Salt & Spice

Chapter 15

"I lost five cricket balls on the roof. They're fifteen rupees each. That's seventy-five rupees!" Ismael was bent over a slate, diligently writing with a piece of chalk as he explained his rationale.

"You still can't go climbing on people's roofs without permission. You nearly scared Bilqis to death." Nassir tapped the slate in Ismael's hand. "There's an alif in my name. Try again."

Honor peeked at the slate. The top line was crossed out and Ismael was creating a new, swooping line. The squiggles and dots were meaningless and all looked the same to Honor's eyes.

"I'm teaching Ismael to write," Nassir said when he noticed her looking. "I went to school when I was little, back when we had more money. I know the basics."

An idea rooted in Honor's mind. She pulled the slate and chalk from Ismael's hands. With a few quick movements she outlined one of the Sea People. It was not a skilled sketch, but the finned tail was unmistakable. Unlike the fair poster, she omitted the long hair. Ridiculous and impractical. Nothing under the sea had hair.

When she finished she held it up for Nassir and Ismael. They looked confused.

"You really like mermaids," Ismael said. Honor sighed and shook her head, then flipped the slate back around. In a moment she presented it again. This time she added an arrow pointing from the mermaid to a stick figure of a human.

"We already went to see the mermaid," Nassir spoke slowly, as if he thought Honor couldn't understand. Were they dumb? The arrow would be pointing the other way if she wanted the people to go see the mermaid.

Taking a slightly different approach, she pointed to the drawing of the mermaid.

"It's a mermaid. We understand that part." Nassir was still giving her the idiot treatment. Honor considered cracking him over the head with the slate, but instead pointed to herself.

"I told you earlier, you would need to go to a city if you want to see a real one, or maybe get very lucky out at sea." Nassir just sounded annoyed now. A growl rumbled low in Honor's throat. Ismael hissed back at her.

Nosheen came in from the other room just in time to see this exchange. She sighed and smoothed back the hair that had escaped from her salt and pepper braid.

"Go out and play, Ismael," she sighed. As if he was afraid Nosheen would change her mind, he quickly scurried out the door. With a glance at Honor and a smile the flashed his dimples, Nassir followed.

Something was amiss. It wasn't so unusual for Nassir to go out after dinner. He worked odd jobs and didn't have set hours, but Nosheen rarely let Ismael out in the dark. Nosheen motioned for Honor to sit at the table.

"This is hard." Nosheen stared at the slate drawings, which Ismael had smudged when he put it down. "You've probably noticed that we don't have much money. We live simply, and usually we're fine, but money is tight. We can't afford for you to stay with us."

None of this had occurred to Honor. Such a thing as too little money to live was possible? Shame grew in her belly at her thoughtlessness.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Nosheen raised a hand, as if to stop the guilt Honor couldn't express. "You still don't know how to get back where you came from?" Honor shook her head. "Shakeel made an offer today. He thinks his family can offer you a job.

"His family owns most of the village. They've made even more money from trading overseas, but that's a competitive business. Everyone wants to make money sending silks and spices overseas." Nosheen shook her head, as though she she found this silly. "And that's where Shakeel sees a use for you. Servants know everything that happens in a house, and they gossip. A servant who can't speak or write is very attractive in their business.