Chapter 19: Her Hair Out of Her Eyes, So She Can See Her Way Clear

 

Outside, in the fields and gardens, the men of the two valleys hacked and slashed at each other. Deep within the safe haven of the castle, eight-year-old Rivka scampered about the room, stabbing dramatically at the air with a candle.

“Stop that,” urged Mitzi, holding out her hands to catch the whirling tornado of wild golden hair and flailing limbs as it careened past her.

“I have to practice!”

“Practice for what? You’re just making a mess.” There went Mitzi’s shoes, careening across the floor. She had slipped them off to be more comfortable, and nothing stayed put in little Rivka’s way for long.

“For when I have to go outside and fight with the others.” Rivka twirled in a circle, the candle high above her head.

Mitzi blinked, growing dizzy from watching the gyrations. “Don’t be silly, Rivkeleh. Do you see anybody out there as small as you are? They’d trample right over top of you.”

“I know! I mean later!” Rivka insisted with the exasperation of confident youth. “I’m growing really fast. You said. I’m bigger than Frayda, and she’s a whole year older than me.”

Across the room, the haughty baroness sat with her three daughters, trying to ignore her sister-in-law and her wild-animal niece. Cousin Frayda’s eyes were fixed on her book, but a grimace had come onto her face. Mitzi suspected it was because she’d heard Rivka mention her name, even though Frayda was trying to look as though she was ignoring both freakish cousin and disgraced aunt.

“When you grow up -- not soon enough for me, you funny child,” -- Mitzi massaged her own brow -- “you’ll be a lady, and you certainly won’t be swordfighting. Even with candles.”

“Yes, I will. I’m going to be a lady swordfighter.”

“That’s like saying you’re going to grow up and sprout wings,” said Mitzi. “There isn’t any such thing.”

Rivka shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe I can be the first one.”

“Don’t you want to grow up beautiful and gentle and have men fighting over your hand?” Mitzi smiled fondly at her lost dreams. Tall gardeners might be cute, but they certainly had a way of ruining one’s chances with anyone else later on...

“Not if I can fight them first!” Rivka’s smile was a little manic and bloodthirsty, but on an eight-year-old it simply looked hyper. “Wheeee!” She jumped off the furniture, waving the candle around.

“Miriam! Control that garden-patch brat of yours, or I swear--” began the baroness.

Mitzi leapt up and wrestled the candle away. “Please! You’re going to get me in trouble.”

 

***

 

Little Rivka didn’t much care about being in trouble -- it seemed to her like she and her mother were always in trouble anyway, by default. “Augggh,” she sulked, rolling her eyes.

She wandered around the room, looking for something else to do. Frayda was reading -- not that Frayda was much fun to talk to. The Baroness was rocking her sleeping toddler. Both of their attentions fixed elsewhere, nobody was attending to little Bina, the middle daughter. She was wrapped in a blanket staring with wide, terrified eyes at the windows near the top of the room, even though they were too high up to see anything but sky. That was where the sound of the battle was coming from, though, and it provided faint but insistent background music of unease.

Men screamed outside, and something broke, and there was a noise of weapons.

Bina was crying. She was crying too quietly for either her mother or her older sister to have noticed, but Rivka was bored, and Rivka saw. She bounded over to the youngster and put her arm around her shoulders protectively.

Instinctively, Bina leaned into the comforting embrace. Rivka felt her tears, cold and sticky, against her neck, and she felt strong and useful.

“Bina! Come here.”

With reluctant but automatic obedience, Bina slipped from Rivka’s arms and joined her mother.

“Leave her alone,” Frayda commanded Rivka, glaring over the top of her book. “We’re not supposed to play with you.”

“I know, but she was crying.” Rivka stared up at the window, mostly so she could avoid having to look at her aunt and her cousins.

“Here, Rivkeleh, sit by me. Comfort me. I’m scared by the fighting too.” Mammeh was beckoning to her, so she walked back across the room and sat down by her side.

“I wasn’t playing. I was trying to help.”

“I know... I know.” Mitzi put an arm around her. “You’re growing so fast...” Rivka replied by resting her head against her mother. “I wish they wouldn’t punish you for my mistakes. You did the right thing, and I’m proud of you. See? You do know how to act like a lady.”

“I can be a lady swordfighter and still comfort people when they’re crying,” said Rivka, but she was mumbling and facing away from her mother. She was tired of arguing. Instead, she settled in and stared up at the window, imagining the adventures that were to be had outside, in a world where instead of a candle in her hand she held a great, big, flashing sword.

