Noori nodded, moving to pull on his formal robes and turban. At last, he stopped near Shahin once more. “You will not let him take me back, will you?”
Blinking in surprise, Shahin froze for a moment, and then he pulled Noori fully into his arms, holding him tight. “You belong here,” he whispered harshly.
Noori held tight to Shahin, both amazed and reassured by the unprecedented display, for several long moments before pulling away. “I will go see Mother now.”
Shahin stopped him from pulling away and laid the back of his fingers against Noori’s cheek in a soft caress for a long moment. Only then did he nod and let Noori go.
Stepping backward toward the tent flap, Noori lifted fingers to his cheek, touching the place he’d been caressed. “I will return to you after dusk.”
Shahin kept his eyes on Noori and nodded again in acknowledgment.
Noori watched Shahin until he heard the approach of hooves. Then he hurried through the tent city to Mother’s pavilion, slipping inside after nodding at the guards. He didn’t know what was making his heart pound and head spin more: the amir’s arrival or the sheikh’s reassurance.
#
The sheikh watched the servant depart, his frown deepening. He reached for his knife, sliding it into his belt, and walked out of the tent to await his visitors.
Qutaibah rode up to Shahin’s tent and dismounted his horse. “My Lord, I beg your hospitality for the evening.”
Numair and Rami standing at his back, Shahin tilted his head, looking over Qutaibah appraisingly and then over the guards who rode with him. “I offer you my hospitality for the evening,” Shahin responded as etiquette demanded. “What brings you to Meda’in Saleh, so far from home?”
Qutaibah rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There is the matter of a purchase you made from me several long months ago.” He stepped closer and offered a hand in greeting. “We should save our discussion for dinner.”
Shahin’s eyes hardened at Qutaibah’s words, but he woodenly completed their greeting. “Rami will show you to a tent where you may rest. Dinner will be served at the pavilion at dusk, and you will be my guest,” Shahin said, watching Qutaibah carefully.
Qutaibah’s eyes narrowed at the curt tone of the greeting, but he nodded, bowing begrudgingly at the sheikh’s behest. “I will freshen up, and then we can speak of business.”
Shahin bowed as well, watching as Rami led Qutaibah away. “I don’t like this,” he muttered to Numair.
“I will order extra guards at the pavilion,” Numair said.
Shahin nodded. “He only arrived with the four?” Numair nodded and bowed, leaving the sheikh to his thoughts.
#
Qutaibah entered the tent offered for his use while he remained in Meda’in Saleh. He found a chair and table with a washbasin and a plain pallet, but no other amenities. He asked the servant, “Will I not be offered the use of a pleasure slave? I believe there is one in the sheikh’s service. He goes by the name of Noori. I would like to partake of his services, please.”
The servant, an older man, bowed politely. “Our Lord does not keep pleasure slaves, my lord. However, some of the villagers are happy to offer their hospitality to our guests. May I find one for you?”
Qutaibah’s frown deepened. “I do not desire just any villager. I want the white man. I want Noori.”
The servant bowed again. “I will convey your request to our lord, sir. Noori is a member of his personal household.” With that, the servant escaped quickly.
“Personal household,” Qutaibah mused, a nasty smirk on his face. “Shahin is too kind to his slaves. I believe I shall relieve him of his burden.”
#
“Noori! Come in! How wonderful that you come to visit this old woman,” Mother said, clearly delighted when he entered her pavilion.
Noori rushed forward, bowing before the lady. “Thank you for having me here, my lady.” He remained bent, eyes focused on the hem of Mother’s robes.
Mother tsked, setting a gentle hand under his chin and tilting up his eyes. “You are welcome here, Noori. Please, do not stand on ceremony. I get my fill of it day in and day out.”
Noori offered a gentle smile as he looked up and met Mother’s eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lady. I appreciate the kindness you show me.”
With a gentle smile, Mother patted his cheek and nodded. “Come; we have another guest for dinner as well.” She turned to walk through the second set of flaps into the inner area of her tent.
