Chapter 11
The trek back to the city was an exhausting one, and Zafirah only managed a few hours of fretful sleep during their brief stops. It pained her to think of the reception Dae would surely receive from her family, and that she herself was helpless to offer strength and support to her mate. Against the tide of anxious dread threatening to overwhelm her, Zafirah rallied her strength and hope by repeating in her mind over and over the mantra, ‘I will get her back.”
By the time they reached the city this grim resolve had settled deeply into her bones; the gift of Dae’s love and passion was one she was determined never to lose.
Word of what had happened traveled far in advance of Zafirah and her troops, so by the time they reached the city, El’Kasari was already abuzz with the news. Although the precise details of Dae’s abduction remained unclear—the story had already been told and retold so many times, altered and embellished, that it scarcely retained any degree of accuracy—the citizens all seemed enthusiastically outraged at the loss of Zafirah’s Consort.
An army of five hundred spahi riders had been assembled on the plains outside the city, along with half that number of scouts to serve as archers and guards. An additional two hundred recruits stood behind the main force—attendants to the more seasoned warriors, healers, cooks, blacksmiths and horse-masters. It was a decent-sized force, large enough to be capable in battle, but not so large that it would conjure notions of conquest. Slower moving caravans laden with supplies were already making their way east ahead of them to provide this army with support and provisions on their long march.
Though the elite troops were more disciplined and grave in the execution of their duty than the commoners, riding through their ranks Zafirah saw in their faces that the soldiers were still excited at the prospect of the adventure they would soon be undertaking.
The council were waiting for her, Hazim and Sakinah also in attendance, and Zafirah was glad to find they were taking the matter more seriously than the common people. They’d already discussed her plan, and although they collectively approved of her intention to retrieve Dae, it was obvious they hoped she could achieve her goals without jeopardizing the delicate peace between the Jaharri and their eastern neighbors.
After the council had spoken with her and Zafirah had answered their few questions as best she could, Hazim and Sakinah joined her to go over the logistics of the march into the eastern kingdom. Hazim was uncharacteristically somber when he greeted her, donning a solicitous expression Zafirah found more disconcerting than reassuring. Though he was now approaching sixty years, he had the appearance of a man still in his prime. His features were sharp and slightly foxish, with an impeccably groomed mustache and goatee framing his lips and chin. No trace of gray showed in his sleek onyx hair (palace gossip suggested he dyed it), and only a few wrinkles around his eyes hinted at his true age. Hazim was considered quite handsome and cultured by most in El'Kasari, with a reputation for being both pragmatic and ruthless in his role as wazir.
“Strictly speaking, you have every right to take whatever steps you deem necessary to reclaim your Consort,” Hazim assured her, his fingers toying with his beard. “Although Dae’s father doubtless acted only in what he felt to be the best interests of his daughter…” He paused here to add emphasis to his words, giving Zafirah a stern look as though to remind her that her mercurial temper might be better kept in check. “…legally, he had no right to take her from you. The treaties between King Gerald and the Line of Scions clearly state Jaharri law must be honored by all outlanders who enter the desert. Trying to stop you would be a violation of those treaties, and the King desires war no more than we do.”
“So, you do not think he will send his own army against us? Even if we are marching through his lands?” Zafirah thought the assessment sounded overly optimistic, especially from a man better known for his ruthless pragmatism. But Hazim seemed confident in his evaluation.
“The King is not foolish enough to risk violating the treaties which are so vital to his trade routes; if he upsets the powerful merchant guilds or the other noble families, they may threaten to revolt. Since Dae is joined with you, and thus bound to you by Jaharri law, he will likely do no more than keep a watchful eye on you. That being said, even a modest army of spahi riding through the kingdom is bound to cause a measure of…disturbance.” Again, he paused to add weight to his next statement. “You would be wise to impress upon your warriors that they are to behave as they would when visiting the camp of any Jaharri tribe; show respect for those whose lands you are crossing, and make no move of aggression toward them. This is not a raid, Scion, and we are not bandits come to loot and pillage.”
“I shall see to the discipline of my troops, wazir. Your duty will be to ensure a successful negotiation for the release of my Consort.”
Zafirah felt a surge of excitement wash away some of the anxiety that had accompanied her on the ride back from the Herak encampment. Her plan was actually taking shape! Zafirah was a woman of action, and it was heartening to finally be doing something productive, moving forward, facing the challenge that fate had set before her. No Scion in four hundred years had led an army into outlander territory, and it was undeniably thrilling to think that she would be the first. If she could return successfully with Dae by her side—and Zafirah would sooner die than fail—then the legend of her journey to save her stolen love would overshadow even the stories of her sexual exploits and prowess in battle.
