Marie Brennan - In the Labyrinth of Drakes

I said to Tom, “I want our sixth to be Suhail.”

His expression showed wariness. “Is that wise?”

“I do not care if it is wise. I do not want to see the Labyrinth of Drakes—the site of so many legendary Draconean ruins—without him at my side.”

Tom was sitting on his haunches alongside Quartus’ enclosure when I said this to him. He ran one hand through his hair, then wiped it on his trousers. Even this close to the river, we laboured under a constant film of dust and sand. It mixed with sweat to form a gritty paste that no amount of bathing could dispose of, for no sooner was one clean than the paste built up again. In the Jefi and the Labyrinth it would be worse, for there we would lack the water to bathe in. “You know what they will say about you.”

“They are already saying it. I do not care. ” A tight sensation burned behind my sternum as I said this. My entire life I had gone back and forth between two extremes, the one disclaiming all concern for what people might think, the other carefully weighing the cost. I had spent eight months here in Akhia listening to the second voice. My patience for it was wearing thin.

Tom said, “ He might care.”

“For his own reputation? Or for mine?” I put up a hand before Tom could answer that. “He has been in the desert before—in the Labyrinth itself. I trust him to bring us out of there alive. Al-Jelidah I do not know, not truly; Suhail I do. He has saved my life before.”

I gave Tom some time to consider this. It was, after all, not only my reputation I would be endangering, or even Suhail’s. Tom had fought to have me included at Dar al-Tannaneen, when he could have taken the opportunity for himself with far less struggle. What I did here reflected on him, too.

“Ask him,” Tom said at last. “It isn’t our decision to make—not alone.”

“Thank you,” I said in response to his unspoken agreement. “I am sure we can find a way to make this work.”

I thought about approaching Mahira for aid. She had assisted us before, arranging that meeting in the garden; she might do so again. But such an approach smacked of the clandestine, which would not serve my purposes at all. There was nothing to be ashamed of in recruiting the aid of an experienced desert traveller. If it was permissible for me to work with al-Jelidah and Haidar, why not Suhail?

Our enterprise had a small stock of official letterhead, which I appropriated for this task. That very afternoon, before I could begin to doubt myself, I wrote a message and sent it to the sheikh’s household, requesting Suhail’s presence at Dar al-Tannaneen at his earliest convenience.

A reply came back before sunset, saying he would come the following morning. I notified Tom of this, so that he might be in attendance for the meeting—I did not use the word “chaperon”—and failed almost entirely to sleep that night.

The next morning I rose and dressed with more care than usual, as compensation for my poor rest. I made my rounds of the site while Tom made his and, having finished before him, went to the office to await the day’s next task.

It was not long at all before Lieutenant Marton tapped on the door and opened it, saying, “Dame Isabella, Hajj Suhail ibn Ramiz is here to see you.”

The distracted thought went through my mind that I ought to tell the poor lieutenant he need not be so formal with me anymore. I did not follow through on this, however, because the rest of me was occupied with a more pressing matter. “Where is Tom? He was supposed to be here.”

“I’m sorry, Dame Isabella.” Marton shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I think he’s been caught by some business outside.”

(“Caught by some business,” indeed. Had I known at the time what was transpiring… in truth, I do not know what I would have done. Perhaps it is better that I did not.)

I wavered. Should I ask Suhail to wait? It would be the proper thing to do, and yet—“Show him in,” I said. As I had told myself before: there was nothing to be ashamed of here. We were conducting official business. If any prying eyes or ears spied on our interactions, they would see nothing worthy of gossip.

The formality of the entire thing had Suhail’s eyebrows up as he came in. He gave me a very correct greeting, though, not even touching his heart, which might have signaled inappropriate warmth. When that was done, he said, “I understand from Haidar that you are going back out into the desert.”

“Yes, in late Messis—earlier if we can manage it. And that is why I’ve asked you here today.” I tucked my hands beneath the edge of the desk, where no one could see if I fidgeted. “You have traveled extensively in that area, have you not? The Jefi in general, and the Labyrinth of Drakes specifically. In the summertime, no less, so as to avoid the risk of flood.”

Suhail nodded. “I would be glad to offer any advice I can.”

“I intend that you should have every opportunity to give us that advice. I would like—” I caught myself, cursing inwardly. “That is, Tom and I have discussed it, and we would like you to accompany us.”

He had guessed it before he even came there. He must have, because his head began to shake even before I finished my statement. “Umm Yaqub… that will not be possible.”

“Why not?” I pressed my lips together, not continuing until I was certain I could do so without my tone growing too sharp. “We shall have Andrew with us. Is that not enough to make everything proper?”

“Propriety is not the problem.” Suhail bent his head, looking as if he wanted to press his fingertips to his temples, banishing a headache. “Rumour is.”

I gritted my teeth. “We have done nothing to encourage that.”

“Nothing?” He laughed, and it carried a rueful edge. “Had I gone home immediately after you arrived in camp, that might have been true. But I did not want to flee the moment you appeared, so I stayed a few days. Then the Banu Safr stole our camels. So I went to get the camels back. While I was gone, the Banu Safr stole you . So I went to get you back. And now every last member of the Aritat in the desert and the city alike is reciting that damned poem, about how I crept into the enemy camp in the dead of night to rescue a lady in distress. You have been admirably disciplined, but I…” He stopped, shaking his head.

Although he no doubt intended “admirably disciplined” as a compliment, I found myself regretting what I had done to deserve it. I could not keep from sounding plaintive as I said, “Must that get in the way? As near as I can tell, your actions against the Banu Safr have won you acclaim, not censure. I understand that your brother is concerned for your family’s image—but surely it does you more good to assist in this work, upon which he has staked the Aritat reputation, than to sit idle just to avoid me.”

He did not answer immediately. The silence weighed upon me, until I voiced a bitter addendum. “Or is that the precise issue? Not propriety, nor even the general weight of rumour. Me, myself. I am a scandal at home; I carry that scandal with me here. Were I another woman—one whose reputation was not in doubt—then perhaps other factors could prevail. But I am not, and so a decent man may not associate with me.”

The fury and shame of it burned within me. I was so very tired of being judged in such fashion; and yet, being tired of it achieved nothing. Whatever my feelings on the matter, I must endure. The only way to escape would be to surrender, to retreat into obscurity and never show my face again… and that, I would not do. The path I followed had brought me to Jacob, Tom, Lord Hilford, Suhail himself. I would not surrender the hope of this man’s companionship, not if there were any possible way to keep it.