Tales from Perach (Mangoverse Book 5) Read online

“I like this adventure you cooked up,” said the egg man. “This is your sister, right?”

  Halleli felt fire in her cheeks and she wanted to fade into the trees, but Hadar responded promptly. “No, this is my wife. We’re like the queen.”

  “Oh, right, I didn’t know that.” The egg man nodded. “You look alike.”

  “No, we don’t,” Hadar whispered in Halleli’s ear after they’d walked away.

  “I’m so glad Queen Shulamit is so open and straightforward about her life and family,” Halleli murmured in response. “It makes things so much easier to explain.” Their move to the big city had meant introductions happened all the time now, instead of the small farming village where they’d lived together for the past few years where everyone knew they were a couple without having to talk about it. If the queen had not also been drawn to women, Halleli was sure things would be more difficult.

  “Definitely. Read your clue, love!”

  “But I’ll have to ruin the flower.”

  “I’ll learn to make my own. Then you won’t be able to stop me and our room will be waist-deep in ’em.”

  Halleli giggled, then read. “‘He uses fire, rock, and water to make things.’ That sounds… like God. Is the clue at the synagogue?”

  Hadar smirked. “I totally wasn’t reading that much into it—try less poetic and more literal.”

  Halleli’s eyelashes fluttered, her mind stuck in the mud.

  “But,” Hadar added as she took her by the hand, no doubt after seeing the frown, “I like the idea, and I bet you’ll turn it into something with your art or writing.”

  “Be careful,” said Halleli as grains of pride gathered. “If the queen saw me do something like that she might make me illustrate the whole Tanakh!”

  “Starting with the Book of Esther,” said Hadar.

  “I’m already working on that.”

  “She’s predictable!”

  “So, who literally makes things out of fire? The potter needs fire to harden the pots… and earth to make the pots with…”

  “I guess my clue was a little too broad.”

  “It’s not the potter?” Halleli asked. “Is it more food?”

  Hadar shook her head emphatically.

  A cry from the marketplace cut through the chatter. “Toss the horseshoe ’round the pole and win a prize!”

  “Oh, it’s the blacksmith!” Halleli clapped her hands.

  “Yay!”

  They hurried off toward the forge.

  Halleli stopped when she saw a small crowd gathered around a man in sparkly, purple clothing. “Ooh, what’s he doing?”

  “Looks like magic tricks.” Hadar hovered close to her, one hand protectively close to her back.

  The man, an athletic fortyish with a braided beard, was holding up a coin to those watching. He showed one side, then the other, before holding out his hand in invitation for audience volunteers. Small children in the front hopped up and down, and he chose one of them. Handing the coin to the youngster with instructions to keep it tightly in one fist, he then proceeded to stand on his head to scattered applause and children’s laughter.

  He then asked for a second volunteer. This time, he extended his hand to an old woman clutching a basket of vegetables. Before the crowd’s eyes, that hand waved in the air and suddenly held a blooming lily. “Ooh!” rose through the audience. The old woman’s face crinkled with delight.

  “Wait, the flower isn’t free!” the magician said dramatically. “You must pay me. Use the coin I gave the little one—it’s in your vegetables.”

  “It is?” she asked in wonder. “Oh, my goodness, it is!” And she handed it over for him to show the crowd.

  “Just to make sure it’s the same coin, you don’t have it anymore, do you?” the magician asked the child.

  The little one’s fingers uncurled, and sure enough, to the gasps of everyone watching—“It’s empty! I just had it!”

  “No, she did! And now it’s mine again. Thank you, thank you.” The magician took a bow, his hands spread wide in each direction, and several people made their way to the front to place coins in a clay pot near his feet.

  Halleli and Hadar floated away down the path again before he started another trick. “That was fun,” said Halleli.

  “Definitely!” said Hadar. “I like getting the chance to see magic like that, instead of Isaac’s stuff back at the palace. Something about wizards feels, I don’t know, elitist to me. I mean, that purple guy? Anyone could learn those tricks, so it feels different.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Halleli, “but technically, anybody could learn to be a wizard too. Not that I really know anything about it, but both the man back there and Isaac probably got where they are by practicing a lot.”

