Chapter Ten #2
“It’s hardly the only strange thing going on,” said a man with a weak chin and a strong mustache. “Did you hear the first maelstrom stopped spinning last week? It started up again a few hours later, but still quite alarming.”
My eyes widened. The three maelstroms guarded the northern entrance of the Lersach River from the Long Sea.
Only Ena-Cinnaian sailors knew how to navigate the whirlpools.
They kept their secrets in rutters, guides explaining exactly how to sail, used by navigators like Gilli’s mom.
Because of this, only Ena-Cinnaians could enter the river’s delta and sail down to Talum.
Foreigners landed in port cities, then crossed overland to the river and continued on domestic ships.
I remembered my voyage here, my ship navigating the safe currents through the maelstroms, listening as sailors raised their voices in the traditional song requesting safe passage from the Leviathan, the Behemoth, and the Ziz.
I’d told myself we’d be safe, that the sailors had done this a hundred times, but I’d been terrified all the same.
“If the winds are off, why not the maelstroms?” a man with a cravat said.
An elderly man with a sheaf of silver hair turned to Daziel. “What do your people think of these changes?”
Daziel smiled without teeth. He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. I almost wrenched my hand from his in surprise. “I care only about my betrothed. Shall we get a drink, yonati?”
He dropped my hand and sauntered off. With a hurried apology to my aunt’s guests, I followed.
“I think we can do better than that for fun,” Daziel said lightly when I caught up to him on the lantern-lit garden path. The silver-tinged leaves of olive trees shimmered above us.
I watched him, curious. He’d clearly been displeased, but I wasn’t sure why. “It irritated you, them asking what your people think about the maelstroms.”
His expression hardened. “I’m not an emissary. I’m not here to answer politicians’ questions.”
“True.” I couldn’t argue much, given how sick I was of government students hounding me to get close to my aunt; like Daziel, I had no desire to be sucked into politics against my will.
But in my case, I was treated as a pawn, and in Daziel’s…
“It’s an interesting opportunity, though, isn’t it?
You’re the only shayd here. They’d listen to you. You could make an impact.”
“They won’t listen to me. They’ll listen to my elders at the treaty renewal but not me.”
We reached the bar and asked for two lemonades. “Maybe not officially, but everyone’s aware of the power shedim have. They wouldn’t ignore you, even if you’re young.”
He raised his brows. “Very shrewd. Planning to follow your aunt into the Sanhedrin?”
I made a face. “You don’t have to want to be a politician to want to have a voice.”
“And what would you say, with your voice?” he asked lightly.
I shrugged, accepting my drink from the bartender and taking a sip of the crisp lemonade. “You’ve heard Ezra say politicians aren’t doing enough to figure out why magic’s off. Maybe you could be a bridge, get humans and shedim to work together to figure out what’s going on.”
“Maybe we should get married.”
I choked on my drink and started coughing uncontrollably. He’d sounded serious, though I knew he couldn’t be. “Excuse me?”
He grinned, eyes gleaming with a teasing glint. “If you’re so keen to be a bridge. It probably would be savvy.”
This boy found getting under my skin far too amusing. “You’re hilarious.”
“I have often thought so,” he said. “I’m glad you agree.”
I barely suppressed the childish urge to stick out my tongue. If the way he was grinning indicated anything, he could tell. “Come,” he said. “Let’s dance.”
“No,” I said, in danger of pouting.
He plucked my drink away and deposited both our glasses on a passing server’s tray.
Then he took my hands, his own warm as heated rocks, and widened his eyes.
I was very conscious of his fingers wrapped around mine.
His exaggeratedly hopeful expression was ridiculous, but it made me smile. “Please, Naomi.”
I glanced toward the middle of the garden, where couples danced around a fountain. It looked fun, but I felt too self-conscious to join. “I don’t know society dances.”
“Neither do I. So we won’t dance them.” He pulled me close, his hands firmly wrapping around my waist. My stomach swooped, a strange, tantalizing fall. I caught my arms around his neck, and then we were twirling.
I’d danced at home with boys, but always ones I’d known my whole life, boys who felt like brothers.
They had been group and line dances, too, where you occasionally twirled your partner but spent most of the time in circles or squares.
This was different. This was a couple’s dance, with Daziel’s hands at the small of my back.
I didn’t know where to focus or how tightly to hold on to Daziel.
But he held me securely, his grip above my hips firm, the heat of his hands burning through the thin silk of my waistband.
I tried to look over his shoulder, only for my gaze to catch on Paz nestled under Daziel’s collar, seeming as delighted as a tiny lizard could.
It made me laugh, which helped me relax.
Being held by Daziel as he swept me along in dreamlike steps was strangely thrilling.
We weren’t dancing like the others. I didn’t know the steps, but my body managed them anyway, pulling me through the motions.
It was not a human dance—different parts of it were far too fast, others too slow—and I shouldn’t have been able to follow the way I did. But I didn’t care. It was too much fun.
We danced for an hour, maybe more. Dancing with Daziel was intoxicating, the rush of energy, the joy in his eyes, the way he threw his whole body into the movements.
Though we spent every day together, we’d rarely been so close before, and I was intimately aware of the way his body framed mine, how we lined up, how his heat enveloped me.
It felt both heady and dangerous, and I wasn’t sure if I was glad the rules of dancing and public decorum kept us apart or if I regretted them.
When we paused, it was only because I needed to catch my breath—Daziel wasn’t even breathing hard. I gulped down two glasses of water while he barely touched one.
