Beyond the Veil

Chapters

الشمس الثانية ☼ Sun II
الشمس الثالثة ☼ Sun III
الشمس الرابِعة ☼ Sun IV
الشمس السادِسة ☼ Sun VI
الشمس السابِعة ☼ Sun VII
الشمس الثامِنة ☼ Sun VIII
الشمس التاسِعة ☼ Sun IX
الشمس اعاشِرة ☼ Sun X
الشمس الأولى ☼ Sun I
الشمس الخامِسة ☼ Sun V

الشمس الثانية ☼ Sun II

☼ Second Sun ☼

"Zahra! Nawar!" Sahar galloped past Aisha to greet the fillies with a trilling cry of joy. She dipped her head low to nuzzle one, then the other. After a pause, she looked over at Aisha. "Why do my little flowers smell of the underground?"

Both fillies shuffled their hooves and cast their eyes downward. "Sorry," they mumbled together.

Aisha gave an indignant snort as she turned around to face her mother completely. Before she had spoken, she was already guilty in the narrowed eyes that stared in wait of an explanation.

"Oh, did I not mention?" Aisha said with the venom of sarcasm in her voice. "I, being the irresponsible daughter that I am, forced them to follow me into a cave, then got lost and required their help escaping from a stallion of Al-Hamdani."

Sahar's ears flattened and she stood over the fillies as if to protect them, flashing her teeth in a rare loss of composure as she yelled, "Aisha!"

"What?" Aisha snapped back. "They're the ones who ran in, not me. I'm the one who saved them, Ummi! Direct your anger where it belongs just this once." She turned and stormed her way to their family's tent, her tail lashing to warn all away.

It was no surprise that, inside, she found Basma fast asleep. Her delicate hooves weren't suitable for labor, so she remained at the tent while the other mares of the herd were gathered in the camp's center for the daily chores. The gems collected by the stallions needed to be ground into dyes, clothes had to be cleaned as best they could without water, and food needed to be prepared.

That was no work for a mare like Basma. She, instead, was a dancer. She delighted the herd with her subtle but mesmerizing movements, especially with the way she could sway her hips to jingle the coins sewn to her colorful attire. Her little hooves that were insufficient for daily chores were capable of the most fluid steps and kicks.

Aisha smiled and slipped her headdress off, then dropped down beside Basma to nudge her nose to her sister's forehead. "Wake up."

Basma stirred, but only long enough to smile and mumble, "Welcome back."

A grin spread across Aisha's muzzle as she whispered, "Oh, sister, night has fallen. The stallions have returned and are requesting you."

Basma jolted upright and looked around in a sudden panic, then froze when Aisha snickered. "What—?"

Aisha flashed an unabashedly amused smile. "I lied, but now that you're up, I have something to talk about."

"Aisha," Basma whined, but there was curiosity in her eyes. "I was up all night dancing. What's so important?"

Aisha glanced at the tent's entrance before she scooted closer to Basma. "I saw something," she whispered, "while I was chasing after the weeds."

Basma straightened up, her ears swiveling to face forward and perk upright. "What? Where?"

"They ran into a cave of Al-Hamdani." The muscles along Aisha's sides and flanks twitched in agitation. "I had to chase them down. I found water instead, but—" Aisha breathed in through her clenched teeth, then clamped her mouth shut to release the air out her nose. "But I wasn't alone."

"A follower of Al-Hamdani?" Basma asked, hope lacing the edge of her voice.

Aisha kicked her hindlegs out to sprawl among the cool pillows beneath her. "I can't describe it, Basma." She gazed up at the tent's ceiling, her forelegs tucked in to her chest. "It was like no creature I have ever seen. The sounds it made, I have never heard before. It was as if I saw a Djinn."

Basma gasped and made to bolt to her hooves, but froze halfway. "Aisha, you must be mistaken!" she hissed in a low whisper. "No one can see the Djinn but the sheikha!"

"I know that!" Aisha glared at her. "I said it was as if, not that it was. Of course it wasn't a Djinn." Though she said the words herself, even she could hear that the words lacked her normal confidence and bravado.

There was a long moment of tense silence before Basma broke it with a yawn, lowering herself back down. "What do you think it was?"

Sighing, Aisha rolled onto her side to bury herself as deeply into the pillows as they would allow. "I don't know. I'm going to speak to Sheikha Wardee as soon as I've rested from running through the desert."

A smile broke across Basma's muzzle as she nuzzled close and inclined her head to look up at her. "What was the cave like?"

"Cold," Aisha responded without a second thought. "Promise me you'll stay away from caves, Basma. They're not places for us. The water is not worth the disconnect from Al-Seglawi."

"I promise." Basma lowered her head and snorted a light, happy puff of air when Aisha draped her neck over hers. "More than Al-Seglawi, I would hate to upset you."

Aisha's ears flicked as she laughed softly. "I can't see the Djinn, but you can offend them?"

The muscles of Basma's neck tightened and she burrowed closer. "I'm sorry."

As her laughter settled, uncertainty rose within Aisha's chest. She wanted to remain in the cool shade with her sister, but there were too many questions in her mind. In the dark corners of the tent, she could see the faded memory of the ethereal horse staring back at her.

"I should do something productive," Aisha finally said with a long sigh as she stood up and walked across the rug over to the entrance. "Sleep well."

Basma whispered a soft farewell that was lost on the wind pouring in from the opened flaps. Aisha looked at all the tents that made up the boundary of camp, each big enough for a whole family to sleep together, each a different color and pattern.

While her family's was a simple black canvas with white stripes along the sides, there were some belonging to the more prestigious families that were adorned with tassels and silver coins. She looked over at her older sister's tent, smaller and without any stripes at all; though both she and her husband worked hard, neither had brought enough prestige for adornment.

Within the camp, young mares danced across the sand, bounding and giggling as they chased one another. Older mares sat in the center under an open canopy to talk while they ground gems and flattened dough. Not a single stallion was in sight; all of them were away at the mining site.

Aisha's hooves carried her swiftly across the sand and over to the canopy's shade to escape the burning sun where several groups of mares were hard at work. She glanced between them until she recognized her mother's simple black-and-red robe that was adorned with only a single necklace of dulled silver.

"Hello, Ummi," Aisha greeted as she approached them, ignoring the over-decorated mares who glanced her way.

"Aisha," Sahar said, her voice carefully guarded, "I am surprised to see you here. I thought you said you'd already worked your shift? Or are you bored of rest already?"

The muscles along Aisha's sides twitched beneath her robe as she sat down, pulling a bowl close and crushing the lapis lazuli within. "It is as you always say, Ummi: the herd, the family, and the self—always in that order, and no other."

Sahar paused before a smile shone in her eyes. "I'm glad to hear that, but you shouldn't be here. You should be preparing for the Khetbah. The followers of Al-Kehlian shall arrive soon to gather the herds."

Aisha pressed her hoof harder, relishing in the sensation of stones giving way and grinding down. "I want to help in this way for now. It's too hot to run about."

Though Sahar seemed to want to argue further, one of the other mares spoke before she could. "There's nothing to worry about, Sahar! Aisha will bring a fine stallion to your family this year. She is wise to conserve her energy."

"But," another said in a chiding tone, "a family of your station, perhaps she would also be wise to be less picky. There were many stallions of good quality last year. Any one of them would have brought honor to your household."

A third nodded while her hooves kneaded a roll of dough, the circlets around her legs jingling loudly. "It's not difficult to rise when already so low."

The scarcest of smiles circled the mares; Sahar said nothing, her gaze downcast. Aisha watched the remarks erode her mother's pride until even she couldn't bear it any longer.

"Better to be low in the shade," Aisha said, her gaze flickering between the mares, "than too high and burning in the sun, blinded by your own conceited light."

"Aisha, quiet," Sahar hissed, but the look in her eyes betrayed a smile she was suppressing with all her might.

Several clothed heads turned to look at Aisha, their veils folded up around their foreheads to keep the sweat off their brow. Her own head was bare, and she made no attempts to hide the smirk that split her muzzle.

"You're right, Ummi. I would hate to remind them of how many daughters you have borne. Enough that we could have a stallion from each herd. Imagine the strength that would give our family! Yes, it would be better to keep quiet about such things."

The mares whispered to one another, their contempt as well-hidden as Aisha's smug expression.

"What a shame for Sahar. Her daughter speaks with too much vainglory."

"Such a beautiful face, marred by foolish arrogance."

"I am sure she will fail to bring a stallion to her family yet again this year."

Sahar, however, gazed at Aisha with pride. It was nice to be looked at that way by her mother, but there was a cost: she truly had no intention of being tied down by marriage, and that would start the storm between them once again. Aisha ducked her head and continued to crush the lapis lazuli down into a blue powder, then exchanged the first bowl for another.

Only the mares of Al-Seglawi's herd had hooves capable of turning hard gemstones into the treasured dyes that sustained them in trade. It was one of the blessings from their matron Djinn that allowed them to thrive.

The sun continued its journey across the sky toward the horizon, and soon the activities within the camp went toward putting dinner together. The day's work was cleared away, each color of powder poured into matching vases. The most important was the bright red vase that held the khatar al'ahmar—a volatile mineral that, once separated into dangerous khatar and harmless ahmar, would become a highly cherished red dye.

Just as plates and bowls were set out beneath the open canopy, a thundering of hooves rumbled in the near distance and was overtaken by a song of joyful cries, trills, and whinnies. All activity stopped so that the mares could go to the edge of camp and greet the returning stallions from their day of labor. Aisha stood with the others, looking at the horizon that shifted with the galloping forms of their stallions cresting the dunes.

They wore shorter robes that protected from the sun but didn't inhibit the mining work that they attended all day. Yokes on their withers carried baskets of the colorful stones they had gathered, heavy loads that seemed weightless from the way they freely moved.

That was who Aisha wanted to be. She didn't want to sit in camp and gossip with the other mares, cutting with words and sitting like a kept pet. No—she wanted to take hold of the freedom that made her Badawi. She wanted to work under the sun, dig in the sand, run in the wind, and truly enjoy a cold, refreshing, well-earned drink of water.

When they reached camp, Aisha could smell the fruits of their labor just as well as she could see it. Their robes clung to their muscles with sweat and colored dust, and they reeked of both. But more than all of that, they shone with pride at what they had brought back, at what they had provided. Their duty had been fulfilled, and they were rewarded with affection from their wives, daughters, and mothers.

Sahar received her husband, Adil bin Farrah, with a delighted nuzzle of her neck against his. He had come to her from the herd of Al-Kehilan, the Givers of Life who acted as traders between each Badawi herd as well as the Hadar who lived in the city of Al-Jawhar.

The knowledge of the desert he held rivaled most others' that Aisha knew; he could navigate the desert blindfolded, he knew the name of every star in the sky, and he bore all of this with a calm and quiet demeanor that betrayed nothing.

"Welcome back, ya hayati," Sahar said fondly.

Adil smiled into her mane before he straightened back up to his full height. "Thank you, ya amar." He broke into a rumbling laugh when Nawar and Zahra bounded between his long legs, squealing their delight, and he started forward to join the other stallions in unloading his baskets.

Once each basket was put away and the stallions had stripped off their sweaty garments, dinner finally began. Bread wrapped in cloth was dug up from where it had baked under the sand, bowls of dried dates were passed around, and a large jug doled out each horse's water into cups wide enough for their muzzles to fit.

Every member of the herd sat down to eat together and—most of all—share tales of the past so that their history was never forgotten. Aisha had heard them all several times over, but she still looked forward to what story Sheikha Wardee would tell each night.

Aisha's family sat the furthest from the center, including Qadira and Ma'mun—her older sister and brother-by-Khetbah, respectively. He was like Adil in that he spoke very little, but Qadira was much the opposite.

"Ma'mun and I should have good news soon." Qadira tossed her head, the white cowrie shells woven into her dark grey mane clicking together. "I've wrapped myself in a green cloth each night for the past two weeks. The Djinn will smile on us soon, I'm sure."

Sahar offered a calm, almost comforting smile. "I hope that is so."

With a soft laugh, Qadira leaned in to press up against the muscular chest of her husband. "If it pleases Al-Seglawi, I hope for a beautiful daughter to bring us a noble stallion when she is of age."

Aisha snorted and rolled her eyes toward Basma. "What a shame if she had a son who ruined her plans."

"Aisha!" Basma whispered, but her lips betrayed her by curling into a small smile. "Don't be jealous of her ambition."

"I'm not jealous." Aisha tore a piece of bread between her teeth and chewed it with a glower over Basma's back at Qadira, who continued to talk on and on. "She left our tent because she thinks she can rise faster without us. And yet Ummi still treats her like a beloved daughter."

Basma fluttered her lashes with an innocent giggle. "Oh, I see. You're jealous that Ummi likes her more than you."

Aisha's mouth flapped open and closed a few times before gave up and stuck out her tongue, earning another giggle from Basma.

A hush fell over the crowd as their sheikha, Wardee, approached the wide circle of horses in her usual resplendence that took Aisha's breath away. Each step she took rang out from the bells that adorned the hem of her open headdress, the hoops that dangled from her ears, and the necklaces that wrapped around her neck.

She was tall and slender, with a long reddish-brown mane that glowed like embers in the fading sunlight and burned against her soft roan coat. The golden jewelry she wore seemed dull in comparison to her bright silver eyes that glinted with power beyond their comprehension.

Truly, she was blessed by Al-Seglawi.

The elders at her sides—three mares and three stallions, always in balance—each wore a simple black robe with a headdress of delicate silver chains. Their faces were hidden so that only their eyes were visible, lending an air of mystery to them while also ensuring that they did not outshine the sheikha herself.

Sheikha Wardee drew a breath as she lowered herself onto the rug and took a moment to look around the herd with a fond, motherly smile. She waited until the elders had readied an assortment of instruments in front of them before she began to speak, her voice deep and soothing as it rolled over the sounds of eating and hushed conversation.

"For as long as the sands have formed the dunes, so too have the Djinn guided our way. From east to west, north to south, the Djinn are always with us." Her eyes closed and a wind stirred, silencing everyone as it drifted by, caressing their faces in warmth. "Al-Seglawi is here."

Aisha lifted her head, a date held between her teeth. She saw nothing—but what else had she expected? She glanced at Basma sitting at her side, who smiled when their eyes met, and she remembered the words from earlier that day: "No one can see the Djinn but the sheikha!"

It was true. Perhaps the sands were not solely responsible for mirages. Her senses had been so overwhelmed by the underground that it was scarcely a surprise that she had, for a moment, lost her mind.

"Many, many years ago," Wardee continued, "a herd of twenty families left the gilded safety of Al-Jawhar to seek freedom in the desert. The desert, however, did not welcome them, and they soon found themselves lost in the endless sand. All seemed hopeless until a horse of smokeless fire appeared and bade them to drink from a nearby stream."

