The Storyteller's Daughter (17 page)

Shahrazad fell silent. And the only sound that could be heard was the wind as it whispered its way across the sand to murmur among the branches of the date palms.

“Do you know that is the first time I have ever heard you finish a story?” asked Shahrayar.

It was a thing Shahrazad knew well, in fact, though she wasn’t about to reveal this.

“So it is,” she replied.

“And another thing,” said Shahrayar. “Why is it that the kings and princes in the stories you tell are such great idiots while the women are so wise?”

At this, Shahrazad gave a chuckle. “Is it truly so? I had not noticed.”

Shahrayar snorted. “It was a long story for such a small piece of cloth. It grows late. I suppose that we should go.”

“Yes, I suppose we should,” Shahrazad agreed. But for a moment, neither of them moved. Shahrayar lay with his head in Shahrazad’s lap. No longer needing her fingers to read the cloth, she combed them through his hair. A great silence seemed to settle over them—as if they had been contained within a bell jar.

And in this silence, Shahrayar suddenly sat up and gathered Shahrazad into the circle of his arms.

“Who am I? I want to hear you say it.”

And she answered, “Shahrayar.”

At this, Shahrayar’s heart gave a great leap, for she had not said that he was king. She had said his name, and that was all.

“Shahrazad,” he whispered.
“Shahrazad!”
Then his lips found hers and neither spoke aloud at all.

The wind returned, and the scrap of cloth her mother had used to bind her wounds so long ago blew from Shahrazad’s lap and went racing away across the sand. But neither she nor Shahrayar noticed.

When at last the kiss had ended, Shahrayar said, “Ah! Now I think I understand.”

Shahrazad put her head upon his shoulder. “Understand what?”

“Why the kings and princes in your stories are such great idiots.”

“And why is that?”

“Because everything about them is greater than that of other men. Another man would have kissed you long ago. He would not have waited so long to satisfy the longing in his heart.”

At these words, Shahrazad’s own heart began to pound like thunder. ‘And how long has your heart longed to kiss me?”

“Since the first day we were wed. How long has yours longed to kiss me?”

“Since that same day,” Shahrazad acknowledged.

“I am glad to hear it,” Shahrayar answered with a grin Shahrazad could hear in his voice. “For it makes you just as great an idiot as I am.”

Shahrazad laughed. And so Shahrayar opened his mouth to ask one thing more:

Does this mean that you have come to love me, Shahrazad?

But the words were never spoken, for suddenly a nightbird called. At this, Shahrayar perceived how late it was. While Shahrazad had told her tale, time had seemed to hang like a great golden ball tossed high into the air. But now that she had finished, it swiftly came back down. The sun had already begun to slip below the horizon. Soon it would be dark, and in the darkness, dangerous things could lurk, even in a country such as Shahrayar’s.

“Come,” he said. “We must go. It is later than I thought.”

So together they rose, and Shahrayar put Shahrazad before him on his horse just as before. But this time, she turned so that one of her arms was around his back, and so each held the other as they rode. Shahrazad fell asleep with the wind flowing over her like silk and her husband’s heart beating against her ear like a brass gong.

And in this way they rode back to the palace as the night settled over them like a great dark cloak stitched with silver stars.

They returned to find the palace in pandemonium.

When night had fallen and her sister did not send for her, a thousand images of disaster had sprung up like wildfire in young Dinarzad’s mind. Chief among them was the fear that King Shahrayar had heeded the whispered rumors that Shahrazad was practicing magic, and the only way to prove himself still a proper king was to put her to death after all.

Even in her agitation, Dinarzad knew better than to go to her father with her fears. Over and over again the vizier had counseled his youngest daughter to remain patient. To trust not only her sister, but also Shahrayar. But even though she had made her limbs obey, Dinarzad had found herself unable to follow her father’s advice in the deepest reaches of her heart. For it seemed to her that as long as Shahrayar held Shahrazad’s life within his hands, he was not someone who was safe to trust.

So she did not go to her father with what she feared, and even if she had, she would not have found him. For he was still away upon the fool’s errand Shahrayar had set for him that morning. And so it came about that Nur al-Din Hasan could not prevent what was to come.

