Climbing the Date Palm Page 2

  “...Oh.”

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry!” Tiny grinned and slapped his own face. “Oy vey, do I feel--”

  “I said you were going to be embarrassed, didn’t I?” Rivka pointed out. But she was embarrassed now too, because her mother was four feet away and nobody wants their mother around when they’re talking about sex.

  The dragon Isaac accepted his burdens graciously, and Mitzi bade farewell to the men who had transported her down to her daughter’s adopted homeland and protected her along the way. “Make sure you let the baron know we’re all well down here,” she reminded them. “And remember to eat healthy.”

  “She’s mother enough for seven,” Tiny muttered to Hersch. “How long do you give her before she starts pestering Beet-greens for grandkids?”

  Rivka could tell they hadn’t intended her to hear, but since she wasn’t sure she disagreed, she let it go.

  The two men climbed into the front seat of the coach and drove away the way they’d come. Meanwhile, Rivka helped her mother climb aboard a dragon’s back for the first time. “I didn’t know he had serpent powers,” said Mitzi as she steadied herself, leaning back against her daughter’s broad body.

  “Neither did I. The first three years after I left home, I rode him into battle without having any idea who he really was. Turns out, he was under a curse, but once I got rid of that, he could turn human again and I married him.”

  “Were you already fooling around before you left home?”

  “Mammeh.” The answer was an emphatic no -- in fact, the years of being called Rivka bat Beet-greens in ridicule as a child, as if she’d been fathered by the vegetables themselves rather than the farmhand who grew them, had left such an impression on the warrior that she had waited to exchange makeshift wedding vows before claiming her dragon. But she wasn’t about to discuss that with her mother.

  Isaac flapped his wings and carried them skyward. “Ooh! Whoo!” Mitzi made lots of strange, excited noises as they soared through the air. “Wheee! What if we fall off? I feel like I’m going to fall off.”

  “We’re not going to fall off. Besides, he’d double back around and catch you.”

  “Then the luggage would fall off.”

  “It’s only luggage.”

  “But it’s all my things.”

  “Then don’t fall off.”

  Mitzi’s head was swiveling from side to side constantly as she gazed around at the unfamiliar southern landscape. Her wide-eyed curiosity made Rivka overly conscious of the scenery herself. Everything glowed under the direct sunlight pouring from a clear blue sky. The plants were so much showier than their northern cousins, with enormous leaves that weren’t content to be bigger, glossier, and more brightly green, but sported flashes of yellow and orange as well. One type had even produced misshapen fruit as big as two-year-old children in clusters sprouting directly from its trunk. Its rind was knobbly and yellow-green. “Does something hatch out of that?” Mitzi almost sounded frightened of it.

  “Breakfast,” said Isaac.

  “Jackfruit,” Rivka explained. “It’s yellow and fruity inside. You’ll probably get your first taste soon.”

  “What’s wrong with those trees?” Mitzi pointed at a thickly planted grove of silver palms, their leaves spread out in a fan of shining swords.

  “Nothing. They look pretty healthy to me.”

  “They’re all gray.”

  “That’s how they grow. They’re silver palms.”

  “They look sickly.”

  “That’s just how they grow.”

  “I still think they look sickly.”

  On the way, Mitzi updated Rivka about the family she hadn’t seen in years. Rivka was stunned to learn that the war between her people and the folks in the next valley was over. “Your uncle married Gitel and that was the end -- the valleys are united now.”

  “Gitel? What is she, seventeen at this point?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “I can’t count. Still -- he has daughters older than that.”

  “Oh, speaking of them! Liba is engaged. And Bina has three children. Frayda was pregnant again when I left.”

  “He has grandchildren and a nineteen-year-old wife.”

  Mitzi shrugged. “He’s the baron. He’s worked hard to keep the valley safe and the people fed. He deserves a little fun.”

  Rivka thought he also deserved a good kick in the jaw, for constantly belittling her youthful attempts at fighting to defend his keep. From where he stood, letting a woman fight for him made him look weak and desperate, and he had done everything in his power to prevent her from becoming the warrior she was today. But there was no point in getting into that now. “I can’t believe the fighting has stopped. I’m still stunned.”