 

***

 

The dragon Isaac flew through the dark, angry sky. On his back, the fully-grown Rivka lifted one hand to brush a lock of thick, rain-soaked hair out of her face and then resumed the tight embrace in which she shielded Queen Shulamit from the storm.

“It’s coming down even harder,” Shulamit pointed out in her characteristic neurotic whimper. “Are you sure we shouldn’t land?”

“If we land we can’t get across the river,” Rivka reminded her, “and Eshvat said the nearest bridge was four hours’ walk.”

“How far until we get to the river?”

“Isaac? Can you see anything?” Between nightfall and the rainclouds, Rivka’s own eyes weren’t doing her any good.

“The river’s not too far ahead,” rumbled the dragon beneath them, “and I even think I see some lights beyond that.”

“We’re almost there!” cheered Shulamit weakly, still glued to Rivka’s breastplate. Then lightning struck close by, and she screamed, burying her face and shrinking into the smallest volume possible. Thunder cracked all around them, like the sound of things breaking.

Aviva squeezed Shula affectionately, but Rivka knew she was nervous as well. “I don’t want to be a sufganiyah.”

“What?” asked Rivka.

“Fried,” explained Isaac.

Shulamit started to cry. Rivka rubbed her back, wondering if Shulamit could feel that her heart, too, was beating faster.

The three women held each other in a cluster of rain-dampened skin as Isaac gave the ride over the river a final push. He landed on the opposite bank, and they scrambled off his back, the younger ones huddling under his wings to get out of the rain. “I’m sorry,” said Shulamit. “I know you probably want to transform so we can all walk, but I couldn’t resist! It’s just coming down so hard!”

“It’s fine -- I just need to sit for a minute.”

Rivka looked at him with concern as she stood unflinching in the torrential downpour. “If you’re tired, I can carry you again.”

“That might be a good idea. Even if this Aafsaneh agrees to Shula’s plan, that doesn’t mean Jahandar will definitely listen to her. Ohhhhh, yes, definitely keep doing that.” Rivka had started pounding on his back on the spot right where his wings met his body. “Anyway, as I said -- you and I should go back to the capital and have the army ready at the City wall, just in case. And that means lots more flying in a hurry.”

“But if the army shows up, won’t Jahandar take it as a threat?” asked Shulamit. “Even if things are going well?”

“Not if we bring Prince Kaveh back with us,” Isaac explained. “That way, if all goes to plan and Aafsaneh manages to convince him to be more compassionate, we can say we’re there to deliver your bridegroom and provide royal escort for your wedding. If not, well... you would unleash Rivka anyway. Or so you said.”

Aviva grinned. “Isaac, are you the reason people talk about snakes when they want to make something sound sneaky? Because I like your recipes.”

“I’m just glad he’s on our side,” said Shulamit.

“Are you two ready to come out from under Tateh’s wing? Because I’m tired, and it’s Rivka’s turn to carry me, but once I transform the wings go away.”

Shulamit looked at Aviva, then said, “I guess we can brave it.” They held hands and yelped as they ran out into the rain.

Rivka hefted her now-serpentine husband onto her shoulders, and the three women trudged through the muddy ground away from the riverbank and toward the vineyard.

By the time they reached their destination, dawn was only a little while away, but the rain hadn’t slowed down. The first few peasant houses stood still and quiet, but soon Rivka began to notice noises behind her, near the houses they’d already passed. Twice she whipped her head around, only to see nothing but muddy footprints that hadn’t been there moments ago, quickly being obliterated by more rain.

Soon she realized what was going on. The people in the first houses along their path had sent scouts down to the farther houses, and men holding farming implements in threatening poses were beginning to block their way.

“I’d better go on ahead and explain we mean them no harm,” Shulamit began, about to take off.

Rivka caught her by the braids. “I’m supposed to protect you, and I veto that plan. I’ve got the sword -- we’ll stick together.”

“I thought I was queen?”

“That’s why you have bodyguards.”

“Those look scary,” Aviva pointed out, eyeing the rakes and poles.

“Yeah, they do,” Shulamit admitted. “I just thought maybe they’d put them away if--”

“Birds are territorial,” Isaac reminded her. “Remember earlier, how you noticed I have a way of being... a bit slick? And Mistress Eshvat is an unashamed hedonist, like a cat? I think our Lady Aafsaneh has some bird qualities as well, and while I doubt these men are also Bird-Masters, if she’s as wonderful as Jahandar wrote, I bet they’re very loyal. They might repel you even if you came to them in friendship.”

