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"Alas, alas!' he cried aloud. 'I wish I had not died before I had the chance—"'
But here, as before, Shahrazad's voice was stilled by the crowing of the first cock of the morning. And so her tale ended, still unfinished after a second night. And Shahrayar discovered he was glad that this was so.
"Surely this king must be the most foolish man alive," he commented. "For he is so busy wishing for something that he ca
"Fortunate for him, then," Shahrazad said, "that he lives only in a story."
At these words Shahrayar snorted. He took the cloth from Shahrazad and tucked it safely back inside the trunk. As he did so, Dinarzad yawned, stretched, and sat up. When she realized that it was day, she drew in a swift breath and glanced fearfully up at Shahrazad.
"Do not fear," Shahrayar spoke up. "Your sister’s story is not yet ended." Dinarzad gave a sigh. "You should return to your fathers quarters and sleep in your own bed, little one," the king went on."For I fear that you are very tired, and your sister is also."
So the sisters embraced. But when Dinarzad moved toward the door, she stopped short and gave a cry.
At this, the chamberlain burst in through the door, then promptly tripped over a figure sprawled just inside.
For many moments, all was pandemonium. When at last order was restored, Dinarzad knelt on the floor, her arms wrapped around a serving lad not much older than she was while the chamberlain stood above them, his expression fierce and his sword drawn.
"Move aside, young mistress," he commanded.
"I will not!" cried Dinarzad. "Can you not see he is just a boy?"
"No matter," the chamberlain answered. "He is where he should not be, and must suffer the conse-quences."
"Enough!" cried Shahrayar. He moved to stand beside Dinarzad and the boy. "We will not make war on children, chamberlain. Put up your sword."
"But. . . Your Majesty. . . " the chamberlain sputtered.
"Do as I say!" roared Shahrayar.
The chamberlain sheathed his sword. At this, Dinarzad scrambled to her feet, pulling the serving boy along with her, and sought shelter for them both in her sister's arms.
"Now then," said Shahrayar. "Let us see if we ca
Serving lad and king regarded one another for a moment. So close, the young boy thought. So close, yet there was nothing to be done. No way to exact the revenge for which he and his brothers longed. He had no weapon of any kind, not even a pin to poke this King Shahrayar in one inquiring eye. He had only an empty cup.
And my wits, he thought. If ever he had need to use them well, now was surely the time.
"I did but bring the water as I was commanded, my lord," he said, and he held out his empty cup.
"Ah, the water!" Shahrayar exclaimed, as he stood up. "I remember now. I did call for water. But surely that was last night. How do you come to still be here this morning?"
At this, the boy began to squirm as if confused, though, in fact, his thoughts were racing and he squirmed to buy himself some extra time. A thought had suddenly blossomed in his brain. Perhaps he had a weapon after all.
"If you please," he said, his tone obsequious. "I meant no harm. I only wanted to hear the story, to hear for myself if what they say is true or no."
"What do they say?" asked Shahrazad, speaking to him for the first time. He could feel her voice vibrate against his body, and realized he still stood protected by the circle of her arms. At this, he gave a little wriggle and she released him. He snuck a quick glance at her face as he answered, "Why, that there must be magic in it, of course."
"Magic!" exclaimed Shahrayar. "Why should that be?"
"Because the king did not do as he proclaimed, and all for the sake of a story," the boy replied. "What else but magic could make a true king go back on his own word?"
At this, the chamberlain hissed, "Silence, you impertinent ruffian."
"Leave him be," Shahrayar commanded. He took a turn about the room, his expression thoughtful.
"Tell me, my young fellow," he said at last. "May not a king simply change his mind?"
"But—," the boy said, then broke off.
"It's all right," Shahrayar said. "Go on."
"Surely a king must be strong," the boy said. "What he commands must come to pass, for his word is law. Who will respect him if he's always changing his mind?"
"But what if in changing his mind, he rights a great wrong?"
Without hesitation, the boy shook his head from side to side. "That could never happen," he said boldly. "What a king proclaims is right to begin with, or he is no true king at all."
At this, Shahrayar's eyes became opaque and expressionless. "Do you think so? I perceive that your mind is a sharp one, at any rate. Too sharp to be a. . . what?"
"A kitchen boy," the lad said, and he hung his head as if in shame, though in fact it was to hide his expression of triumph. Though he had used no weapon but words, nevertheless he thought that he had struck a blow.
"What is your name?" Shahrayar asked."Do I not know you?" There was something about the lad's face that grew in his mind the longer he looked upon him.
"I am called 'Ajib," answered the boy, but to the second question he gave no reply. For 'Ajib was his true name. He and his brothers had considered giving him a new one, but the second brother had decided against it at the last moment. It would be one more thing that might cause confusion and send their plans awry.
"Well, 'Ajib," said Shahrayar. "As of this moment, you are a kitchen boy no longer. Since you show such an aptitude for politics, I will place you in the household of my vizier so that you may learn from him whether your notions of what makes a king are true or no. Do honor to the lady Dinarzad, his daughter, for without her protection you might have come to harm."
At this, the boy turned to where Dinarzad stood beside her sister and made a bow. “I will honor both the vizier’s daughters to the best of my ability," he vowed.
"Well spoken," said Shahrayar.
In this way did Shahrayar take a stranger into the bosom of his family. Though whether this would turn out well or ill, not even 'Ajib himself could know.
Chapter 14
T H E C A L M B E F O R E A S T O R M
And now there came a time when the days and nights flowed into one another like the great silk ribbon in Shahrayar's vision. Nights when Shahrazad spun out her tale, her voice falling silent only with the first cock crow of the morning.
Nights when the lamplight glowed softly over her hair and skin, and Shahrayar discovered he wanted no world other than the sound of her voice. Nights when the scent of jasmine wafted in through the open window and Shahrazad found herself happier than she had been since her mother died. Her mouth filled with tales, her sister and young 'Ajib curled at her feet, and her heart full of wonder for what was coming to blossom there for Shahrayar.