  They continued along this vein the rest of the way home. Rivka was amused at the way her mother’s gossip gave way to more awed gawking and staring, distracted by one marvelous view after another as they flew past the splendor of Shulamit’s tropical capital, Home City. Tall, slender palms stood guard over the gleaming white buildings with their rooftops of curved, red tile. People teemed everywhere amidst the arches and columns -- selling and buying, moving things from place to place, stopping to chat with friends, or sitting down to eat. Rivka sat up even straighter on the dragon’s back, proud of her new home and the effect she knew it made.

  “We’re the only people here with light skin,” Mitzi observed suddenly.

  “So?” Rivka dearly hoped for that to be the end of that.

  ***

  Mitzi was a little overwhelmed from her very first dragon flight and the other surprises of the morning, so she was glad when Isaac began his descent. The palace was shining, white, and built in a square around an open-air courtyard. Isaac touched down in the center of that courtyard, beside the lily pond. She saw a tiny young woman with dark skin and black hair in two tight braids coiled at the base of her neck rush toward them in a flurry of elegant clothing. “Riv, Riv, Riv, Riv, Riv!” called out the woman in frenetic greeting, her fists tapping each other along with her speech. “Good, you’re back. There’s a--”

  Then she noticed Mitzi and cocked her head. “Is that your mother?”

  Mitzi scrambled to keep up with the foreign tongue, familiar from prayers but so different to hear in ordinary conversation.

  “Yeah,” said Rivka. “Uh, Mammeh, this is Her Royal Majesty Queen Shulamit.”

  “Is she always this...?” Mitzi asked, under her breath, in her own language.

  “Something like that. She’s as tightly wound as those braids,” Rivka murmured in response.

  “Lady Miriam, right?” Shulamit approached Isaac’s back, squinting as she looked upward because looking at Mitzi also brought her eyesight directly in line with the sun.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for your hospitality,” said Mitzi, speaking carefully in the language of Perach.

  “Mammeh, we have to get down off Isaac’s back and unpack or he can’t transform,” Rivka reminded her.

  “Oh, sorry!” Shulamit’s guard reached out for Mitzi, and she climbed into his arms. “Sorry, thank you.” He was a nice-looking older man, dark-skinned like the queen, of course, and suddenly Mitzi found herself smiling nervously. Well, what was the harm in that? Even if he was only a guard. But then, she reminded herself, here, she was only a guard’s mother. Even if Rivka -- Riv -- was their captain.

  “Tivon, please get Lady Miriam settled in.” Shulamit drew close to Rivka.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said the guard.

  “What’s going on?” Rivka asked the queen.

  “Aviva came back from market with a dying man on horseback, and he won’t talk to anyone but you.”

  “Me?”

  “I have no idea.” Shulamit shook her head. “Come on.” She dragged the surprised warrior off into a distant room, with a transformed Isaac following them.

  Mitzi was left by herself in the courtyard watching them disappear, standing by the lily pond surrounded by her luggag
e. She thought she’d been able to follow the conversation, but then, it had nothing to do with her. She blinked a few times, a little disoriented.

  “Please come with me.” The guard beckoned, lifting her heaviest bundle by the handle with his other hand.

  Oh well, if Rivka was going to run off like that, at least Mr. Attractive was still there. She picked up the rest of her things and followed him across the courtyard.

  Chapter 3: The Priorities of Riv Bitter-Greens

  The mysterious prince slept, but he was so fixated on finding “Riv” that in fevered dream he relived the moment he had first heard of the Captain of the Royal Guard of Perach.

  “Bitter-greens or Malabar or something. His first name is Riv. Tall, and broad, and hair of bronze that sticks out in every direction, past his shoulders,” the traveling merchant was saying. “He keeps his face inside a mask -- they say it hides a horrible scar.”