“It is such a vast area to search,” Sakinah observed, her voice tinged with concern. “Will you be able to find a guide once you have entered their lands?”
“That should not be a problem,” Hazim assured them both; in his role as diplomat, he was one of very few Jaharri who had ever traveled through the watered lands. He chuckled when Zafirah looked skeptical at his confident answer, and said, “Trust me, Scion. Outlanders are far more rigid in their application of borders and territories than we are in the desert. Because of this, they suffer an obsession with marking the land with signs to guide and direct travelers. Knowing that Dae will be returning to her father’s land, her path should not be difficult to follow.”
“Very well.”
“The more arduous task will come when we reach our destination,” Hazim continued. “Though the King is unlikely to oppose us, my understanding is that Dae’s father is Lord of a noble House. As such, he will command troops of his own, and they will certainly obey his order if he chooses to attack.”
Zafirah found her fingers clenching into fists. “Then they will learn respect for the desert the hard way, as so many others have learned over the centuries when crossing Jaharri lands!”
“Calm, my Scion…conflict should be our last resort, to be avoided at all costs. With the approval of the council elders, I have taken the liberty of seeing several chests of gold and gems brought from the treasury and readied to be taken on our march. Such riches will be more useful to my negotiations than a thousand spahi.”
“Dae is not property to be purchased or haggled over! I will not buy her back like a stolen horse!”
“Of course not, Scion, I would sooner claw out my own eyes than suggest such a thing,” Hazim interjected smoothly. “Think of it not as a payment, Scion, but rather…a dowry.” Hazim watched her while she considered his words, adding, “It is a familiar concept her parents will understand.”
Provision of a dowry was an ancient and respected custom among the Jaharri tribes, and it would be honorable for the Scion to make such an offer to Dae’s father. Zafirah gave a nod of approval and looked to the High Priestess, trying to remember what business would need tending. “Sakinah, you will keep the Peace while we are gone, and ensure we are well supplied while in foreign lands. There are grain shipments arriving from the west, but the silos will need tending before they can be filled. Also, the Spicer’s Guild will need careful watching, or they may take the opportunity to make mischief on their rivals among the Dyer’s Guild. The council of elders will be able to advise you, and the remaining troops will fight at your command should any other threat manifest itself during our absence.”
“Fear not, Zafirah, the city shall endure as it always has,” Sakinah smiled. “I shall pray for Inshal to grant you a safe journey, and a speedy return.”
“How soon can we begin the march?”
Hazim shrugged. “The army stands ready, Scion. As soon as Falak has seen to the troops who returned with you and approved the selection of those who will join you on the march, we can move out. However, a few hours sleep might be advisable—”
“I will sleep in the saddle,” Zafirah growled. She didn’t want to stop, couldn’t allow herself to drift into inactivity, where her heart would keenly feel the loss of her mate. Fatigue was easier to bear than the sinking sensation she felt any time she stood idle.
While the final preparations were being made Zafirah took the opportunity to visit the seraglio and speak with her pleasure-servants, knowing how anxious they must be for word of their friend. As soon as she entered the gardens and saw them gathered there, she frowned, folded her arms over her chest, and stated very firmly, “No.”
The guards had obviously supplied the young women with clothing appropriate for travel, and most of them were dressed more modestly than she had seen in years. Zafirah gave them all a stern but affectionate look, recognizing their intentions clearly.
“As honored as I am by the gesture, you cannot accompany me on this journey.”
Inaya stepped forward, her pretty face uncharacteristically serious, lips drawn in a determined line. In place of her customary harem outfit she wore thick cotton trousers, a leather vest over a shirt, and her normally bare feet were covered by thick-soled boots. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail and wrapped in an open haik. “This is not a gesture, Scion. I am coming with you.” Several others nodded their agreement. “Dae means a great deal to me, and to all of us. Do not ask that we do nothing when one of our own has been taken.”
“Our road will be long and the hazards many,” Zafirah said quietly, truly touched by their desire to go to the aid of her Consort. “My warriors are prepared to face whatever risks they must, but I refuse to see your lives placed needlessly in peril. I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to do this.”
“Dae is my friend,” Inaya said, resolute and unwavering. “I will not sit idle in the palace while she is forced to confront the prejudices of her family, to face their scorn and see the shame in their eyes. I will come.”
“My answer is no.”
