Zulaykha was locked in the old windowless room of the water-masters.
Not in a dungeon: Yusuf was too clever to treat her like an ordinary criminal. Zulaykha was confined where measuring bowls, dried cords, broken sluices and tablets bearing the names of masters had once been kept. Everything around her recalled the work of a water-master, but she no longer had the right to command the water.
Two guards stood outside the door.
One said to the other:
"The house of al-Mairi is closed until judgement at the fountain."
The guards repeated Yusuf's order as though it were law.
Zulaykha sat on the floor, rubbing the palm that still bore the mark of the full seal.
Old tablets hung on the wall before her. One bore the name of a master who had died before she was born. Another bore the name of a woman remembered only in whispers in Khalid's house: she had once opened the water to a quarter without the emir's seal, then proved at the fountain that thirst did not ask a scribe's permission.
Zulaykha ran a finger through the dust.
Among the tablets she searched for the name of a master who had found himself in this position before. But the inscriptions gave no clue how to regain the seal, save Íñigo and keep the water from Yusuf.
Khalid had been taken away after Zulaykha refused to open the flow towards the ditch. No one told her where. Íñigo was to be led out to the northern gate before midday. Nura and Elias had vanished from the corridors. Fatima was probably counting again how many children could be saved if she chose the right side.
At one point she heard a rustle beneath the door.
Zulaykha bent down.
A waxed thread rolled through the gap. Tied to it was a small shard from a sabil bowl. Three words had been scratched on the shard in charcoal:
"She is seeking us."
Zulaykha pressed the shard to her lips.
Rafiq.
Outside the door, a guard asked:
"What was that?"
"A rat," the other replied.
Zulaykha almost smiled.
The waxed thread was not wet, but a white arc of salt showed on it. So Rafiq had found it by the sabil and laid it across the small drain, where water was already seeping through.
She is seeking us.
Zulaykha rose and walked along the walls. The old rooms of the water-masters always had listening slits. She ran her fingers over the stone, counting the joints: seven, then three, and one more narrow stone at floor level. Behind it was a channel for smoke and voices.
"Rafiq," she whispered into the slit.
The answer did not come at once.
"I am here."
The boy's voice was thin, but alive.
"Where is Nura?"
"At the hammam. The guards think she is making a fuss about the cold furnace."
"Elias?"
"With the sick. Fatima gave them coverings."
Zulaykha closed her eyes.
So Fatima had decided after all to save the children instead of defending either side.
"Khalid?"
A pause.
"They moved him to the old counting niche beneath the garden. Nura says there is a listening passage there. He is alive."
"Íñigo?"
Another pause.
"At the northern gate. They will take him away before midday."
Zulaykha's throat tightened at the thought of the appointed hour.
She looked again at the waxed thread. If the water had left salt on the wax, the pressure of the Spring had already forced it as far as the small drain by the sabil. Yet the main flow towards the ditch had not begun.
They did not yet know the fourth line, but the thread had shown her that the water could be released through the small drains.
"Listen," Zulaykha said into the slit. "Tell Nura to put out the furnace in the hammam and prepare to move the sick. Tell Elias to carry those who cannot walk. Tell Fatima to provide coverings and shield us with her name, if she wants to save the children."
"And me?"
She clenched the shard.
"Open the boys' drain by the sabil. Only three fingers. If the water comes harder, close it with a stone, not your hand."
Rafiq was silent.
"Am I a witness?" he asked at last.
"No," Zulaykha said. "You are the master while I am locked away."
Something struck the stone softly beyond the wall. Perhaps the boy had pressed his forehead to the joint.
"I am afraid," Rafiq said.
For a moment Zulaykha could find no words. All day the adults had spoken of laws, surrender, keys, judgements and mercy, but not one of them had admitted to fear so plainly.
"So am I."
"Are masters afraid?"
"Good ones are. Bad ones are only afraid of losing power."
Rafiq drew breath too loudly.
"What if I make a mistake?"
"Then close the drain with a stone and call Nura. Do not try to be a hero. After every turn, check whether the pressure has risen."
He was silent a little longer.
"And Íñigo?"
Zulaykha looked at the door. Beyond it she could already hear the footsteps of men preparing to take Íñigo to the northern gate.
"We cannot save him by force in time," she said. "So we must make it impossible to kill him without witnesses."
She put her mouth closer to the slit.
"And tell Nura not to open the door. Behind the measuring bowls there should be a low passage for smoke and voices. Tell them to look where the stone smells of wet salt."
Rafiq slipped away with the silence known only to children accustomed to passing adults unseen.
For the first time that day, Zulaykha drew a full breath.
She had no seal.
But the seal was not the only way to answer for the water.
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