by Diana Green
Exclamations of surprise bounced off the vertical walls of a narrow twisting ravine. Only the highest rimrock shone bright, the rest still deep in shadow. There were places even the noonday sun might not reach, at the bottom where a tiny stream trickled.
Ahead the space widened enough to allow for a small encampment. But behind them, the ravine seemed to grow razor thin, turning sharply left so that it all but disappeared, looking like nothing more than a crack in the red rock. Saba could hardly believe they’d just come that way. Not a sliver of the open desert remained visible, as if they’d passed through an enchanted gateway into another world.
“Down you get,” Jehan prompted, offering her hand as a support.
Saba slid awkwardly to the ground, aching legs threatening to buckle under her. She sank onto a large rock, sitting before her shaking limbs gave way. Four strangers watched her with mixed expressions. A boy—likely the one named Zaki—viewed her with something akin to awe, while a wiry bearded man openly leered.
Beside him stood a tall light-skinned woman, with honey-brown hair and eyes the color of jade. Weapons hung at her belt, just like the other bandits carried. Her face showed reserve and a hint of annoyance, her arms crossed over her chest.
The fourth stranger held himself regal as a king. He was undeniably handsome, with dark skin and close-cropped hair shaved in a distinctive chevron pattern. This, combined with his braided neck torque, led Saba to think he must be the Nissian who had spoken earlier.
“Otenyo Nkansah, at your service,” he said, sweeping a bow. “It has been too long since I shared a meal with royalty, and never with a lady so fair as you. This will make a welcome change from my present company.”
Next to him, the brown-haired woman rolled her eyes. “Otenyo dreams he’s still back at the Nissian court. Never mind that we’re all just desert rats…him included.”
“And poor Maib won’t let us forget she grew up in an uncultured northern backwater, little better than a sheep pen.” Otenyo smiled, showing off a perfect set of teeth. There seemed no real malice in his words, and Maib only shook her head, raising her eyes to the sky as if seeking divine patience.
“Are you really a princess?” Zaki asked, edging closer to Saba. “Is it true they eat hummingbird tongues at the palace…and cakes covered in gold? Ilfahn told me they—”
“Hush.” Jehan waved him away. “We’ve just ridden through the night and need sleep before anything else. There’ll be time for your questions later.” She turned to the gathered outlaws. “Maib and Ahbdel, I’d like you to deal with the gazelle. Zaki go help them. It’ll give you something to do besides pestering our guest.”
“Why doesn’t Otenyo get the nasty jobs?” grumbled the bearded man. “Is he too good for cleaning carcasses?”
Jehan’s lips thinned, her eyes narrowing. “I have another task for him…appraising items liberated from the palace. Unless you think you’d be better suited for that, Ahbdel? We all know your vast experience with rare valuables.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “I wouldn’t want you to feel slighted in any way. Gods forbid you get your hands dirty, on my orders.”
As Saba watched Ahbdel back down, she felt glad Jehan’s aggravation wasn’t turned her way. The woman was a force of nature, her presence like the charged air before a thunderstorm.
Maib grabbed Ahbdel’s arm and led him toward the horse bound with two gazelle. Zaki followed, looking back over his shoulder and grinning at Saba. She dropped her gaze, too tired to deal with the curiosity in his eyes.
The next few minutes passed in an overwhelmed blur, as fatigue from their night’s ride well and truly caught up with Saba. Concentrating on keeping her feet under her and not saying anything foolish, she entered the outlaw’s camp. It consisted of several horses, a pile of gear, two goat hair tents—their sides partially rolled up to let the breeze through—and a fire for cooking. She managed to find a discreet spot, behind a thicket of thorny bushes to take care of her bodily needs, before she was shown to a bedroll in the women’s tent.
At first she’d been startled by the small size of the encampment, until listening to the others talk, she realized this wasn’t the bandits’ primary quarters. The ravine was only a temporary location, chosen for the mission of freeing Jehan’s imprisoned cousin. A few of the outlaws waited here, for word from their messengers in the city. Meanwhile the rest of their band—as well as spouses, children, and livestock—remained somewhere farther back in the hills, at a larger more permanent camp.
