Azahl’s steps slowed as he approached the low cave mouth. The gold coin clutched in his sweaty hand was far too little; he knew that already.
Can snakes smell gold?
He bobbed his head respectfully to the guards, impassive under the relentless orange sun, but his eyes were fixed on the abandoned basket just to the right of the entrance. The charmer was missing, and without the flute or humming or plucked lira or whatever music the man used, the snake inside would be restless. Unless it wasn’t in the basket.
Zahl couldn’t stop the fearful jolt in his legs that broke his stride for a moment, and his treacherous eyes slid up towards the carvings above the entrance before he could duck his head low enough that all he could see was the dust already thick on his new shoes.
There was the faintest of noises above him as he passed under the arch, and Zahl had to empty his mind to avoid interpreting anything except the lush, red carpet where he regretfully left his dusty shoes, worn only once before. Continuing barefoot through the cave, Zahl carefully did not notice the uneven ceiling grazing his bent head, nor the hundreds of gilded grates along the low walls.
Then he was in the first chamber, and a middle-aged man held out to him a large wicker basket. Zahl reached with his right hand and the man lifted off the lid. Put the coin in now and lose before he started? Everything in him was warning of a quick death, but the boy closed his eyes to slits and whispered:
“Jewel of the desert, king of paradises, holder of life power, thy command directs me…”
And he trailed off, hope and fear viscous in his throat.
Can snakes smell compliments?
What compliment could rival the gold coin, thick and shiny, here in his palm? No one in his right mind would enter here without the needed gifts. But Zahl had come partway between lordliness and begging, and each of the single coin’s possibilities were desperate. A hiss would decide his fate.
Passs.
Zahl couldn’t tell whether the sound came from the basket or from the man holding it, but he bowed his head briefly and shuffled on.
He was too young to be looking for work as a charmer, too poor to be buying a snake of his own. A servant, his brother-in-law had said. Wear your good shoes.
Snobbish, for a rich master. Humble, to the seller’s men.
The coin was too little. Six months of charmer’s pay, tossed back into the lap of…the Snake Seller.
Azahl’s head scraped the cave roof, and he stooped, then crawled. You were meant to crawl, so that the first you saw of the snake seller was his snake-skin shoes. Zahl’s stomach turned. Those shoes could be made from his brother-in-law’s snake. No one lived, they said, who parted paths from the seller. Not the snakes, not even the men themselves, they whispered. And hushed the whispers into silence when they saw Zahl’s brother-in-law.
Zahl’s knees refused to move. The hiss around him – air, just air – asked him why he tried. Mistakesss.
Mistake for Jade’s husband to fake his death. Mistake for him to flee the city alone, kind though their neighbors were. Mistake for Jade to return to collect a few belongings.
They had taken his sister and the snake, Zila, in the same breath.
Mistake for Zahl to name a snake that would never again rise, swaying gracefully, in one of Jade’s baskets, nor twine her cold body around Zahl’s forearm, tongue flicking.
Mistakes.
The man who did not make mistakes was ahead of him.
Can snakes smell evil?
“Approach, boy.” The faintly amused voice was not raspy or sibilant like he’d expected. How did a man so ordinary hold so much power?
Zahl crawled forward, slowly, forcing his thoughts away from the coiled bodies resting around him.
“Snake Seller.” He kept his eyes trained on the floor, stretched out his s’s to emphasize the respect he meant to show. “My master seeks a snake.”
The pause was almost too long; Zahl leaned onto the curled hand holding the coin so that the pain would focus him. He tried to babble.
“He said it must be a beautiful snake, with a vibrant color. And not too young, and well-trained, he said.” He risked a glance toward the snake seller’s face to see if the story had caught.
He must try everything now. If he failed…there would be no second chance.
Can snakes smell death?
The boy crawled forward on his elbows. The coin made a heavy chink when he set it down by the snake seller’s slippered foot.
“A gesture of good-will, Snake Seller.” He hesitated. “My master said I must make certain it’s beautiful, and well-trained.” He lowered his voice, not sure how far the tale could stretch. “Or he’ll take the difference from my own pocket.”
Zahl did not dare lift his eyes, but the snake seller must have made a gesture because a door to the left opened and girls began to walk through. Or no, mostly women, because Zahl’s ‘master’ wanted a snake not too young, and well-trained.
Zahl rose to his knees, his curiosity unfeigned.
“Perhaps he would like a yellow one,” he whispered to himself carefully.
The snake seller laughed sneeringly.
“Foolish child. The best snakes are green, emerald green, like a flower’s cushion or a polished jewel.”
Best and most expensive. Zahl’s palm felt empty without the coin he’d clasped so tightly.
Where would they go? Where could they hide that he would not find them and exact an unimaginable revenge?
Can snakes smell fear?
Zahl shuffled closer to the nearest girl. She held her charge calmly for his inspection, but her jaw was clenched.
Caretakers were sold with their snakes. What did laws matter in the realm of snakes? This was the Seller’s kingdom.
None of the snakes were of the best strains; their colors lacked vibrancy and their patterned bodies looked limp and thin.
Zahl turned back to the seller, this time raising his eyes to the man’s chest. He was wearing six chains, mostly gold…Zahl dragged his mind away from the curved pendants.
