Chapter 10
Returning to camp later than anticipated after a frustrating and fruitless search for the bandits, it didn’t take Zafirah long to realize her Consort was missing. When a thorough search of the camp and its immediate surroundings failed to locate her, the first rising waves of panic coursed through Zafirah’s blood. Where could Dae have gone? Had she been injured? Bitten by an asp? Wandered from camp and lost her way back in the deepening dark? Stricken, she turned to Falak and her scouts. “Spread out! Expand the search as far as you need to, but find her!”
It was full dark, however, and with the quarter-moon hidden by shifting cloud cover, visibility was poor. Even with the nomads aiding in the search, more than three hours passed before they returned with news. A visibly nervous Falak delivered their grim report. “Tracks—a man judging by the size and weight, heading east, away from the camp at speed.”
“She was taken?” Zafirah’s right hand reflexively closed over the pommel of her sword; her lips drew into a tight line. Incredulous rage swept aside fear in an instant. “Who? Who would DARE take her?”
Falak hesitated. “We cannot tell for certain. It appears whoever it was had a horse tethered nearby, out of sight from the camp. Perhaps…it could have been one of the renegade tribes…” She shrugged slightly and added, “We will be able to learn more in the daylight.”
“Renegades?” Zafirah paused, her anger fading as she mentally gnawed at the suggestion. “After the battle at the Ah’Raf Pass, why would the renegade tribes seek to incur my wrath? Your own scouts reported they are still licking their wounds. They have not the heart to instigate further conflict. You said the tracks head east?”
“Yes, Scion.”
“And they do not deviate?”
“My scout followed them a fair distance. They held the direction true.” Falak studied her as Zafirah processed the information. “Why? What are you thinking, Scion?”
“I am thinking if it had been renegades who abducted her, their tracks should inevitably veer south, back to the safety of their own territory. And why would they not take advantage of their success by slitting a few throats as they escaped? No…this feels like something else.” Zafirah paced back and forth in front of her head scout, mentally chasing an answer that seemed to dance just beyond her reach…just like those elusive, thieving bandits…
And suddenly, she caught it.
Clarity halted her pacing. “This was no abduction,” she said softly, almost to herself. “This was a rescue!”
“A rescue? But—”
Zafirah had already turned and was striding back to the horses, shouting orders at her men as she went. “Strike the camp! See the horses saddled and provisions stowed! We need to be moving before midnight!”
“Wh—” Falak raced to catch up with her. “My Scion, wait! What is happening?”
“It was her father!” Zafirah answered roughly. “Think, Falak! Those outlanders seeking aid…their tale of bandits who fled into the deep desert but were nowhere to be found. They were a diversion! A means to delay me from learning that Dae had been taken, to buy them time to get away! Do you not see how clever this was? How well executed?” Zafirah shook her head, marveling. “They timed their rescue perfectly, waiting until our supplies had run low so we could not mount an effective pursuit in force! Traveling through the night at a swift pace and under cloud cover means we will be unable to track them quickly.”
Falak listened, nodding her head slowly as she followed Zafirah’s reasoning. “Heading east…back to Dae’s homeland.”
“Precisely! Her father sent someone to find her…to save her from a life of slavery. They must have traced her path to the city, but knew they would have no chance to infiltrate the palace and so they waited…waited until we journeyed into the desert, where they could make their move.”
“But surely Dae would not have gone with this person willingly, would she?”
The question made Zafirah pause a moment. Dae loved her parents, she knew, and missed them a great deal. There had been no evidence of a struggle in their yurt, but still, she could not believe her beloved would do this, would abandon the love they shared to return to her homeland. “No. She would never have left without an explanation. Whoever came for her must have subdued her somehow. We need to move quickly now if we are to catch them.”
“But Scion—”
“If we ride hard there is a chance we can—”
Falak grabbed Zafirah’s arm and pulled her around to face her. “Zafirah, wait!”
Zafirah jerked away, glaring at her chief scout furiously. But Falak met her gaze without flinching. “Think! Heed your own words. We cannot charge blindly into the night, hoping to stumble across their path.”
“I will not let them escape!” Zafirah insisted, blinking back the hot moisture in her eyes.
Falak clasped her by the shoulders, held her steady. “I am sorry, Zafirah…but you are right. This plan was too clever.” She paused, and added with grim finality, “They have already escaped.”
Zafirah struggled to hold onto the fire of anger that propelled her, but felt it flicker and fade. “Then what would you have me do? I can not—I will not—lose her.”
“No. What you will do now is be smart, and follow the course that is best for your people…and for Dae. We must return to the city, gather fresh men and supplies, so we can then pursue them in strength.”
“But by then they will be far beyond the borders of the Jaharri!”