Noori followed Mother, folding his hands in front of himself as he stepped into the cooler inner sanctum of the lady’s tent. Taking the seat that Mother motioned him toward, he sat down and waited to greet the other visitor Mother expected.
The padding of little feet caught their attention as little Massarah rushed into the tent. “Mother! Mother! Look what I have!” He carried the carved wooden horse Noori had made for him some months ago.
A wide grin split Noori’s face, and he could not help himself as he held his arms open and sighed, “Massarah.”
Seeing the servant, the boy squealed and ran over to him, jumping into his arms and claiming a hug. “Noori! You came for dinner?” the youngster asked.
“I did, I did!” Noori laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around Massarah’s small frame. “I have missed you!” Noori chuckled and rocked the small child back and forth. “Where is Sawsan?”
“Sawsan is with the girls,” Massarah said with obvious disgust.
Mother laughed. “She is at her dance lessons this evening.”
Noori blushed as he realized he’d taken Massarah’s attention from his grandmother. He sat the young boy down, reluctant to sever all contact with the adorable child. “She must be bonding with her friends, Massarah. And yet you come to visit the lady? And me? I feel privileged you’d spend time with me.”
Massarah stamped his foot and held up his arms again. “I want to sit with you, Noori,” the boy pouted.
Noori looked to Mother. “If you do not mind, my lady?”
Smiling, Mother shook her head. “As he wishes. His father tries to make them behave and sit for formal dinner when we are here. Although I suppose it is my fault; it was the way I raised him. So polite, so correct.” She shook her head sadly.
Noori pulled the young boy back up onto his lap. He cuddled the child close and then smiled up at Mother. “You have raised a kind and honorable son, my lady. He is an admirable man.”
“Admirable, kind, honorable. Very much so, yes, and for that I am thankful. But I would also wish to see passion in his eyes again. Fervor for life. More than the transient enjoyment of seeing his children twice a ten-day.” She sighed, watching Massarah, who played with his horse, paying her words no mind. “He loves them, deeply, I know, but seeing them is also painful for him. I wish his heart could heal.”
Noori’s voice was thoughtful as he replied. “He will love again. The heavens would not punish such a man in such a way. Perhaps there are ladies from neighboring tribes?” He fell quiet after his question, thinking of how much he hoped in vain that Shahin would come to love him.
Mother sighed. “I have tried to talk to him, but he will not hear of it. I suppose I should have known. ’Twas how he met his Thaqib. He would not seek to repeat such an event in case the rest of the tragedy be repeated as well.” She picked at the fruit set in front of her. “But it is not natural that he lock up his loving nature.”
Noori shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment. He hugged Massarah closer to him. “I wish he would find love. I wish to see him happy.”
Watching Noori with a slight smile, Mother nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “I believe you do.”
Just then, two men dressed in black pushed through the inner tent flap, and Mother’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “What is the meaning of this invasion?” she snapped regally, her voice changing to that of one in command.
Noori, immediately on guard, moved Massarah behind him, blocking the younger boy and moving to stand in fr
ont of Mother. “May I assist you?”
The men’s faces were covered with scarves, and the first did not even pause, raising his fist and striking Noori across the face, knocking the servant to one side. Mother screamed in fury as the other man lurched forward and grabbed Massarah.
Noori lurched back to his feet, pulling at Massarah and freeing him. “You will not take him!” he spat. He widened his stance, ready to fight.
While the first invader stood in front of Noori, the other snagged Mother as she ran toward them, pulling a knife and holding it to her throat. He nodded to the first man, who looked to Noori. “We will take you both. You will come, or she will die, here, in front of the child.” His voice was harsh, and Massarah burst into tears, wrapping his arms around Noori’s neck.
“Noori, no, save Massarah,” Mother urged. “Run now!” The man holding her tightened his hold, the knife cutting into her skin and drawing blood.
Noori was horrified. He knew that if he stayed, Mother would be hurt—maybe killed. If he went with the men, he’d at least have a chance to protect Massarah. His eyes begged Mother to forgive him. “I have to go,” he whispered. “It’s the only way.” He tightened his grip on Massarah.
