is on your palms to watch for danger. Barley sheaths on your chin will keep you from eating poisonous foods. And the charm will increase the protection.”

“What did you mark on my forehead?” asked Jade.

“You are the lioness. You will need the matched strength of the Barbary lion to join you. There are few left, but one keeps watch over this spring. We have put his paw print on your forehead. Three small spots below and two above. Because the print is made with five marks, it has more
baraka
.”

And mother will have a conniption when she sees this.
Thinking of her mother, Jade wondered if she’d actually be able to sneak off without her tomorrow.

“Have no fear,” said Zoulikha when Jade asked. “Yamna will go back now and give her a cup of almond milk, but it will contain herbs. She will also spread the oil of the orange on her pillow to make her sleep. You will be gone with Mohan when she awakens.” She nodded for her daughter to take a torch and return to the village.

“Mohan?” asked Jade. “Does not Bachir return with me?” She’d grown to trust the man in her own way. At least she knew his tricks.

“Mohan understands the importance of this amulet. It is his daughter’s birthright. He insisted that he go. And he has been to Marrakech many times over the years to take his sister’s pots and Yamna’s rugs to sell in the market.”

“You haven’t told me yet what Elishat’s amulet looks like. How will I know it?”

Zoulikha bent over and traced a two-by-three-inch rectangle in the dirt. “The talisman is a silver box, this big,” she said. “On one side is the
kahina
’s hand.” She raised her own hand with the fingers splayed. “On the front is the symbol of the first
kahina
.” She indicated Astarte’s symbol on the cave wall. “Inside is a written charm. The catch to open it is well hidden, so the box appears to be solid. Do not attempt to open it. To do so is to lose the
baraka
. Do not open the box you wear, either.”

“I understand,” said Jade. “I will do my best. Take good care of Mother for me. She will be worried and,” she added after a moment’s hesitation, “very angry.”

Zoulikha grinned. “Such is the way of mothers. Their children will always be their children no matter their age. Come, help my old bones to walk back.”

“There is more to Mohan and Bachir’s story than you told me, isn’t there, Zoulikha?” asked Jade.

The old woman made a low hum, as though deliberating how much more to tell Jade. “Yes, there is, but it is not important to this trip.”

Jade didn’t press the issue any further and concentrated on keeping to the path in the torchlight. By the time Jade and Zoulikha returned to the village, the festivities had ended, and families had drifted to their own homes. Jade found her mother curled on her side in their room, sound asleep on her rug. Inez’s lips twitched and her eyes darted back and forth under the closed lids.

She’s dreaming
. Jade wondered what her mother might dream about tonight. She hoped it was something happy
Something with Dad and the Gypsies
. Jade felt a rush of pride in her mother. She’d proven very brave throughout this affair, going so far as to attempt her own escape with a single nail. Jade draped part of the rug over her mother’s back and shoulders for added warmth.

Sweet heavens, I’ve made a hash of this reunion with Mother.
It pained Jade to always feel at odds with her. It wasn’t the thought of returning to New Mexico that seemed odious, it was the role her mother wanted her to assume.
I definitely need to write to Dad, but in the meantime …
Jade took out her notebook and jotted a brief note to Inez, then left it by her mother’s shoes where she’d be sure to find it.

Jade bent down and kissed Inez on the forehead, catching the scent of orange around her.

“Good night, Mother,” she whispered. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

CHAPTER 17

—The Traveler

YAMNA CAME FOR JADE several hours before dawn sent a glow of light over the mountains. While Jade hardly felt refreshed, she wasn’t sorry to break this short night’s rest. Her head throbbed behind her eyes and her temples, and her stomach churned.
Blasted dreams
. She cast an envious glance at her mother and watched her slow, deep breaths; the sleep of the innocent, or the heavily drugged.

Zoulikha waited for her outside in the village street. She handed a woman’s tuniclike dress to Jade as well as an older
handira
and two brass
fibula
to hold it in place. “You will have need to dress as though you are one of us, I think.” In the gloom, Jade thought she detected a faint smile on the old woman’s face.

Reading the
kahina
’s thoughts, Jade replied, “You said that I
am
one of you.” The throbbing behind the eyes increased.
Blast it, but it hurts to talk
. Her hands shook as she took the garments from Zoulikha and a pair of low slippers from Yamna. Neither of them moved from in front of her.

“Tell me,” said Zoulikha as she peered at Jade’s troubled face.

Jade thought about asking what she meant, or telling her that she ate too much yesterday, but decided there was no use playing dumb with either of these two women, especially Zoulikha. The old
kahina
was too well versed in human nature.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the pain of talking and recollecting. “I dreamt I was in a garden of some kind, but all the flowers were arranged in rows and rows next to stones. It might have been a cemetery. I saw many …” She hesitated before speaking again and decided to use the euphemism preferred by the Amazigh people. “Many people who shun salt and iron. I saw a faceless woman in black. She might have been beautiful; I don’t know. She seemed … diseased somehow.”

Jade’s voice dropped to a hush, filled with empathy for the pain she had witnessed in her dream, the same pain she now carried in her pounding head. “I think she cried. One tear fell, only one. But when it struck the ground, the flower there grew larger. But it was no longer a flower. It became a terrible tree, all twisted but dead. The rocks grew, as well, like walls. There was a man, at least I think he was a man. I think she seduced him because he clung to her like a lover before his body withered. Then the moon came over the sun and eclipsed it, but just before it did, I saw a silver box sticking out of the ground under the rocks. I went to reach for it, but my hand touched something else.” She shuddered as she recalled the image. “I touched the shriveled corpse.”

When Jade finished, she felt as though she’d been sleep-walking, just as she had in the Azilah tunnels. Only this time the urge to vomit, to purge herself of this memory, rose in her throat. Peering into the darkness, she saw that both Zoulikha and Yamna had their hands raised in front of their chests, exposing the partridge eyes painted in henna on their palms. She fought down the nausea.