As Saba lay on her bedroll—lulled by the whispering stream and the soft cooing of rock pigeons—she wondered how many secret hiding places the bandits knew of. What was it like for these outlaws, going where they wished, disappearing into the desert wilds, far beyond the reach of the pasha and his soldiers? Despite the rough living conditions and plain food, the idea held a certain appeal.
With these thoughts turning in her mind, Saba drifted to sleep.
She dreamed of being a fennec fox, resting in its sandy den by day and coming out at night to hunt under a glowing moon. In this dream the desert felt like her true home, every scent clear, every rock and plant in her territory familiar. When larger predators prowled near, she hid, quiet as a shadow. When she pounced on a fleeing jerboa, its salty crunch brought a sharp satisfaction—as did the yip of her little pups, greeting her when she returned at dawn.
Here was something real and good. Not always safe. Not always comfortable. But free in a way her human-self had never known. Belonging in a way she could barely comprehend.
~*~
Jehan’s heart dropped to her stomach. The news from the palace could hardly be worse, and Ilfahn knew it. The messenger stared at the ground, his fists clenched tight, probably to keep his hands from shaking. The poor man was exhausted, having ridden straight through to bring word as fast as possible.
And what word it was.
Dabir had been killed, and Ilfahn barely made it out of the city with his skin intact. Clearly the pasha was in no mood to hear terms. His actions spoke of rage, pure and simple. The bandits made a fool of him, and someone had to pay in blood. Unfortunately, that someone was Dabir, a valuable and trusted comrade.
Jehan took a deep breath, fighting back a surge of emotion. Death was no stranger to any member of this band. The lives they led were dangerous, risk inherent in the choices they made. And yet, she couldn’t help feeling responsible. It was her cousin, Basim, whom they sought to free from the palace prison. And now that effort had cost them a man—the first loss in over a year.
“Thank you for riding so hard to bring us news.” Jehan forced the words out, briefly resting her hand on Ilfahn’s shoulder. “You should sit down, have something to eat and drink.” She gestured toward the fire where gazelle haunch roasted on a spit. Her own appetite was completely destroyed, along with any chance of getting back to sleep.
At least she’d managed a nap during the heat of the day. But now hard decisions had to be made. Night was falling—the best time for travel—and her band needed to know which direction to ride.
“We’ve got to take the princess back.” Maib broke the heavy silence. “She’s useless to us, if the pasha won’t negotiate.”
“We could send her head to him, in a bloody bag,” Ahbdel growled. “Let the bastard reap what he sows.”
Ilfahn nodded a hearty agreement. “Give him what he deserves.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Jehan responded. “Though I understand your anger.”
She glanced over at the tent where Saba had been sleeping. The princess was awake now, sitting up on her bedroll listening. Even in the deepening dusk, Jehan couldn’t mistake the fear written on the young woman’s face. She held perfectly still, eyes wide like a startled rabbit, shrinking in on herself as if to turn invisible—to escape all notice from the circling birds of prey.
A swift lance of guilt stabbed Jehan. This too was her fault. Saba had done nothing to deserve such treatment, except be born a princess. Now, she feared
for her life at the hands of bloodthirsty bandits.
“We’re not going to harm the princess,” Jehan stated. “It would serve no purpose, and it’s wrong. Saba is not to blame for her father’s actions.”
“Then we take her back,” Maib countered, face grim. “There’s no point in her staying.”
“We can’t simply waltz into the palace and return her,” Makeem argued. “Security will be ten times tighter, now the pasha’s alerted. And besides…who’s to say he won’t change his mind. Right now he’s got a bunch of rich suitors on his doorstep. He has to save face and appear strong. But given time to reconsider, he might be willing to make a deal.”
“Makeem is right,” Otenyo spoke up. “There’s no harm in keeping the princess with us. Time is on our side, and we shouldn’t waste this opportunity.”