  “From fighting a dragon? Didn’t I hear something about a dragon?” asked my older brother, the Crown Prince. He seemed glad that they’d stopped talking about the cancellation of his arranged marriage. He hadn’t been in love with her, but it embarrassed him to hear so many graphic details of his former future father-in-law’s exposure in the brothel. My father already disapproved of whores, and it would have been unacceptable for the city’s future queen to have a father who visited them so voraciously.

  “No, the dragon...” Here, the merchant snickered lewdly. “The dragon is his lover.”

  “I’ve heard that too,” said my father, the King. “Some wizard or sorcerer or what have you. I think it’s nonsense. Everything I’ve heard about this Riv person has been one triumph after another -- he caught the ring of blackmailers, he rescued a temple full of celibates, he wins competitions. Men who see each other as lovers aren’t capable of that. It’s a sign of weakness and lack of focus. Lack of priorities.”

  My heart sank. The lamb on my fork became dry and unchewable; the rest remained on my plate untouched for the rest of the meal. It had been delicious.

  “Maybe in this kingdom,” remarked the merchant, “but over there I tell you that’s the way it is. No question. They don’t even make much of a secret of it.”

  “He disgraces his queen, then,” was my father’s response. “Has he no respect for her reputation?”

  “He’s probably more concerned with protecting her life and her people,” pointed out my fiancée, Azar. “If I were queen, I wouldn’t care if my bodyguards were sleeping with sheep. What matters is how good he is with a sword, and how loyal he is. That’s what I have to say about priorities.” Her dark eyes flashed as she dared to defy the king, even though her tone was demure and quiet. She grew more beautiful to me in this moment, as she defended Riv -- and as she defended me too, without realizing it.

  “I wouldn’t have Riv as my captain, at any rate,” said my father. “And you, Azar, are not going to be queen anyway, only wife to my youngest. So maybe you’d better keep your mouth shut.”

  She said nothing more, but gave him a look full of defiance.

  Later, in the moonlight on the balcony, I thanked her. I took her by the hand and gazed into those big glistening eyes of hers and told her how much I loved her, and how brave she was to challenge my father, and she told me that she was glad she was marrying me and that she liked me best of the three princes, even if it meant she wouldn’t be queen.

  And then I was foolish enough to be honest.

  “I loved you even more in that moment,” I said. “I despaired when he said that men who looked at other men that way were weak. I know that I’m not weak, and I--” Azar’s face alarmed me, and I stopped talking. “What?”

  “Why do you speak of yourself that way?” She drew back slightly.

  I kept holding her hand. “I’ve looked upon both men and women with love. But you’re the queen of my heart, and I hope that you’ll be the only--”

  “What?” She pulled away entirely now, and looked at me as if my face had sprouted pustules. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie about something like that?”

  “You can’t be serious. I love you!”

  “And I love you too,” I protested. “I don’t understand -- you said--”

  There was more, but “You’re broken,” were the last words I heard from her before she ran from the balcony, back into the palace.

  Into my brother’s arms, apparently. Now, she will be queen, someday, after all. And she won’t have to marry a man she thinks is broken.

  But I knew I couldn’t be broken, because Riv -- Captain Riv -- wasn’t broken.

  Somehow, the prince could tell that Riv was sitting at his bedside before he opened his eyes.

  ***

  For several silent moments, they beheld each other, Rivka’s gray-blue eyes tenderly gazing down on his dark ones.

  “I’m here,” the captain said at last, and took his hands in hers.

  “Captain Riv,” said the prince, with great effort. “Please... please help us.”

  “I hope I can,” said Rivka.

  “I love him.”

  “All right,” said Rivka, nodding. Someone handed her a fresh wet cloth, and she replaced the one on his forehead with this newer, cooler one.

  “My father... the prison... he’s... he wants to kill...” The prince disappeared into himself a little bit.

  “Who does he want to kill?” Rivka prompted him.

  “We’re like you,” said the prince slowly and deliberately. “Like you. You’re our only chance.”

  “Like me,” Rivka repeated, and then the light turned on. “Like us. Like Isaac and me.”

  “Isaac...?”

