The Stone Lions (22 page)

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Authors: Gwen Dandridge

Tags: #history, #fantasy, #islam, #math, #geometry, #symmetry, #andalusia, #alhambra

BOOK: The Stone Lions
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Eyes still on the dog, the wazir bent and
folded his legs beneath him.

Satisfied with his advisor’s compliance, the
sultan addressed his daughter and company. “Thank you for coming so
quickly. A matter has been brought to my attention. A matter of a
dog. An almost inconsequential thing, some might say.” He looked at
the wazir and shook his head. “But it has been addressed to our
royal self to resolve. So it will be done,
inshallah
.”

Ara bowed low. “We are your loyal subjects
and strive to assist as we may.”

A look of pride flashed across her father’s
face then was gone. “We will begin. Abd al-Rahmid states that he
recently purchased a dog.”

“A dog for hunting,
shaykh
,” the wazir interrupted. “Purchased at great
cost.”

“At great cost,” the sultan repeated, briefly
closing his eyes. “This morning, it was made known to me that a dog
was found in the harem. My head advisor”—he gestured at the
scowling man at his side—“stated he had lost such a dog. We now
need to discover whose dog this is.”

The wazir pointed a finger at Suleiman. “That
is my dog. I would know him anywhere. I have great need of him, for
we are to go hunting tomorrow.”

The room stirred at the unseemliness of yet
another outburst. Layla’s father kept his face carefully neutral,
though his hand seemed to twitch nearer to his sword. The other
advisors looked perplexed. It was only a dog after all, and Allah
did not favor them.

“Abd al-Rahmid, do you have proof that it
belongs to you? Has the person who sold it to you come forward, or
any witnesses who can verify that it is yours?”

The wazir didn’t answer, leaving the
questions to hang in the air like sharpened knives. Tahirah could
sense his desperation. His eyes shifted as he searched for an
answer.

The race is on, she thought. He knows his
magic is failing and time is running out
.
She raised her head, speaking quietly but firmly into the silence.
“The dog was found by the girls while in the harem. Abd al-Rahmid
could not have entered there, nor could any man. The dog appeared
lost and uncared for. This I swear is true.”

“She is but a woman,
shaykh
,” the wazir sputtered. “Easily mistaken and
easily misled.” His voice rose yet again. “She’s a Sufi and bends
Allah’s word to fit her own wishes.”

Several people gasped. Tahirah stood quietly,
serenely awaiting the sultan’s next words.

The sultan’s eyes were hard. “Enough. She is
a Sufi and a person of honor. I will not hear this again. No more
outbursts or you will be reprimanded by my own hand.” His
pronouncement reverberated in the great room.

“Ara.” He said in a calmer tone, “I want you
to think before you answer. Is it possible that this dog is the
property of my wazir?”

She looked directly at her father. “No, it is
not.”

“Layla. What say you?”

She blanched but said earnestly.

Shaykh
, it’s not his dog.”

The sultan leaned back in his throne. Beside
him, the wazir ground his teeth.

“Though each of you report having had the dog
such a short time,” the sultan said after considering, “I would
think that the dog would remember his owner. I suggest we let the
wazir call to him.”

The wazir walked to stand large and
overbearing in the center of the room. Suleiman cowered behind Ara,
leaning hard against her leg.

“Dog, come! You know your master. You
must
obey.” His eyes bored into
Suleiman’s.

Although he did not move a paw, Suleiman
whimpered and cowered all the more.

The wazir raised his voice. “Come, I say, or
it will go hard for you.”

Suleiman lifted his head and stared at the
wazir, the source of all his pain and misery. His hackles raised
while a low growl started in his throat. His teeth bared, and his
body tensed for a fight. An echoing roar sounded, from where no one
could tell.

The wazir flinched, and the girls gained
heart. Tahirah blinked in surprise. No one else seemed to hear.
Suleiman, emboldened by the backing of a pride of lions, stood firm
and continued growling, teeth still bared.

The sultan looked curiously at the wazir.
“Interesting that you try to have a discussion with a dog. The
animal seems not to like you.” He shrugged. “Perhaps that is
telling in itself. Still, he does not go to you.”

He nodded to his daughter. “Ara, would you
step across the room and call the dog.”

Ara walked away from Suleiman. After an
anxious moment, he bounded after her, and growled again at the
wazir on his way.

Suleiman pressed himself against Ara. She
bent down to pat him and was rewarded with a quick lick of
affection.

Her father cocked his head. “It seems that it
is unnecessary for you to call the dog. It obviously trusts you.
But as the dog is, according to Abd al-Rahmid, newly purchased,
this does not decide ownership. I need more time to think on
this.”

The wazir, sweat dotting his face, protested
with a self-effacing smile. His hands clenched and unclenched.

Shaykh
, you are right, but he should not
be left in these women’s possession. He looks to be vicious and
could harm your daughter. He needs to be returned to my hand.”

After a long, slow stare at the wazir, the
sultan spoke. “I thank my advisor for helping me make this
decision. The dog will be taken to a secure location and well
treated, until I have thought further on this. It seems there is
more here than meets the eye.”

Ara clung to the trembling hound as the
guards approached. Her father leaned slightly forward toward her as
they drew near and quietly avowed, “Upon my honor, the dog will not
be harmed. I will give you an answer as quickly as possible.”