“The only opportunity you’re hoping for is a chance to get under her skirts,” Maib retorted.
“Enough.” Jehan raised her hand for silence. “I hear what you’re each saying, and I’ll consider it carefully. But right now I need time alone to think. I’ll be back with a decision before midnight.”
She turned to leave then looked back over her shoulder. “No one hassles the princess while I’m gone. Understood?”
The gathered bandits nodded their agreement. Satisfied, Jehan departed, walking farther up the ravine, alongside the murmuring stream. As she left the camp behind the evening quiet enfolded her, and she began to relax the wall of tension holding her feelings in check.
First came tears of anger and grief. Since no one could see, she let them flow, knowing a greater calm would follow after. Her decision shouldn’t be made on a whim. Too many lives were at stake. She needed a sharp clear mind, unburdened by repressed emotions.
At first the weeping seized her in painful spasms, wrenching her chest and gut. How could she bear any more loss? Hadn’t she withstood enough for one lifetime? And even worse, Dabir had died following her orders. His death might have been avoided, if only she’d been able to plan better.
The agony of it tore through her, elemental and unstoppable but also cleansing and necessary. At last, the intensity subsided, her tears drying and her breath coming more evenly. Jehan remembered the simple hard-won truth that life must go on—even when the path behind was strewn with regrets and the way forward remained uncertain.
“Oh, Abbah,” she said, sitting down cross-legged, resting her back against the ravine wall. “I wish you were here to council me.”
As with so many times before, Jehan pictured her father’s face. She visualized him sitting beside her, listening with a kindness that seemed to know no limit.
“What should I do, Abbah? Any way I turn, there’s more risk. But I can’t let them execute Basim. He’s the only family I have left.”
In her mind’s eye, Jehan saw her father nod thoughtfully, considering.
There’s no need to rush things, Jen. Life has a way of sorting itself out. Be patient and the knots will untangle.
She could hear those words, clear as a bell. How many times had he spoken them to her when she was a young girl?
“But I’ve taken a princess hostage. Her fate depends on me now, along with all the members of my band.”
Well…do you want to return her to the palace?
“No.” Jehan surprised herself with a swift sure answer. Where had that come from?
And why not?
“Because we’ve gone to so much trouble, and I don’t want it wasted. The pasha still might come around, once the suitors are gone. It’s our best chance of freeing Basim.”
Is that all?
“If I take Saba to our hill camp, Mari can see her again. She’s wanted that as long as I’ve known her, and she’s been such a help to me. This is something I could do, to show my thanks.”
There’s nothing more? Nothing you’d like from the princess, for yourself?
Jehan shook herself. That was quite enough of imagined conversations. Even with a mere memory of her father, she didn’t want to admit her attraction to Saba—the way it felt when they rode together, the princess leaning close, hands on Jehan’s waist. Or the way she looked, all softness and sweet curves, her lovely eyes the translucent color of dark tea.
It wasn’t sensible, to think that way. The princess probably hated her—with good reason. There was no place for anything to grow between them. To imagine otherwise was utter foolishness.
Follow your heart, Jen. You’ll find your decision is already made.
She heard the faint echo of her father’s words, as she pushed to her feet and hurried down the ravine.
Chapter Seven
Saba held a stunned silence as the bandits argued about her. They sat around the fire, eating roast gazelle, while she huddled in the shadows of the tent, hoping to avoid notice. Some of the outlaws seemed inclined to take an eye for an eye, in response to her father’s actions. The possibility sent a shiver through her, dread settling cold in the pit of her stomach.
Time dragged by as she waited for Jehan to return and tell the bandits her decision. The moon came into view above the ravine, slipping by overhead to disappear beyond the western rimrock. An owl flew downstream, swift and silent, as the rasping chirp of cicadas rose and fell in the darkness.
At last the Falcon returned, face resolute. She explained her intention to take Saba to the bandit’s hill camp, detouring on the way through the village of Kahdar. The dead messenger, Dabir, had been supporting a widowed sister and her children there. Jehan felt a responsibility to take them news of his death, to provide financial recompense, and also offer them a home in the hill camp if they wished it.