Mother’s eyes, filled with tears, were forgiving. “Take care of him,” she gasped as the first man grabbed Noori roughly by the arm and dragged him out of the tent, leaving her with the second invader.
“Please don’t hurt her,” Noori begged the man who pulled him from the tent and into the darkness. “Please!”
“Quiet. Save your concern for yourself, slave,” the man said gruffly. Just outside the tent, another two men in black waited. They ripped Massarah from Noori’s arms, muffling the child’s cries, and gagged and bound Noori despite his resistance. One of the men disappeared with Massarah, the other two following, dragging Noori with them into the shadows.
Noori struggled in the bonds of the ropes that held him, his head starting to throb from the blow he had received but had ignored until now. In the back of his mind, he wondered how the kidnappers knew he was a slave. Just then bold colors filled his eyesight, and he blacked out, sagging in the arms of the men who dragged him.
Chapter 14
Qutaibah sat across the table from Shahin, eyes narrowing as he studied the other man. “Your hospitality is lacking, Shahin. I requested a slave and was not offered one.”
The sheikh’s eyes hardened. “You could have your choice of many willing villagers, as I’m sure was offered, Qutaibah,” he replied, his relaxed posture on the pillows not betraying his annoyance.
“I had a particular slave in mind, Shahin. I was disappointed that he is not serving us tonight.” The amir smoothed fingers over the mustache that drooped down the sides of his mouth. “You are becoming soft, old friend,” he practically spat.
“And you are becoming careless, old friend,” Shahin replied with equal rancor, shoulders pulling rigid. “I knew why you came, and the answer is no. You shall not have him.”
“You stole him from me!” Qutaibah growled, lunging forward over the table.
The sheikh caught the front of Qutaibah’s tunic, holding the other man off him with a growl as Numair and Rami grappled with Qutaibah’s guards. Amidst the scuffle, a servant ran screaming into the pavilion. “My lord! The royal pavilion has been attacked!”
At the news, Qutaibah shrank back with a smirk on his face. He pulled free from Shahin’s grip and spat on the floor.
His face furious, Shahin stood, barking orders, sending guards to the pavilion. Snarling, he reached out and snagged Qutaibah by the front of the tunic. “What have you done?” he demanded. Numair drew his sword as Qutaibah’s guards advanced.
“I have done nothing except take what is mine!” Qutaibah hissed. “And some payback as well!”
Shahin shook Qutaibah once, hard, before Rami put a hand on his shoulder. “My lord, we should go to the pavilion,” the warrior said.
The sheikh released Qutaibah and shoved him violently at two other guards. “You will pay in blood if he is harmed,” he growled, newly arrived guards surrounding Qutaibah and his men.
Qutaibah let out a sneaky, conniving laugh. “Depends what is worth more to you.” His voice was low and dangerous.
Shahin glowered at him. “Lock him and his men in the cave,” Shahin ordered as he swept out in a rage, Rami and Numair just behind him.
Running through the now-stirred-up village, Shahin pushed his way through the gathered people and into the pavilion, stopping inside in shock.
Servants were milling about in the tent, distraught as their lord came inside. “Prince Massarah, my lord!”
Taking in the ransacked pavilion, Shahin moved to where a couple of women crouched on the ground, and he drew in a harsh breath and fell to his knees. “Mother?” he asked quietly, taking her hand.
Opening her eyes, Mother looked up into the worried face of her only child. She squeezed his hand as he took hers. “Shahin, they took Massarah. And Noori. He tried to defend me.”
The sheikh’s eyes turned obsidian dark and cold. He turned to one of the women and ordered her to fetch the healer. He turned those eyes simmering with anger back to Mother, his lips pressed in a firm line. “Is he alive?” Shahin asked.
“They took him alive. I tried to stop them, child.” She tried to sit up but gasped in pain.
“Do not move, Mother. The healer will be here soon,” Shahin advised, squeezing her hand. “I know you did your best. I am sure it was Qutaibah; he was arguing with me about Noori at dinner.” He shook his head. “Now, I must fetch back Massarah.”
