The Sultan's seal

48

The moon appeared in our square of sky, bleaching us of color.

Mary turned her head to me. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I wouldn’t have lasted here without you.” She moved her face forward and kissed me chastely on the lips.

I squeezed her hand. She lay with her head flung back, letting the moonlight seep into her eyes. I heard the chortling of the kettle boiling on the coals.

After a long while, she whispered, “Do you remember the sugared almonds?”

I didn’t. “Yes, of course.”

“And the time we caught a fish in here.”

“You caught it with your hands.”

“It was weak and tired. Who knows how long it had been trying to get out.”

“It’s cruel to have a net around the pool.”

“Are they afraid the women will escape?” she asked, laughing at her own wit.

“I think rather it’s to keep the men from looking in.”

“Men will get in anyway,” she said with a resigned certainty.

I leaned on my elbow and looked at her. Her hair was white. I let it flow through my hand.

“Together we’re safe,” I assured her.

She turned to me, surprised. The blue of her eyes came back into focus.

“Will you come?” she asked hesitantly.

I nodded yes and let my head rest beside hers, our eyes on the heavens. The moon had become a small, hard disk the color of alloyed gold. A wild dog barked nearby.

Violet put a glass of tea beside Mary and handed another to me, then withdrew into the shadows of her cubicle. I could see only the red eyes of the charcoal peering out of the brazier below the steaming pots.