“The water spirits have sent you a vision,” Zoulikha said. “This dark woman is a
jenniya
, but while many of the people who shun salt and iron do not harm and some do good, there are those ruled by Shaitan, they are the
afrits
. This woman is one of his first disciples. Even her name, which we will not speak lest we summon her, means ‘dark lady.’ It was she who seduced Adam before Allah gave him Eve. Even now she brings death to any man she lies with.”

“There is no need to speak her name to me,” said Jade. “I know it already.” Jade recognized the story from that first morning when Tremaine brought it up at breakfast. One of the more colorful characters who lived outside of Cimarron, New Mexico, had told it to her as a little girl. But Lilith Worthy had been a distant evil in Jade’s mind that morning in Tangier when Mr. Kennicot named her as the serpent’s daughter. Hearing it then hadn’t affected her like last night’s dream did. Now it came like a revelation from her subconscious, putting all of the evils she’d experienced since the war at this woman’s feet.

Jade didn’t need any mystical excuse for her dream. It made perfect sense that she’d dreamt of Lilith. The woman had been on her mind ever since Avery sent the warning in the telegram. As for the rest of the dream, she didn’t very well understand it, but what dreams ever made sense? She knew the dream dealt with death which was Lilith’s stock-in-trade. But while Jade didn’t believe Zoulikha’s claim that spirits sent it as a warning, she felt there was more to it than she knew. Whom did the shriveling corpse represent? Jade only hoped that if it
was
a warning, she’d understand it in time.

Zoulikha took some herbs from her pouch, crushed them, and dropped them into a cup of well water. “Drink this. It will help the pain.”

Jade swallowed some of the concoction and recognized the bitter taste of willow bark. She downed the rest in a quick gulp and handed back the cup.
“Shukran.”
Jade headed for their mounts, folded the garments, and added them into a large woven bag that hung like a pannier across her mule’s rump. Next she threw in the leather pouch she’d taken from the
riad,
her compass, and a flashlight after putting in her spare dry cell. Mohan held the rope halter of his mule and hers, and Jade recognized two of the animals she’d purchased in Marrakech. Jade took one halter from Mohan and they started on foot from the village. In the dark, it was safer to lead the mules than to ride. From a distance, Jade thought she heard the coughing
harrumph
of a male lion.

Darkness promoted silence and neither of them spoke a word until many hours later when the sun broke over the eastern rim of the mountains. Mohan immediately stopped, pulled a prayer rug from one of his panniers, faced Mecca, and recited the morning prayers.

While he prayed, Jade said her own prayers silently, putting her mother’s well-being in the Lord’s hands. As an afterthought, she decided Zoulikha and Yamna could use some protection from her mother’s ire once she discovered she’d been duped. How long could they keep her drugged? Probably not long enough. She opened a pannier and pulled out two loaves of flatbread and a chunk of goat’s cheese. She broke the cheese in half and handed one to Mohan. They followed the simple breakfast with several pulls of water from their respective water skins.

“We can ride,” said Mohan in Arabic. “We must go slow. The road is not easy.”

Jade mounted up and moved in behind Mohan, who led the way through some of the remaining stands of tall cedars growing in the sheltered parts of the upper mountain, not yet cut down for firewood or ceiling beams. Spring flowers dotted the floor below, popping up through old needles in pink, yellow, white, and mauve. The scent of cedar washed over them each time their mules’ hooves scraped across the forest litter.

“It is good of you to take me back to Marrakech, Mohan,” said Jade. “I am sorry you had to leave Yamna and Lallah to do this.”

“
Inshallah
, God willing, I must do what I can for my daughter. Lallah is a jewel dearest to my heart.”

Jade smiled to think that this rough man of the mountain who worked so hard to eke out a living felt so much tenderness for a little girl. She thought of her own father, somewhere back on his mountain in New Mexico, and all the times he took her with him on the spring rides, checking on the flocks, teaching her how to track and hunt. There was something very special about the bond between a father and a daughter. An image flashed before her eyes, a distant memory aroused by the scent of cedars. It was her mother riding beside her. Jade remembered that last trip the three of them took. They camped out under the stars, laughing and seeing who could tell the tallest tale. Then later that summer, several wealthy Easterners and artists moved into Taos and Angel Fire, and Inez quit going with Jade and her father.

Why? Why would she care so much about these silly people that she would abandon her own daughter to play the role of a Spanish doña? Jade recalled the first time she noticed something seriously amiss. She was eleven and in high spirits over helping Dody, their foreman, brand the few calves from the small beef herd her dad kept along with the sheep and the horses. She came running into the ranch house, her eyes aglow with excitement, dirt smeared all over her face and britches, proudly holding her rope.

“I roped two calves from horseback, Mama,” she said. “Dody said I did
real
good. He even made up one of his pis-sonnet poems about it.” Without waiting, Jade had launched into the limerick. “ ‘Lil’ Jade was as good with a lasso as any cowpoke from El Paso. When she got to ropin’, the calf got to mopin’, as Jade set to brandin’ his a—’ ”

“Jade!” snapped her mother.

There had been a guest in the parlor at the time, a woman who’d recently arrived from Philadelphia. The lady had halted in midsip over her teacup and stared at Jade with horror, as if she’d seen a polecat loose in the parlor. Jade’s mother sent Jade up to her room and ordered her to bathe and put on a dress. She ran up the stairs, tears streaming down her dirty face, making muddy rivulets in the grime. Didn’t Mother love her anymore? Jade had expected a smile or perhaps a pat on the head for a reward, something to show that Inez was proud of her daughter’s accomplishment. Jade had despised tea ever since.