Aisha glanced over at the twins and couldn't help a smile. They were absolutely enraptured in the story, hanging on Wardee's every word. She had felt just as enthralled the first time she heard it, too; now, however, she simply felt pride.

Wardee moved her hoof to draw it along the lip of her cup. "Then, as the families went to quench their thirst, the ethereal horse called for the matriarchs of each family to return to her. Only five obeyed; only five were blessed with a matron Djinn. And thus the herds of the Djinn were formed."

Ethereal. That word sent the hairs of Aisha's coat standing on end. She chewed on another date to keep her mind from wandering to the cave.

"We are the proud herd of Al-Seglawi. We are the Chasers of the Wind. We follow her winds wherever they may lead to find the gems that rest beneath the sand." Wardee lifted her head high and said in a voice that carried further than seemed possible, "It was my ancestor who was chosen by Al-Seglawi to find the freedom that is now a part of our natural lives and is my duty to preserve."

Hooves pounded against the rug they were all spread out on, but they were quickly silenced as the sheikha continued.

"The herd of Al-Kehilan, the Givers of Life, will arrive tomorrow to take us to the Khetbah so that our daughters may bring stallions into our families. The price we must pay in exchange is that we will also say goodbye to our sons as they step out from under Al-Seglawi's blessing and follow a new matron Djinn.

"Sons of Al-Seglawi, always remember from where you came, but do not disgrace your new family. Accept your new matron into your heart. This is your sacred duty, so that all herds remain strong. Daughters of Al-Seglawi—"

Aisha winced. She could feel Sahar's gaze fall on her, as if the impending words were directed at her alone. It was a fight they'd had many times before and were sure to have many times again.

"—choose your new husband wisely. It is your sacred right to find a stallion suitable to care and provide for you, but do not forget that a stallion will also bring strength to your family."

In an effort to look anywhere but at the sheikha or her mother, Aisha's gaze found something else: an ethereal face. It was only visible within the rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy above, but it was there, and it was looking at her.

This horse was different from the one within the caves. It was surrounded by layers of cloth so fine Aisha could see through them, all of which floated on a breeze that she couldn't feel. Just as the one before, however, in the center of her forehead was a long, curved horn.

Golden eyes behind a thin veil focused on her in an impassive stare before the horse's head inclined with mild curiosity.

"كيف يمكنكِ رؤيتي وسماعي؟"

Aisha cried out in fear and surprise as the voice echoed in her skull—this one was like a trumpeting mizmar.

All eyes turned on her, silence filling the space after her scream. Between the sheikha's focused stare, her mother's seething leer, and Basma's concerned look, Aisha felt suffocated. All she could do was raise a hoof to point at where the face was.

Or, as she discovered, where it had been.

Qadira rolled her eyes. "What a surprise that Aisha would run afoul of herd tradition. Again."

"No!" Aisha gasped out. "I saw—" She looked around at all the faces looking back at her. "I saw—" Her gaze met Wardee's and she shrank back under the power those silver eyes contained. Her ears folded back and she lowered her gaze, muttering, "A mirage, I apologize."

There was a snort of annoyance from Qadira and a disappointed look from Sahar, but the sheikha only regarded her with a silent stare before she raised a hoof. The elders placed their hooves upon the instruments that sat in front of them, and a melody brought together by delicately plucked strings, lightly tapped drums, and gently blown reeds began to fill the air around them.

"These veins are ours," Wardee sang, her voice rising and falling like dunes stretching into a melodious horizon.

"To us the zephyr of this desert belongs

"She who has willed to us is the beginning."

Hooves stamping in rhythm with the song, the herd sang as one in harmonious chorus,

"A good life we have lived

"Within our spirit we cherish her."

Aisha moved her mouth, but no words slipped past her lips. Instead, her eyes darted among the circle of horses, searching for that face in the waning sunlight.

"Remember those who have left before," Wardee continued.

"Happiness be extended to you in the sands

"Kindness in time will shelter you."

There were no faces that didn't belong. She saw nothing but the unity among the daughters and sons of Al-Seglawi as they sang,

"Alive is this herd

"With wealth and might."

A shiver ran down Aisha's spine and she clenched her eyes shut, but the vision was still in her mind—as was the sound it had made in that strange language of music. She felt a sweat break out along her back and sides and her eyes snapped open, seeking the sheikha, who continued to sing.

"Protected in the sands

"Let our passions with sentiments interlace

"In a poetic eminence let us interweave."

In the morning, Aisha would go to Wardee. She had the answers. She could help her. She would make everything right again.

That thought, for a moment, brought Aisha enough peace to join in the next chorus.

"We long to bind

"In kinship with the Djinn."

The music and drumming of hooves ceased, giving way to Wardee's voice that surrounded them to stretch out past the canopy, into the desert and beyond.

"For our well-being I shall sing

"For happiness and misfortunes

"Have breached the darkness with light."

الشمس الثالثة ☼ Sun III

☼ Third Sun ☼

Al-Seglawi's wind was an unstoppable force, finding ways to slither through the spaces between the tents that were raised in two rings around the common work area. As Aisha made her way from her families' tent to the center, she glanced around at the disparity in the homes around her.

Each tent was a representation of wealth and status of the family that owned it. Lower families like her own lived along the outer circle with simple tents of one or two colors, while those with more means comprised that of the inner. The more wealth a family had, the more luxuries they could use to adorn their homes as well as themselves.

None of them, however, could compare to the glory of the sheikha's pavilion that crossed over both circles in its size. It was more than just a home to Wardee and her elders: it was a living reminder of the herd and its rich history.

Aisha stopped outside the large tent, trying to settle her nerves by focusing on the breathtaking work of art in front of her. The cloth was dark green with white stripes along the bottom hem—wealth and prosperity built upon purity and goodness. Silver and gold coins dangled in long strands from the overhang to catch in the wind with melodious chimes.

The entire expanse of green was embroidered with an intricate gold pattern that narrated the history of their herd. At the very top sat the symbol of Al-Seglawi: a curved line with six dots beneath it to represent her sacred winds. Spiraling down from it were depictions of an important event from every sheikha's rule, each connected by a single thread to denote the order as well as signify unity.

When there was no more room, the tent would be expanded, but there was still plenty of space for the sheikhas to come. With a sense of pride filling her chest, Aisha looked forward to what Wardee would sew by hoof. What would happen in her life to earn such an honor? A part of her hoped that she wouldn't just witness it, but even be a part of it.

Aisha pawed at the sand to release the nervous energy that had built up within her. Once she felt as settled as she was going to get, she lowered her head and gave a whinny through clenched teeth so that it rumbled in her throat. The sound was low, only loud enough for those nearby to hear.

A moment later, the flap opened and a head leaned out. The pair of deep brown eyes that looked at her were barely discernible in the sea of black cloth covering their owner.

"You may enter," Elder In'am rasped in a voice like falling sand, stepping back to allow Aisha passage while keeping a hoof against the tent flap.

Aisha said nothing; it wasn't her place to speak yet. She merely crossed the threshold from the hot morning's sun into the cool, large round tent that welcomed her with the smell of agarwood and cinnamon over hot coals. A burner in the middle of the room glowed, casting a faint light across the woven rug upon which the elders sat.

Across from the entrance, Sheikha Wardee was perched atop a wide, round cushion of shimmery silk. Shadows carved their way across her fine-boned face, accentuating the elegance of her long muzzle that faded from light roan to black. She practically radiated the power of Al-Seglawi that was bestowed upon her by her bloodline, her silver eyes glinting in the flickering light.

"May Al-Seglawi give you strength," Aisha murmured with respect, bowing low to touch her nose to the sheikha's hooves before backing away.

"Strength have I become, Aisha bint Sahar," Wardee said in a placid voice, dipping her head to sip from her tea before she asked, "What is it that brings you before me?"

Aisha prostrated herself on the rug and kept her head low. "Sheikha, I request your guidance and wisdom. My sisters went out into the desert and Sahar sent me to retrieve them. They went into a cave—"

A hushed murmur circulated among the elders, but Wardee raised a hoof to silence them, her eyes never leaving Aisha's. "Continue."

"I encountered a creature in the waters of Al-Hamdani," Aisha continued, her ears pinning back. "A horse of mist and light with a voice of music. And—And yesternight, I saw another. A different one."

All of the elders turned to look at the sheikha, who remained unmoved. Her gaze pierced through Aisha with a burning intensity, yet it chilled her to the very core. Then, with a light jingle from the ornate jewelry and bells she wore, Wardee rose and strode forward. Her presence was a palpable force that sent a shiver down Aisha's spine.

"Come," was all that Wardee said, and all that she needed to.

Aisha waited until Wardee walked past her to exit the tent before she straightened up and followed. A hush fell over the mares in the center of camp when her presence was noticed, and Sahar looked ready to bolt over when she noticed her daughter walking behind the sheikha.

Wardee moved with a long gait that barely left hoofprints in the sand, stopping at one of the groups and inclining her head to peer at them. "Is the khatar al'ahmar ready?"

One mare bowed her head before gesturing at the bright red vase affixed to a neckband. "Yes, Sheikha."

"Good." Wardee didn't look at Aisha as she commanded, "Give it to her."

Sahar's ears swiveled forward. "Sheikha, she is hardly—"

Saying nothing, Wardee silenced Aisha's mother with a single look, and Aisha grinned under the safety of her headdress. It was an honor to carry the khatar al'ahmar for the sheikha, one that was certainly never afforded to someone like her. Her family was of little consequence to the hierarchy in the herd. Perhaps she was the first in her line to perform this sacred task.

Two mares stood on opposite sides of Aisha, both holding the strap and lifting it over Aisha's head, then down her neck. The taut rope dug into her withers when they let go as the weight of the vase dragged it down, which pressed against the center of her chest like an oversized pendant.

Aisha pushed all thoughts from her mind—smug thoughts of what her mother's expression was at that moment, curious thoughts of how this related to her inquiry, excited thoughts to see the ceremony—and dedicated herself to following Wardee out of the camp and into the desert.

There was great danger outside of camp, but Aisha felt no fear. Al-Seglawi was with the sheikha, and the sheikha was with her. She was safe.

That didn't stop the sights and sounds of ar-Rub Wafir from invading her thoughts, however. Creatures somewhere among the distant dunes yeowled, a shaheen falcon overhead cast a broad shadow across the sand, and the wind kicked sand up beneath her robes to bite at her legs.

Aisha knew little about the ceremony's details, but she was aware of three things: first, that it required a safe distance from camp in case something went wrong; second, that only the sheikha had the power to perform it; and third, that it was Al-Seglawi herself that reached into the vase to separate the khatar.

In the back of her mind, she realized—with sudden and forceful excitement that took her breath away—the connection between her inquiry and the ceremony. She had seen a Djinn. Two Djinn, in fact. If Wardee summoned Al-Seglawi, she would witness the reaction to Aisha's presence.

No one had ever seen the Djinn who wasn't a sheikha. This was how Aisha would not only be a part of her herd's history, but change her family's life. Her heart fluttered against her ribs as she imagined the future that was all at once a possibility.

Her family would become almost as powerful as the sheikha, and all because of Aisha. Better still, what if Wardee adopted Aisha as her own? The sheikha had no daughter yet, after all. Oh, the look on her mother's face would be priceless if that happened.

"Set it down," Wardee commanded as she came to a sudden halt and turned to face Aisha with an impassive yet piercing gaze.

Aisha thrust every thought aside to focus on setting the vase down safely. A single mistake could cost her life. The ahmar's deep red hues after it was purified of the khatar were prized above all others; perhaps that was because of the risk involved in it.

Aisha lowered her head to set the vase down, the sand eagerly accepting the sudden weight and shifting around its base. She took a careful step back to slip out of the harness, and the rope was mercifully compliant in sliding off to drop to the ground—though it did take her headdress with it.

The wind stirred to life as Wardee lifted her head high, nose to the sky. A single note hummed in her throat, reverberating deep within Aisha's soul. She elongated her forelegs in a formal bow, softened the hum until it faded away, then straightened up to her full height.

"Al-Seglawi," she called into the wind that swirled around them in response. "We seek your blessing. Purify this offering so that we may walk your path."

Aisha felt her robe rustle and her mane flutter in the breeze, but there were no grains of sand brushing past her ears. It was the pure wind of Al-Seglawi, and it stirred a black cloud of powder from the vase, leaving nothing behind but the harmless, red ahmar that would become precious vermilion.

It all took but a breath's moment, and yet Aisha felt exhausted once the wind died down. There was a tremor seizing her limbs, as if she might collapse at the slightest touch.

"What did you see?" Wardee asked, still staring at Aisha with a strange intensity.

Aisha furrowed her brow, her gaze flickering away to avoid those burning silver eyes. "I saw the khatar removed from the ahmar by Al-Seglawi."

"But you did not see Al-Seglawi herself." Wardee's expression finally shifted and she stared at Aisha with a darkness clouding her silver eyes. "You came to me because you thought your vision's creatures were a Djinn, yet it was a mirage that you saw. A mirage from the over-imaginative mind of a youngling, and nothing more."

Aisha's head jerked up and she tried not to flash her teeth, but her voice bit back unbidden, "It wasn't a mirage! It was real!"

Wardee narrowed her eyes and stepped forward to cast her shadow over Aisha's prostrated form. "Retrieve the vessel, return it to the herd, and do not speak of this nonsense again. Your mouth runs away with childish fantasies when your mind should be on the Khetbah."

Without another word between them, Wardee walked past Aisha, leaving her in the silence of the desert. Aisha felt a heat within her stronger than the sun on her back. The sand beneath her felt distant while her mind was a storm of emotion.

كيف يمكنكِ رؤيتي وسماعي؟

Aisha clenched her eyes shut when the sound pierced her ears from inside her memories. The wind gently shifted the folds of cloth that protected her, pushing on the underside of her muzzle to force her head up. She opened her eyes to see the black powder still in the air, and just as long as it took her to blink in surprise, it almost felt like it was looking back at her.

Then the wind returned and blew the powder to the far corners of the desert, taking her headdress along with it.

There were so many questions filling Aisha like a thirsty vessel, but she knew it was pointless. Her childish fantasy of becoming the—what? The next sheikha? It all seemed suddenly foolish, and she regretted saying a word to Wardee at all.

Only the sheikha could see a Djinn, and only her firstborn daughter could be the next sheikha. Aisha was neither.

With a feeling that was lost between embarrassment and frustration, she grabbed the vase's rope between her teeth and rose to her hooves. The walk back to camp was a slow march, and each step seemed to drag her down further into regret. She knew her mother would be waiting for her with an interrogation the moment she got within sight of camp.