Inaya stepped closer, looking up at her with flashing eyes. “You will not deny me this, Zafirah,” she insisted in a soft, fierce whisper. “It was I who comforted Dae’s homesickness when she was first brought to the harem. I helped her to accept her new home…to embrace the things she felt and to understand the leanings of her heart. I know better than anyone—even you—what seeing her father again will be doing to her.”
“Inaya, please, be reasonable. Think about what you are asking, about what this journey would mean for you.” Zafirah’s tone was gentle, but she gave Inaya’s traveling outfit a skeptical look. “How many times in your life have you set foot on the desert sands?”
Some of the fire faded from Inaya’s eyes. She glanced momentarily away before whispering, “Twice.”
“And how many times have you ridden a horse?”
A long pause. “I…I have ridden a camel.”
Zafirah didn’t like using these tactics to dissuade Inaya, but she needed her to consider her actions rationally. Inaya was something of a rarity among the Jaharri; she had been born and raised in the sprawling mass of the palace, the only daughter of parents who were themselves palace-born. As such she could claim no tribe as her own, and she’d never received the benefits of a traditional desert upbringing. In many ways, this had been a blessing to her; Inaya was more cultured and socially sophisticated than most Jaharri, and her education had been better structured, enabling her to make the most of her undeniable intelligence. But it also deprived her of the survival skills most children born in the desert learned early in their development. “I will set a hard pace on this march,” Zafirah continued, “and the journey will likely be long and difficult. The open plains are no place for one more accustomed to palace living. Can you not see why I must deny your companionship, however valiant your offer may be?”
But Inaya returned her gaze undaunted. “I will endure whatever hardships I must,” she insisted, “for Dae.”
“Inaya—”
“No, Zafirah…you will need me. I will see my friend and your Consort safely home.”
Zafirah sighed, but the firm set of Inaya’s jaw and the fortitude in her eyes made it clear she would not be swayed from her course. She’d seen that look before; though it was slow to rile, Inaya had a stubborn streak in her which could shame a mule. After a long moment, Zafirah sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “Very well.”
“I will come, too,” said Nasheta immediately, the blonde pleasure-servant stepping up beside Inaya. “It has been a few years since I last sat a horse, but I can still ride as well as any in the army.”
“No, Nasheta, I cannot allow—”
“But I could be of use to you,” the girl insisted with a pout. “I am not born of the desert. I look just like an outlander, and they are unlikely to treat me with the same suspicion they will certainly view you with.”
“You wish to serve as a spy?” Zafirah’s jaw dropped at the suggestion.
“Not exactly a spy,” she demurred, “but rather an aid to whatever negotiations you make. The people of Dae’s homeland view all Jaharri as mindless barbarians, but how well will their prejudices apply to me?”
“Nasheta is right,” Inaya said. “You do not know what will happen when you reach your destination, but I doubt Dae’s father will simply hand her over to you because you ask nicely. A girl with Nasheta’s looks and charm could be useful in many situations you cannot anticipate.”
“And besides,” Nasheta added, “you know I have long dreamed of seeing the watered lands. Please, Zafirah, I care for Dae as much as any of us. Let me help you bring her home, where she belongs.”
Zafirah studied the hopeful woman a moment, considering. Dressed in what looked to be the discarded clothing of a barmaid, Nasheta might indeed pass as a native of the eastern kingdom. Perhaps she could be useful, even if only to speak with the commoners they would likely encounter. With her considerable charm, she could seek directions from villages without drawing unwanted attention, and if it became necessary, might even be able to trade with them for any emergency supplies they might require. Nasheta’s expression lit up in delight when Zafirah finally gave her a reluctant nod and said, “Very well.”
Johara raised her hand to volunteer also, her mate Hayam at her side, but Zafirah sternly halted their pleas before they could voice them. “No more! I cannot bring the entire harem with me into a potential conflict! I know none of you wish to remain behind and endure the uncertainty of our absence, but it is a burden I must ask you to bear. Inaya and Nasheta, pack whatever you feel you will need and have the guards escort you to the barracks. We move out as soon as Falak has reviewed the army and I have ensured Simhana has rested.”
The two young women nodded their accord and dashed away to pack for their journey. Zafirah watched them go with a fond smile, hoping she was making the right decision letting them come. When the rest of the harem began asking to hear the tale of what had happened, Zafirah readily allowed herself to be distracted. The next few weeks would be spent mostly in the saddle, and there was no telling how long it would be before she would see her beloved city again.
When she did, Zafirah promised herself with quiet certainty, it would be with Dae by her side.