  Rivka cocked her head backward slightly, and from the other side of the room the wizard approached. “This one. The one who puts up with me.”

  The prince smiled slightly. “Save him...” Then he started to faint again.

  Rivka grabbed him by both shoulders. “Wake up,” she demanded. His eyes rolled open, but she wasn’t sure if he was there. “Do you love him?”

  “Yes. More... more than life.”

  Rivka tightened her grip on him and stared into his eyes. “You have to love life as much as you love him, do you hear me? Because if you don’t live to tell me where he is, or how I can rescue him, he’ll die. So try harder.”

  Slowly, the prince nodded.

  ***

  Shulamit was in her library reading correspondence when she heard Rivka come in. “Did he tell you anything?”

  Rivka nodded. “His name is Prince Kaveh.”

  “Oh! That’s the youngest son of Jahandar from the City of the Red Clay.”

  “So he tells me. He also said he’s in love with another man--”

  “He’s like me!” Shulamit’s eyes widened.

  “--and his father, he just threw his lover in prison. He’s supposed to be killed at the end of some sacred month they celebrate where they can’t execute prisoners. Kaveh rode all the way here, and why? To beg help from me, of all people.”

  “Why you? Oh my God, those poor men,” she added at half-volume.

  “Think about the way everyone else sees Captain Riv and Isaac,” Rivka pointed out.

  Shulamit smirked and nodded. “Two big, strong, heroic men who love each other.” As a genuine lover of her own sex, but one who often felt frail and vulnerable thanks to her small stature and overactive mind, it comforted her to think of the image of strength they projected to those from whom she wanted respect. “Why was he falling apart when he showed up -- bleeding and barely alive?”

  “I’m getting there. King Jahandar hired an engineer named Farzin to design a series of public works projects for the city: a new bridge, repairs to the roads, fershtay? During the project, Farzin and this Kaveh got pretty close -- they’d been friends since boyhood. Then at the end of the whole thing, the king decides he’s only going to pay everyone half wages. In his mind, that should be enough -- everyone should work to improve the city ‘out of patriotism’ or else t
hey aren’t true Citizens of the Red Clay.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’d never do that.”

  “We know. Anyway, between Farzin -- and Kaveh -- working hard to oppose him and support the people, and him finding out that Farzin had, uh, debauched his son... I’m sorry... Please don’t make that face... Oh, Shula.”

  Rivka had to tell the rest of the story from one side of a tight hug, for the young queen took all such insults to heart very deeply. “Farzin’s in prison, and Jahandar wants him dead. Kaveh, he went to the prison to tell him he would ask me for help, but some of the guards didn’t recognize him and on the way out -- zoom! With the arrows. He didn’t want to stop to get treatment because he knew he had to get to me and convince me in time. He figured it was more important just to ride all the way here. Only, now he might not live. Isaac said he’s full of infection. He might have to use magic to cure him. He says he’ll try his best, but...”

  “Poor man,” said Shulamit, hugging the stuffing out of Rivka. Her late father hadn’t been a big fan of the direction of her attentions, but the idea of anyone trying to have Aviva killed... Things like this made her glad she had a sword-slinging loudmouth and a dragon-man on her side.

  Whereas it sounded like Kaveh had only the persistence of his own determination.

  Well, maybe now he had Rivka. And Isaac. And herself.

  “So Isaac is going to work on him now?”

  “No, he has to wait for some of the prince’s strength to come back. He hasn’t had enough fluids or eaten enough yet. But he will -- tonight.”

  Shulamit nodded. “Keep me posted. Sorry about your day off.”

  “My what?” Rivka quipped wryly.

  ***

  On her way out into the central courtyard, Rivka crossed paths with her mother, who was exploring the cultivated flowers. “Oh, hi, Mammeh.” It was novel to be speaking her own language within Shulamit’s walls with someone other than her husband after three years. Her Perachi was fluent but heavily accented, as was Isaac’s.

  “Nice of you to notice me,” said Mitzi crossly. “Why did you invite me all the way here if you didn’t even have time to get me settled in and show me around?”