All she wanted to do was pretend it had never happened, that all of it really was just a mirage. The pressure of the Khetbah was making her desperate for a way out. While she knew it was her privilege to be cared for by a stallion, it also meant that she would have to be resigned to becoming a wife and mother.

Aisha wasn't ready to give up on making her own way within the herd. There had to be something more for her to do. She didn't want to end up like Sahar or Qadira, just another mare within their line to sit at the bottom with little hope of becoming someone great.

Movement off to her right caught her eye and she glanced over to see a lizard perched on a rock, both the color of sand with flecks of darker brown. The twitching legs of an insect that stuck out from its mouth were a stark reminder of the constancy of the world she lived in.

All life followed the same principles: from the unforgiving food chain of predator and prey to the hierarchy of families within the herds, something had to be at the bottom for others to be at the top. She just wished it didn't have to be her stuck so low.

As soon as Aisha crested the final dune, Sahar was already storming toward her with narrowed eyes and pinned ears. "What happened?"

Aisha let go of the rope to drop the vase at her mother's hooves, her own eyes downcast. "I aided in the ritual."

"Why were you with the sheikha?" Sahar put a hoof on the vase almost protectively. "What trouble are you in?"

The frustration rose to the surface again and Aisha couldn't swallow it this time. She glared up at her mother and snapped, "Why do you think I'm in trouble? Why couldn't the sheikha have simply wanted my assistance? Why would that be so hard to believe?!"

Sahar opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she simply snorted and jerked her head to the side in a quick gesture at the young mares sprinting about the camp. "You should practice before the herd of Al-Kehilan arrives. Last year, you ran too fast. You must learn the balance of being swift enough to be caught without losing your honor."

"If I'm never caught," Aisha muttered bitterly as she walked past her mother, "then I will never lose my honor."

"Aisha!" Sahar whipped around to continue to face her, ears now pinned flat against her mane. She seethed, breath sucking in through clenched teeth, before she exhaled and murmured in a lyrical manner, "The arrogance of the daughter reflects on the teachings of the mother."

Calmed by her poetic mantra, Sahar continued with calm composure, "Why must you be stubborn on this? Your sister is happily cared for by her husband."

Aisha came to a halt and rolled her eyes. "Despite the name you gave her, Qadira has no grain of strength within her." She sighed, the tension leaving her muscles as the frustration gave way to regret once more. "I'm tired, Ummi. I'm going to go rest with Basma while she helps me prepare."

She could feel Sahar's glower on her back when she resumed walking away. "Basma will reach the age soon, and she will allow herself to be caught by a fine stallion. What will you do then?"

Aisha said nothing, for there was nothing to say. She already knew that Basma would follow the path of obedience because she was a delicate little thing. Basma needed a stallion to care for her, and how could Aisha begrudge her that?

When she slipped through the tent flaps and spied her sleeping sister, Aisha couldn't help but smile. "What a nice life it must be," She said, walking over and lowering her head to Basma's ear, "to sleep all day and dance all night."

The ear flicked before Basma stirred with an incoherent mumble. She shifted on her pillows to angle her head so she could smile up at Aisha. "Would, if I could, to work alongside you rather than sleep alone."

Aisha chuffled with amusement and sat down on the rug. "Unfortunately, I require your assistance. Ummi says the herd of Al-Kehilan is going to be here soon."

Basma gasped with delight and bolted upright. "The Khetbah! I almost forgot!"

A wry grin forced its way onto Aisha's muzzle. "How could you forget? It's been all everyone can think of!"

"Sorry!" Basma hurried across the tent to retrieve a basket set against the rest of their belongings, bringing it over with the handle held between her teeth. She sat down and used her delicate hooves to begin detangling Aisha's mane. "It doesn't come up when I go out."

Aisha sighed, closed her eyes, and tried not to flinch as Basma worked a particularly angry knot. "What a nice life it must be," she repeated, this time with quiet sincerity.

Companionable silence coiled around them while Basma's hooves performed magic. Soon, her mane was smooth and ready to be braided. Each lock of hair was maneuvered with careful precision, and if Aisha were to speak, Basma would lose her focus and have to start over.

Once the braiding of her mane was completed, it was time to be decorated. For special occasions, Basma would dip the tip of her hoof in black kohl to apply the symbol of Al-Seglawi. For the Khetbah, however, the design was more extravagant and traveled down the side of her face to disappear under a veil that was draped over her muzzle.

Slowly, irritation began to bubble up in Aisha's chest as Basma wrapped her frame in layer after layer of sheer cloth. The intention was that, when she ran, she would look like the wind itself; all she felt was the weight of expectation strangling her.

"Oh, Aisha, you look wonderful," Basma said as she finished the last wrap of cloth. "You will be caught by a suitor for sure this time!"

Aisha snorted, the veil fluttering from the sudden breath. "If I have my way, that will never happen."

Basma pulled her forehooves in toward her chest. "But you're of age. Is it not time?"

"Why must it be?" Aisha stood and frowned down at herself. "Am I not perfect as I am?" She shook a hoof to try to free it from the suffocating shroud.

Basma only blinked. They had this conversation countless times before the previous Khetbah, and judging by the look on her face, there was going to be a repeat performance.

"Aisha," Basma began in a soft voice, "it is our privilege and right to be taken care of by a stallion. What else would you do instead? You don't want to have to—" Her voice lowered, as if she were speaking ill of the Djinn themselves. "—to go mining, like a stallion, do you?"

With a soft huff, Aisha stuck her nose in the air and breathed in the distant scents flowing in through the tent flaps. Exotic spices were carried along the draft; the herd of Al-Kehilan was approaching from upwind. "And what if I do?"

Basma gasped and jumped to her hooves. "But why?!"

"Because I'm just as capable as they are." Aisha snorted and strode through the tent flaps into the blinding sun, ending the unpleasant conversation. Her mind was made up, and not even her love for Basma could change it.

If she could work alongside the stallions rather than sit at camp, then she had a chance. In all the stories of the herd's history, she had never heard of an Al-Seglawi mare that went mining. She could be the first. More than that, she could prove her worth as more than just a kept mare.

The camp was full of energy as eligible mares and stallions watched the horizon for the herd of Al-Kehilan. Mothers bragged to one another over whose daughter would attract the best husband, and whose son would find the best wife—save for Sahar, who stood amidst them all with her ears folded back.

Aisha's lips curled into a frown and she stalked across the sand to join the giggling group. Marriage meant she could no longer lounge with Basma; she could no longer dance across the dunes whenever she pleased; she could no longer enjoy the freedom that she lived and breathed.

"My first Khetbah! I'm so excited," Nazli bint Amna declared in a voice that struggled to remain even. Her hooves scuffed the sand as she shifted in place, her tail flicking beneath the sheer fabric they all wore for the occasion. She turned her head to look at Aisha and asked, "What sort of stallion are you hoping to be caught by this year, Aisha bint Sahar?"

"None," she bit back, relishing in the awkward silence that followed her response.

Hassan bin Tahira cleared his throat. "Well, I'm hoping to win the favor of a mare of Al-Hamdani." A grin broke across his muzzle. "I wouldn't mind never having to go thirsty again, surrounded by all that water."

The memory of the cave flashed through Aisha's mind and she shivered as she felt the stagnant air invading her lungs once again. It was hard to breathe. Cold seeped into her muscles. Her mind filled with that musical note.

يمكنك رؤيتى؟

The sound reverberated against her skull until it felt like she might fall apart and she hissed, "Shut up!"

"What?" Hassan looked at her, his grin changing like the shifting sands into a frown. "Why do you bother to show up, Aisha? You shamed yourself last year. Do you intend to waste the time of another stallion again?"

Aisha sucked in a breath of warm, free air before she glared up at him. "Do you intend to waste your life in the wind by hiding underground?"

Hassan's ears pinned back and he lowered his head to be at her level as he sneered, "Do you intend to waste your life as an embarrassment to us all?"

Before Aisha could respond, cheers rang out all around them and they looked ahead to see the herd of Al-Kehilan cresting the dunes. As the Givers of Life, they served as traders between the other herds and were a welcome sight on any horizon. They brought with them spices, food, clothes, and—once a year—guidance to where all the herds would meet for the Khetbah.

Aisha followed the group of eligible horses to meet Al-Kehilan's horses halfway up the dune, her hooves scuffing the sand. How greatly she wanted to run in the opposite direction and flee this tedious affair, but where would she go? A horse alone in the desert was a dead horse. She needed to appease her mother by taking part in the ceremony whether she liked it or not.

Just as she came to a stop a few paces away from where the eligible horses of both herds were already mingling, Aisha heard the sound of little hooves thundering up from behind her. She caught sight of two white foals they bolted past her and before she could yell their names, they had already engaged the first follower of Al-Kehilan.

"Do you have any sweets?" Zahra asked, bounding in a circle around the stallion.

"Sweets!" Nawar chimed as she followed at her twin sister's hooves.

The stallion came to a halt to avoid stepping on the foals, watched them a moment, then laughed. It was a deep sound that filled Aisha with a strange sensation as she hurried toward them.

"Of course I have sweets," he said, one hoof raised to stop Zahra before she made another rotation around him. "But your mother is coming."

Aisha froze in place, then quickly looked over her shoulder. Her mother was well distracted with loading their folded tent and pillows onto her father's back. Confusion replacing the irritation that had been swirling in her chest, she looked back to see the stallion grinning at her.

"Oh, forgive me." His voice rumbled with amusement. "You're wearing the garb of the Khetbah, aren't you? So that must make you their sister. I just assumed a mare like you would already be wed."

Aisha's ears pinned back. "A mare like me? And what does that mean?"

The stallion stepped toward her, close enough where she felt heat radiating off his tall, muscular form. His head lowered to hers and she felt enraptured by his smoldering, dark brown eyes. Though he was a follower of Al-Kehilan, he reminded her more of Al-Hadban: a searing beam of sunlight that threatened to melt her from his gaze alone.

"It means," he said in a low voice, "you're far too beautiful to still be eligible, though I am grateful that you are."

A new heat surrounded Aisha, this one from somewhere deep inside her, and she returned his sultry look with a scowl. "Zahra, Nawar," she called, jerking her head away to tear herself from his gaze. "Go to Ummi before she worries."

The little foals just stood there, their eyes wide. She flashed her teeth in a sneer and they squealed in both fear and amusement, galloping down the dune to where their mother stood with Basma and Qadira.

When she looked back at the stallion, she felt herself grow hot again. "Is that all?"

His brow raised. "Is what all?"

"My beauty. Is that all you see?" She started walking forward to be with the rest of her Khetbah kin. "How shallow."

The sound of hooves against the sand followed after her until he walked by her side. "What else do you expect me to notice at barely a moment's meeting?"

She felt her muscles twitch and she opened her mouth to reply, but he continued instead.

"But now I see that behind those eyes is a fire most intriguing."

Fire? No, she was no fire—she was the wind. She was Al-Seglawi's shamal, blowing across the desert, seeking to be ever faster. Her hooves barely grazed the sand as she trotted ahead of him, ignoring the chuckle that filled the space between them.

الشمس الرابِعة ☼ Sun IV

☼ Fourth Sun ☼

The herd of Al-Kehilan led the way through the endless sea of dunes toward the meeting place. Their matron djinn blessed their mares with divining hooves—wherever they sought to go, they knew which direction it was in. Neither blinding sun nor howling wind nor biting sand could keep the herd from traversing ar-Rub Wafir safely.

As they walked, stallions and mares were already beginning to mingle well ahead of the appropriate time. Last year, Aisha found herself with the attention of no less than three stallions during the journey; this year, she was guarded by the presence of the stallion she now knew as Ghalib bin Halimah. No others approached with him at her side.

"There are several eligible mares in my herd," Aisha commented, keeping her gaze straight ahead, though she found herself wanting to look up at him. "Are you not going to introduce yourself to them as well?"

A chuckle rumbled deep within his chest. "I am currently pleasantly occupied with the one at my side. My only interest at this moment is learning more about you."

"She's loud," Nawar chimed, darting between their legs and squealing when Aisha stomped a threatening hoof.

"And mean," Zahra exclaimed as she chased after her twin.

Ghalib watched the fillies before inclining his head and asking with a teasing lilt to his voice, "And I suppose she snores?"

Aisha's eyes widened. "I do no—"

Nawar trotted backwards in front of Ghalib, beaming up at him. "Every night!"

"And smells?" Ghalib grinned down at her.

"Every day!" Zahra frolicked ahead of them, her hooves kicking sand haphazardly into the air.

Aisha lowered her head and felt her muscles twitch with the urge to chase them down. "I swear to Al-Seglawi," she started, but was cut off by a whole-hearted laugh from Ghalib. She looked over at him in surprise, anger swept away by confusion. "Ghalib?"

"Forgive me," he managed through his laughter. "I can't contain myself! Your sisters are a delight, but more so is your reaction." He shook his head and heaved a sigh, the sound somewhere between amused and whimsical. "I hope it is I who catches you," he continued more evenly, the shimmering white tassels that hung from his decorative harness catching in the wind. "I would be honored to be your stallion."

Aisha's ears swiveled back and her nostrils flared. "And why is that?"

Ghalib blinked at her, tilting his head to one side. "You are a beautiful and interesting mare. Why would any stallion turn his eyes away from you?"

"Not—" An unfamiliar, uncomfortable heat spread across her face, so she frowned. "Not that! I mean, why do you wish to be any mare's stallion? Do you not hope for more out of your life than that?"

His brow arched. "More than a happy life with a beautiful wife? I should think myself greedy and foolish if I couldn't be content with that. Any stallion would!"

Aisha looked away from his smoldering gaze to find reprieve from how hot her face still felt. "I think you're a fool to be content with such an ordinary life."

With a light grin on his muzzle, his left brow rose to meet the other high on his forehead. "And what would you suggest instead, then?"

Her hooves scuffed the sand as her breath caught in her throat. There was a mix of emotions surging within her—a wary excitement that was tempered by uncertainty and doubt.

"More than a marriage," she finally said, glancing up to gauge his expression. His curiosity was piqued, so she pressed, "A true partnership, as equals. If you are to work, then I am to be at your side."

"At my side!" he repeated in a half-whinny, half-laugh. "Of course, I can see it now: you, harvesting ore half your own weight." There was a pause before the grin on his muzzle flattened into a straight line. "By Al-Kehilan, you're serious? But it's your right to be taken care of! I am not the one who bears life."

Aisha's uncertainty was washed away by a fresh gust of confident air. She held her head high and allowed the wind to flow freely through her braided mane. "I'm not weak. I don't fear labor. Why should I remain in camp when I can be of actual use?"

For a while, they walked with silence between them, though the air was full of life. All around them was the sound of movement, of conversation, of excitement. Finally, Ghalib's voice tore through the tension like rolling thunder.

"I don't understand you at all." He smiled. "But I would still like to chase you, if you can be content with an 'ordinary' life as my wife."

