Toads and Diamonds (7 page)

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people. Though Tenth Province was far from the restless border, the quality of silence in the merchant quarter had become charged with danger, like the pause between the flash of Grandfather Chelok's lightning lance and the bone-rattling roar of thunder. A large gap opened between the marching men and the oxcarts that followed, laden with spoils of the hunt.

An indigo-stained dyer was the first to run into the empty stretch of street. His blue hands scrabbled in mud packed hard by marching feet. A brawny laborer followed him, and then a white-coat servant girl. Her cry of discovery, quickly muffled, drew other people. Vendors abandoned their pushcarts; porters dropped crates and bales. Beggar children squirmed into the fray, skinny elbows and knees jabbing for position.

The approaching oxcart drivers cracked their whips in warning, but the townsfolk refused to yield the way. None wanted to lose the chance of finding whatever the jeweler's daughter had offered the soldier. Rumors crackled like flame up and down the street. More people came, pushing and shoving, even if they didn't know exactly what they were seeking. As the street filled with struggling bodies, the prince's procession ground to a halt.

Her cheek aching, Diribani held tightly to her stepmother and Gulrang. The three of them were almost trampled before they found shelter between the handles of a pushcart full of yellow melons. The ripe scent filled Diribani's head as she watched the crowd's mood change from hope to something darker.

In the middle of the street, a fat man accused another of stepping on his hand, and was kicked in the knee for his trouble. His two friends, both white-coats, jumped on the kicker, and all three disappeared under a pile of cursing, shouting men.

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By the time the first of the overseers had worked his way from behind the oxcarts to find out what was blocking the procession, the prince's company of soldiers had returned. They waded into the crowd, knocking quarrelers apart with the flats of their swords. Howls of anger turned to cries of pain. The governor's man whistled for reinforcements.

Pinched between two groups of armed men, the townsfolk were herded out of the street and up against the building walls. Like swimmers emerging from deep water, they shook their heads, adjusted torn clothing, complained to their neighbors about the authorities' rough treatment. The drivers' whips cracked again. The oxcarts began to roll.

Diribani shuddered with relief. Next to her, she heard Gulrang's hard, fast breathing.

"We are going home this instant," Ma Hiral said.

Diribani nodded agreement. She draped the free end of her dress wrap over her face to hide the bruise forming. Her skin felt stretched and hot, her insides hollow. Crabwise, she edged out from between the pushcart's handles and helped Ma Hiral to do the same.

"That's her, in the pink dress," a voice shouted. "That's the one you want, the troublemaker who started the riot."

Before the voice finished speaking, Gulrang had ducked under the cart. On hands and knees, the servant girl crawled out of sight. With people pressing all around them, Diribani and Ma Hiral were trapped against the cart's wooden sides. Diribani glanced over her shoulder, but the melons were piled too high for them to climb over the cart and escape.

"This girl?" The closest overseer fingered his coat's yellow ties. Doubtfully, he eyed Diribani down the length of his long nose.

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"She's a respectable merchant's daughter," Ma Hiral shrilled. "Who accuses her?"

"I do." Gold-trim pushed forward, his face flushed with anger. Clumps of mud--and worse, judging from the smell of fresh dung that accompanied him--spotted his coat. Diribani jerked her head back, but she couldn't evade the hand that pushed her makeshift veil aside. "See?" Roughly, the soldier grabbed her chin and turned her head so the governor's man could view her battered face. "Marked the slut myself."

"And I cry justice for it," Ma Hiral quavered, while Diribani bit her tongue so she wouldn't be tempted to answer the soldier's insult. "For shame, striking a girl for the crime of offering flowers."

"You hit her for that?" The governor's man didn't sound happy.

Ma Hiral pressed her advantage. "Her father called on the fort many a time; ask Governor Alwar or his lady wife. There wasn't a more respected merchant in Gurath than Trader Javerikh."

"Javerikh the gem dealer? That Javerikh?" The overseer sounded even less enthusiastic about pursuing the matter. "Listen, fellow," he told Gold-trim, "whatever insult you think was offered, the girl will be wearing that bruise for days. How about we fine her family the cost of laundering your coat, and you drop your claim against her."

"Her father's a jeweler?" Diribani's accuser said. "Well, well. So, Mina, what were those little rocks, then?"