  Hadar stuck out her hand and swung her body in a semicircle around the slender trunk of a carpentaria palm as they passed by. “Yeah, but the work’s different. I mean, anyone can practice the kind of sleight of hand and tricks we saw back there, but to do what Isaac does you have to concentrate. You know I’m not cut out for that. I couldn’t be a wizard, but I bet I could do the coin trick if somebody showed me.”

  “That’s true, but that doesn’t mean everyone could do the coin trick.” Halleli bent down to remove a road rock from her shoe. “There are probably people who’d have an easier time with the thinking type of magic than the coin trick. Like—if they had stiff joints and couldn’t move as fast. Or don’t like touching strangers.”

  Hadar chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I didn’t think of that!”

  “Wizards do act pretty smug sometimes,” Halleli acceded. “That’s probably a big part of why it feels elitist even if it’s not, really.” She didn’t say anything about it because she didn’t really know how, but she felt sort of—glowy, and also lucky that she loved someone with whom she could have such interesting conversations.

  A second happiness joined the first as Halleli realized that she felt the pricklings of fresh inspiration. The street magician, with his exaggerated movements and flashy clothing, would be awfully fun to draw. Surely she could find a place for him in a visual story for the queen.

  Bits of the conversation with Hadar floated into place like puzzle pieces as Halleli imagined a story about two magicians. One would use sleight of hand, like the one they’d just seen, and the other would be a wizard like Isaac. Whose magic would win?

  Her eyes widened as she realized the afternoon had just handed her the perfect story idea for her project for the queen. Who needed male wizards and magicians when there were witches in the world?

  A street performer, using ordinary tricks, and a witch with magic spells. There would be mistrust at first, perhaps conflict, but then—a common purpose—and through it, love?

  Common purpose…

  Halleli’s idea curled up in a ball and went back to sleep. Well, that was normal; she was used to these things coming in unpredictable and uneven waves.

  She took Hadar’s hand and continued walking to the forge.

  The clanking of hammers on anvils greeted their arrival, and for a few moments they stood there in the doorway hand in hand watching the men work. Hadar peered around, then said, “He’s the one who has it, but he looks busy.” She gestured to a man with his back to them as he worked with his current project.

  “Yes, you’ll have to… wait a moment,” he called back to her without looking. After another minute he turned around, the sun-hot metal shaft of a small blade clasped between his tongs.

  Halleli loved watching blacksmiths quench their projects, so she felt a little thrill when she heard the sizzle of its plunge into the water. This was lucky timing.

  The smith drew the dagger out of the water and placed it aside. “Now, then!” He wiped his hands on his apron and approached the two ladies holding a folded paper. “You’re lucky this didn’t fall into the fire. This isn’t the right place for games.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” said Hadar, slipping noticeably into her Royal Guard post
ure. “Thank you though. We both appreciate it.”

  “Nn,” the smith grunted in lieu of “you’re welcome.” “Tell the captain I said hello.”

  Hadar nodded briskly. “Yes, sir.”

  Halleli felt like she had a weight on her chest—she never wanted to be a bother to anybody. But just as they were about to turn and leave, the blacksmith seemed to relent slightly and winked at her. She smiled and looked at the floor.

  Halleli still waited until they were back outside to do anything about the paper in her hand. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that trouble,” she said as she squeezed Hadar’s arm affectionately.

  “Hey, I know you like to watch the quench.”

  Halleli unfolded the clue. “‘The king who sleeps but never sleeps.’ Whoaa… I have no idea, but I really like the way you said that!”

  Hadar’s arms shot up in exultation as Halleli continued musing.

  “King… well, we don’t have a king right now because Prince Kaveh’s just a Prince-Consort…” Halleli was speaking of Queen Shulamit’s political-only husband, who lived with his male companion on a vineyard outside Perach’s borders. “We haven’t had a king since King Noach died. Oh, this is about King Noach, isn’t it? Sleeps, death…”

  “I guess it’s an obvious one,” said Hadar, “but I have no shame.”

