The Serpent's Veil

Empty Gardens

Khaya tapped her quill on the blank page, blotting ink everywhere. Only a week was left for Ibn Fakrid's deadline, and she was no closer to finding the flowers than when she returned from his den. Parviz knew nothing of the palace gardens, and Meia could not tell her anything even if she knew.

The ink was beginning to bleed. She capped the quill and ripped the ruined sheet out of her book.

It was time for a trip to the library.

By now the doormen had learned her face, and did not bat an eyelid when she greeted them. The clerk on duty was a youngster, hardly fifteen years old, but he was alert despite the slowness of the afternoon.

"Welcome, sahiba," he said softly but audibly, "how can I assist you?"

"I need to see a map of the palace."

The clerk nodded and hurried into the maze of shelves. Within five minutes he returned with an armful of rolled sheets. Khaya took them carefully and thanked the boy before heading off to a quiet alcove to peruse them.

When she opened the first one she was met with disappointment. It was a rendition of the palace from a bird's eye view, but offered no insight into the intricacies of the wings, halls, or more importantly, the gardens. Khaya went to the next one and was dismayed once again. This one had a floor plan but it was very rudimentary, only annotating the main wings, halls and entrances. Khaya gave the others a cursory glance before rolling them up again and returning them to the clerk. None of them were fit for her purpose.

"I need a bigger map, one which shows the palace gardens."

The boy pressed his lips together. "Hm, I think you should speak to the cartographers, we don't have many specialized maps here."

He directed her to a narrow hallway which led to a smaller, darker wing of the library. Dry, cracked parchment was stacked high on every shelf, soaking up moisture like the desert drinking rain. A few old men were stooped over their desks in deep concentration, holding strange pieces of glass which magnified the words on the sheet.

Khaya sucked in breath of dry air. These were the men who travelled far and wide to make sense of and document the world. The deserts, the cities, the nameless villages like her own. They would have seen more in five years than Khaya would in her whole lifetime.

"Sahib," she said, and tapped one of the men on the shoulder.

He looked up at her with listless eyes, and she saw that he was younger than she thought, merely tanned and weathered and tired.

"Yes, what do you want?" He spared no time for formalities, which was refreshing.

"I require a detailed map of the palace."

He grumbled and stood up, shuffling some papers on his desk before leading her into the shelves.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

She trailed behind him. "I just want to see where the gardens are, sahib."

He stopped in his tracks and looked down his nose at her. After a while he shook his head. "Nobles," he muttered.

They stopped at a shelf that was no different to the rest, where the cartographer carefully scanned the labels before opening one of the narrow drawers near the bottom. He pulled out a tightly rolled sheet which was almost as long as Khaya was tall, and led her back to the desks.

He unrolled the sheet with precise movements and care. It was clearly a trained art, handling such delicately preserved items.

Khaya couldn't stop her eyes from widening. If she had thought the other maps beautiful, then this was exquisite. It was incredibly detailed and yet neat, with ample space for labels and drawings to sit side by side in harmony. Parts of it were coloured, including red labels for the royal family's wing, orange squares by the stables, and green patches for the gardens.