Free A Thousand Nights by E. K. Johnston

garner me the conversation I required. I wished to ask about the power of smallgods, if any knew how far their power reached. I knew the Priests’ answer already, because I had had it from
my mother, but now I wanted another opinion.
    When my hair was done to satisfaction, the women brought me fruit to eat, and took some time to rest before the final steps of my decoration. I learned how to sit with the mass of coiled braids
upon my head, and how to handle a cup without ruining the tattoos on my fingers and wrists. The henna mistress watched me closely, and then nodded her approval.
    “Do not worry overmuch about courtly manners tonight, lady-bless,” she said, her voice low and close to my ear. “It will be torchlight only, and standing to eat. With luck, all
eyes will be upon the stars.”
    “With luck,” I said, and smiled. She smiled back, uncertainly at first, but then a true smile when she saw that I was not afraid.
    At last it grew dark, and it was time to dress for dinner. The dressing mistress cut me out of the shift I wore, because they could not pull it over my head. A new one was brought, with lacing
in the back, and they tied me into it.
    “This is a dishdashah for standing,” the dressing mistress said to me. “You must not sit unless one of your own attendants is close by to help you stand again. It will not fall
apart while you stand, but if you bend, you will loosen the fastenings, and then they will not hold when you move again.”
    They brought out the garment. I could not keep the surprise from my face. The light cast by the oil lamps flickered, but shone brighter than the tallow candles we used in the tents. It was not
murky or dim, because the tiles in the bathing rooms reflected the light cast by the lamps, and magnified it so that it was as bright as it had been during the day. There was no mistaking what I
saw, though I blinked several times to make sure I had not strayed into a vision.
    The fabric was as orange as fire, and woven through with gold so that it, like the tiles, glimmered in the lamplight. The heavy silk whispered as the dressing mistress wrapped it around me,
stopping now and then to do the fastenings while her assistants held the cloth in place. Even the pattern in the warp matched the vision I had seen.
    “It was made especially for your coloring, lady-bless,” the dressing mistress said. She had clearly mistaken the cause of my awe. “We had not heard about the gold thread,
though. That was a surprise to all.”
    “Indeed,” I said, carefully running one finger across the fabric. It rippled, variations in color running over the top of it like wispy clouds through a hot summer sky, but much more
brilliant to look at.
    “You will even stand out in the dark,” said the henna mistress. “Perhaps some eyes will stray from the stars after all.”
    I stood quietly as they finished, their excitement about the dishdashah quelling the last of their fears that I would die tonight. I no longer had that fear either, but a new one was growing in
its place. I still wished to speak to a Skeptic, but now I would have to be even more careful about what I said. I had never heard of a person who dreamed the future while they still lived.
Sometimes a smallgod gave guidance, but it was always vague. My vision had been strikingly specific. I closed my eyes, and once again reached for that blue sky desert, as I had so many times before
I had come to this place. It came as soon as I bade it, but it was different this time than it had been before.
    The sky was still a brilliant blue, and the sand a smooth brown, but it was no longer unadorned. I could see, as I had never seen before, how the sky was woven together, how the sand was made a
part of the pattern, and how the two pieces were joined at the hem along the far horizon. My heart sped up, and I thought at first that I was afraid; but then I opened my eyes, and I saw how the
women looked at me, like I was a queen in truth,