by Farah Zaman
The phone in their suite rang. Adam picked it up and after listening for a minute, he said, “Yes, I figured that would happen. Have you told Zaid and Zahra yet? Okay, I’ll let them know. We’ll see you all later.”
After hanging up, he said, “That was Uncle Miftah. Our flight back to the oasis has been delayed. Instead of leaving at ten, we’ll be leaving around three when the sandstorm clears. I’m calling Zaid and Zahra now to let them know.”
“Tell them we’ll go down for breakfast at nine,” said Layla.
After speaking to their friends and hanging up the phone, Adam said, “We have two hours to go before breakfast. I’m going to get some shut-eye in the meantime.”
Feeling the burn in her own eyes, Layla said, “Yeah, me too.”
She returned to bed, plumped out her pillow and placed her head on it. She closed her eyes.
Just before nine, Zaid and Zahra knocked on Adam and Layla’s door. Except for the slight pallor on her plump cheeks, Zahra seemed to have recovered from her close call with calamity. She was wearing a yellow floral dress with gray scarf, showing no outward signs of nerves. In fact, she seemed more tired than traumatized. Layla was relieved. It had been a great shock seeing that car bearing down on her friend. By a miracle of Allah, it had missed hitting Zahra.
When they went down to the dining room, Miftah and Suha were there. After filling their plates at the buffet, the teenagers politely stopped by the couple’s table to give salaams. They were about to move on when Suha gestured to the empty chairs around their table. “You can sit here. We’ve got plenty of room.”
She was dressed in a deep rust-colored outfit that was flattering to her buttery complexion. But it seemed as if she had not slept well. There were slight purple shadows under her eyes and a drawn look to her face. Layla found it hard to believe she was the daughter of Husam, the black sheep of the Al-Khalili family. She hadn’t even been born when the Moon of Masarrah went missing.
After they were seated, Suha asked, “Did you have a good time yesterday?”
“We did, thank you,” said Adam. “Now we know what Ghassan City looks like.”
“It doesn’t look like much right now with sand everywhere,” said Miftah. Like his wife, he too looked like he did not have a restful night. There were small pouches beneath his eyes and his face looked blotchy. He seemed on edge, his eyes shifting restlessly around the dining room.
Hala made an entrance then. She did not look pleased to see the teenagers sitting with her father and stepmother. After filling her plate at the buffet, she had no choice but to sit with them. She was dressed in jeans and a cream lace shirt. Long earrings dangled at her ears though her face was bare of makeup. She also looked hollow-eyed with tiredness. Spreading jam on her toast, she bit into it before taking a long sip of coffee.
Trying to fill the awkward silence, Layla said, “This is the first time Adam and I are seeing a sandstorm. It’s something else.”
Hala’s lips lifted in a sneer. “You don’t have sandstorms in America? How sad. Maybe you should take some of it back in your suitcase to show your friends.”
Layla’s face colored at the other girl’s jibe. She had to bite her tongue to hold back her retort.
Suha looked at her stepdaughter with flinty eyes. “There’s no need for such rudeness, Hala. Not everywhere has sandstorms like we do.”
“Stupid sandstorm,” Hala muttered into her teacup. “Why did it have to happen today of all days? Uncle Saad was planning to come see us off. Now he won’t be able to come.”
“A haboob is not something anyone can control,” said Suha. “Things won’t always go the way we want them to. We have to learn to deal with disappointments.”
“I wasn’t asking for a lecture.” Hala’s voice was snippy. It seemed her shopping spree with Uncle Saad had not improved her temper.
“Then you shouldn’t act like a spoiled child,” said her stepmother.
“Just leave me alone,” said Hala. “I’m tired of your constant nagging.”
“That’s enough, Hala.” Miftah’s voice sounded weary and flat.
Poor Uncle Miftah. It must be exhausting trying to keep peace between his wife and daughter.