Instead, Dinarzad poured her heart out to ‘Ajib, the only person other than her father and sister she had come to trust. In the days since he had come to live in the vizier’s household, he and Dinarzad had spent much time together, and she had come to love him well. For the vizier had not treated him like a servant, but rather like the son of an old friend.

At ‘Ajib’s suggestion, he and Dinarzad set off for the king’s rooms, unsummoned. They did not know if they would be let in, for to go to the king’s private quarters when he had not called for you himself was a thing unheard of. But Dinarzad’s fear for her sister had now become so great that she was willing to risk whatever it took to make certain Shahrazad was safe from harm.

Through the corridors of the palace they walked together, their hearts beating fast—though each for a different cause. For courage, Dinarzad clasped ‘Ajib by the hand. What he thought as he walked beside her, he never spoke aloud to another living soul, though this much I will caution you: Not merely by what happens next, but by all his actions may you judge him ‘ere this tale is done.

And so at length, Dinarzad and ‘Ajib came to the king’s quarters and were admitted inside. For even though they had not been called for, none thought their appearance strange. Had they not been summoned for many nights now?

But when they came into the room and found it empty it seemed to Dinarzad that her worst fears were realized. Unable to contain herself, she broke down. Her wild lamentations brought first the guards, and then the chamberlain dashing into the room.

When the chamberlain perceived the king was not where all had believed him to be, he raised the alarm. In a very few moments, all was as chaotic as a sandstorm. And in that maelstrom, only ‘Ajib kept his head. He sent a message to his brothers of just one word, and that word was: “Now.”

And then into the heart of this chaos came Shahrayar and Shahrazad.

At the sight of her sister, Dinarzad gave a great cry and launched herself into Shahrazad’s arms. Shahrazad tried to soothe her to no avail. Dinarzad could not be calmed.

“Where were you? I came to find you, and you were not here! Where were you?” she sobbed.

“Hush, now!” Shahrazad pleaded.”You must calm yourself, little one.” To her surprise, she found herself reluctant to tell her sister where she had gone. For the day was special—a treasure that belonged to Shahrazad and Shahrayar alone. “I was safe in the company of the king. I am back now. That is all you need to know.”

“Safe?! How can you be with him and still be safe?” cried Dinarzad. “I know why you will not tell me. It’s because you don’t love me anymore!” For even in her anguish, Dinarzad sensed her sister was keeping something to herself, and it wounded both her heart and her pride.

“Oh, come now, that is nonsense,” said Shahrayar. He moved to where the sisters clung together. “Your sister loves you well, Dinarzad. I am sorry if you feared for her safety. But I would never let any harm befall her. This you must know.”

At these words, Dinarzad gave a wild laugh. She twisted in her sister’s arms until she faced Shahrayar.

“No, I don’t know that!” she cried. “How can I, when every day you hold the threat of death against her throat like a bright-edged sword? You can end her life whenever you wish. It is being married to you that puts her in harm’s way.”

“Dinarzad!” Shahrazad exclaimed, appalled.

At the shock and dismay she heard in her sister’s voice, Dinarzad lost herself completely and spoke things that she should have kept locked close in her heart.

“I did what you asked of me. I did everything you asked,” she sobbed. “I begged you not to do this, but you would not listen. Not to me, and not to Papa. Now you love the king better, and it is not fair! I wish I had never asked for a story at all. I helped you, and you betrayed me. It would have been better if you had died!”

At Dinarzad’s words, a terrible silence fell. In it, all eyes turned to King Shahrayar. Though she could see none of this, Shahrazad understood at once, for she felt a hand as cold as ice close around her heart.

Now it comes,
she thought. He
will look at me and see only deception, as I feared so long ago. I have tried, but I have failed. Now, we will both lose all.

“What does your sister mean?” the king asked. “Explain her words to me, Shahrazad.”

At the coldness in his voice, Dinarzad’s tears froze upon her cheeks, and she realized the harm that she had caused. She made a strangled sound.

“Silence!” said Shahrayar.  “I will hear from none save Shahrazad. Answer me.
What have you done?”