The muscles along her neck twitched in a swell of irritation and she started to move more briskly up the dune. "Chase me?" Her tail flicked. "Certainly. But whether you will catch me or not remains to be seen."

He chuckled at what she assumed he interpreted as playing coy; she was not, but it was of no consequence to her what he thought now. They had arrived at the flat expanse of sand that was sheltered from wind and sun by a towering ridge of sparse mountains: the sacred meeting place where new bonds would be formed with the blessings of the Djinn.

A large obelisk made of weathered grey stone jutted out of the sand to designate an order to the chaos that was hundreds of horses all gathered together in one location. Its five faces were each inscribed with the symbol of the Djinn they represented, silently observing as their respective herds set up open-air canopies for the Souq al'Khetbah.

At the exciting sight of it all, Aisha ran ahead, breaking away from the group without regard for her mother's voice calling after her. She wove between the crowd of horses from each herd that were already well-engaged in bartering and haggling over the wares strewn across colorful blankets.

"Two lengths of the green cloth for a pouch of sweet almonds is more than a fair trade!" a mare exclaimed, her ears pinned back with indignation.

Aisha heard the stallion laugh in response, but she kept moving forward without regard for how the deal continued. The heat of bodies pressed so close together was almost worse than the sun itself, especially with the cacophony of scents that assaulted her nose.

Finally, she arrived where the obelisk indicated was the herd of Al-Abeyan, the Sowers of the Sand. Though the sight of their bountiful crops on display tugged at her stomach, she followed her heart straight to—

"Jabir!" Aisha cried out when she saw her brother standing amongst the other Al-Abeyan horses, a tall and imposing figure of white, grey, and a whole lot of muscle.

He turned in the direction of her voice and smiled when their eyes met. "Aisha, okhti al-saghira!" He trotted forward to meet her halfway, lowering his head to brush his neck against hers. "Look at you. You almost look like a proper mare."

Aisha gave a playful nip of his grey-speckled shoulder before she pulled back to look up at him, brow arched. "I am a proper mare."

Jabir returned her look with a grin. "I'll believe that when I no longer see you in the Khetbah garb."

Her stomach tightened into a knot and she shook her head to chase away the topic. "Yes, yes. How is Daniyah?"

"Eager as ever," he replied with a whimsical sigh, his head inclining to look past her at the bustling crowd. "She's hoping to get new dye at a discount from Ummi." His ears perked as his gaze fell to meet hers again. "Did the pregnancy go well? Who is my new little sibling?"

It was rare that her brother could sour her mood, so she made no effort to hide the displeasure her expression cast. "Daniyah will need all the luck she can get, then. Your new little siblings—"

"Siblings!" Jabir's grin grew to its full force and his gaze darted away again. "Ummi had twins? Twins? I must meet them, where are they?" There was a pause before he frowned down at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Because Nawar and Zahra are constant thorns in my side. Basma was so sweet when she was a child; why are these two so annoying?"

"I suppose for the same reason that you were when you were their age," Jabir teased with no malice in his voice. "Every foal is different." He relaxed into a sigh, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Twins, though! I haven't heard of twins being born in quite some time. Ummi must be proud."

With a disgruntled snort, Aisha shifted her attention to hoof at a nearby head of cabbage that sat on display. "Proud doesn't begin to cover it. Unless Daniyah has something to trade that Ummi can waste on the little weeds, she won't be getting anything from us."

Jabir threw his head back as he laughed, the sound deep and somehow comforting. She missed his laughter. "You must not remember when you were young, then. That is how Ummi has always been."

There was, for a moment, an odd feeling of uncertainty buzzing in her mind. She didn't remember being spoiled the way Sahar treated the twins, but she could recall how Basma was doted upon, showered in gifts when she expressed an interest in dancing.

She turned her head away to look at all the horses around her haggling, laughing, and reuniting. The Souq al'Khetbah was a time for trading for the coming season, but it was also a time for families to see the stallions who had married into other herds.

A voice in particular cut above the noise all around them. "Jabir bin Sahar!"

Aisha tensed and she took a few steps to the side, glancing between her brother and the mare he used to love: Madhi bint Amna al-Seglawi. She was a rare beauty, with a coat almost as dark as the kohl that adorned her long and narrow face.

As she walked toward them, a few tresses of her lush blonde mane spilled out from beneath her black-and-red headdress. Even Aisha had to admit that Madhi was a breathtaking sight.

"Madhi," Jabir said with fondness in his voice. "It's always good to see you."

"And you." She pressed her nose to his in a brief greeting. "Do you remember my younger sister, Nazli?" A proud smile spread across her elegant muzzle. "She has already been courted by four stallions, and the Souq has only just begun."

Jabir chuckled, shaking his head. "I remember our Khetbah. The evil eyes cast your way from jealous mares is something I will never forget."

There was a pause, only long enough for Aisha to feel the tension that held the air in its tight grip before it was carried away by a gust of wind.

"I must go help my mother, but I wanted to say hello." Madhi nosed him again, pausing to look down at Aisha with fleeting recognition before she simply smiled and walked away.

Aisha bit the inside of her cheek as she shuffled closer to Jabir. "I'm so sorry," she said in a quiet voice meant only for the two of them.

Jabir blinked down at her. "For what?"

"That Sheikha Wardee wouldn't bless your union with Madhi." Aisha looked away from him, unable to stare into those endlessly kind eyes. "It's unfair to have forced the two of you to marry others simply because you came from the same herd."

To her surprise, Jabir laughed—another full-bodied laugh that held him far longer than Aisha thought necessary. He finally regained enough of his senses to sputter, "Oh, Aisha—Oh, okhti al-saghira, you're so—so naïve."

Aisha's ears flattened against her braided mane. "Excuse me? I'm not naïve! It's plain as the wind itself that you still love each other!"

"And that is why you're naïve," he said, heaving an amused sigh and shaking his head. "Daniyah is more than my wife. She is my perfect match."

"But—" Aisha frowned. "But Madhi, she—"

Jabir smiled, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. "She was the mare I thought I loved, yes. And when Sheikha Wardee told us that Al-Seglawi saw different paths for us, I wept. I prayed each night for Al-Seglawi to change her mind and allow us to wed, herd be damned."

His eyes softened as he looked out into the crowd where, somewhere, his wife went about her business. "And then I met Daniyah. She was everything that Madhi was not—shy, uncertain, quiet—and I thought that was the best I could hope for: to marry someone who would not remind me of my lost love. Instead, I found everything I never knew I wanted. Everything I didn't understand I needed."

Aisha dropped her head and stared down at their hooves. His were large and rough around the edges from the work he had done as a stallion of Al-Seglawi; hers were small and, by comparison, pristine.

"Each time I look at my wife, I thank the Djinn for those unanswered prayers." Jabir's right foreleg raised and he tapped the underside of her muzzle, and she looked up to see a smile on his face. "I was young and thought I knew everything, but Al-Seglawi saw what I could not. Have faith that she sees the right path for you, too."

Something heavy settled in her chest—something between doubt and indignation. "But how do you know you wouldn't have been happier with Madhi?"

Jabir's gentle smile grew to a lopsided grin. "Because when I saw her just then, my first thought was, 'Oh, no, what is her name again?'"

Aisha sputtered into a startled laugh and moved forward to hook her neck around his. "As long as you're happy, akhi al-kabir. I should go take my scolding from Ummi for not helping set up our tents for the Souq." She rolled her eyes, starting to turn away when he stopped her with a gentle press of his forehead to hers. "What?"

"I pray that the Djinn will send your perfect match to you this Khetbah," he said with so much sincerity in his voice that she felt her heart break. "And I hope this prayer will not be one that goes unanswered."

'It will,' she wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead, she offered a small nod of her head and a flash of a smile before retreating from his presence. Normally, he was a comfort to her, true to his name—now, however, she felt suffocated.

Aisha hurried to put some distance between herself and the smothering warmth of her brother's affection. She was soon enveloped by the crowd and, despite the cacophony of sight, sound, and smell all around her, felt disconnected from it all.

Off to her right, she spied her mother at a stall, bartering with an Al-Kehilan stallion for a length of purple silk. It was most definitely a purchase for the twins. Their very existence seemed to captivate nearly all of the love Sahar had to give.

Likely at their father's side was Basma, who held whatever was left of their mother's affection because she would walk the path their parents expected of her, that their entire herd expected of her. She was dutiful and obedient—everything Aisha was not.

And then, straight ahead of her, she met the intense gaze of Ghalib. She realized, in that moment, that he was going to chase her when the Khetbah began. Was this what Al-Seglawi wanted of her? Was he the path she was supposed to walk?

A mare in a hurry bumped into her, pulling her out of her mind and back into her body. She discovered that her mouth was achingly dry, tongue swollen and throat tight. With a quick shake to clear her thoughts, she turned and started toward where the monument face marked with the symbol of three water drops indicated.

There was a single canopy of deep blue, stretched out to shelter the mares and stallions of Al-Hamdani that were huddled together around several barrels. Their fierce and stalwart protection of the water that was their sacred charge was, in equal parts, admirable as well as unnerving.

"Excuse me," Aisha said in a soft voice, giving a quick bow of her head. "May I have a drink?"

The nearest horse to her, a diminutive mare of dark brown and black , flashed a hollow smile. "Heat already gotten to you? I thought those of Al-Seglawi would be more accustomed to life toiling under the sun." She inclined her head to the side. "And what do you have to give in return?"

Aisha swore under her breath as she looked down at herself. With an uncertain smile, she raised her hoof to indicate the layers of cloth that covered her. "Would some of my shroud be of interest to you?"

"What use would I have for it?" the mare said with a biting laugh. "That would hardly keep me warm underground."

"Leilah," a stallion chided, and the familiarity of his voice sent a chill down Aisha's spine. "Take the trade. She is a poor Khetbah mare; she needs her strength to ensure herself a stallion."

Aisha glanced up at him, doing her best to look grateful instead of showing the fear that quickened her heart. His eyes of piercing blue seemed less intense above ground, but she knew them nonetheless; however, the lack of recognition in his face soothed her nerves.

"Thank you," she said in a soft tone as Leilah lifted a ladle in her mouth while the stallion removed the barrel's lid. As they poured a bowl of water for her, Aisha tugged one of the lengths of sheer cloth from her foreleg and held it out.

Leilah begrudgingly accepted, then dipped the tip of her hoof into the bowl. Its surface rippled before going completely still as the simple touch chilled the water, then she nudged it forward.

"Drink," she commanded, looking at the shroud in disapproval as the stallion wrapped it around her neck.

As Aisha dipped her head to press her lips into the cool water, she looked up at the pair through her lashes. The gentle touch of the stallion's nose against Leilah's neck softened her expression. The moment was so brief and yet so intimate that Aisha couldn't help but wonder: if she kept running, would she never have what they had? What her brother had? Was love truly worth the loss of her freedom?

An uncomfortable feeling started to constrict her chest, so Aisha hurriedly lapped up the remaining drops before straightening up. "Thank you," she repeated, then backed away and turned to look out into the lively Souq once again with fresh eyes.

Aisha wandered through the crowd, looking at everything the various herds had brought to trade. Sahar hadn't given her any of their family's share of the dyes, but she would be livid if Aisha gave away any more of her garb, so she could only shop with her eyes.

There were fine silks and linens of all styles, colors, and patterns on display in one of the Al-Kehilan tents. Another assailed her nose with its variety of spices and herbs that filled the air with their pungent scents. Paired with the yelling of mares and stallions bartering back and forth, Aisha felt her head swimming.

She quickened her pace to make it into the section of the marketplace occupied by the herd of Al-Hadban, the Keepers of the Sun. Aisha sucked in and released a breath to clear the smells from her lungs, then smiled as her surroundings glittered back at her in the stray beams of sunlight.

Jewelry of silver and gold sat in bright brilliance against the muted colors of the rugs beneath them. Between gaps in the bustling crowd, she caught sight of necklaces in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some were thin chains while others were large pieces of metal flattened into different designs, but all were equally beautiful.

"Aisha!" Basma's honeyed voice cut through the noise. Aisha looked in its direction to see her sister struggling to push past the press of bodies that separated them.

There was no hesitation as Aisha shoved her way through to get to Basma, nuzzling her cheek when they were finally together. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with Adil at the stall."

Basma offered a sheepish smile. "Abi knew I really wanted to watch a sun dance, so he let me slip away."

With a hum of understanding, Aisha shouldered through the crowd with force to lead the way for Basma. The sound of rhythmic clicking and awed gasps was their guide to find an Al-Hadban mare performing the dance Basma loved most of all.

The mare was fully garbed in the traditional attire of dancers, with rows of tassels dangling from each piece. It was all dyed a bright, vibrant red and adorned with golden metalwork to jingle with each movement she made—and she made plenty of them in her dance that sent her spinning and kicking through the air.

Gold bangles encircled the dock of her tail so that it perked even higher than normal to keep it out of the way of her fast-moving hooves. Each time the mare clicked those hooves together, sparks or even a burst of flame shot into the air; the faster she moved, the more it seemed that her legs ended in fire.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Basma asked in a soft, almost breathless voice. "Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have been born to Al-Hadban instead."

"Don't be ridiculous." Aisha shifted sideways to bump their sides together. "What would I do if you weren't my sister?"

Basma giggled. "If I were born to Al-Hadban, then of course you would be, too." She glanced around, then inclined her head to move her muzzle closer to Aisha's ear. "Your admirer seems to be following you, you know." Her voice thrummed with excitement as she nodded behind them. "He's very handsome!"

Aisha frowned as she turned to look over her shoulder. Ghalib lingered near a stall of jewelry with feigned interest, but their eyes met and she quickly looked away. "Yes, I suppose he is."

"Does this mean—" Basma interrupted herself with a quiet squeal of delight. "Does this mean by the end of the day, you will be wed?"

The silence that held the space between them was answer enough, and Aisha watched as her beloved sister's expression started to fall.

"Aisha?" Basma asked, her ears folding back against her mane. "I'm sorry, I—"

Forcing her lips into a smile, Aisha pressed her nose to her sister's cheek and gave a soft chuffle. "He will chase me, yes."

Whether he caught her or not, however, was between him and Al-Seglawi. It was not long until the Khetbah began. Aisha lifted her gaze to the sky to see the silhouette of a shaheen falcon circling overhead.

Soon, the path that lay before her would be made clear.

الشمس السادِسة ☼ Sun VI

☼ Sixth Sun ☼

"Aisha."

The sound of her name tried to penetrate the comfortable haze of sleep, but she held on to the last wisps of an already fading dream. She had been running, free—living, free—anywhere else, free.

A low rumble followed and a sturdy hoof pushed at her side. "Aisha, get up."

"But I'm tired," she grumbled, rolling over and nestling closer to where Basma slept at her side.