“With the head start they already have on us, I fear that can no longer be avoided.” Zafirah opened her mouth to argue and Falak quickly pressed on. “If this was a rescue and Dae’s father sent those men to save her, it means she is safe enough for the moment. If we pursue, they may take desperate action to avoid us and she could be hurt. But it also means we know their destination. If you intend to get your Consort back…then you will have to journey where they are taking her.”
“Invade the eastern kingdom?” Zafirah’s jaw dropped in shock at the suggestion. “Are you mad?”
“The only other choice would be to send an emissary to negotiate on your behalf—” Falak barely paused when her words were met with a derisive snort “—and I know you well enough to guess what you think of that idea. No, Zafirah…you would never entrust this task to another, and only with an army standing behind you will you be able to compel Dae’s father to release her.”
Zafirah paused a long moment, watching her soldiers methodically and quickly packing away their tents and mobilizing to move out. With as much calm as she could muster, she forced herself to consider Falak’s suggestion in a cold, tactical light.
Aside from a few sea-faring tribes, few Jaharri ever traveled beyond the desert’s borders—only a handful of ambassadors and the Guild of Traders ever had a reason. Zafirah could not anticipate what the response would be from the neighboring kingdom. Would King Gerald risk attacking before she could explain the incursion? Given the time it would take him to muster his troops, and the fact that his kingdom profited heavily from the treaties forged with the Jaharri people, she deemed it unlikely. She’d never met Gerald, but by reputation he was a cautious man who valued trade over conflict. So long as she did nothing openly hostile, it was possible she could lead a small army to her goal without endangering the Peace.
There would be risks, but still…. perhaps the idea was not as crazy as it seemed.
“Even at a hard pace, it will take at least four days to march back to El’Kasari,” she pointed out, “and longer to organize the troops and supplies we would need.”
“A single swift-rider can far outpace our larger force. Have Jestart send a man ahead to relay your orders,” Falak suggested. “By the time we arrive, the army will be assembled and ready to march. You can take the time to inform the council of what has happened and arrange for the High Priestess to take over the duties of rulership in your absence. It might also be helpful to bring Hazim; his skills in negotiation and familiarity with the kingdom could prove invaluable.”
“Hazim? He is a snake!”
Falak raised an eyebrow. “A snake who has never decapitated a foreign dignitary over an insult. Say what you will, but the man has a patience for dealing with outlanders and their ignorance which you never mastered.”
Zafirah scowled. Hazim was her wazir—a title that in ancient times had been used to denote an adviser or wise man, but now referred to her chief diplomat. Nearly three decades her senior, he had served her father faithfully through the years of his rule. Although he undeniably had his uses, Zafirah had always found Hazim's slick, guiled manner irritating. Nevertheless, given the mission she was undertaking, she was forced to admit his more delicate, political approach could be useful. “Fine. We will take him. But we begin the trek back to El’Kasari tonight, as soon as we are able.”
Falak opened her mouth, probably intending to suggest they wait until dawn, but closed it after a second. “Very well. I shall see the troops readied.”
“And Falak?”
“Yes, Scion?”
Zafirah smiled. “Thank you. You are a good friend.”
Falak gave Zafirah a sad smile and clasped her on the shoulder. “We will get her back. I promise.” A pause, and then she added, “After all the time you spent wooing her to your bed, it would be a tragedy to see your efforts wasted.”
Zafirah managed a shaky laugh and waved the scout away. “Go…see to the troops. I will speak with Jestart and have him prepare the swift-rider.”
Falak nodded, giving her arm a quick, comforting squeeze, then strode swiftly away. Zafirah went immediately to find Jestart, locating him easily in all the chaos by the sound of his booming voice. The tribal chief was apparently intent on organizing a pursuit of his own; Zafirah may have been angered at the theft of her Consort, but this stealthy incursion into the camp had driven the sheikh almost apoplectic with rage.
Calming him as quickly as she could, Zafirah called off his troops and explained what had happened, reassuring him that there was little he could have done to prevent Dae’s abduction, and that the honor of his tribe had not been tarnished. After giving him her orders and sending him off to ready the swift-rider, Zafirah found herself standing alone amid the bustling activity of the soldiers and nomads.
She took a deep, shaky breath, her body charged with adrenalin and chafing against the delay of striking the camp. The full weight of what had happened—the loss of her beloved Tahirah, the difficult path that lay ahead—settled over her like a cloak of lead. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. No, this had not been Jestart’s fault…but against her will, Zafirah felt her frustration and sorrow turn inward.
How could she have let this happen? She knew very well that Dae’s father was a man of means; why had she not anticipated that he would send his agents to save his precious daughter from the slavers who took her? She’d allowed the joy of their developing relationship to blind her to this possibility, and cursed herself for a fool. Running her fingers through her hair, trying to quell the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, Zafirah looked away to the east where the quarter-moon had emerged briefly from behind the low clouds. She could almost feel Dae moving further away with every beat of her heart…and she was helpless to stop it. Wiping the moisture from her eyes, Zafirah set her jaw resolutely, pushing away those thoughts she knew were not conducive to the task before her.
