Page 18 of Sapphire Spring

“Sorry. You’re just small, I guess. How old are you?”

“There’s an age requirement for fortune-telling?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hold out your hand.”

Naser complied, expecting her to pretend to read his palm.Meanwhile, he extended both feet underneath the table in search of contraband,and sure enough, the toes of his dress shoes collided with something hard.Something that clinked. Something that sounded like glass bottles.

“Where’s your ticket?” the woman said.

“I need a ticket for fortune-telling?”

“Honestly. Like I need this tonight. This costume makes mesmell like afucking chemicalfire.”

“You’re a very profane fortune-teller, you know that?”

“Report me to the fortune-tellers’ board. Red or white?”

“I knew it!”

“Easy on the shouting. I just work here.”

“Youdon’twork here, and that’s the problembecause you’re not a fortune-teller”—Naser bent to one side and flipped up thetablecloth, revealing a case of red and white wine bottles and stacks of wineglasses exactly like the ones used by the hotel’s catering department—“you’re a bartender! From an outside vendor!”

“Try answered an ad on Craigslist and found out about thisstupid costume when I showed up. All I do is pour, all right?Sowhat is it, little man? Red or white?”

Thrilled to have finally uncovered his sister’s grand deception,Naser sprung to his feet. That’s when a gown slapped him in the face. At first,he assumed Pari had witnessed his detective work and was now determined to beathim to death with one of the display dresses that had yet to make anappearance. But when he stumbled backward, he saw the fabric that had smackedhim was still spinning through the air. Not spinning. Whirling. Because itbelonged to one of several whirling dervishes who’d just erupted into theirdance on different parts of the pool deck. A light smattering of applause brokeout, and then some of it continued as folks clapped along to the beat of themusic. The dervishes didn’t wear the unadorned robes of their Zoroastrianforebears, but their movements were beautifully coordinated. As they all startedtwirling in the same direction, the guests parted around them. After a minuteor two, they’d converged at the end of the massive swimming pool furthest fromthe hotel.

They weren’t just a performance piece, Naser realized, theywere crowd control.

Jonas appeared next to him.

“Who’s going to tell her whirling dervishes were aboutreaching a mystical state where you renounced worldly possessions? Their gownsare almost always monochromatic. These guys look like flying color wheels.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Jonas said.

“Not a chance. She’s thequeenof Persian culture.”

“You’ll find a way to slip it in, I’m sure,” Jonas said.“More importantly, while perhaps a bit dangerous given the crowd size, whirlingdervishes are not, technically, a violation of her contract.”

“But the fortune-tellers are,” Naser growled.

After he explained the deviousplothis sister had concocted using smuggled liquor and drink cards, Jonas nodded.“Wow. Your sister’s good.”

“Traitor.”

“Hush, now. The show’s starting.”

A spotlight shot down out of the heavens, illuminating thedervishes’ real accomplishment—they’d cleared a stage area where the entireparty could see it. As for the spotlight, Naser looked to the roof of thehotel’s lobby and saw two dark shadows crouching on either side of the blindingwhite blaze.

The crowd erupted in more cheers. Naser looked in thedirection heads were turning and saw something emerging from the entrance toCamilla’s he didn’t have a name for yet. It was terrifyingly tall, and therewas something very large and shiny on top of it. As the stilt walker passedthem, Naser realized the giant shiny crown rising from the person’s head wasactually achandelier.

“Maybe that’s why she wanted a tent,” Jonas said, “so shecould hang chandeliers.”

“Soshe put them on stilt walkersinstead.”

“Like I said, your sister’s good.”

“And like I said, you’re a traitor.”

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