When they returned to their suite, Adam could not sit still. He prowled about the sitting room, opening the blinds every now and then to stare out into the whirling clouds of sand. As he did so, he would drum his knuckles against the glass.
“Will you stop doing that?” Layla finally said in irritation. “It’s driving me crazy.”
Adam’s bottom lip jutted out. “I’m going crazy cooped up in here.” Dressed in black jeans and a blue Polo shirt, his hair tousled as usual, he looked like a sulky little boy.
“Why don’t you and Zaid go work out in the hotel’s gym?” said Layla.
Adam brightened. “That’s a good idea.”
As he was about to leave, he said, “I meant to ask you. What’s up with you and Hala?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen her giving you dirty looks a few times. And this morning, she was quite nasty to you.”
Layla knew if she told him about her run-in with the other girl, he might make a big fuss and even want to tell Tariq. She did not want to embarrass Tariq or escalate Hala’s enmity.
“Hala doesn’t seem to like me,” she said truthfully. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
By the time Mustapha arrived to take them to the airfield that afternoon, much of the haboob had receded. A light smog still lingered, smelling of soil and sand. High above, the sun’s rays struggled to pierce through the layers of dust that had eclipsed it earlier. Wearing goggles and masks, they hustled out to Mustapha’s van. When they reached the airfield, a dusty haze was hovering above the runway. Fudail descended from the cockpit to greet them again. The pilot seemed to take the sandstorm in stride as he went through his flight routine.
The jet roared down the runway before lifting gracefully off the ground. It soared through sand and sky until it was cruising high above the clouds. Layla settled back against the seat for a nap. Waiting out the sandstorm had been exhausting. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and find a few minutes of oblivion.
The sandstorm seemed worse when they landed on the airstrip at Dukhan Oasis. Layla stared out in dismay at the blanket of sand around the limestone hills. It looked more like night than day. She had no idea how Fudail had managed to find the runway with such perfect precision.
“I thought it would be over by the time we got here,” she said.
“It’s usually worse inland,” said Miftah. “It will probably clear by tomorrow.”
The chauffeur was waiting with the brown van at the edge of the airstrip. Luggage was transferred from plane to van with quick efficiency. There were considerably more bags coming back than they had left with. Suha and Hala had done some serious shopping. They all piled into the van, the pilot included. He told them he had received instructions to stay the night at the castle. As they turned the corner at a limestone hill, Layla’s eyes widened.
Dukhan Castle looked like something out of a nightmare with the sandy mist swirling around it. Two spots of light glared out from the first floor like fearsome eyes while the thick fog blanketed the top of the towers, giving the castle the look of a misshapen monster. Layla shivered. If she thought the castle had looked creepy before, it now looked positively menacing.
After entering the forecourt, they climbed out of the van, stiff and silent. The sandstorm seemed to have sucked the spirits out of them all. With dragging feet, they walked up to the front door. Dhul Fikar was there to open it and greet them. His face bore a somber look as he shuffled ahead of them into the domed hall. When they entered, it was to find Tariq, Ghazala and Jumana sitting there, speaking in hushed tones. They became silent when the travelers walked in. Ghazala’s lips had a tight look while Jumana’s e
yes expressed worry and some other emotion Layla could not define. As for Tariq, his jaw was clenched, as if he was holding some deep emotion in check. The travelers knew then that something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” asked Miftah, his eyebrows coming together.
Lifting red-rimmed eyes in a face drawn with anguish, Tariq said, “Something terrible has happened.”
Chapter Ten:
Stone in a Saddle
Layla’s heart skipped a beat.
“What is it?” asked Suha, her eyes wide with alarm.
