TRACK DOWN YOUR entire family and have them slaughtered.
As I raced away, Arwa’s statement seemed to echo like an evil taunt. What she did not realize was that I did have a family. To me, Nico and Frada were my brother and sister. No matter if I failed or succeeded in this mission, the king’s men would know that I did it to save Nico. Would they then make the connection to Frada? Would they track her to Zakiti’s shop? Someone would talk. Someone would give her away.
I knew I was supposed to go directly to the cobbler for sandals, but I had to see Frada. I had to warn her.
The sun was now climbing the eastern sky, but inside Zakiti’s shop it could have been the middle of the night. The lamplight gave Frada’s sleeping figure a halo of gold. Her breaths were soft and even, free of the snores and moans that had attended her sickness. The pomegranate had been miraculous. Even in the short time I’d been away, she’d improved. Soon she would be back to her old self.
I could not let them hunt her down like an animal. She would have to go with me. If I could learn to trust Arwa, Frada must also trust me. Surely she could help in Arwa’s mysterious plan.
Gently I touched the side of Frada’s face. Her skin was warm. “Good morning,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“Daria?” Frada’s eyes fluttered open. She sat up slowly, as if testing her own ability. “You’re back! Did you find Nico?”
I quickly told her the story of his capture and of Arwa’s offer to help. When I said I wanted to take her along, she did not hesitate to answer. “I will do it for you. For Nico. But, Daria, we must not forget about Zakiti. They will need to punish someone if we succeed. What if they come here and take their revenge on her?”
I admired Frada’s deep empathy for others, but before I could think of a response, the old woman’s voice cut through the murky darkness. “By the great Marduk, what is this I hear? Concern for old, broken-down Zakiti? You are leaving forever, to find that foolish boy, and you have a thought for me?”
Frada and I both froze. “I—I—” I stammered.
“Does the mushushu have your tongue?” Zakiti asked. “You have been nothing but trouble since the night I took you in. I should have thrown you out then.”
“We are concerned, Lady Zakiti,” Frada said, “that the king’s guards will come after you.”
Zakiti glared at her. “Concerned, are you? Tell me, who is our most regular customer? Give me his name!”
“Serug the Hunchback,” I said, thinking of the ragged little drunken man who reported to our front door once a week.
Zakiti nodded. “Where do you suppose Serug gets his funds? The king’s guards pay him to sneak my Miracle Garden Wine to the palace. Those brutes would no sooner give that up than bathe in vizzeet spit! Many are those who appreciate my secret recipes, dear child. No, I should have thrown you out because . . . because I knew this day would come. I knew this shop could not hold a girl like you.”
“We will be leaving you without any workers,” Frada remarked.
“Do you suppose you are so very important—that I would not have my pick of people desperate for work? Pah!” the old lady declared. But as she turned away, I thought I could see her eyes moisten. “Stay here. I’ll pack provisions. And may Marduk be with you.”