“You’re a very good dancer,” a woman said wistfully when I sat on the same bench as her at the edge of the courtyard. She looked a decade older than us but had a timidness I recognized from my sister Michal, who could be shy apart from family.
Daziel threw me a questioning look, and I nodded. “Would you like to dance?”
Her eyes widened before narrowing, and she drew her shoulders back tightly. “I wasn’t angling for an invitation.”
He shrugged. “You looked like you wanted to dance. Naomi can’t keep going. She doesn’t have the stamina.”
“Thanks,” I said wryly.
He looked at me, surprised. “It wasn’t an insult. It’s because you’re a human.”
This boy. I wasn’t offended, but I imagined if someone didn’t know him, they would be. Laughter bubbled up in me. “You’re not helping yourself.”
The woman had loosened up enough to look amused. “If you don’t mind. I’d love to dance.”
“Excellent.” Daziel took her hand and swept her off to the dance floor. As they left, Paz crept up the back of Daziel’s collar and leaped from him to me, landing with a wobble on my shoulder.
I laughed and stroked his head. “Good job, you.”
Paz licked my cheek in a happy greeting, then scrambled down my arm, wrapping his limber body and tail around my wrist.
Idly scanning the room, I caught my aunt watching me. I looked away—I don’t know why, instinct not to be perceived by authority figures?—then back. A mistake. She beckoned me imperiously, and I could do nothing but head over.
She excused herself from her group and led me along a courtyard path lined with apricot trees. “It’s kind of your demon to dance with the wallflowers.” She made it sound like What’s his ulterior motive?
“He’s not mine,” I said, flushing again. Good lord, I’d blushed more tonight than in the last year. “And he says the proper term is ‘shayd.’ ”
“Mm,” she said noncommittedly. “You say he’s been here for a month?”
I nodded.
She sighed. “I should have known. I’m sorry I haven’t been better about seeing you.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “It’s okay. You’re busy.”
She looked gutted. “It was wrong of me. You’re family. You don’t know anyone else here.”
“I’ve made friends,” I said. “And don’t worry about Daziel. He’s not dangerous.”
Her forehead crinkled, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “There are multiple forms of danger.”
She looked and sounded so like my father I couldn’t bear it. I stared at my feet. “Is the Sanhedrin trying to figure out why the magic is off—why the winds are strengthening, the maelstroms weakening? People are worried.”
“Ah.” She pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger. “Many divisions are working on understanding what’s happening, but no one knows why yet. Are you worried?”
I shrugged. “My friend Leah says if the winds are too rough, and if the Maestril is too weak, it could ruin her family’s silk harvest. And everyone’s worried about the lack of birds. The cobwebs and bugs everywhere are getting out of control.”
“Right.” She nodded. “We don’t understand natural magic—the workings of the earth, sea, sky—the way we understand letterform.
It’s not something humans control; it’s the domain of the primordial beasts.
While the Council is trying to understand why natural magic is misbehaving, we haven’t yet figured it out. ”
“How can it be the primordial beasts’ domain?
How do they control it?” I believed in the existence of the Leviathan and Behemoth and Ziz in a vague, unchecked way, the way I believed in cosmology and prophets and divine speech—they existed, probably.
The rabbis could likely explain very thoroughly, but I didn’t really care.
I’d never thought of them having an impact on my life.
“We don’t know,” Aunt Tirtzah said. “We know so little. We don’t even know if the beasts have forms like shedim or if they’re more…
metaphysical. The study of natural magic has historically been ignored since it’s difficult for humans to harness, so it’s quite the pivot for the Council to now try to understand it. ”
“When do they think they’ll know?”
Her shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m not sure.”
This was not reassuring. I looked away, watching Daziel spin his partner, who laughed with delight. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Can you not mention Daziel to my parents?”
Aunt Tirtzah didn’t answer for a moment; I was too embarrassed by my request to look at her. “They’re your parents,” she finally said. “They need to know what’s happening in your life.”
“But nothing’s happening.” I gave her a pleading look. I almost said, Let’s make a deal—maybe I was spending too much time with Daziel. “And they’re such worriers. They’re already worried about me being here in the big, scary city.”
“I can’t keep secrets from them,” she said, sounding on firmer ground.
“But you don’t even talk to them that often. You and Dad send letters once a year.”
She sucked in a breath, and I immediately felt bad. I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. I softened my voice. “Please. Did you want your parents involved in every part of your life?”
Some of the tension drained out of her. “Your parents are less strict than your grandparents were.”
“Just think about it,” I begged. “If you decide they need to know, I’ll tell them. But I don’t want to upset them about something small.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you,” I said, relieved, and gave her an impulsive hug. She was clearly startled, frozen for a moment before tentatively patting my back.
Daziel came up to us, smiling. He swept an elaborate bow, the kind that spoke of years of training plus a natural elegance. “Councilor Bat Tovah,” he said. “May I have this dance?”
Her brows went up. “Are you a charmer or a politician?”
“I am a dancer,” he said, offering my aunt his hand. Shaking her head ruefully, she allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor.
They floated around the floor, talking but not seriously, based on their expressions. Daziel twirled my aunt, and she laughed, something I hadn’t heard before.
Daziel was as strange and unpredictable as the winds, infuriating and engaging and amusing. Nothing like I’d expected when he’d first arrived. I would never have expected him to apologize. To empathize. To care.
I watched them dance for another song, and then I went over to join in.