Tariq said, “Qais heard Grandfather’s call bell going off a few minutes after twelve last night. When he got to Grandfather’s suite, Grandfather’s eyes were wide with shock and he was struggling to sit up. When Qais asked him what was wrong, he said he had awakened to the sound of a scream and seen the Woman in White staring down at him from the foot of the bed. She then opened the window and jumped out. After telling Qais this, Grandfather became white to the lips and passed out. Qais revived him but Grandfather’s breathing was still heavy so Qais came and woke us up. We decided to take Grandfather to the hospital in Khaldun. We were in the middle of the sandstorm, but we managed to get him to the hospital without getting lost. He’s there now, hooked up to tubes again.” Tariq’s voice ended on a choked note.
“We should never have left,” said Miftah. “I shouldn’t have let Hala harangue me into going to Ghassan City.”
A stony look came over Hala’s face at her father’s words.
“Why didn’t someone call us?” asked Suha.
“We didn’t want you coming in the middle of the sandstorm,” said Ghazala. “There was nothing you could have done. We have to wait and see what happens now. It’s in Allah’s hands.”
That night, Layla huddled in bed as she listened to the haboob howl as if it would swallow up the castle. The infernal sand seemed to seep in from every crack and crevice with no respite. She could feel the gritty grains in her eyes, her nose, and even taste it on her tongue.
I don’t think I want to experience another sandstorm ever again. This one is enough to last me a lifetime.
The wind died down in the night and the sandstorm was gone by the next morning. And so was the Al-Khalili Corporation’s private jet. Layla heard its sharp whine over the castle just after sunrise. Fudail had wasted no time in heading back to Ghassan City.
Tariq was depressed at breakfast but at lunch, he was beaming.
“Grandfather didn’t suffer another stroke or a heart attack,” he said to the teenagers. “He had been suffering from shock. He’s stable now and wants to come home. He threatened to stop his donations to the hospital if they didn’t discharge him today. He’ll be coming home this afternoon.”
And so it was. The Shaykh returned to Dukhan Castle neither better nor worse than he had been before his visit from the Woman in White. As a precautionary measure, an iron bar had been placed across his window to cut off any avenue of escape should the fake ghoul feel the urge to visit his suite again.
Life resumed its normal course after the Shaykh’s return from the hospital. And so did their riding lessons on Wednesday and Thursday. As they headed to the stables on Friday afternoon, Tariq said, “I heard there’s going to be a camel race in Khaldun tomorrow. Would you like to go?”
“Oh yes,” said Layla. “Adam and I have never seen a camel race before.”
“It’s quite an experience,” said Zahra.
“And a lot of excitement,” said Zaid.
“Sounds like fun,” said Adam.
“It is,” said Tariq. “You’ll be able to see a little bit of Khaldun and get your wish to ride in my car. I have some more good news for you.”
“What is is?” asked Layla.
“We’re going to the fields outside. We’ll ride to the Dukhan foothills.”
Adam and Layla whooped in excitement.
Mounted atop their horses, the foursome followed Tariq out of the gate. They emerged onto a sandy path bordered by bitterbrush and low-lying shrubs. The surrounding landscape looked dry and gray in the harsh sunlight. It was a stark reminder they were surrounded by desert on all sides. The sky seemed even loftier in this great empty space. In the distance, the peak of the Dukhan Hills seemed to bend and shift in the concealing clouds. Nestled beneath its great hulk was a dense wall of trees.
Tariq pointed to it. “That’s the acacia forest at the foothills. We’re heading there. Layla and Adam, if you think we’re going too fast or if you need to stop and rest, let me know.”
Tariq set off at a measured trot on a well-ridden path. Layla’s heart raced as she held on to Ayah’s reins and guided the horse along. When they came to a gentle incline, she leaned forward in the saddle and dug her toes in the stirrups as they climbed up. The incline gave way to a flat, sandy stretch of land and Tariq broke into a canter, cuing the other horses to follow suit. After her initial nervousness, Layla got accustomed to Ayah’s rolling gait. A sense of exhilaration swept through her as the warm wind flowed over her face and the blinding rays of the sun beat down upon her back.