“So what do we do?” Shulamit eyed the men beginning to approach them from both sides.

“We try anyway. It’s what we came here for.” Rivka’s hand rested on her sword.

By the time they reached the initial line blocking their access to the grand house at the top of the hill, they were surrounded by suspicious farmhands. “Peace,” said Shulamit. “I’m Queen Shulamit bat Noach. I rule over Perach, to the east.”

“We answer to nobody but the Swan-Lady,” said one of the farmhands, both fists resolutely fixed on the pole he held.

“I’m not here to take away your freedom,” said Shulamit. “It’s very important that I speak with your Swan-Lady right away. At least one life is at stake, and the livelihood and well-being of dozens of workers like yourselves.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” said another man. “Our orders are to keep everybody out.”

“It’s easy to make up a story to get inside,” pointed out the first man. “Especially if you’ve come with an armed warrior.”

“This is my bodyguard,” said Shulamit.

“Fair enough -- and we are hers.”

“Is there any way I can get inside to talk to her?”

“No. Please leave. Our wine merchants travel to your lands to sell in the marketplace. You can contact her through them.”

“She doesn’t see visitors,” said a third man who hadn’t spoken yet.

“But I can’t wait that long,” Shulamit said desperately.

“Yes, you can.”

 

***

 

Shulamit glanced uneasily at Isaac, who was still draped over Rivka’s shoulders in his gold-and-ivory python form. She wasn’t nearly as good at being crafty as he was. But she knew she was small enough that this just might work.

With a sudden dart, she attempted to make a dash through the legs of the men standing guard. Immediately she knew it was a stupid, stupid move. There were rough hands everywhere, and something hard hit her on the shoulder, and then suddenly four powerful dragon legs were clutching her to a familiar scaly body. Isaac’s wings closed around her. “I don’t know if I protect you from them or from Rivka,” he muttered. “That was too dangerous. I don’t need scares like that when I’m this tired. I can hardly fly, or I’d got you in there myself.”

“I’m so sorry!” Shulamit breathed heavily, leaning against his underbelly. “I guess we should have sent you in there as a lizard or something.”

“Too late now.”

“What’s going on out there?”

“My wife tries to fight off a dozen angry farmers with one sword,” said Isaac dryly. He opened his wings slightly for a moment to let Aviva slide inside. “In the rain.”

“I’m sorry...” Shulamit continued to murmur over and over.

Aviva held her against her bosom, and Shulamit knew the gesture was intended to help her calm down. “Not being able to see is making this worse.”

“I have to protect you two. Otherwise I’d be over there helping her.”

“Can’t we peep through your wings?”

“If you can...” He shifted slightly.

In the silver of predawn, Rivka battled off the farmers’ assault as rain continued to pelt the vineyard. Gusts of wind pushed the rain sideways, and her hair swirled behind her in sodden gold whips. “She really looks like she’s working hard, not just fighting those men, but also advancing into the wind,” Shulamit observed.

“Yes, she works hard,” Isaac agreed, “but to face the wind actually helps her because -- look -- her hair is blown behind her, out of her eyes, so she can see her way clear. Imagine having all that mess fly around your face while you try to swordfight.”

“They’re coming this way!” Shula grabbed on to Aviva and pressed them both closer to Isaac’s torso as three or four of the farmers broke away from the skirmish and ran toward them, poles held high. Isaac continued to keep his wings closed tightly around them like a sleeping bat, only right-side up, but he twisted his neck this way and that so he could snap his great jaws at them, roaring. It was a great, deep sound that Shulamit felt as much as heard, shaking her in her bones, but in a comforting way.

Unfortunately, with his wings closed in front of him, Isaac couldn’t shoot the buzzing, whirling whips of light out of his fingertips that the queen had seen him use in battle and in sparring-play with Rivka.

Shulamit could tell from watching her that it was taking all of Rivka’s concentration to not only fight off the farmers’ poles and rakes, but also do so in a way that left none of them permanently maimed. She was concentrating on destroying the weapons, but even that worried Shulamit. She tried to keep tally of how many poles wound up scraped beyond repair so she could pay Aafsaneh once they finally managed to find her -- if they found her. Oh, God.

And Rivka was still taking a beating. She was just ignoring it, and fought onward. But between her efforts and Isaac’s mouthful of sharp teeth, Queen Shulamit and her sweetheart remained on Aafsaneh’s grounds, and were not driven away. The sun arose, and as its pink-and-yellow glow flooded the sky, Shulamit saw a woman walking with stately carriage down the path from the great house on the hill.