Toads and Diamonds by Heather Tomlinson
Authors: Heather Tomlinson
Tags: Fiction, General, People & Places, Asia, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Love & Romance, Siblings, Fairy Tales & Folklore, Fairy Tales; Folklore & Mythology, India, Blessing and Cursing, Fairy Tales, Stepfamilies, Fairy Tales & Folklore - General, People & Places - Asia, Stepsisters, India - History
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"You'd both better be going," her mother said with a sigh. "We'll send Indu to the temple grove with news of Diribani. The moment we know."
Tana nodded, her throat tight. She folded her hands to Gulrang.
Before the girl could leave them, Ma Hiral fumbled at her waistband, then pressed something small into Gulrang's hand. "For your voyage home," she said. "No, no. You take it. We'll be fine."
"Thank you." Gulrang bowed and walked away without a backward glance.
Tana hugged her mother fiercely.
"May blessed Khochari keep you safe between her palms until her will brings us together again." Ma Hiral dashed tears from her eyes. "What am I saying? The grove's not so far that these feet can't make the journey. We'll be together very soon, I'm sure." She led the way to the gate. "Don't forget your clothes or bedroll, daughter."
Tana hugged her mother, then picked up her belongings and waved to the neighbor. "Good-bye, Nama-ji."
"Safe travels, Tana." The gray-haired woman leaned out from her window and peered into the courtyard with professional interest. "That's a new ratter, isn't it? Eyo, grandson!" she called into the house. "Go down and open the gate for Hiral-ji, please. And collect that house naga, Indu. Your auntie was saying just the other day..."
With a final embrace, Tana left her mother at the neighbors' house and strode down the street. At any moment, she imagined fingers would point and voices shout "Impostor!" Maybe the jealous white-coat god would strike her for disguising herself as a Believer.
97
But no one seemed to take particular notice of her. A pushcart vendor spat at her feet; another berated her for blocking his way. At the next intersection, she didn't hesitate but turned east, toward Cow Gate, instead of south, to Horse Gate and the road to the temple grove.
Not wanting to argue and spoil their newfound harmony, Tana had let her mother think she would seek safety immediately with the priests and priestesses. In truth, she had no intention of leaving Gurath until she knew what had happened to her sister. Prince Zahid had promised to treat Diribani with honor. If he had failed that trust, he would answer for it.
98
***
CHAPTER ELEVEN Diribani
GURATH looked smaller, seen from atop an elephant.
A little shaky still, but clean, fed, and dressed in borrowed finery, Diribani knelt in a corner of the howdah's curtained platform, among a group of older women. She lifted the gauze drapery just enough to peek out, hoping to distract her thoughts from what had almost happened back in the garden. And what had happened: a man's death. And its aftermath, upsetting in a different way, given Zahid's fury, Alwar's excuses, and Ruqayya's cool voice insisting that the regrettable incident not delay their departure. Diribani had searched her soul: Could she have done anything to prevent the man's death? She didn't think so, but the violence weighed on her.
She tightened her hold on the waist-high railing and forced her attention to the scene below. The fort receded, the ladies' quarter invisible beyond tall walls, the cannons so many dark twigs poking out of stone parapets. Gurath's customs house, marketplace, and warehouses, the oceangoing ships with their tall masts...all
99
dwindled. The twisted length of the river San shone a dull green, like a basking snake.
Tana. Where was she, this sunny afternoon? In the short time they'd been parted, Diribani had stored up a hundred things to share with her sister. As the royal procession wound through the merchant quarter, Diribani searched the crowd of upturned faces. From up here, the people looked tiny, their cheers and shouts rising from little puppet throats. She couldn't distinguish her home from the anonymous-walls facing the street. That tall pinkfruit tree might be the one growing in Trader Nikhat's courtyard, but it was gone in a roll of the elephant's broad shoulders.
The platform's motion, rising up and down, then tilting from side to side like the deck
Tana nodded, her throat tight. She folded her hands to Gulrang.
Before the girl could leave them, Ma Hiral fumbled at her waistband, then pressed something small into Gulrang's hand. "For your voyage home," she said. "No, no. You take it. We'll be fine."
"Thank you." Gulrang bowed and walked away without a backward glance.
Tana hugged her mother fiercely.
"May blessed Khochari keep you safe between her palms until her will brings us together again." Ma Hiral dashed tears from her eyes. "What am I saying? The grove's not so far that these feet can't make the journey. We'll be together very soon, I'm sure." She led the way to the gate. "Don't forget your clothes or bedroll, daughter."
Tana hugged her mother, then picked up her belongings and waved to the neighbor. "Good-bye, Nama-ji."
"Safe travels, Tana." The gray-haired woman leaned out from her window and peered into the courtyard with professional interest. "That's a new ratter, isn't it? Eyo, grandson!" she called into the house. "Go down and open the gate for Hiral-ji, please. And collect that house naga, Indu. Your auntie was saying just the other day..."
With a final embrace, Tana left her mother at the neighbors' house and strode down the street. At any moment, she imagined fingers would point and voices shout "Impostor!" Maybe the jealous white-coat god would strike her for disguising herself as a Believer.
97
But no one seemed to take particular notice of her. A pushcart vendor spat at her feet; another berated her for blocking his way. At the next intersection, she didn't hesitate but turned east, toward Cow Gate, instead of south, to Horse Gate and the road to the temple grove.
Not wanting to argue and spoil their newfound harmony, Tana had let her mother think she would seek safety immediately with the priests and priestesses. In truth, she had no intention of leaving Gurath until she knew what had happened to her sister. Prince Zahid had promised to treat Diribani with honor. If he had failed that trust, he would answer for it.
98
***
CHAPTER ELEVEN Diribani
GURATH looked smaller, seen from atop an elephant.
A little shaky still, but clean, fed, and dressed in borrowed finery, Diribani knelt in a corner of the howdah's curtained platform, among a group of older women. She lifted the gauze drapery just enough to peek out, hoping to distract her thoughts from what had almost happened back in the garden. And what had happened: a man's death. And its aftermath, upsetting in a different way, given Zahid's fury, Alwar's excuses, and Ruqayya's cool voice insisting that the regrettable incident not delay their departure. Diribani had searched her soul: Could she have done anything to prevent the man's death? She didn't think so, but the violence weighed on her.
She tightened her hold on the waist-high railing and forced her attention to the scene below. The fort receded, the ladies' quarter invisible beyond tall walls, the cannons so many dark twigs poking out of stone parapets. Gurath's customs house, marketplace, and warehouses, the oceangoing ships with their tall masts...all
99
dwindled. The twisted length of the river San shone a dull green, like a basking snake.
Tana. Where was she, this sunny afternoon? In the short time they'd been parted, Diribani had stored up a hundred things to share with her sister. As the royal procession wound through the merchant quarter, Diribani searched the crowd of upturned faces. From up here, the people looked tiny, their cheers and shouts rising from little puppet throats. She couldn't distinguish her home from the anonymous-walls facing the street. That tall pinkfruit tree might be the one growing in Trader Nikhat's courtyard, but it was gone in a roll of the elephant's broad shoulders.
The platform's motion, rising up and down, then tilting from side to side like the deck
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