Her younger sister shifted in her sleep to unconsciously push Aisha away with a plaintive sound. Even though the sun hadn't even begun to filter through the tent flaps, it was already growing too hot for physical contact.

"That is what you said yesterday, and the day before." Her father shook his head, irritation slipping into his voice. "If this is what we will do every morning, then I'll leave you behind to contend with your mother instead."

That sent a jolt from the base of Aisha's tail all the way up her neck, and she jumped to her hooves so fast that her head spun. "No, I'm awake. I'm awake."

She looked up at Adil, his large and muscular form cutting an imposing figure against the darkness. He was normally a stallion of few words, and yet he had said more to her since she started working with him than he had her entire life prior. That sentiment chased away the remaining fog that lingered within her skull, and she smiled in spite of herself.

Adil retrieved her robe and headdress from where they had been discarded just before Aisha collapsed onto the pillows the night prior. It was a new robe, solid black and shorter than what she used to wear, which kept it out of her way as she worked. The dark cloth was marred by the days of labor she had already endured, waiting to be tarnished entirely by the many more ahead. She clenched her jaw and head her held high; this was the freedom she'd asked for and been granted.

Adil helped her dress in silence—and then she returned the favor—while the rest of their family slumbered. Sahar was stretched out with only her head on a pillow, while Nawar and Zahra were on either side of her, curled up on their own special pillows like kept pets. Aisha couldn't help but smile when she looked over to see that Basma had rolled over, seeking her presence out in her sleep.

"Come," Adil said as he turned to make his way out of the tent with his short robe billowing around his legs. "There is enough time that there may still be some pilaf and bread left for us."

As Aisha followed him, she felt a pang of hunger urge her to run ahead, but she kept her composure. Her presence among the stallions was still strenuous at best, and acting like an immature brat would only exacerbate the issue.

Conversation drew to a stop as she and Adil approached the circle of stallions in the center of camp. The very first rays of sunlight illuminated the copper pot from which rich, sweet tea flowed when tipped over an empty and eager cup. It shone like a beacon of early morning hope to uplift their sluggish, sleep-addled spirits.

Aisha settled onto an empty spot beside her father and, when a plate of seasoned rice and bread was pushed in front of her, wasted no time. She ate as if she had never eaten before and might never again; there was a long day ahead of her, and she needed every grain of rice and crumb of bread to get her through.

The small cup of tea was, however, thoroughly savored. The Souq had replenished their reserves of spices and herbs. Various notes bloomed across her tongue from the first sip: the warm bitterness of wild sage, the spicy citrus of cardamom, the biting heat of cinnamon—all dancing over the heavy sweetness of copious amounts of sugar.

Unfortunately, just as she was going for her second lap of the precious drink, the stallions rose to their hooves under the clipped instruction of the short and stout raqeeb, Hadi bin Shazi.

"Up," he barked out, always single-word orders. He was of the firm belief that time wasted was an offense to Al-Seglawi herself. The more they worked, the more they could mine the gems she led them to. "Go."

There were no complaints. This was their duty, and they did it with pride. Aisha grabbed the cup between her teeth and tilted her head back to drain it before she scrambled after the herd of stallions. Her father dawdled just enough so that they could walk together.

He shot her a glance with his brow just slightly raised. It was the closest he had ever given to a look of amusement. "Nice to not have to eat on the run, isn't it?"

"So nice," Aisha said, grinning underneath the safety of her headdress. "Maybe I'll get up the first time you try tomorrow."

A soft puff of air stirred his cloth, somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. "I would prefer if you learned to get up on your own."

Aisha's ears swiveled back and she averted her gaze. "I'm still adjusting to this new life, Abi."

She could hear his quiet rumble of delight at the simple endearment any child would give their father. It made her reflect, somewhat bashfully, on how little of a relationship she'd had with him prior.

Growing up, Jabir had been his favorite, and Aisha had been too preoccupied with tormenting Qadira to care. When Basma was born, that was where Aisha's attention shifted. And, then, she reached an age where fighting with Sahar filled her days. There had been no room for her father, and he had never forced his way in.

Now, however, they were becoming something almost like friends.

"If you intend to follow this path in earnest, then you must adjust quickly." He glanced at her again. His brow had settled back into its slightly furrowed state, as if forever bowing under an unseen weight. "Of course, you could return to your mother's side. Sleep in. Work in the shade."

And, just like that, the bashful joy she had felt was washed away by irritation. He still didn't think she belonged there. She said nothing, but quickened her pace to trot with the rest of the stallions who had already taken up position along the dune to begin their digging.

It was a grueling process to unearth the ore. Al-Seglawi's wind would lead them to the bounty, but the sand was not her domain. Her herd was responsible for shifting the sands deep enough to find the bedrock below where precious gems lay in wait. Once they had cleared away enough sand to establish a sizable quarry, tools were affixed to the stallions' forelegs to carve the ore out from its lode.

Aisha took her position with them along the lowest point between the dunes, where reaching the rock would be easiest. Time was of the essence, for the winds would shift the sand and undo their work in spite of the temporary barriers erected by Raqeeb Hadi. The stallions around her scooped sand with ease using their hooves, which were wider and more pronounced than her own.

But they required tools to break up the stone, she noted with bitter pride. She was able to extract chunks of ore and gems with her bare hooves, sharper and more precise than theirs due to Al-Seglawi's blessing.

Before long, she had broken a considerable sweat, enough to cause her robe to stick to her coat. Her legs were raw from the relentless grit that cut at her with each dig and scoop.

She wanted to throw her robe to the ground and stand at the top of the dune to soak in the breeze. A brief reprieve from the heat that sapped her strength almost seemed worth the inevitable consequences. Perhaps she was going mad from the sun's touch; how much longer would it be before she succumbed to mirages?

Dread pooled in her stomach when she glanced up at the sun to see it still far from its zenith. There was so much left of the day ahead, and she already felt at her limit.

With a shake of her head, Aisha returned her focus to her task. She had to work twice as hard just to keep up with them. A small part of her knew that she was ill-suited to this labor, but giving up was no longer an option.

"Aisha bint Sahar," Raqeeb Hadi sneered as he trotted toward her and tilted his head back to meet her gaze. His lack of respect for her presence dripped from his voice, as well as from the use of more than one word. "If you're going to make as much progress as a petulant foal, then perhaps you would be better suited returning to camp."

She felt a snarl part her lips and was grateful for the headdress that shielded most of her expression from view. He caught the narrowing of her eyes, however, and pushed his face up into hers.

"It's that sour attitude that brought your mother to force you into such labor," he muttered. "I have as little interest in you being here as you do."

Aisha's ears swiveled back and she drove her forelegs into the sand. "That's where you're wrong! I've wanted to be here more than you can imagine!"

There was a flash of amusement across his visible features as he pulled back. "Then prove it."

That set her blood on fire. She wanted nothing more than to do just that, so she put everything she had into moving the sand like Al-Seglawi's samoon, the sacred wind that formed the dunes each day.

Across from her, as she reared to her tallest height, she caught a glimpse of pleasure in her father's eyes before he refocused his attention. The sudden burst of pride sent her forehooves sailing down and deep into the sand.

Once she found a rhythm for rearing, striking, and scooping, her ears twitched at the sound of the hooves around her moving in harmony, as if each were a beat against a drum. When they had all fallen into an almost melodious pattern, a voice rose up from down the line.

"The pull of my heart

"The pull of the sand

"Drawn up from the dunes

"By this young stallion strong."

"And so do I," the others replied, "and so do I."

Aisha could only listen as they sang, the words still foreign to her but the purpose clear. Song brought the herd closer in spirit, and just hearing it made her heart swell as the burden of work seemed lifted.

"If yesterday is as today

"And if tomorrow is the same

"Never will I be without purpose

"Under the guidance of Al-Seglawi."

"And so will I," the reply came again, "and so will I."

They carried on until Hadi whistled to signal the height of the sun's journey was approaching. Aisha followed the stallions to a temporary canopy that brought sweet relief in its shade, where they took long draws of water from their canvas bags and relished in the breeze.

"Not bad," her father remarked, his voice briefly muffled as he slipped his headdress off. His black mane was plastered against the side of his neck from the sweat that glistened along his light grey coat.

The stallion beside him snorted and shook out his equally sweat-laden mane. "I expected your daughter to already be crying her way back home days ago. Abu al-banat, you've raised a daughter like a son."

Adil shot him a narrow-eyed stare, but Aisha startled them both with a breathless laugh. "Please, Abi. Let him speak into the wind if he likes. I've endured worse sitting with the mares." She removed her own headdress and heaved a sigh of relief at the exposure to the cool breeze. "No, I find I quite prefer mining. Gossip bites harder than sand."

There was a long pause before laughter rose up from several of the nearby stallions, deep and unlike the sounds her mother and the others made back at camp. It was earnest and true, and it brought a smile to her lips.

"The day's not over yet, and there are more after it," another stallion cut in, his voice low but clear. "There is still time for her to break."

She angled her head to glare at him, but the realization that he was not the only one looking at her with contempt stopped her before she could even narrow her eyes. The mirth that had bloomed in the stallions around her was no more than a single grain of sand in an otherwise harsh and unrelenting desert.

All she could do was suppress the urge to get in the stallion's face and, instead, turned away. Her father was no longer looking at her, and the laughter was long gone. The stallions moved forward with new conversation and she felt suddenly small.

Around her, they all engaged one another in teasing banter about their mares back at the camp or, in the case of the younger ones, the lack thereof. Aisha felt familiarity in that moment, when biting remarks were loosely veiled behind kind words. But there was a vital difference: all of it was said in jest.

None of them averted their gazes in shame, instead giving back as well as they got. It had taken her a few days to catch the nuance, and she found she greatly preferred the way the stallions talked to one another.

Aisha smiled, slipping her headdress on when Raqeeb Hadi corralled them back to where the ore waited. It would take time, but she felt more at ease here than she ever had back at camp. This was where she belonged, and she was determined to prove it.

More than fire in her blood fueled her this time. Raw determination coursed through her as she threw all of her weight into striking the sand and kicking it out of the way. The stallions around her were already gathering piles of ore and she had yet to find a single piece.

She was soon rewarded with the sensation of hitting something much harder than sand—followed by surprise and embarrassment as the ore fell apart under her hooves. The sound of it drew attention to her, and the stallion nearest to her whinnied in alarm.

Mixed in with the sand were bright red shards: khatar al'ahmar. The red danger, so volatile that only the most experienced mares were allowed to grind it down.

And she had driven her hooves straight into it.

Then there was a sudden rush of activity as the stallions swarmed around her, pushing her out of the way, yelling to one another in frantic and broken sentences.

"—be careful, we—"

"—al'ahmar, she found—"

"—lucky it didn't—"

It was as if Aisha was, all at once, a little foal who had broken something precious, and the adults were too concerned with it to make sure she was all right. Logically, she knew she was fine. Her legs were still attached to her, after all. But her whole body tremored at the mere thought of how the blood-red mineral could have combusted—could have killed her.

Raqeeb Hadi shot a cold look at her as he yelled, "This is why you don't belong here!" He broke away from the stallions to march up to her. "Go back to camp before you get us all killed with your careless hooves."

Aisha instinctively sought her father's gaze, but his attention was focused solely on the safe extraction of the khatar al'ahmar. There was no one to step in and defend her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Hadi narrowed his eyes and cut her off.

"It's time for you to leave."

Indignation burned through her chest and she tried to move past him. "I'm not done yet. There's still work to do!"

While he was smaller than her, he had a lot more force behind his weight and easily blocked her way before she could take even a few steps forward. "You are done when I say you are!" He bumped his chest to hers to push her back. "And you are finished here."

Briefly, she wanted to fight. She wanted to throw herself against him and try to knock him over, to prove that she was just as strong as a stallion, but the look in his eyes quelled the fire. He had the power, and she had none. She had lost.

With a reluctant bow of her head, Aisha turned away from the mining site and started to climb the dune toward home. Tears burned her eyes and she blinked rapidly to chase them away. What would her mother say?

'Do not cry to me when the reality of your choices does not match your imagination of them.'

This had nothing to do with her imagination; it just wasn't fair. Her hooves stopped and she turned to look over her shoulder, biting her lower lip as she struggled with the desire to rush back in and prove her worth to them all.

However, standing atop the dune, she could see two figures past the site that caught her attention. The elegant black robes of the elders clung to their forms in the face of a sudden gust of air, but what Aisha couldn't wrap her head around was the barrels strapped to one elder's sides.

What were the barrels of? And more importantly, where had they come from?

Aisha skirted the edge of the site to meet the figures halfway, their ears perking at her approach in surprise.

"May Al-Seglawi give you strength," Aisha greeted once they were near to each other and quickly prostrated herself to touch her nose to the nearest elder's hoof.

The elder's eyes crinkled from a veiled smile and the raspy voice of In'am replied, "Strength have I become." Her head tilted. "What are you doing away from the mining site, Aisha bint Sahar?"

"I was—" Aisha couldn't help the flattening of her ears and she quickly shook her head. "It's of no consequence." Her gaze flickered to the large barrels before returning to meet In'am's. "What is all this?"

There was a pause. It was long enough for Aisha to hear wind moving the sand that skittered and hissed, long enough for Aisha to notice the way In'am's eyes darted off to the side at the other elder, who remained silent.

"Al-Seglawi has provided," In'am explained with a burst of joy in her voice. "The sheikha felt Al-Seglawi's call, and we followed it to discover two barrels of water. Tonight, we will rejoice in how truly blessed we are!"

Aisha's brow furrowed, but In'am gave her no time to reply, trotting ahead the rest of the way to camp. The second elder—who, without hearing his voice, remained a mystery to her—gave Aisha a long, hard stare before following after In'am.

Al-Seglawi had never led them to water before, much less whole barrels of it. She watched as the robed figures moved away, and she listened as whoops of joy greeted their arrival.

Something new and unfamiliar settled in the pit of Aisha's stomach as heavy as a rock: doubt.

Author's Note

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.

الشمس السابِعة ☼ Sun VII

☼ Seventh Sun ☼

The sole focus of Aisha's days became her mission to prove Raqeeb Hadi wrong, to have him accept her back where she belonged. It was easier—and, in Aisha’s opinion, far more important—than thinking about the mysterious barrels of water from the day prior.

Every morning began the same: she awoke to the sound of her father getting ready for work. The darkness consumed her, trying to coax her back to sleep. Her body was more than willing, but as soon as Adil left the tent, she forced herself upright despite the pleas of her sore muscles.

Getting dressed on her own was no easy feat. It was a slow and careful process to navigate her way into the robe and headdress, but it also gave her enough delay that by the time she made it out of the tent, the stallions were leaving. The older mare who worked to clean up the plates eyed her with the usual poorly concealed disapproval.

