Last week, Ro had just been publicly rejected by an upmarket prostitute. Now let’s finish this chapter.
He held her gaze to enforce that promise but she smiled as if she did not believe the seriousness of his statement. All at once, a rustling and a crashing arose from behind Ro.
He spun and beheld a woman, grey-haired, sway-backed, pointing a bone up at Ninevah. His first impulse was to leap at her and knock the bone away, for that was in the nature of a curse in other lands. But Ro was not superstitious in his better nature and in the City of Brass, the old gnawed bone was harmless fortune-telling anyway.
But her words were far from harmless. ‘Your fate is fore-ordered,’ she screeched at Ninevah. ‘His fortune is graven on his forehead. You know of what I speak.’Ninevah retreated along the gallery, and her hips did not twitch in the subtle imitation of sex the Consorts and all women who desired to be desired used. Ro looked from her to the retreating back of the old fortune-teller as she fled the House.
His thoughts were interrupted as Marjana again approached down the stairs. ‘Ro, handsome man.’ She clasped her hands and looked at him from earnest eyes. ‘Will you not consider another?’
‘No,’ he said, as he said every year, and turned away and went to the tables where the singer and the musamirun, the story-teller, entertained the gathering. Some of the men called out to him, good-naturedly ribbing him.
Sometimes other men would call for Ninevah after his attempt, deliberately, and sometimes she would accept them, but not this year and not for several years previously, of which he was glad. He called for wine and drank it, affecting sullenness and gloom, which was, tonight, not difficult.
The singer finished and stepped down. The musamirun arose and called to the crowd. ‘I have a tale, a tale.’
‘Ah, things of the evening,’ said Ro, with derision. ‘Lies fit for women and children.’
‘No, master, no,’ said the musamirun, with genuine hurt. ‘I was there and just came back and I did not even stop to have supper.’
It was the traditional cry of the story-teller vouching the veracity of his tale. Ro gave up his token protest and lay back against the couch with his eyes closed and the parcel securely in his arms, as if he slept off the rigour of a long journey, spicy wine and Ninevah’s rejection rather than avidly listened to the musamirun tell him what had been happening in the City of Brass for the last year.
Did Ninevah know the game the Fox Splinter played between him and her? Ro suspected so.
He heard the musamirun clear his throat, and then the man spoke thus:
The old lion lived in peace in his realm with all those whom he understood he shared power with – the ox who worked the land, the raven who gave him wisdom, the gilt serpent who knew the way to the gods, and the fox, who was the heart and soul of the realm.
Ro, without opening his eyes, made a slight hurrying gesture. He knew the old Shah had been more popular than his son. He did not need to be re-told that. He also did not need to be subject to the Fox Splinter’s conceit that the merchants were more important than the peasants, the scribes, and the priests. The musamirun paused and went on.
The old lion in due course fell to the breaker of ties and destroyer of delights, and the young lion took his place. But the lion did not understand his place. He disregarded the words from high as interpreted by the gild serpent and he ignored the advice of the wise raven.
Ro shifted. He knew this too. He didn’t blame the Shah for turning his back to the priests, who were all too proud and self-centred. The mention of the raven reminded him he had to visit the Guild of the Scribes tomorrow, to pay for a year’s worth of tutoring for young Nabia.
He demanded more tribute from the ox, until the ox could not feed itself. He took privileges from the fox and gave them to his pride and to his jackals.
So of course the rich landowning nobles and Janissary did not complain. But were the farm-workers really starving amidst their own fields of corn and wheat?
When the lion took a consort, things became worse for the other animals of the realm. The ox worked day and night to meet the demands of the lion, and had nothing left for itself, not even the very land it worked. The raven’s wings were clipped, and the lion-consort insisted on the head of the gilt serpent for she did not believe the lion should have to share power.
Ro barely prevented himself from leaping up in outrage. The Shah owned all the land the nobles did not own and leased it back to the farmers, but that was simply a formality with very low rent. If he had started claiming back land from people whose families had worked it since the City of Brass was founded, what was to stop him taking back the stores and shops and warehouses and even homes of the merchants? No wonder the Fox Splinter was upset. And was the musamirun really telling him the Shah Consort had commanded the death of the high priest?
The fox knew its turn would come if the lion and his consort went unchecked. It crept into the lion’s den and bit out the throat of the lion as it slept, and all again was peaceful in the realm, under the rule of the fox.
The story done, the musamirun gave way again to the singer. Ro sat still for a while longer, and then casually went his way before anyone could engage him in conversation. No doubt anyone who had listened to the story with more than half an ear understood its message. The important thing was not to alert the Shah’s spies by saying his name, or speaking openly and negatively of any controversial event. Ro did not believe the Shah truly commanded djann to do his bidding, listening silently when awoken by keywords and reporting back. The Fox Splinter did. But they also believed a foolish djinn could not see past a frivolous tale or decipher simple codes, so it was no real hardship to indulge them.
He could not mistake the ending. They meant to assassinate the Shah and put their own rule in their place. This was the first year such as thing had featured in the tale of the musamirun, but the unspoken request was always the same. Ro was a popular, well-connected and wealthy merchant, the perfect candidate for the Fox Splinter and a sure boost to their membership and to their legitimacy. They wanted his blessing, his support, his – dare he think it – his leadership.
Despite his growing horror about what had happened to the City of Brass in his absence, his response was the same as every year. He did not know, he just did not know what to do.
Ro stepped out onto the lamplit street and looked back toward the House of the Broken Jar. It was said witches rode through the night sky on jars. He sometimes wondered – should they ever decided to mend the broken jar, would any of the Consorts stay landbound? Ninevah would not, he suspected.
Firstly, we have set-up for something that keeps happening during the first half of the book – the various types of soothsayers in the city keep telling Ninevah that she will be the death of Ro. We hear mention of Nabia at the school, and wonder who she is to Ro (not that it’s a huge mystery, really). And we see Ro’s “real” reason for visiting the Jar and hear the laughably simple code the Fox Splinter uses to preach to Ro and try to get converts to their rebellion. And touch on Ro’s indecision.
Now I try to excuse the code in the text by admitting it’s stupidly simple, but I don’t really think that works. So on the re-write the code will need to be made more esoteric, I think, or less inflamatory and the rest of the talk needs to be done in private. That whole part really is an info-dump on the reader which may or may not be necessary at this stage, anyway. So when I rewrite this scene, I’ll be looking to keep it in the Jar, but change the way it goes.
Probably what I will do is have Ro rejected by Ninevah, seem to get very drunk and stumble off into the night, and then go round the back and climb up through her window so he can have a private talk with the storyteller. We find out later that Ninevah is actually very active in the Fox Splinter and there is no reason Ro wouldn’t know that, so we should make it clear from now.
Also, I’m usually slightly funnier than this in my writing (this is all very earnest) so I would also be re-writing somewhat for humour.
And lastly, I will probably change the relationship between Ro and Ninevah. I tend to use the unrequited love thing quite a bit – well, it provides more drama than requited love, but I always make the man the one in love. I know why I do so (I find unrequited love in women a bit pathetic) but I keep using it, so in this one I’m changing things so that Ninevah obviously loves him in return but for some reason they cannot admit it openly.