Tahirah stepped forward to comfort both girl
and dog. As the guards tied a rope around Suleiman, she turned to
face the sultan, her white woolen cloak hiding none of the tension
in her body. “Guard him well, as you would your most trusted
servant.” Abruptly, she turned and left, as if afraid of having
said too much. The two girls followed, taking backwards glances as
Suleiman, surrounded by guards, was lead away.

The sultan sat pondering the interest of so
many in one small, rather ugly hound long after all had left.

 

Chapter 33

Ara and Layla were both weeping by the time
they returned to Tahirah’s rooms. Tahirah closed the door and wiped
her own eyes before admonishing, “We must not waste time in tears.
The solution is within your power. Find the symmetries quickly
before the wazir can cause Suleiman harm. Turn your sorrow and
anger into something useful.”

Layla blew her nose before asking, a catch to
her voice, “But Suleiman is locked in the tower. How are we going
to get him out? What will happen if he changes shape while we
aren’t near?”

“It is in the hands of Allah, the Merciful.”
Tahirah closed her eyes in acceptance. “We must trust and strive
onward,
inshallah
. The magic will not wait.
Tomorrow, Suleiman will either have changed or he will be a dog
forever.” She looked full in Layla’s eyes. “We have no other
choice. Nor does Suleiman.”

Ara straightened her back and sniffed loudly.
“Where should we look first?”

Tahirah shook herself before waving her hand
as though to brush away a bothersome fly. “The day moves forward,
and here is as good a place to start as any. It would be good when
you seek rotational symmetries, to make sure that you can identify
it. I’m sure you and Layla can find at least one rotational
symmetry here
if
you put aside your
fears.”

The mathemagician turned toward the door.
“While you are searching, I will see where Suleiman is being held
and check on his well-being. We don’t know where the broken one is,
but it is sure to be somewhere within the walls of the
Alhambra.

The greater part of an hour went by in quiet
concentration before Ara called out, “Got one. And I checked—there
is no mirror in the design.”

Tahirah returned to her rooms soon after.
“Suleiman is being held in the Tower of the Myrtles and is guarded
by two sentries outside his door. They have orders that no one
shall enter without the sultan’s word. I also placed formulas
around the entrance.” She allowed herself a smile. “Two lions lie
between Suleiman and the door—protecting. None shall pass them this
night.

“Suleiman seems very sad, but at least for
now, he is safe.” She sighed. “I wish I knew what the wazir is
planning. I need to look further into this. You two should go back
to the harem. You may be able to see Suleiman from a window in the
Palace of the Myrtles. I’ll call the guards and walk you back
myself.” When Ara told her of their earlier find, she gave an
approving smile, but added, “You must find the broken rotational
symmetry, quickly.”

Ara could hear mournful howling as soon as
she walked outside. It drifted on the wind and slapped her as a
reproach.

“Poor Suleiman,” Layla said as the howl rose
and fell. “He must be so lonely and frightened.”

They ran into the Court of the Myrtles,
slowing down for quick glances along the sides of walls, hoping to
find rotational symmetries. Women and children sat around the
fishpond in the Court, and the usual chatter dropped to the
occasional whisper as they entered.

Rabab separated herself from her friends and
walked over to the girls. She held out her hand, then let it drop.
“I am sorry for whatever part I might have had in this matter. I…”
She looked away. “I wouldn’t willingly cause either of you pain. I
didn’t realize the waz—” her voice quavered “—that anyone would
care about a small dog.”

Four tears began to slip one by one down her
face. “We, of the harem, must stick together. Our freedom is
limited, and our liberties precious. In all my years, and they are
many, I have never before betrayed the secrets of the harem. We
settle our problems here, not with the outside. I hope you will
pardon me. Zoriah knew how upset I was about my birds. I pressed
her into telling the sultan and the wazir about all the animals you
seemed to be collecting. I don’t know why I thought it was so
important. I also was young…once.”

She took a deep breath. “I would speak to you
of Zoriah and let you know that she has petitioned the sultan on
your behalf, requesting that the dog be released from the tower and
given into your hands. The sultan indicated that the dog is safer
where he is. He feels the necessity to seek wisdom from others and
from Allah, the Gracious, in this.”

The room grew quiet but for the occasional
splash of a child’s hand in the pond. Ara glanced at Layla before
replying formally to her Great Aunt. “I am honored by your concern
and love. No one doubts your kindheartedness, not me and not Layla.
With so much love around us, all will be well,
inshallah
.”

She cradled her head on her aunt’s shoulder
and whispered, “I’m not angry with you, truly, I’m not.”

Rabab sniffed and blinked her eyes in relief.
“It’s not such a bad dog. I’m sure if we clean him up, you could
keep him.” She stepped an arm’s length away. “Now I should let you
get on with your day. I do feel better for having spoken.”

Layla reached out and gave Rabab a hug. “You
are our cherished elder, the keeper of our traditions, and we love
you.”

Layla and Ara left the group to climb the
stairs, hopeful for a glimpse of the dog. Going from room to room,
they found one window that lent a clear view of the Tower. Leaning
out the window and tilting their heads up, they saw the tiny form
of a dog sitting far above on the wide stone tower windowsill. His
head was turned to the sky while he howled mournfully.

“Can you hear me?” Ara called. “Over
here.”

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