"There is little left," the mare—Jaddati, they all called her—said as she nosed one plate on top of another. "You would do better to go back to bed and wait for your breakfast."

Aisha's ears flattened against her mane and she sat down on the blanket. "This is my breakfast."

Jaddati snorted and leveled a disapproving stare at Aisha, but didn't say anything further. She grabbed the edge of the bowl between her teeth and tilted her head to pour what remained of the pilaf onto a plate.

"Thank you," Aisha muttered before she devoured the meal that amounted to barely two mouthfuls. It wouldn't satiate her for very long, certainly not for the whole day. That meant she'd need to conserve her energy: no running, no singing, and no getting stuck in her head ruminating unnecessarily on the what-if's and could-be's.

A whole loaf of bread dropped onto her empty plate, startling Aisha out of her thoughts. When she looked up, Jaddati was turned away from her and focused on the task of putting the other plates in a basket.

The old mare glanced over her shoulder with a hint of a smile. "It wouldn't do anyone any good if you fell over and starved to death. Just a waste of time."

With a grateful grin, Aisha tore into the bread and eagerly gnashed at each chunk. A cup of lukewarm tea was all that she had to chase it down with, but she still tried to savor the faded notes of its normally vibrant flavors.

"Better hurry." Jaddati slipped the basket onto her back with expert maneuvering of her snout and shoulders. "Stallions will be a good few dunes away by now."

Aisha grunted as she forced herself to her hooves. Her muscles already ached at the thought of the day that waited for her, but she trotted across the sand and between the rings of tents to break out into the open desert.

The wind whispered with grains of sand that danced along the ground and into the shimmering horizon. She saw the group of stallions far enough ahead that they were an indistinct mass of movement and cloth, already much closer to the mining site than she was to them.

As she followed the faded hoofprints in the sand, a large lizard watched her from atop a black-faced rock. She locked gazes with it and tried to look more formidable than she felt being all on her own; it blinked one eye, then the other. A tongue flicked along its upper lip before it slowly lowered into a resting position and seemed to lose interest. The tension eased from her, but she quickened her pace nonetheless to catch up to where the stallions were already deep in sand and stone.

Once she crested the last dune, she stopped to watch the stallions already shoulder-deep in the hole they'd all made together. Each black-clothed figure moved as if they were one, a unity binding them that she thought she had felt just before Raqeeb Hadi cast her out. If only—

Aisha quickly shook her head. No what-if's, no could-be's. She dropped her canvas water bag onto the ground a good length away from them, close enough to hear but far enough to stay out of the way. There, she began the long and arduous process of digging a hole in the sand.

It didn't take long for Hadi to storm over to her, the sound of his heavy hoofsteps heralding the question she knew was coming. "What are you doing here?"

Aisha didn't meet his gaze, instead continuing to drive her forehooves down and kick them back. "Working."

Hadi narrowed his eyes. "I told you to leave."

"I came back."

"I didn't say you could." He moved to stand directly in front of her with his forelegs planted firmly in the hole. "Go home."

Aisha turned her head to look over at the line of stallions, some of whom had stopped to watch them. "You're neglecting your job as raqeeb."

"How dare—" Hadi followed her gaze and swore under his breath. "Work!" he shouted, and when a few hesitated, he galloped toward them.

It was a small victory, but even that was giving herself too much credit. She had simply bought herself a little more time, so she went back to digging in earnest.

The sun bore down on her as the hours dragged by in no hurry. Hadi's interruptions grew less frequent as his attention became focused on the extraction of the gems that the stallions found. Aisha was still working through the depth of sand that stood in her way when Hadi called for the midday break.

Aisha pulled herself out of the hole she had dug and dropped down onto the ground, watching everyone else enjoy a reprieve in the shade. She felt her father's disapproving gaze tear through the distance between them, but she shoved aside the uncertain feelings that stirred within her. Instead, she focused on taking the canvas bag between her teeth and relished in the soothing water against her parched throat.

There wasn't much else to look at, but she was desperate to keep her attention away from the stallions. Sparse mountains jutted out of the distant landscape, dark and imposing against the azure sky. She spied a cluster of grass forcing its blades through the sand and her stomach rumbled.

Her gaze flickered to the group sitting under the canopy, and she slowly eased herself up onto her hooves. They all seemed preoccupied as she edged closer to the grass. It was far from dignified to eat like a wild animal, but what dignity did she have left at that point?

She lowered her head and took her first bite, wincing at the dry crunch of it between her teeth. It tasted wholly unappetizing, like sand and dust baking in the heat—which, she supposed, it more or less was. Swallowing was a struggle as it scratched its way down her throat, but she went for seconds nonetheless.

A whoop of laughter carried across the open air and Aisha jerked her head up to glare in its direction. All of the stallions were watching her, laughing at her; shame seared through her chest and she hurried back to resume digging to distract herself from the tears she wanted to cry.

'Do not cry to me when the reality of your choices does not match your imagination of them.'

"I'm not crying," she snapped at the sound of her mother's voice in her mind.

Raqeeb Hadi's whistle signaled the stallions to return to their own work, and she took comfort from the distant pounding of their hooves. It gave her a rhythm to focus on and follow, especially when the work song followed soon after.

"If yesterday is as today

"And if tomorrow is the same

"Never will I be without purpose

"Under the guidance of Al-Seglawi."

"And so will I," Aisha replied through clenched teeth, driving her hooves down into the sand, "and so will I."

"For the pleasure of a song

"Like dreams in the shade of a grove

"With our eyes full of dust

"Among the thorns of the desert."

Aisha broke out into a smile as the sound of all the voices in harmony finally soothed a temporary reprieve from the ache deep in her soul. "And so we sing," she continued with the chorus, "and so we sing."

Movement ahead of her caught her attention and she looked up, ready to bark a retort back at whatever Hadi had to say to her.

Golden eyes greeted her, the ethereal face they belonged to barely a breath's distance from her own.

Though Aisha's heart seized in her chest and her breath caught in her throat, she had enough sense to take the opportunity for a good look at the vision that had been haunting her. Long lashes and a slender face finally told her that the horse was a mare, and a beautiful one at that—perhaps the most beautiful she had ever seen.

The curved horn that protruded from the mare's forehead was the anchor point for two sheer veils that draped over her face and tied back somewhere beneath her voluminous white mane. All around her, long lengths of fabric wove through the air and folded back on themselves, rippling and twisting and almost seeming to dance. Each moved independently, as if they were all drifting on a different breeze, though the air was perfectly still.

Those golden eyes seemed to be searching for something. The curiosity within them was the only hint of emotion on the mare's otherwise impassive face.

"Who are you?" Aisha asked, almost surprised at the sound of her own voice.

One of the mare's ears twitched and there was a long, silent pause before she simply faded into wisps of smoke. Aisha hurriedly looked around for anyone—anything, even—that looked as unsettled as she felt.

The work song carried on without interruption. Raqeeb Hadi continued to walk the line and tend to the barrier. A scarab scuttled across the sand off to her right, and the sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon.

That was it: the sun. She was just seeing a mirage from the heat that seared everything it touched. The air shimmered, the sand burned, and her mind concocted elaborate distractions from what was important.

Aisha shook her head and looked back down at the seemingly endless sand that she continued to scoop and push behind her. A part of her knew that digging on her own was a futile effort. She had no raqeeb to erect a barrier that would protect her negligible progress; tomorrow, the hole would be filled in and she would have to start over.

But to Aisha, that didn't matter. It wasn't the point. She was there to prove that this wasn't a punishment to her, but what she had asked for—what she wanted.

So, despite the sweat and the pain, she continued digging and didn't stop until Hadi whistled the end of the work day. The stallions whooped their joy, loaded their baskets onto their backs, and began the thunderous journey back to camp. Hadi trotted behind them, his gaze locked with Aisha's as he passed her.

She waited until the group was over the dune before she slipped the strap of her canvas bag over her head and followed after them. The run home seemed longer than the morning's light trot with ache seizing every muscle, but the promise of food kept her hooves moving in the right direction.

When the colorful tents against the backdrop of desert came into view, the stallions were already being greeted by their families. Aisha saw her own and knew that, just like the days prior, she would return without welcome.

Sahar kept her attention focused on Adil as Aisha walked past them and toward where dinner waited. Jaddati acknowledged her with a dubious frown and flared her nostrils in warning.

"Stop where you stand," the old mare warned, moving to place herself between Aisha and the canopy. "You've neither made dye nor brought gems. You can wait until the others are ready to eat."

Aisha's stomach tightened in protest, but she relented by lowering her gaze.

Jaddati gave a stern nod. "Good. When you contribute, then you don't have to wait."

While the last of the dinner preparations were finished, Aisha remained where she was, glancing between Jaddati moving about under the canopy, and Hadi separating the herd's share of ore from each stallion's basket. It was an interesting juxtaposition that, for a moment, distracted her from hunger.

For many years, Aisha hadn't given much thought to the food that was served morning, noon, and night. It was simply placed in front of her, and she simply ate it.

Now, with Jaddati's words clear in her mind, she understood: the herd, the family, and the self—always in that order, and no other. The herd owned a portion of what the stallions mined and what the mares ground, which were traded for supplies to feed the families, so that each self could contribute to the herd.

Nothing was free. That which she ate came at a cost. That which she wanted—her freedom, her goals, her dreams—had a price. She wasn't free.

There was little time to dwell on that realization as everyone began to gather on the blankets for dinner, and Aisha's raging stomach dominated her conscious thought. She moved over to where her family sat and took her place near them, kept at a slight distance from the unspoken but definitive lack of welcome.

The steaming pilaf, seasoned bread, dried dates, and special treat of a single slice of starmelon on each plate had Aisha's mouth watering despite her parched tongue and throat. It was truly torturous to wait for the sheikha's arrival when she wanted nothing more than to devour the food in front of her.

Hooves drummed against the worn rug when Sheikha Wardee and her elders emerged from their tent, the noise underlined by the chimes of her jewelry. Today, she wore a magnificent display of silver chains and turquoise stones that draped down the back of her neck and over her chest.

When Wardee took her place in the very center, she stopped to allow her gaze to travel the horses spread out all around her. Her eyes were sharp with an intense focus that forced them all into silence.

"A young manticore," she began without preamble, "saw a Badawi herd cresting the horizon and turned to his companions to ask how to attack them, for the Badawi were many in number."

Aisha's hunger was momentarily forgotten as a chill sent the hairs of her coat standing on end. In all the years she'd sat there and listened to the stories Wardee would tell, she thought she had heard them all.

This was not a story she knew.

Wardee slowly lowered herself to sit, but her posture remained rigid. "The oldest of the manticores told him to go and ask the horses one by one who their leader was. So, the young manticore went to the Badawi herd and asked them about their leader."

Each elder raised a hoof to point at the sheikha and said in unison, "They all pointed to their sheikha and said that she was their leader."

"So," Wardee continued, "the manticore returned to his kind and asked what he should do. The oldest shook his head and told him not to attack, for he would surely perish. And, thus, the Badawi passed by the pride of manticores."

A mix of hunger and uncertainty gnawed at Aisha from the inside out, forcing her to break her gaze away from Wardee to eat from the plate of cooling food. It was easier to satiate her hunger than to soothe her nerves.

"Later, a group of Hadar travelers walked the same path, their greed carried upon their backs in the form of riches. The young manticore once again sought advice from his own, and once again the elder told him to seek the leader of the horses. This time, however, each one drew themselves up and proudly replied:"

"I am the leader," the elders said together.

When Aisha glanced up, she found a smile breaking through Wardee's otherwise placid expression.

"Upon hearing this, the old manticore said: 'This group is easy prey. Without a leader, there is no unity. Attack them one by one until they are eliminated.' And, thus, the pride was well-fed that day."

While most of the herd drummed their hooves against the rug in applause, Aisha heard Nawar ask, "Ummi, I'm scared!"

"Why is that, my little flower?" Sahar's voice was soft and loving, as it always was whenever it came to the twins.

Zahra whimpered. "What if the manticores come for us next?"

The chuckle Sahar gave almost irritated Aisha into glancing over at them. "They won't. That is the point of the sheikha's story. The Hadar follow only themselves. We, however, follow the sheikha, who follows Al-Seglawi. We are safe because we stand together."

Aisha tried to bury herself in eating, but she found that her appetite had gone. She pushed herself up and ignored the looks sent her way as she left the circle of her herd. Exhaustion was her prevailing concern, and second to it was the need to get away from the thought that chased her: was she like the Hadar in her mother's mind?

The darkness of her family's tent welcomed her, and she gladly accepted the embrace of the pillows she collapsed onto. All of her muscles let go of the tension that had constricted them in a tight grip. There, in that moment, she felt safe as she drifted off into the dreams that would coax her through the night.

Sleep was Aisha's only reprieve from the days of labor that began to seem pointless. Each brought her reminders that she didn't belong, and eventually she began to mark them by pain rather than by time.

The Plight of No Water, as its name suggested, was the day when Aisha discovered a tear in her canvas bag from which all of her water slowly leaked. That day had seemed the longest of them all as every breath clawed at her throat. Her tongue swelled up, her lips cracked and bled, and her head grew both light and heavy at the same time.

Of course, The Sand Storm was a mixed blessing from Al-Seglawi's habub, which ripped the landscape apart, piled dunes around each tent, and buried anyone foolish enough to roam outside. Aisha was able to rest her legs that were raw from the constant abrasion, but she had to endure prolonged close quarters with her mother. She was, by the next morning, grateful to return to the harsh desert.

The Scorpion's Sting was the most memorable, however. She had uncovered a burrowed nest of scorpions with her forelegs, which bore the brunt of their fury. Jaddati had tended to her wounds with care that was tempered by another lecture.

It was on the eleventh day that, after her father had left the tent, Aisha didn't move. There was no more ache within her; she was numb and empty. Nothing seemed worth one more day of torture when she could instead just give in, fall back asleep, and go back to an easy life.

And, yet, with a deep breath in, she pushed herself up. She forced herself to get dressed and keep moving forward. Too much time had been invested to give her mother the satisfaction.

When she finally stumbled out of the tent and over to have whatever was left for breakfast, she found someone waiting for her under the canopy—and it wasn't Jaddati.

"Aisha bint Sahar," Raqeeb Hadi said from where he sat alone, a covered plate in front of him. "Come. Eat before it gets cold."

Though her heart pounded with a mix of uncertainty and excitement, she lowered herself onto the blanket and nudged the cover off the plate of rice. Her eyes never left Hadi while she ate, and his never left her.

"You are stubborn, aren't you?"

Aisha paused in the middle of chewing. With a careful swallow, she straightened up to her tallest. "Yes."

There was a long pause before Hadi barked out a full-bellied laugh. "This is why I didn't want to work with a mare." He stood up, then tossed his head to gesture at where the stallions waited at the edge of camp. "Come."

