Chapter 14 #3
Dalila opened her mouth. I knew my friend enough to spot a lie brewing in her expression; Dalila was paler than the rest of us, but so skilled with languages and accents that she regularly feigned being from almost anywhere.
I expected her to name a remote land, a mysterious people, whose medical arts she could more easily affect.
“M-Mosul.” She seemed to choke on the name, as though it had been pulled from her lips.
“Mosul,” Queen Lab repeated. “And is it common for women to be physicians there?”
Dalila seemed to recover from the slip. “When needed. Men are useless at tending herbs and faint too easily at the birthing bed.”
Lab sat back, clearly still assessing us.
“Interesting. A female captain and a female physician. What a fascinating land you must hail from; I am surprised you would ever leave it for the seas.” The queen’s mouth quirked in what might have been amusement, but was clearly not a smile, and the nature of her curiosity hit me.
She was not the kind of inquisitive I might expect from a bored, pampered monarch, desiring something new.
She was wary, viewing us as more a threat because we were women.
And honestly, if I hadn’t been worried that she was a sorceress with access to magics that would twist my mind, I might have found it a refreshing if dangerous compliment.
But then Lab continued. “And by the sounds of it, your ship is interesting as well.” For the first time, she glanced at the advisors surrounding her.
“Your rescuers were quite impressed. A member of the party that welcomed you described it as small for a trading vessel but likely quite responsive and speedy.” She paused.
“The type of ship a pirate might prefer.”
“The type of ship those who need to flee pirates might also prefer,” I said delicately, letting the possible accusation slide away.
“Though it is interesting that you should have a guest so well acquainted with boats in a kingdom from which it is supposedly impossible to sail. I would have imagined your maritime technology to be somewhat . . . backward.”
One of the councilors bristled at the word, but the queen seemed to take it in stride. “A fair assumption, Captain. Though from what I hear of outsiders, Khatti Ugal seems to hold a rare peace.”
“Your city is indeed lovely and your people uncommonly kind.” I paused and then pressed forward, seeing an opening to learn more. “Your names and language are so striking, yet sound unfamiliar. Do you know from where you originally hail?”
The queen shrugged. “If my ancestors remembered, such details have long been forgotten. Our names and tongue are common to us and often passed down; in my family, all queens are called Lab once they are declared. As for our culture . . . we are a people who prize today and look forward to the future. We’ve long since learned that the best way to embrace new arrivals is to find a place for them and encourage them to assimilate into our traditions. ”
“And if they choose to hold on to their own beliefs?” Majed asked. His voice was polite, softening the challenge in the question, but it was still there.
Queen Lab smiled gently. “Khatti Ugal is a peaceful land. No one is forced to live against their will, and we understand it can take some time to adjust to the reality of permanent exile.”
Permanent exile. The words crawled under my skin. Was that because the surrounding seas were truly so dangerous or because Lab refused to allow people to leave?
Aware I might be treading into murky waters, I answered diplomatically.
“I do not believe we are yet reconciled to being trapped here. As your citizens who were so generous in aiding us mentioned, we have a fast ship, perhaps more advanced than ones you’ve seen before.
If God wills it, we should be able to depart. ”
Her advisors rustled at that, a few exchanging glances while an older man muttered to himself in obvious displeasure.
The queen continued. “What is the state of that ship now?”
I hesitated, uncertain as to what was brewing among her council.
“Poor,” I admitted. There was no getting around it.
“As mentioned, we were caught in a terrible storm. Six of my people perished, and my vessel is in sore need of repairs. I was hoping I might beg safe harbor and permission to barter for supplies.”
“And what will you barter with? I believe you claim to have been forced to throw your goods overboard,” the queen pointed out.
“We’ve not yet taken stock of what valuables remain,” I said smoothly. “And we are a skilled group, there may be other services we can offer your people.”
“No doubt,” Lab replied. “Khatti Ugal is talented at discovering and utilizing the abilities of those who wash upon our shores. There is, however, another issue . . .” She leaned back, glancing at the glowering older man. “Zidanta, you are clearly burning. Tell them.”