As they neared the acacia forest, Jasim came to a stop and reared up with a high-pitched neigh. The teenagers reined in their horses, watching in distress as Tariq clung to the great beast’s back and tried to placate it. Jasim returned his forelegs to the ground but continued to fuss and stomp the ground as they looked on worriedly.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Adam.
Tariq shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know. He’s never been so fussy before.”
“Maybe something startled him,” said Zaid.
“I haven’t seen anything that could have done so,” said Tariq. He spurred the horse forward again. The next moment, Jasim’s head rose up and his ears flared back. He bolted with Tariq crouched low over the saddle. The teenagers watched in shock as rider and beast disappeared into the forest.
“Oh, no,” Zahra cried. “Tariq’s in trouble.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Layla.
“Zahra and I will go after him,” said Zaid. “You and Adam can get off the horses and wait until we get back.”
After Zaid and Zahra galloped away, Adam and Layla struggled to dismount without the aid of a mounting block. Layla was relieved when her feet touched solid ground again. She had been terrified the other horses would imitate Jasim and bolt too. Neither she nor Adam had the skill or experience to control a runaway horse. Layla prayed that Tariq would not be hurt. She and Adam waited in suspense, speaking soothingly to the animals as the minutes ticked by.
Fifteen minutes later, their friends appeared on the path ahead, riding at a sedate pace.
“There they are,” said Layla in relief. “Thank Allah Tariq is fine.”
When they were within earshot, Adam asked, “Tariq, are you okay?”
“Yes, except for my bones being a little rattled.”
“How did you get Jasim to stop?” asked Layla.
“He slowed down when we got into the forest. I was able to grab hold of a tree branch and swing myself out of the saddle. Jasim came to a stop right after that.”
“I wonder what made him bolt like that,” said Adam.
“This was under his saddle.” Zaid held up a sharp-edged piece of stone the size of a small hen’s egg. “Since we didn’t see anything on the path that would have made him bolt, I had a feeling there was something under the saddle which must be hurting him.”
Adam and Layla stared at the jagged stone in surprise. They could hardly believe such a small stone would cause the great horse to bolt.
“That’s weird,” said Layla. “How did it get under the saddle?”
“I think someone put it there,” said Zaid. “A stone doesn’t suddenly appear under a saddle.”
“I can’t believe it was deliberate,” said Tariq. “It could have gotten stuck to the saddle and wh
oever saddled up Jasim didn’t notice it. I’ll let Hatem know, but please don’t mention it to anyone else. I don’t want Grandfather to hear of it and worry.”
As they trotted back to the stables, Layla’s head swam with uneasy thoughts. Had the stone under Tariq’s saddle been an innocent oversight or had it been put there to cause him harm? If it had been placed there with deliberate intent to hurt him, who could have done it and why?
At dinner, Tariq announced their plans to attend the camel race in Khaldun the following day.
“I heard there was going to be one,” said Ghazala. “I didn’t realize it was tomorrow.”
“You’re very fortunate to see one out of season,” said Miftah. “I think it’s in honor of some visiting dignitary.”
“Is there a special season?” asked Adam.
“It’s usually from October to April,” said Miftah. “The weather is much cooler during those months.”
“I’m glad robots are now being used in the Emirates to replace the young jockeys,” said Jumana. “I hope Ghassan will follow their example. The injuries those poor young boys face is appalling. I think I’ll write a petition to get them going.”
“You can’t fix everything in the world, Jumana,” said Suha. Her expression was calm but there had been an odd weight behind her words. She was dressed in a demure light-pink gown and wearing the same diamond pin Layla had seen her wearing before. It seemed to be one of her favorite pieces of jewelry.
“I know I can’t fix everything,” said Jumana. Dressed in allover black that brought out the golden glints in her amber eyes, she looked a bit exotic. “The least I can do is speak out against it so someone in a better position can make a difference.”
Tariq gave her an affectionate look “That’s Jum-Jum for you. Always trying to do the right thing.”