Makeem tried to dissuade her from the latter part of this plan. The desert towns would soon be crawling with soldiers searching for the kidnapped princess. Visiting Kahdar was too risky.
Jehan remained unshakable.
“I owe this much to Dabir’s sister,” she stated. “We’ll ride tonight and be gone from Kahdar before morning.”
Makeem shook his head but said no more. None of the other outlaws raised an objection.
“Let’s pack up and get moving,” Jehan said. “There’s no time to waste.”
She strode over to the tent and knelt by Saba. “I know it can’t have been pleasant, listening to us discuss your fate. I want to apologize for that…and for the fact you’ll be staying with us a while longer.” She glanced away, toward the bandits now efficiently breaking camp. Then her gaze returned to Saba’s face. “I’d rather not involve you in our plans, but it seems like our best chance of success. At the very least, I can assure you of my intentions. You’re under my protection and won’t be harmed in any way. I hope you might feel like a guest, rather than a prisoner.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, especially when some of your band wish me dead.” Saba spoke softly but met Jehan’s gaze. ‘Even more to the point…a guest chooses when they leave. A prisoner does not. I believe that speaks for itself.”
Jehan released a tired sigh and nodded. “Of course, you’re right. There’s no use pretending. But I am genuinely sorry for frightening you, and I will ensure your safety. Ahbdel and Ilfahn talk like brutes, but they’re more bark than bite. I promise they won’t bother you.”
“I appreciate your reassurance.” Saba found she now had the strength to rise, without her legs shaking. Jehan also stood, brushing sand from her knees.
Within minutes the entire camp was dismantled. Jehan gave Saba a mount for the night’s journey, there being pack horses enough to carry the gear and the remaining gazelle meat. The group picked their way single-file out of the ravine, Makeem once more leading Saba’s horse.
As with their arrival, Saba wore a blindfold until they had ridden some distance. When her eyes were once more uncovered, she gazed in awe at the vast star-bejeweled sky, stretching to the far horizon. Would the beauty and immensity of the desert never cease to amaze her?
For two hours the band rode northwest, keeping the line of rocky hills to their left
. Eventually they came to a desert town, its southeastern edge being gradually swallowed by a massive curving dune. Abandoned houses in that section looked half-filled with sand, their windows like hollow eyes.
“What happened to the people from those homes?” Saba asked Makeem, saddened by the lonely sight.
“Oh, they’re still around, just living on the other side of town now. When the dune moves and these houses clear out, they’ll probably come back here.”
Saba considered that. How transitory such a life must be, moving with the rhythms of the desert as it breathed, like a great beast shifting in age-old slumber. So different from the palace, with its thick walls and air of unquestioned permanence.
As they entered the populated area of town, a few dogs barked, and a window here or there shone with lamplight, despite the late hour. Even in the neighborhoods where people lived, sand crunched under the horses’ hooves, having drifted across the packed-earth walkways, forming drifts and eddies in the corners of buildings.
The outlaws rode silent and alert. Once they spotted a patrol of soldiers, still at some distance, armor glinting in the starlight. Without a sound—only quick hand gestures from Jehan—the band turned and melted into the night, slipping down dark alleys to gather again on a smaller side street.
When the group finally reached the house of Dabir’s sister, Saba was left in a crumbling courtyard with only Makeem to watch her, while the others went inside. The weary bandit leaned against a wall, obviously feeling the effects of too many days travel with insufficient sleep. His eyelids drooped, his attention wavering.
This was surely her chance. If Saba could sneak away and find the patrolling soldiers, they’d return her to the palace at once. She watched Makeem, waiting till he appeared to doze off, before cautiously moving toward the entryway.
As her hand closed over the gate latch, she paused, glancing back at the outlaw’s slumped figure. He had been kind to her, in his way. Did she really want to risk his arrest? Once the soldiers had Saba, they would search the town thoroughly, intent on finding her kidnappers. The bandits would almost certainly be caught.