  “Never sleeps.” Images flashed into Halleli’s mind and she turned to Hadar, wide-eyed. “Are you saying something here is haunted? By the dead king’s spirit? We—”

  Hadar’s mouth rose up in a grin. “No, no. Wow, you are, like, seventeen times more creative than I am.”

  “I should write about dybbuks,” Halleli whispered, half to herself.

  “He would never be something like that!” Hadar protested. “He was a good king.”

  “Oh, I know,” said Halleli. “But you said never sleeps—”

  “He’s still with us in some ways, right?”

  “On the mosaics in the palace, you mean?”

  “What else?” Hadar pressed.

  “Old coins from before he died?”

  “Think bigger. A lot bigger.”

  Finally, Halleli understood. “The statue!” She grabbed Hadar’s wrist and took off toward the square.

  The monument to the late King Noach ruled over the Plaza of Moses on the far west of town, just before the docks. He faced the river, ostensibly in greeting to those who entered Home City by water. Halleli craned her neck up at him as they approached him from the south, looking up beyond the stone steps and careful plantings to observe his familiar face—bald to the back corner of his head, but then hair to his shoulders, and the bushy eyebrows he’d passed on to his daughter. “Look at the craftsmanship on his tunic,” she breathed in admiration. “It looks like real fabric!”

  Hadar reached out to touch it, as if to check what she knew to be true against her eyes, as Halleli continued her circle of the statue. Now that she could behold it more fully from the front, she saw that the king was holding a child in one arm, resting on his hip. It was a representation of the young queen, as she’d been at perhaps four or five—that was clear from the braids—but she’d been carved in a different style from the king. The little girl was roughly hewn, all right angles and sharp edges, as if the artist hadn’t had time to finish her.

  “Because Shulamit’s reign had only just begun when this was commissioned,” Halleli realized out loud.

  “Wow, that is deep,” said Hadar.

  Halleli looked up at the little girl, then at the arm holding her. She was afraid if she told Hadar what she was thinking that she’d hurt her feelings, especially after all this work she’d done to cheer her up.

  “Love?” Hadar could always tell though.

  “My parents have no statue,” said Halleli in the tiniest of voices.

  “Oh, love.” Hadar wrapped her in both arms and scrunched at her with one hand.

  “I know this is silly, but…” Halleli breathed in and out slowly, stopping the urge to cry. “They were so good and wonderful in so many ways, but nobody knows about them.”

  “Then you’ll have to change that,” said Hadar, continuing to rub her back. “With your pictures and stories.”

  “They deserve a statue.”

  “You’re their statue.” Hadar pushed her back slightly so that she could grasp both of Halleli’s upper arms and look into her eyes. “You were created to honor them. You’re made out of everything good about them, and you’re standing here, just like Noach is, to watch the sun over the water.”

  Halleli smiled through tears. “The idea makes me feel better.”

  “I’m telling the truth! I’ll even find some birds to poop on you if you don’t believe me.” Hadar patted her lightly with her fingers. “Plop! Plop! You’re a statue.”

  This made Halleli giggle and sniffle. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine! I miss them too.”

  Halleli rested her head on Hadar’s shoulder. “Where’s the clue?”

  “Oh! Right. It’s under one of the bushes near his feet.”

  As she rooted around in the dirt, Halleli asked, “What will we do if someone else took it first and threw it away? Since you didn’t leave it with anyone this time.”

  “If we can’t find it I’ll just tell you the clue myself.”

  “Oh! Here it is.” Halleli shook it out over the soil, then unfolded it carefully to make sure stray bits didn’t fall on her simple linen dress. She read out loud as she sat down on the top step of the statue’s base: “‘You can travel without bags, or horses, or a carriage. You can spend time in the distant snows without a coat; you can ride over the sea without leaving dry land. You can meet Miriam and Queen Esther and the Empress of the Mermaids, without getting out of bed or moving the cat off your lap. And what’s better—you, my love, YOU can send people on these journeys. All thanks to this little object.’”