The man's oily politeness frightened Diribani more than his bluster had. Like a flock of crows, all Ma Hiral's warnings had descended on her shoulders to peck at her ears. She steeled herself to lower her eyes modestly and keep her mouth shut.

"Rocks?" the overseer said. "What's he talking about?"

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"I'm sure I don't know, sir," Ma Hiral said.

The soldier grunted. "Doesn't the little cow speak?"

"Careful, man!" the local white-coat warned. "This is Gurath, not Fanjandibad."

"Indeed," a new voice said. Not loudly, but with an unmistakable edge of command.

After an instant of shocked surprise, the people surrounding the pushcart drew back. As one, townsfolk dropped to their knees. A space opened around the disputants so that two men on horseback could approach.

One glance told Diribani that the worst had happened. She, too, knelt in the dirt, tugging Ma Hiral with her. She had seen Governor Alwar once before, at a distance. Up close, the cruel line of his mouth seemed even more pronounced.

His companion was much younger, a man close to Diribani's age, and different in every possible way from Gurath's governor. Lean where the older man was stocky, his expression as curious as Alwar's was disdainful, he wore dusty riding clothes in contrast to the governor's immaculate white coat and trousers. No question that this was Prince Zahid. Tousled black hair curled out from under a steel helmet chased with gold. The horse he rode, a dark bay with prancing hooves, was finer even than Jasmine. A cavalry officer's shield, mace, and bow hung from a saddle worked with gold thread. Jewels ornamented the horse's headstall, crowned by a ruby the size of an apricot.

It occurred to Diribani that Tana would have noticed the ruby first. She peeked out from under her lashes, studying the hawklike features of the one man who could save her from Governor Alwar.

"Easy, Dilawar, my brave one." The prince patted his horse's

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neck. "Captain Tashrif. Twenty-four hours in Gurath, and we're slaying the local ladies already?"

"Sire." Gold-trim bowed deeply, his face a mask. "She incited these people to riot."

"How's that?" the governor said sharply. One hand touched the hilt of the long sword that hung from his saddle.

"Your Excellency. Your Highness." Ma Hiral prostrated herself on the ground. "It's all a wretched mistake. We're respectable folk. I am a widow and this girl is the support of my old age. Please don't punish her."

"No one shall be judged without a fair hearing," the prince reassured the older woman. "Speak, maiden, in the emperor's name. How do you respond to Captain Tashrif's accusation?"

At the familiar formula, approval rumbled through the crowd. Expectant faces turned toward them as people made themselves comfortable. The emperor's justice could be dispensed anywhere, from his Hall of Public Audience in Lomkha to the deck of a ship at sea. Today, apparently, it pleased his younger son and representative to hear petitioners in the middle of the street.

As before, when Diribani had heard Gulrang screaming, not knowing who it was but certain of the task demanded of her, her body responded before her mind caught up with its intent. She laced her hands open in her lap and raised her chin so the prince could see her face clearly. When she met his inquiring gaze, a thrill chased along her spine. Her back straightened.

"My name is Diribani, sire," she said, tasting marigolds and jasmine with the words. "I only wanted to persuade the captain to let another girl go free from his men's rough treatment. I throw myself on Your Highness's mercy for the trouble that followed."

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"Word of God!" the prince exclaimed softly. The crowd's excited buzzing drowned the governor's astonished curse.

Diribani scooped up the flowers and jewels she had just spoken. The prince urged his horse closer and leaned from the saddle to accept them. Thin, strong fingers plucked the offering from her hands, leaving her briefly dizzy, as if he had relieved her of a greater burden.

She shook her head, denying the fanciful thought. Hunger or fear was a more likely cause for the strange moment of lightheadedness. This day was nothing like any other she had known.

Ma Hiral's wailing was lost in the cries of wonder that filtered through the crowd as those in front told their neighbors what had happened. Steel rang, soldiers drawing swords from sheaths. The prince motioned his men to keep their places, and the governor followed suit.

Reluctantly, Diribani thought, glancing over in time to see an avaricious light gleam in the governor's eyes. A great calm descended, stilling her wild thoughts. She must be prepared to meet the destiny Naghali-ji had assigned her. Wisdom. Good fortune. Death.