“Snake Seller…” He’d thought to snivel, even cry, but immediately he knew that wouldn’t work. “My master won’t be happy if I come back without the perfect…one.” He allowed the catch in his voice, showing part of his fear and uncertainty.
Trade was an odd thing, part living creature and part mapped land. The seller waved his hand.
Zahl dropped his eyes to the floor and watched the bare feet padding evenly out. More entered.
There was no gasp, no stifled cry. Zahl lifted his head, but there was Jade. Her face was so normal that Zahl’s eyes easily moved to the next woman, and the next, but his heart was pounding. He’d pictured her…trapped. And she was. But she was still herself, and without being able to describe her face it was so familiar to him that he knew it in all its possibilities, from scolding when he’d fed Zila an extra meal, to joyous when birds called overhead, to mournful when she’d let the fire go out again.
Almost as familiar was Zila, her fern-colored scales winking in the light as she curled around Jade’s neck…alive.
The Snake Seller knew. He somehow knew. Zahl had failed before he’d started…
His heart was thumping hard enough to hear.
One snake was a firm yellow, beautiful in a cold way. Its pale brown eyes fixed on Zahl when he worked his way over, still on his knees. A pink tongue flicked.
Zahl pretended to examine the snake, but he saw only a blur. There were two emerald-green snakes somewhere to his left. How to convince the Seller…? He couldn’t give up, but the hopelessness of knowing the snake he ought to pick was not the one he would, and that it wouldn’t work, any of it, and they would all be killed or worse, and the wagon waiting outside the city would wait until the man inside was killed, too — a movement behind him knocked his thoughts out of the spiral making him tremble.
“This one is very good,” Zahl whispered doubtfully. “But perhaps he would like green best.”
He turned then, and his heart sank.
The Snake Seller gave him a flat smile, not bothering to hide his impatience.
“Green is best, boy,” he said. He gestured to the snake he’d just placed over Jade’s arm.
There was an awful feeling rising in the pit of Zahl’s stomach, the more acidic for lacking doubt. He made his way over to Jade, examined the snake. It was beautiful, a silver pattern decorating its back.
Mistake. All mistakes up to now, the Seller knowing everything beforehand, and sealed soon with a mistake that he would make, would make a hundred times over until the bite in his gut ate right through his heart.
The boy lurched on. Paused by a pale green snake. Then by Zila. Her black eyes called to him.
Azahl put out one finger and touched it to the top of her head. So many mistakes. Where were the smooth paths, the happy ending? He could not see the way, and it was too late. So many mistakes. So much love.
The moment dragged out forever as he lifted his finger from her head, the feel of her scales clinging to his skin.
The other emerald-green snake. It was smaller, younger, so that much was easy. Easy?
Zahl felt like he moved through thick liquid; he almost fell forward when the air provided little resistance.
He moved back and forth between the two emerald-green snakes, trying to keep his pace measured and worried, but the hot tears were rising to his eyes now. He blinked hard and squinted to cover it.
The Snake Seller’s snakeskin slippers tapped impatiently.
“He wanted older,” Zahl murmured. He paused in front of Jade. Her long hair partly covered her face, hiding her expression. Good, Zahl noted distantly.
“Is this one well trained?” The boy lifted his face to the snake seller, the real need for the answer adding exigency to his voice.
“Yes, yes, well-trained,” the Seller scowled. His impatience was obvious now, and Zahl quickly looked at the floor.
“Then…I’ll take this one. How much?”
“Sixteen gold, to be delivered within the hour, or I’ll have more from you than your pocket-lining, boy.” His voice grated on Zahl’s ears, but new urgency overrode his limbs. One hour.
He ducked his head, letting the threat take hold.
“Yes, Snake Seller. I understand. Within the hour.”
Without looking behind him, he dropped to the ground and crawled his way back through the tunnel. Don’t think. Don’t look. Move.
Rustling behind him reassured him that Jade followed, with the beautiful, wrong, emerald-green snake on her shoulders.
They were out in the antechamber, the man holding out the wicker basket to Zahl. He raised his hand over it, opened his mouth, but suddenly the heavy ache burned in the top of his chest and his throat, and nothing came out.
A moment of silence, and then a sound came from the basket: Passs.
He lowered his hand and hurried on, but not through the main entrance, where his new shoes lay. He had no regret left for them. The fissure in the rock was a narrow fit at the end, Jade wincing as the rough walls scraped her skin, but then they were out in the city. Zahl grabbed Jade’s arm, pulling her through the crowds, but the people around them melted out of their way, letting them run.
The city gates were in front of them, then behind, and then they were at the already-moving wagon, a pair of strong hands swinging up first Zahl and then Jade.
A jolt sent them tumbling to the wagon bed, Jade both laughing and crying and her husband straining her close, his lips pressed to her head.
Zahl lifted the emerald-green snake and lowered it into the waiting basket, and then he began to weep. Jade put out an arm for him, his brother-in-law too, and he hugged them tightly, tears running down his face. All their faces.
He had made the right choice, he knew it as fiercely as he felt the pain of it, but now the Snake Seller had Zila and Zahl would never see her again.
The Snake Seller, who knew so little of value that he weighed a sister and wife against a livelihood. His mistake.
Precious Zila. Azahl’s mistake.
Zila.
His shaking hand over the basket, the heartache smothering the compliment he’d meant to pay…
Can snakes smell love?