  She’d been confused by the beginning, her mind pulled in all sorts of exciting directions by the horses and snowdrifts and sea crests of the clue. But when Halleli reached the end, she was smiling broadly, her eyes smarting with quite a different kind of tears from before. “That was really pretty,” she blurted as she looked up at Hadar.

  Hadar just did one of her little dances, then reached out and scooped up both Halleli’s hands in hers. “It’s the truth.” She pulled her up and danced her around in a circle.

  “The clue’s at the bookmaker’s, then?”

  “Very good! If she hasn’t sewn it into a book already.”

  “I’m sure she’s put it somewhere safe,” said Halleli.

  “Look!” Hadar pointed to the docks. “They’re unloading a ship.”

  “Ooh, let’s go see!”

  The girls hurried across the square to the street that ran parallel to the river, stopping short to avoid a couple of horses. “We’d better not get any closer; we’ll get in their way,” said Halleli.

  “Can you see anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Look!” Hadar pointed. “I think it’s carrying textiles. There’s Ben the tailor, from the palace. And those two women are also tailors.”

  “Oh,” Halleli breathed in delight as one of the sailors unrolled a bolt of shimmering, red cloth for the Perachi customers. It shone with the richness of wine in the late afternoon sun. “It’s so beautiful. I don’t think I’d even be able to wear it. I’d just want to look at it.”

  As Ben and the other tailors negotiated with the sailors, Hadar and Halleli departed, walking along the riverside street. Halleli’s eyes were almost entirely on the row of ships and boats, soaking in the inspiration for future projects. Her magician and witch for the queen’s romance needed a quest, and quests usually required travel. Maybe a voyage by ship could be involved; then the women would be thrown into close quarters.

  They turned left when they got to Flower Street, away from the river and into a ritzier part of town. “Oh, wow, all kinds of fun stuff in here,” Hadar pointed out one shop, marked Curiositie
s. In the window they saw a wine goblet clasped in a dragon’s paw made of metal, a lamp that looked like a water lily with a vessel inside where you put the oil and wick, and a huge pillow sewn to look like a violin.

  “That one’s my favorite!” Halleli pointed to a glass-topped table held up by a metal octopus’ eight arms and big, bulbous head. “It must cost a fortune.”

  “You’re right, that is one of the best,” said Hadar. “You should draw it! Then you could take it home without having to pay.”

  Halleli said nothing as she stared into the shop, memorizing the stormy curves of the beast’s great tentacles.

  “Thanks for doing all this for me,” she finally said as they continued their walk to the bookmaker’s. She squeezed Hadar’s hand.

  “Getting any story ideas?”

  “Lots,” said Halleli, “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet though.”

  The bookmaker was sewing pages into a binding when the two girls arrived. “Oh, good!” she said emphatically as she stood up. “I was scared I’d have to close up before you got here. But I’m still working on this last set of Haggadahs.”

  “Can we see?” Hadar asked.

  The bookmaker handed them each a finished copy. Halleli opened hers to a random page. Had He satisfied our needs in the desert for forty years, and not fed us on manna, it would have been enough. Had He fed us on manna, but not given us the Sabbath, it would have been enough. Dayenu.

  Had He given me two loving parents, and not also a loyal wife to cherish, it would have been enough. Had He given me a loyal wife to cherish, and not royal help when the trees failed, it would have been enough. Had He given us royal help when the trees failed, and not delivered us into this beautiful city… Dayenu, thought Halleli. Her daydreams were richly colored and throbbed with energy as if alive, and she overflowed with religious gratitude.

  “Ooh, is that Miriam?” Hadar pointed to a picture in hers.

  The bookmaker nodded enthusiastically. “My sister draws those, when she has time.”

  “Halleli draws too!” Hadar announced, which made Halleli’s cheeks flush.

  “Oh?” said the bookmaker.

  “Yes,” said Halleli. “Come eat at the Frangipani Table some time, and if you pay extra, Chef Yael lets me sketch your portrait.”