You will get her back, she told herself firmly. You will get her back…and woe to any who stand in your way!
* * *
It was hot inside the white canvas walls of the tent, and Dae’s skin shimmered under a fine haze of sweat. Though the flaps of the entrance were drawn open to provide ventilation and make the most of what little wind stirred outside, the air remained thick and scalding. The men Jarod had sent to distract Zafirah had rejoined them an hour before dawn, and the small caravan had covered a considerable distance before exhaustion forced them to stop. They’d made camp only to shelter from the blistering heat of the midday sun, but she knew they would be back on the move soon.
Now Dae sat cross-legged on the thin floor, her back stiff, arms folded over her chest, glaring at the man reclining opposite her in the small, basic tent. Jarod met her withering gaze calmly, serenely, his lips drawn in a slight but extremely irritating smile.
After an interminable period of silence, he offered her a flask. “Here. You must be thirsty.”
Dae looked at the flask, then back to his face, but made no move to accept it.
Jarod’s smile widened fractionally. “I understand you’re angry, my lady, but sickening yourself with heatstroke will not punish me. Please, drink.”
Dae remained stubbornly silent a long moment, then, very grudgingly, she accepted the flask and brought it to her lips. The water was warm and stale, but at least it eased her thirst. She emptied it and tossed it back to Jarod. Folding her arms once more, she resumed her glaring.
Jarod seemed unaffected by the waves of anger rolling off her, however. He gave her outfit a quick study and said, “You may want to change into something more suitable before we head off. We brought clothing for you…it’ll be a good deal colder once we’re out of the Jaharri, and those leathers won’t do much to keep you warm.” Dae’s posture grew even more rigid at the suggestion, and he gave a small shrug. “Or not. I just thought I’d offer.”
There was another long period of silence, and Dae could feel the man’s eyes wander over her features, reading every line of her posture. She decided to return the inspection with one of her own. Jarod had short, ash-blonde hair cut in the style favored by the merchant class in the eastern kingdom, and a week’s growth of beard darkened his cheeks. His features were handsome in an unremarkable way; the kind of man a passer-by might admire briefly, then quickly forget the moment he was past. He was dressed in cotton trousers and shirt, with a light leather vest and the headgear of the desert people. She’d noticed he wore a thin, straight-edged sword belted at his hip—a weapon of the eastern court, far different from the gracefully curved scimitars and sabers favored by the desert spahi. His light blue eyes were curious and benign, and his expression was utterly calm…utterly sanguine.
“You’re not exactly as your parents described you,” he remarked after a long time. “You seem stronger, more confident…less the sheltered maiden they described. Understandable, given all you’ve been through. I suppose the influence of the Jaharri revealed hidden qualities…brought them to the surface.”
Dae did not respond.
Jarod regarded her with a mild, slightly apologetic expression. “For what it’s worth, Dae, I didn’t set out with the intention of stealing you from those you care about. Quite the opposite, in fact. But there was no way I could have foreseen that the Scion had killed your captors and taken you into her harem. That the two of you would have fallen in love—that she would go so far as to marry you—was a complication beyond my ability to anticipate. I’m truly sorry that circumstances forced me to act as I did.”
Dae held her defiant expression, but a bitter smile twisted her lips. “You will be sorrier still when Zafirah comes for me.”
“Mm…perhaps.” He eyed her curiously. “You seem quite confident that she will come after you, though it would mean journeying into lands beyond her experience or understanding. The Jaharri don’t often venture from their tribal territory. I realize she enjoys a good chase, but still…that’s a tremendous amount of faith you have in the Scion, my lady—”
“Consort!” Dae interjected.
Jarod smiled again. “Consort, then, as you please. After I tracked you to the city, I heard some of your story from the citizens of El’Kasari—the outlander who had captured the heart of their beloved Scion. The two of you must share a very strong bond.”
Dae searched his face for signs of aversion or disapproval, but there was only a frank and genuine curiosity there. “We do.”
“That must have been a shock for you, to find yourself in a harem, not knowing what would become of you. Given the stories you probably heard as a child about the Jaharri, you must have been terrified.”
Dae remained stoically silent, uncertain.
“Even after you realized you weren’t going to be raped or tortured, it must still have been quite an adjustment. To be surrounded by women who openly expressed their desire for other women—and indeed for you—must have been very confusing. And then to realize that you felt an attraction to another woman…I imagine it was difficult for you to accept those feelings.”
Dae had been expecting this line of inquiry, but not the straightforward and neutral way Jarod was presenting it. “It took me a long time to come to terms with the way I felt,” she said quietly, resigned to the fact that she would have to explain—and defend—the changes she’d been through sooner or later. “Whatever your opinion of our relationship, Zafirah and I love one another. There were other ways you could have approached her…ways more honorable than this. You had no right to steal me from her!”