And Shahrazad pulled in a breath and answered calmly. “That which I thought I must. No less. No more.”

“That is no answer, and you know it!” exploded Shahrayar. “Always you speak in fiddles. But you will answer me truly right this instant, or I swear before these others that I will slay you here and now.”

In the silence that fell across the room, the only sound that could be heard were Dinarzad’s heartbroken sobs.

“You do not speak, Shahrazad,” Shahrayar said. “Can it be that you have nothing to tell me? Very well. Since you have no tale for me, I will tell you one:

“Once upon a time, a woman wed a king, though she knew that in so doing, she must die. But then she did a most clever thing: To save her life, she began to tell him a story that went on and on. In this she had the help of her sister. And also, I think, her father, for the family was always a close one.

“But now we come to the tales great mystery,” Shahrayar continued, his voice like the crack of a whip. “How long might such a tale have lasted. Shahrazad? Long enough for the woman to plot against her husband? To betray him and find another to sit upon his throne?”

“No,” Shahrazad said. “No, Shahrayar.” At her words, a single tear welled up from the split in her breaking heart. In silence, it rolled down her cheek.

“Do not think to move me with tears,” said Shahrayar. “I am not so weak. Tears are the weapons of the desperate. I had thought better of you, Shahrazad.”

“Think of me what you will,” she said. “Indeed, I cannot stop you.”

“Do you deny that you have done these things?” Shahrayar cried. “Did you not plan to so captivate me with your stories that I would long to spare your life?”

“I  did,” said Shahrazad.

And these two words brought Shahrayar such anguish he feared he would never recover from it. He would live with this pain all the days of his life.

“I will ask you this once, and then never again:
Why, Shahrazad?”

At this, a second tear flowed down her cheek.

“Because I could see no other way. I needed time.”

“Time for what?”

“To help you know your heart again,” Shahrazad said.  ‘And mine. For only then could all be made right.”

Merciful heaven!
thought Shahrayar. He could hardly have believed it possible that his pain could increase, but it did so now. How close he had come, that very day, to proclaiming that a thing was growing for her in his heart and that it might be love! And all because of a ruse, a trick. From start to finish, she had deceived him. There was nothing true in her at all.

“You should not dare,” he said. At the sound of his voice, all within hearing felt the hair on the back of their necks stiffen and their limbs twitch as they fought back an instinct to run. “Don’t dare to stand there and say you love me now. I am done playing your game. I see you for the deceiver you are. Take this woman away. I never want to look on her again.”

“Where—”  The chamberlain’s voice came out in a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Where would you have us take her, my lord?’

And suddenly the king was weary—weary as he had never been before. For it seemed to him that now he faced the bleakest part of his vision. He was but one word away from spending the rest of his days without even the hope of love. For what hope would there be without Shahrazad?

But before he could proclaim where he would send her—nay, before his mind could even decide— a sound reached the ears of all in the chamber: swords clashing together, and voices crying out in alarm. Shahrayar drew his great curved scimitar, but even as he did so the doors to the chamber were hurled back and ‘Ajib’s four older brothers rushed into the room, followed by their most trusted soldiers. For many moments, the fighting was fierce as Shahrayar’s guards sought to protect him. They fought bravely, but the unholy lights of greed and revenge burned in ‘Ajib’s brothers’ eyes. They killed the chamberlain where he stood before the king. Then with a great cry of triumph, the eldest brother raised high his sword and struck at Shahrayar.

Shahrayar parried the blow. Their swords met with a great clang, and the shock of the blow nearly shattered Shahrayar’s arm. He faltered back a step, then held his ground.

“See!” the eldest brother taunted. “See how he is hampered by his feelings for the sorceress, for he protects her even now. Truly, her power must be great!”

And in this way did Shahrayar realize that at the first sound of danger, he had leaped to protect Shahrazad. So perfectly did his body obey his heart in this that the action was concluded before his mind could realize what he had done.

“Let us see if she can save you!” the eldest brother said. Once more, he raised his sword. But as he brought it down, a figure suddenly darted forward.