Never had a single word filled her with more pride. It was a command—more than that, it was his respect. She finally belonged.

When she joined the stallions, Adil was the only one to greet her, a weary look in his eyes. "So, you'll continue this path?"

Without hesitation, Aisha held her head high and replied, "Yes."

His headdress fluttered with a soft sigh as he turned to follow the others when Hadi whistled for their departure. Just under the noise of hooves against the sand, Aisha heard him recite, "To understand the ways of a daughter is to understand the rain."

Aisha didn't need him to understand her. She had what she wanted, and that was what mattered.

The sun didn't feel quite so hot and the sand didn't bite as much that day. She knew the words to the work song without having to think about keeping the rhythm. And when the midday break was called, no bitter remarks were made. The water had never seemed sweeter, because it tasted of victory.

For the first time, her heart soared as they thundered toward the camp with the setting sun at their backs. She saw the line of mares waiting to greet the stallions and joined the chorus of joyous ululations, even knowing that no one was waiting for her. While her family greeted her father with love and affection, she was more than content with the shy and cautious smile Basma spared her.

It did not take long for life to become routine for Aisha. She slept, she ate, and she worked. The stallions of her herd, despite her father's occasional unsettled glances, began to accept her as one of their own. She learned how to dig with her hooves in the sand without striking so hard that she risked hitting the stone far beneath the dunes.

And she was happy.

Author's Note

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.

الشمس الثامِنة ☼ Sun VIII

☼ Eighth Sun ☼

"Come away, come away to the Nahr al'Wan!"

Nawar and Zahra sang together in high-pitched discordance. As they swapped back and forth for each line, they danced in a circle around and between Sahar's legs.

Aisha rolled her eyes and continued helping load the family's belongings onto Adil's broad back. She flattened her ears against her mane to try to drown out the noise of their singing, but to no avail.

"The red burns brighter than the sun,

"The yellow stretches further than the sand,

"The green spreads faster than the wind,

"The blue runs deeper than the water,

"And together they will create a rainbow of life.

"So come and immerse yourself in the Nahr al'Wan!"

Sahar chuckled, shaking her head. "My little blossoms, do you remember why it is that we have the Nahr al'Wan?"

Nawar skidded to a halt and squeaked when Zahra crashed into her. They tumbled to the ground in a fit of cries and giggles, kicking sand in every direction as they struggled to figure out which limbs belonged to whom.

Finally, they jumped back upright, and Nawar cried, "Because it's fun!"

At the same time, Zahra exclaimed, "Because it's pretty!"

They gasped and looked at one another in shock, but Sahar cut in before they could argue over who was right. "Basma, would you please?"

"Oh!" Basma blinked, setting down the orange pillow she had been clutching—her favorite that she always wanted to ensure didn't get lost when they packed up. "Yes, Ummi."

Basma lowered her head to address the fillies in her usual soft voice, and both of them sat down on their haunches to give her their full attention.

"Everything is connected in the desert, but sand and wind most of all. Al-Seglawi and Al-Abeyan are closer than any of the Djinn, as if they are the dearest of sisters." Basma smiled, her gaze flickering briefly to meet Aisha's. "And so, at the turn of each season, Al-Seglawi guides us to the sacred oasis of Al-Abeyan, where all of our food is grown."

Basma smiled at the look of rapture on the fillies' faces as she continued, "There, Al-Seglawi rests. For one night, the desert is calm and not a single grain of sand is moved by her winds. We are cared for by Al-Abeyan's herd, and a feast is prepared to celebrate the Nahr al'Wan."

"And then we play in the water!" Nawar squealed.

Zahra practically vibrated as she tried to contain her excitement. "And it turns pretty colors!"

"But why?" Sahar asked with a hint of playfulness in her voice, pausing to tighten a strap with her teeth. She nodded at Adil to signal the work was done before she turned her attention back to the twins. "Why, little flowers, do we do this?"

Nawar and Zahra looked at each other, their ears flopping this way and that in silent conversation. Silence dragged on between them; meanwhile, Adil tested his mobility under the burden of their belongings and Basma gathered up her favorite pillow.

Aisha rolled her eyes. She understood this was only their second Nahr al'Wan and that it was silly to expect them to remember the lesson from when they were only a month old. That didn't stop her from feeling annoyed as time dragged on and they seemed no closer to the answer.

A whistle tore through the air and they all looked up to see Sheikha Wardee with her elders standing at the top of a dune. All of the tents had been packed and each family was ready for the journey to Al-Abeyan's oasis. When Wardee started forward in a light trot, the rest of the herd followed in her hoofsteps.

Though the air was still warmed by the rays of the slowly setting sun, the sand that rested in the shade of each dune was already starting to cool. It was the perfect time to travel, where the contrast in temperature was made tolerable by their robes.

The twins walked at Sahar's side in silence, both mirroring the same expression of deep thought until Zahra finally piped up, "Because Al-Abeyan likes the colors!"

Sahar gave a good-natured, patient shake of her head. Aisha wondered, bitterly, where such patience and understanding had gone whenever she was concerned.

"Although I am sure she does, that isn't why," Basma said softly. "The minerals that get stuck in our coats are what the plants need to grow big and strong."

Nawar's eyes widened and she started to bounce on the tips of her hooves with every long step she took to keep up. "Oh! So, if we eat the minerals, will we grow big and strong?"

Aisha snorted. "I don't think there's much hope for weeds like you."

"Aisha!" Sahar practically yelled, her ears flicking when nearby families glanced her way. She lowered her head and hissed, "Ignore your sister. Though you are my little flowers, you are not plants."

With a heavy sigh, Aisha allowed her gaze to wander the uneven terrain of rolling sand, scattered stones, dry grass, and sparse trees. Off to the west were the distant silhouettes of Jibal al'Khali—the Mountains of Emptiness where a great civilization once thrived, but had long since passed. Only ruins and rumors remained, both of which were of little interest to Aisha. She was neither a historian nor interested in wasting her time on nonsense.

She then turned her head to the east, which seemed to stretch forever onward until it melded into the sunset-dyed horizon of orange-and-blue sky. It would be so easy to get lost, and that thought spurred her to trot a little closer to her family and look ahead.

The glimmering of Wardee's ornate jewelry against dark cloth demanded Aisha's attention, and she couldn't avoid also noticing the six black-robed figures flanking the sheikha. All at once, her thoughts cycled back to the encounter with Elder In'am. She'd managed to suppress the memory for so long, but now, it was all she could think about without work to occupy her mind.

Why would Al-Seglawi suddenly break the order of things after over a thousand years of consistency? Their water had never appeared in barrels out of thin air before. For so many centuries, the herd of Al-Kehilan had brought them water from Al-Hamdani's caves after each cycle of the moon. That was how it had always been—how it was supposed to be.

A small part of her feared that, somehow, it was her fault. She had broken tradition by mining with the stallions. Would that have deeper consequences than she had imagined? Would Al-Seglawi disrupt the balance between the herds with more than just a few barrels of water?

Aisha gave a quick shake of her head when the sound of Nawar and Zahra singing the Nahr al'Wan song broke through her thoughts. Basma hummed along with the tune, a much less grating sound compared to the twins' screeching. In reply, a falcon overhead cried out—kak, kak, kak, kak!

They went quiet at the high-pitched warning and all eyes lifted to the sky. After a couple of gliding circles, the falcon tucked in its wings and dove at the sand in a blur of feathers and talons. When it pulled back up, a lizard thrashed in its claws, and the herd gave a collective sigh of relief.

Shaheen falcons feasted on many of the desert's reptiles, but most notably of all were cobras. The cry of the falcon always came with the possibility of a venomous snake lurking nearby. It was better to be safe than sorry and let the falcon take care of the danger.

"Thank Al-Seglawi for the shaheen," Sahar muttered under her breath, nudging the twins closer to her as they continued forward on their journey across ar-Rub Wafir.

Just as the sun touched the horizon and all of the sky's blue was swallowed up by orange, the oasis came into view over the top of a tall dune. A gentle breeze carried the smell of fruits with just a note of salty water, which shimmered through the spaces between the flora that bordered it. Tall date palms sheltered smaller trees of apricots, figs, and olives; stalks of wheat, corn, and cotton jutted through the sand in neat rows.

Excited trills broke through the otherwise still air when their approach was noticed by the herd of Al-Abeyan. Three mares and a stallion broke away from the oasis to meet them halfway, their wide smiles visible from the lack of headdresses.

The robes that Aisha and her herd wore nearly covered the entirety of their forms to shield them from the wind that guided them. The garb of Al-Abeyan horses, however, was largely decorative; cloth over their backs protected them from the sun, but they otherwise wore beaded halters and colorful tassels.

"May Al-Abeyan give you strength!" one of the mares exclaimed, the first to greet them. She lowered herself to touch her nose to the sheikha's hooves, then backed away so her companions could follow suit.

Aisha smiled when she saw a familiar warm smile in the welcoming party. Jabir caught her gaze and flashed a quick wink before returning his attention to the sheikha.

"Strength have I become." Wardee inclined her head to look at each member of the small greeting party. "I shall speak with Sheikha Zeinab, and then the feast may begin."

Though Aisha's stomach clenched at the prospect of food—fresh food straight from the oasis, no less—she looked at the water with an eager twitch of the muscles along her sides. Its surface was like blue-green silk stretched taut and smooth from the stillness of the wind. She wanted nothing more than to dive in, but she forced herself to follow everyone else through the spaces between the tents and toward where a feast waited.

Unlike their own, the tents of Al-Abeyan's horses were permanent structures of cloth stretched over wood and metal frames. All of them were works of art, adorned with elaborate patterns of multiple colors and beadwork that must have taken years to complete.

At the very center of them all was Sheikha Zeinab's pavilion, an inspiring structure of yellow and white cloth, open in the front to expose the golden poles that propped it up. Above them, the names of past sheikhas were embroidered in the fine cloth—more than tens of generations were proudly woven into the sky of gilded cloth.

"The harvest was most bountiful this season, thank Al-Abeyan," one of the two mares explained as the three led the way inside the pavilion. "The foals are looking forward to what colors will be produced this time."

A lot of blue, Aisha guessed, judging by the state of her own hooves; they had found a great deal of lapis lazuli. She was far too preoccupied to listen to the rest of the conversation, however, instead trying not to drool over the plates of food that were spread out on the rugs that led up to the grand pavilion.

Each space had an ornate dallah of coffee already prepared; the air was thick with the rich scent of the special brew. Around the brass pots were bowls of fresh dates, steaming rice, thick bread, and a medley of fruits and vegetables that Aisha couldn't remember all the names of because she so rarely enjoyed them.

With perfect timing, the horses cheered as both of the sheikhas walked into view and stood together in front of the hundreds of horses that made up their herds.

"It is, as always, our pleasure to receive the herd of Al-Seglawi," Zeinab said with an earnest smile. "We hope for a glorious display of colors for this season's Nahr al'Wan."

The horses trilled their delight—especially the foals, who pranced at the hooves of their parents. Aisha had always loved watching the colors that ran from the Nahr al'Wan, but now she understood why her father would look forward to it so much. She was desperate to bathe in the water of the oasis and wash away the shards and grit that were buried in her coat.

"And we are, as always, grateful for the hospitality," Wardee replied in a low tone. "It is the wind which moves the sand and shapes the desert."

Zeinab's voice, instead, was filled with a light mirth. "But without the sand, there would be no desert."

The two sheikhas were a stark contrast to one another; while Wardee was precision and elegance, Zeinab was all smiles and sincerity. Both, however, stared at their herds with their Djinn-blessed silver eyes that glinted in the fading sunlight.

"So, it is together that we are strongest. Al-Seglawi rests here alongside us within this calm oasis."

Aisha felt a momentary chill and she looked up from her plate to survey their surroundings, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The date palm trees lined the edges of the oasis, all of which sat still and motionless. Every face around her was that of a normal horse, nothing ethereal or unfamiliar.

"And Al-Abeyan welcomes all within her sacred garden. Eat, and then we will rejoice."

To no one's surprise, Jabir was the Al-Abeyan horse who served Aisha and her family. He sat with them, pouring their coffee with a professional courtesy that melted when the twins started to giggle.

"Akhi!" Nawar wiggled her ears. "You're family, aren't you?"

"You should eat with us!" Zahra nudged her plate toward him.

Jabir chuckled and shook his head, one foreleg stretching out to return the plate in front of Zahra. "You are here as my guests, family or otherwise. It is my pleasure to serve."

"Oh, please," Aisha muttered between laps of the rich brew. She hummed in delight at the rare delicacy of the dark and bitter brew, flavored with only a hint of cardamom. With a loud smack of her lips, she continued, "Don't hold yourself back. We're family. Just eat with us, Akhi."

Sahar gave a sharp clearing of her throat. "The Al-Abeyan horses are our hosts. It would be rude for Jabir to eat before we did."

After a pause as Aisha weighed her options—to argue or not to argue—she relented with a soft huff and turned her attention to devouring the plate of food in front of her. Every bite exploded with flavor, as fresh as it could be short of eating directly from the trees and ground.

While the rest of her family was equally distracted by their own food, Jabir gave her a sidelong glance, and she braced herself as his lips parted. There was a pause before he finally said, "The Khetbah didn't go well this year."

Though she tried to fight it, a grin wiggled its way onto her face, and she quickly turned away. "I suppose you could look at it like that."

Jabir gave a small sigh and shifted to move closer to her, dropping his voice to a soft level as if to placate her. "If you want my advice, I think you're thinking too much."

"Thinking too much?" With her expression under control, she spared a glance at him, brow arched.

"Yes. You've always been a thinker." He smiled fondly and shook his head. "But this isn't something to think about. I certainly didn't."

Aisha saw and leapt at the topic diversion. "What do you mean, you didn't?"

A laugh caught in his throat and ended up as a strangled sound that he smothered with a cough. "Well…" He glanced over at where his wife sat next to Qadira, the two engaged in deep conversation. In a hushed whisper, he explained, "You remember that I wasn't particularly happy with participating in the Khetbah. Daniyah was quiet and shy, so I pursued her.

"When I was faced with the three starmelons, I hadn't a clue which one was ripe. I didn't ask her how to tell during the Liqaa, because I didn't care. I just reached down and took a bite of one. It was sweet, and my fate was sealed."

"You guessed," Aisha repeated in a flat tone as she tried not to laugh.

"I did, and look what it got me." His chest swelled with pride, and he held his head high. "Perhaps, next year, you should think less. Trust more. Let Al-Seglawi guide you to where you belong."

Aisha knew where she belonged, but Jabir wouldn't understand. She preferred his comforting presence over the alternative of his confusion or—worse—his rejection. It was easier to just play along, especially considering how infrequently she saw him.