Jarod chuckled and settled himself back in a relaxed posture. “I know you hate me for taking you from the Scion, but believe me, you’re luckier than most of the people I’m sent to retrieve.”
“You abducted me…drugged me! Tore me away from my wife! Am I supposed to be grateful?”
“Perhaps not…but you are still one of the fortunate ones.” He regarded her in silence for a long moment, his expression difficult to read. But for the first time Dae thought she saw a slight flicker of steel behind his calm blue eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was low and measured. “You aren’t the first I’ve been sent to liberate from the hands of slavers, nor will you be the last. Over the course of my career, I’ve negotiated the release of dozens of men and women who were kidnapped for ransom. Others I rescued from continued abuse and enslavement the likes of which you could not dream of in your worst nightmares. And on occasion, I’ve returned the bodies of those I couldn’t save to their grieving families, so they could at least be laid to rest with some dignity. So you can hate me as much as you like, Consort. I don’t mind it. Your anger is far preferable to the tears and trauma I’m more accustomed to seeing in my line of work.”
Listening to his calm description of a fate that could so easily have been her own, Dae found herself unable to meet his steady gaze. Her anger seemed suddenly childish and petulant, and she let her eyes drop. “I-I…I didn’t—”
“I’m not telling you any of this to make you feel ashamed, Consort, nor to diminish your feelings,” Jarod interrupted her stammering calmly. “I took you from those you love, and now I’m returning you to parents who will likely not understand the person you have become. You have every right to be angry. All I’m saying is that, given a choice between risking my life to abduct you from that camp where you were loved and cared for, or carrying you away from some brothel where you had been beaten and molested…I would prefer the former any day.” He paused, an eyebrow raised. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Dae sat stony-faced for a moment, then gave a single, small nod.
“Good. And as regrettable as the situation is, I think your father deserves to hear your story from you, in person, and not from an intermediary. Given the prejudices in the Heartland, I realize how difficult such a reunion will be for you, but he has been sick with heartache and grief long enough.”
The thought of seeing her father again, of trying to explain to him the love she felt for Zafirah…it was too much to think about right now. Dae set her jaw firmly, swallowing the tide of shame and embarrassment that twisted in her belly and made her feel sick. She hated those feelings, hated that they could still affect her like this, despite all the things she’d learned and experienced. Recalling the conversation she’d had with Inaya before her joining ceremony, Dae drew strength from the certainty in her heart and from her faith in her mate. She would not let her love for Zafirah be tarnished by the ignorance of her parents.
If a choice needed to be made, Dae knew it had been made long ago.
She gave a brief nod, then met Jarod’s gaze warily. “You don’t seem overly offended by my choices.”
Jarod waved a hand in a gesture that seemed to dismiss the very thought. “I’ve seen too much suffering in my life for your love of the Scion to ever offend my sensibilities, and I’m more familiar with the Jaharri than most in the kingdom. My men, however…” He gave a glance outside, where they could see the other tents arranged nearby. “…would not be so understanding. For the sake of a civil journey, it may be wiser not to discuss your relationship with the Scion when they are in earshot.”
Dae had already seen the dark looks cast her way by the others in Jarod’s party, and she nodded. “I won’t.”
“If you would like, perhaps I could speak with your parents before I bring you to see them. Try to explain a little of where you have been…what you have experienced.”
His expression was compassionate, but Dae sighed. “They won’t understand.”
“Probably not…but perhaps it would make things easier for you. I imagine the conversation will be a difficult one to have with those who remember you only as an innocent maiden. At least I might spare you a measure of awkwardness.”
Another wave of shame started to surge within her, and Dae swallowed hard and asked, “How…how long…before we arrive?”
“Difficult to say. We’ll set a hard pace, avoid the main trading routes and the territories close to the tribes along the way. Once we pass the Great Divide, we can sell the mounts and switch to the river barges…should get us there faster. At least two weeks, I should think…but likely no more than three.” He gave her a look of mild warning. “For your own safety, I would ask that you not try to escape. These are wild lands we travel through, and you’re smart enough to know that you wouldn’t get far on your own.”
Dae nodded; she had already accepted the futility of such an act and had no intention of repeating the harsh experience she’d suffered during her first trek through the desert. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Dae looked away from Jarod, smothering the familiar sense of guilt so she could rally her determination. Under her breath, speaking almost to herself, Dae whispered, “My parents may never understand or agree with the path I’ve taken…but one way or another, they will accept it.” She looked outside at the shifting sands and unmarred horizon, her eyes blurry with tears. “I won’t be kept from Zafirah’s side for long.”
Less than an hour later, with the sun still high and blistering hot, the group struck camp and they were on the move again.