"What foul sorcery is this?" Alwar demanded, though he licked his lips when the prince handed him Diribani's offering. The governor dropped the flowers into the street. The gemstones he rolled in his fleshy hand.

"No sorcery, sire." Diribani continued to address the emperor's son. Ma Hiral had been right about the governor; Prince Zahid was the man she needed to convince. "The goddess Naghali-ji blessed me earlier, at the well."

The crowd murmured again, some touching their foreheads to

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the ground in reverence. A few white-coats muttered "witch," but not loudly, outnumbered as they were by worshipers of the twelve.

"Did she?" The prince's eyes lingered on Diribani's features, as if he found them as pleasing as she found his. He had kept back a branch of jasmine. He sniffed it thoughtfully before tucking the spray of flowers into his horse's headstall.

"The girl's a menace to public safety, Your Highness," Governor Alwar interjected. "We'd be putting down riots whenever she showed her face in the street." His fist closed around the jewels. "I'll take charge of securing her, lest she break the emperor's peace again in this wanton fashion."

"Please, no, Your Highness," Ma Hiral sobbed. "Don't let him take her!"

"Your mother?" Zahid asked Diribani.

After she had spoken with a goddess, how could a mere prince awe her? Diribani breathed deeply. "My stepmother, sire. Ma Hiral has treated me like her own daughter."

The royal eyebrows lifted in appraisal of the lotuses and lilies, diamonds and emeralds that sprinkled Diribani's pink lap. "Are there more of you at home?" the prince asked. "Other daughters blessed by this Gurath divinity?"

"No, sire," Diribani said, but then she hesitated. "At least," she added, needing to be absolutely truthful with him, "Tana hasn't come home yet, so we don't know--"

"Yes, Your Highness," hissed a familiar voice beside her. "The goddess has touched me also."

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***

CHAPTER EIGHT Tana

SNAKE
!" Governor Alwar wheezed. "Kill it."

A tan-and-gold shape slithered in front of the prince's horse, which neighed and pawed the air. "Steady, Dilawar." Zahid turned the bay in a tight circle. "It's only a ratter, no danger to you." He spoke more to reassure the people nearby, Tana thought, than his horse, which had already responded to Zahid's calm hands on the reins.

A white-coat who wasn't afraid of snakes? Tana's opinion of the young man climbed. She knelt between her mother and Diribani. Setting down her full pitcher, she touched the back of her fingers gently to her sister's bruised cheek. Diribani's face was full of amazement and curiosity, but no fear. Tana tucked the memory of her sister's expression away in her heart. She knew she would cherish it in days to come. Assuming, of course, she lived past sunset. At the moment, it didn't seem likely.

"Tana." Her mother clutched her arm. "My child, what has happened?"

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She had no answer her mother would want to hear, so she kept silent.

The snake had disappeared between the buildings. The bay-horse snorted, eyeing Tana with equine distrust. She would not have blamed Dilawar's rider for looking at her the same way.

Again, the prince surprised her. He surveyed Tana with the same impartial expression he had shown Diribani before she spoke flowers. Though Tana didn't sense the same heat his eyes had held for her beautiful sister, his voice was courteous. "Will you tell us your story, Mina?"

Tana wondered how many miracles an emperor's son witnessed on a daily basis. Perhaps they were common at court? Thank the twelve, it seemed that reason, not fear, governed Prince Zahid. Not like Alwar--the governor's face had turned as white as cheese when the ratter appeared.

Tana gathered herself to answer. "My name is Tana, sire," she said. She felt a teasing sensation, as if grains of puffed rice were popping a breath away from her lips. "I also met Naghali-ji at the sacred well outside of town." As she spoke, one, two, three tiny spotted frogs winked into life and leaped away from her. A large toad followed more sedately.

One of the frogs landed on Diribani's wrist. It posed there, skin brilliant, like an enameled charm, before springing off. Diribani laughed. "Oh, Tana!"

"Lucky frogs!" Intent on the unexpected prize, a ragged child pounced. He missed. Turning to Tana, the boy cupped grimy hands to make a begging bowl. "Please, Mina-ji, say one for me."

"Over here, Mina Tana! May I have one?"

An overseer's child tugged on his nurse's coat. "Lucky frog! Mine!"