Mother nodded, breath coming fast as she settled back against the floor. “Go. Find your son. Find Noori. Bring them home.”
Shahin leaned over to kiss his mother’s forehead, then stood and moved outside the tent, meeting Numair and Rami. “Form up the riders. I will speak with Qutaibah.” The two guards ran as bid while Karam followed the sheikh to the prison cave.
Qutaibah was not surprised when Shahin stalked into the cave. “Is this how you treat honored guests?” He spat on the floor at Shahin’s feet.
Looking evenly through the bars to where Qutaibah stood in shackles, Shahin raised an eyebrow. “I see no honored guest here; only a jackal,” he answered in a deadly quiet tone. Karam moved back a few steps to stand next to the two guards.
Qutaibah pressed his face between the bars, a fierce scowl coloring his features. “He should never have been yours.”
“’Twas the will of the heavens that he be mine,” Shahin said starkly. “And you erred even more by taking my son. If he is not found unharmed, you will die. Painfully.”
“Bah!” Qutaibah backed away from the bars, sitting down on the single pallet in the cell. “You speak as if you will find him.” He laughed cruelly.
Knowing this would go nowhere, Shahin turned and stalked out, stopping outside to give orders that no one would enter to see Qutaibah until his return. Karam followed on his heels as he marched through the village to where the riders gathered. Then he saw Sadiq rushing through the camp, paying no heed to the robe that trailed behind him. He held Alimah’s hand tightly in his as they finally caught up with Shahin as he exited the prisoner’s cave. “I know where they are!”
The sheikh turned eyes simmering with rage on Sadiq. “What know you of Qutaibah’s plans?” he asked curtly as he stood at his horse’s side.
“I know nothing of his plans, but I have been to his camp before,” Sadiq offered quickly, wanting to alleviate the sheikh’s anger. “And Alimah spent time there as a slave.” He nodded toward the man who held his hand tightly.
Shahin’s shoulders relaxed minutely as he looked to Rami. The warrior nodded. The riders were armed and ready. The sheikh turned back to Sadiq. “Will you lead us there?” he asked.
“Without question,” Sadiq answered in a gruff tone. “Not only for Prince Massarah and Noori, but for Alimah as well.”
The leader looked to the former slave who stood at Sadiq’s side. Alimah n
odded. “I can enter the camp and locate them without being suspicious. I can be just another slave,” the slim man offered.
Shahin looked to Sadiq. “By your leave, Sadiq,” he said, nodding at the horse that stood next to his.
Sadiq mounted the horse, pulling Alimah up behind him. “If Alimah is to ride with us, he will ride with me.” His voice left no room for argument. He turned to Alimah. “Hold on tight. It’s gonna be a rough ride.”
The former slave smiled. “I am with you,” he said reassuringly. “We will help Noori and find the sheikh’s son. And then I want to see that bastard Qutaibah bake under the sun.”
Shahin raised an eyebrow sharply, and his lips quirked into a half-smile as he looked at Sadiq in amusement. “Fine imagination you have, Alimah,” he complimented.
Sadiq offered Shahin a half-grin as he squeezed Alimah’s hand. “That he does. Let’s ride.”
Alimah wrapped his arms about Sadiq’s waist. “It is to the north, past the old trade route, near the salt flats.”
Shahin nodded in grim realization. It was a good place for a hideout; the salt flats would keep most everyone away. He looked to Numair. “We ride.” And the mass of armed riders left the camp at a gallop.
#
Five long, hard hours later, they quietly approached the camp, seeing from the distance that it bustled with activity; the captors had not arrived much earlier. Alimah slid from the back of Sadiq’s horse, and Sadiq looked down at him. “Be safe, Alimah.” His eyes glittered in the darkness, and his hand refused to let go of Alimah’s as the slender young man looked up at him.
Tilting his head, Alimah smiled and nodded. “I do this because it is the right thing to do,” he said quietly before pulling off his outer robe, leaving only thin silken pants. “Watch for my sign.” With that, the slave disappeared around the canyon edge.
The Sheikh and the Servant Page 10