The elder took the bait, his voice severe. “Oceangoing vessels are forbidden in Khatti Ugal,” he intoned flatly. “Both their construction and their inevitably doomed passage.”
“Forbidden?” I repeated in disbelief. I had expected some resistance, to correlate with Khayzur’s tale, but imagined it would be a magical obstacle: the overturned stars in the sky, a vast hungry sea monster.
Not bureaucracy.
“Forbidden,” he insisted, with a glare like I was a wayward child.
“We are a land besotted with shipwrecks and their drowned inhabitants, and the treasures from both have long tempted our citizens to foolishness. It is clearly impossible to sail away and the desire to do so has lulled countless Khatti Ugalans to a watery grave. No more. The queen’s grandmother, Queen Lab-enum-Sudare, set in place a law which has ruled us ever since.
Ships like yours, whether they wash ashore in fragments or are discovered under construction, are broken apart, their pieces sold as scrap. ”
“No one will be selling the Marawati for scrap,” Tinbu said heatedly, beating me to a response. “I’ve patched that ship up through worse and I’ll be damned if anyone lays a hand on it.”
I raised my hand. “What my first mate meant to say is that we haven’t given up hope. I understand your fears for your people, I do, and we can keep ourselves apart—”
“And when our youths are climbing over one another to replace the six men you’ve lost?
” the councilor challenged. “When people ask why the foreigners are allowed to break a law we’ve held firm for two generations?
” He shook his head. His fellows were nodding in agreement, speaking impatiently in their native tongue as Tinbu crossed his arms with a mutinous air. “The disharmony it will cause—”
“Enough.” Lab’s command barreled through the chamber and every eye in the room snapped back to the queen—there was a steeliness to her that had lain under the surface and was now sharp as a revealed blade.
She fixed her gaze on mine. “Captain al-Sirafi, I take it one in your position does not mind a bit of rain?”
I glanced up. I’d been so preoccupied with our negotiation that I hadn’t even noticed the rain, pattering on the glass roof in a determined song. It was a lovely sight but a bit unnerving, as though we were pinned upon the sand of a shallow sea. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Uncertain as to where this was going, I returned my attention to hers. Something about the Marawati had set the Khatti Ugalans aflutter. I had noticed it from Arno on the beach before he’d been shushed by his comrades and here it was again. “I don’t mind the rain at all,” I answered.
“Wonderful. I would like to take a walk in the garden and would enjoy your company. I will have my steward escort your crew to rooms where they may rest. We need not squabble so soon after your perilous journey. No—” she said, motioning for her guards to stay when she rose to her feet.
“Surely the captain and I can avoid coming to blows.”
“My queen, she is a foreign barbarian,” the councilor argued; in Arabic, intentionally rude. “I must insist she at least leave her weapons behind.”
“If that would set your mind at ease . . .” I loosened my weapons belt, handing it to Majed and the sword on my back to Tinbu.
“I would be honored to accompany you, Resplendency.” I glanced at my companions but saw little choice but to separate for now—it was undoubtedly better than Tinbu threatening war if the Marawati was touched.
“Rest,” I said firmly, giving my friends a look of intent. “I will see you soon, God willing.”
Then, unarmed and alone, I followed the woman behind the legends.
* * *
The garden appeared as though it had once been orderly, with straight paths and water channels designed in the Persian manner to encourage cool breezes and contemplation of the world and future Paradise.
But that must have been centuries ago. Now the paths were mostly devoured, their stones breached by weedy wildflowers or concealed by moss.
Vines crawled up and over toppled columns and broken statues of dancing nymphs, and one of the porticos we walked under was so heavy with woody boughs and trailing purple flowers I was nigh worried to pass beneath.
And yet there was a lively feel to everything.
The air was fresh and smelled of the sea, the sound of distant waves offering a meditative beat.
Garishly bright parrots and comparatively tiny jewel-toned songbirds sang merrily, soaring through the trees despite the rain.
A horned rabbit hopped from a low bench, taking me aback.