Mercifully, Nawar saved her from having to think of an answer, asking around a mouthful of bread, "When do we get to play in the water?"

"My coat's itchy!" Zahra added with a whine.

Sahar looked down at the fillies sitting on either side of her with a gentle smile. "Soon, my little flowers. We must let the herd finish their meal."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Qadira leaned against her husband and looked down at her folded legs. "I couldn't eat another bite, honestly. I just want to remember what it's like to have clean hooves again."

Aisha snorted at that and ignored the look her older sister sent her way. "Spend a day mining and then I'll care about your complaints. You have no idea how the stallions and I feel."

"Watch your tongue, Aisha," her mother quickly scolded, ears pinned back. "Qadira is diligent in her proper work. It is your choice to work with the stallions. I don't wish to hear another complaint from you on the matter."

Though she rolled her eyes, Aisha didn't say anything further. She simply nudged her cup to signal it was empty to Jabir, who happily refilled it with more coffee. It was something she only got to enjoy during the Nahr al'Wan, and she was going to drink as much as she could get away with.

Finally, just as the sun was halfway below the horizon, Sheikha Wardee was the first to rise, and Zeinab had the honor of helping her undress. Her coat was a soft bay color, like toasted bread that shone in the sun's waning light.

The silky red mane that fell down her long neck brought attention to the golden jewelry that she wore. A browband of coins dangled across her forehead and between her eyes, ending in several long chains that covered her muzzle in an overlapping design. Her breast was adorned with a necklace of gold and opals that shifted through every color of the rainbow as she moved.

She was beautiful. Aisha was in awe as she watched the sheikha walked toward the lake to be the first to enter it, at which point the herd rose and began to disrobe. Basma helped her, and she returned the favor; Sahar barely had time to strip the twins before they bolted.

As each horse ran and splashed about, the water eagerly absorbed the colors that stained their coats. Waves of blue and red shot into the air before crashing down and seeping into the murky depths that were naturally somewhere between green and brown. The rays of the setting sun caught in each little drop of water, reflecting colored light onto their coats as well as the shore.

The first few steps forced Aisha to bite the inside of her cheek as the salty water lapped at her raw legs with a sharp sting. However, the longer she endured it, the more the pain began to turn into a distant, numb ache until it subsided entirely.

She watched her hooves as she cantered toward the deeper parts of the lake, streams of color trailing after her like ribbons. She smiled in spite of herself and, just as she had when she was a filly, she started to kick her legs to send dyed water in all directions.

The herd of Al-Abeyan stood just at the waters' edge, watching with delight as more and more color began to fill the lake and the air.

The Nahr al'Wan had truly begun.

Once Aisha was deep enough for the water to reach the underside of her barrel, she stopped to look around and saw a wide array of colors spreading out from each horse. Though she and the stallions were primarily coated in blue dust, the mares had been grinding gems from prior mining sites. There were streaks of purple and red off to her right, and she spied a wave of green kicked into the air.

A cry of dismay drew her attention over to where Nawar and Zahra were, as always, making a scene.

"It's gross!" Nawar exclaimed, her tongue stuck out as far as it could go to exaggerate her point.

Zahra seemed too busy gagging to chime in, and Sahar regarded them with an expression of barely concealed amusement.

"Yes, sweet flowers," she gently chided. "This water isn't for drinking."

Aisha couldn't decide whether she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes, but her attention was pulled away by Basma's bashful approach.

"How is it?" Basma asked, lowering her head to tuck it under Aisha's. "Your legs don't hurt too much, do they?"

A soft laugh escaped Aisha before she could stop it. "Not right now. It's hard for anything this pretty to hurt, right?"

Basma shifted to look with her at the water that swirled with every color the gems of ar-Rub Wafir had to offer. The sun caught in each little shard and fragment, turning the whole lake into a glittering, shimmering rainbow.

Aisha felt Basma smile against her neck as she whispered, "It always takes my breath away."

"And I contributed to all this," Aisha remarked as her chest warmed with a sense of pride. "It's really different to be a part of it. A real part of it. Not just sitting at camp and crushing gems, but mining them. Providing them."

Basma said nothing, but Aisha didn't mind. Just as the tension left her muscles from the cool water soaking into her legs, the sudden blast of a mizmar within her skull sent a chill down her spine.

"!اتبعيني"

Her heart pounding in her ears, Aisha jumped away from Basma and jerked her head to the side, gaze darting to seek the sound's ethereal owner.

There, on the top of the nearest dune, stood the figure that had been haunting Aisha. She swirled from a wind that wasn't there, half horse and half flowing cloth. The glowing eyes of gold stood out with a bright intensity despite the distance between them.

And, then, she turned away and galloped down the other side of the dune, disappearing from sight.

"Wait!" Aisha cried out, charging forward through the water. "Don't go!"

Basma sputtered in surprise, "Ai—Aisha! What's wrong?"

The echoing music in her head made it impossible to reply. Aisha could only keep moving, faster now that she was out of the water, pushing through the crowd of confused Al-Abeyan horses. Just as she crested one dune, she caught sight of fluttering cloth going down or around another.

Sand clung to her wet legs—the sensation uncomfortable, cold, and grating—but she continued the chase until she caught sight of something somehow stranger than an ethereal horse: two black-robed figures and three wholly unfamiliar stallions.

And between them were two red vases attached to opposite ends of a yoke.

Aisha didn't know why, but she dropped down to flatten herself against the sand. She crept forward so she could see them again, the sound of her pounding heart drowned out by the questions that swirled in her head.

What was going on? What were the elders doing? Who were the stallions? And why did they have those vases?

Dread filled her chest when she discovered that at least one of the black-robed figures was most definitely an elder of Al-Seglawi. She knew that grating voice of sand on stone the instant she heard it.

"It's all here," Elder In'am said, one hoof raising to gesture at the vases. "Pure khatar. As agreed."

Aisha's gaze flickered to the three horses standing in front of In'am and her brow furrowed. They weren't Badawi; their coats were far too clean and their bodies were far from lean. The weight that sat on their stomachs could only be found on Hadar Arabians, the horses who had settled within the gilded cage of Al-Jawhar.

What were Hadar doing this far in the desert? And why was In'am giving them vases of khatar?

One of the Hadar stallions leaned down to peer inside the vase and frowned. "Seems rather light this time," he said with a sneer as he straightened back up.

In'am scoffed so loud that even Aisha could hear it. "It's what we have. We cannot make the powder appear out of thin air; if we don't mine it, we don't have it."

"Considering our partners were so generous to give payment upfront," another Hadar said, "I would hope you'd find a way to repay them in kind."

The second elder said in the low tone Aisha recognized as Tawfiq's, "When we have more, we will bring more."

The Hadar laughed and lowered his head to slip it underneath the yoke, which rested across his shoulders. "Then we look forward to more of it. Where will your herd be next?"

Tawfiq gave a rolling, lazy shrug. "Wherever the winds guide us."

With a derisive snort, the Hadar stallion turned away with his companions, and Aisha realized she needed to get away before she was spotted. As she started to run in the opposite direction, she felt as dizzy as a newborn foal learning to walk. Her legs refused to cooperate and she stumbled face-first into the sand.

Aisha forced herself back upright and continued forward despite the tremors that threatened to drag her down again. She needed to get back to the herd. The doubt that had been hiding in the back of her mind was now a full-blown panic; she needed to tell someone about this.

Author's Note

As a reminder from the first chapter:

For the record, there will be several lines in languages throughout the story that Aisha doesn't speak. They appear for flavor but only sparsely. Anything said in them is not necessary for your understanding of the story, plot, or events.

Don't panic, hold onto your towel, and enjoy the ride through Aisha's eyes!

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.

الشمس التاسِعة ☼ Sun IX

☼ Ninth Sun ☼

By the time Aisha returned to the oasis, the Nahr al'Wan was long over, and the herd of Al-Seglawi had already settled for the night within the tents designated for guests. They were spacious enough for four or five families each, which meant finding her own family was even more difficult. In the dark, sleeping horses all looked more or less the same.

Finally, however, she heard the twins' annoying snores: one breathed in with a nasal drone while the other breathed out on a high-pitched exhale. Aisha hurried over to the corner where her family was tucked away, careful not to step on anyone, and stopped at her younger sister's side.

"Basma," Aisha whispered, "wake up, please!"

Basma groaned and rolled over to face away, mumbling, "Let me sleep a little while longer…"

Aisha huffed a quiet, frustrated sigh before nipping Basma's flank. Choking on a strangled cry, Basma jolted upright and away, staring down at herself with wide eyes. "Scorpion!"

Nearby, their parents stirred—Adil giving an incoherent mutter and Sahar groaning—but neither seemed to wake fully. Someone in the crowd of slumbering figures gave a muffled sound of confusion before rolling over.

"There's no scorpion," Aisha hurriedly assured her. "It's just me, and I need to talk to you. Now."

There was a pause as Basma's expression shifted from confusion to exasperation before settling on reluctant acceptance. She finally replied with a tired frown, "Okay."

They walked in silence out of the tent and to the far side of the oasis, away from where the herds of Al-Seglawi and Al-Abeyan slept. Basma glanced around with mild worry on her face, whispering, "What's going on?"

Aisha stopped and glanced around. Were they safe? She wasn't sure. Someone could be lurking in the shadows cast by the nearby dunes and palm trees.

"Aisha?" Basma prompted when the silence between them dragged on too long.

Finally, Aisha relented with an anxious groan and looked down at her sister. "I don't know what to do. I saw—it was Elders In'am and Tawfiq. They were giving—no, they were selling to some Hadar."

Basma's brow furrowed. "Selling what?"

"Khatar."

Though Basma gave a visible jolt and her ears perked upright, her voice remained calm. "I'm sure there's a reason for it."

Aisha couldn't stop her teeth from flashing in a sneer. "A reason for it? A reason to sell the khatar? Al-Seglawi is supposed to purify it to remove the danger, and then return it to the desert! When do we ever sell anything to the Hadar, much less something so dangerous? What do they need it for?"

Something unfamiliar was in Basma's eyes, and when the emotion reflected in her voice, Aisha recognized it as irritation. "It's none of our business, though. The elders act on Sheikha Wardee's command, and Al-Seglawi speaks through her. It has nothing to do with you or me."

"But—"

The irritation faded into an exhaustion and Basma pressed her nose to Aisha's. "Let's head back to the tent and go to sleep, okay?"

"Sleep!" Aisha jerked back and away from her. "How can I sleep? Something is going on! What if the In'am and Tawfiq are going behind the sheikha's back? She needs to know about this!"

There was a long pause before Basma's expression flashed briefly with more than irritation. This time it was anger. The sight of it shocked Aisha into taking a step back, as if physically struck by the look.

"And what do you plan to do?" Basma asked in a tight voice. "Talk to the sheikha? The elders are the ones who allowed you to act like a stallion and go mining. Can't you be happy with that? You finally got what you want, and now you're chasing—chasing something, I don't even know what anymore!"

With a sigh, Basma lowered her head and looked up through her lashes. "Aisha, please. Please just be happy with what you have and let this go. It's your word against the elders', and—" She hesitated, then finished in a low voice, "And I'm sorry, but the word of Aisha bint Sahar means little these days."

There was an ache deep in Aisha's chest that she had never felt before—it was something between surprise and despair. Basma had never spoken to her this way before. She was supposed to be the one who always supported Aisha, even if only at a distance with shy but loving smiles.

Aisha knew something wasn't right with what she had seen, that she needed to tell someone about it. The elders were going against tradition. Outside the infrequent times that the herd of Al-Kehilan traveled to the city of Al-Jawhar, the Badawi didn't deal with the Hadar; their lives were too different.

But in that moment, with Basma looking at her with pleading—begging eyes, she doubted her gut. Perhaps the elders had a good reason for what they were doing. If the one horse who had always stood by her was against her, then perhaps Aisha was wrong.

"Come to bed?" Basma asked into the silence between them.

Finally, Aisha relented with a sigh and forced a smile. "Okay. All right, I will."

They walked side by side, Aisha's gaze wandering the quiet oasis that thrummed with life. The faint whine of a mosquito filled one ear, while the other caught the sound of something slipping into the water. Though there was no breeze to stir the trees, their leaves shifted with the movement of some manner of small creature hunting the ripening fruit.

Al-Abeyan protected this place from disease, storms, and locusts. For as long as the Badawi had wandered the desert, the Djinn had always ensured the survival of their herds. She had to trust that Al-Seglawi was doing her part for Aisha's.

And, yet, she couldn't deny what she had seen. The memory of chasing the ghostly mare through the dunes was too fresh to ignore. Aisha halted just outside the tent and looked around, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary—just cloth, sand, trees, and water.

When Basma slipped inside, Aisha reluctantly followed suit. They maneuvered past the sleeping forms to return to where their family slept. However, while Basma seemed to fall right back into her dreams the moment she dropped down onto a lavish pillow, such ease escaped Aisha entirely.

She lay there, staring at the roof of the tent that was lined with sprigs of pungent plants to repel the mosquitos plaguing the oasis. The snoring of the little weeds bore into her skull, and she was almost grateful for the sound of a desert creature's distant howl that sent the hairs of her coat standing on end. It was at least something different to listen to.

Regret seeped into her mind as she shifted on the pillows, the sand that clung to her coat digging in as a stark reminder of her carelessness. She had rushed out of the lake and into the dunes without so much as shaking off any of the water. In a way, she had probably been cleaner before the Nahr al'Wan.

The night dragged on, and though Aisha drifted in and out of sleep several times, she felt far from rested when the stallions in the tent began to stir. Adil sat upright with a grunt and turned his head to check on each of them, pausing when his eyes met Aisha's.

A small smile crossed his muzzle. "It's hard to sleep in with how early we normally rise, isn't it?"

Aisha gave a non-committal reply and rolled over to face away from him. She didn't want to be awake. She wanted this all to be a dream, that the ethereal horse was just a figment of her imagination and that there were no deals in the dark with Hadar horses and khatar.

It would just be easier to just give in and accept that it was none of her business. Al-Seglawi would take care of the herd as she always had and always would, with or without Aisha's interference.

"It will be time to follow the wind soon, before the sun has risen," Adil said into the silence that had lingered between them, and Aisha glanced over to watch as he nuzzled Sahar's neck. "Good morning, ya amar."

Sahar gave a soft moan of exhaustion and delight as she lifted her head to press her nose to his neck in return. "Good morning, ya hayati."

The twins roused from all the movement around them, and while Sahar greeted them with affectionate licks to their foreheads, Aisha scooted closer to Basma. Gazing down at her sister, the words from that night came back in full force.

'Please just be happy with what you have and let this go.'

Aisha frowned and pulled away, jumping to her hooves and stalking out of the tent without regard to any of the eyes that followed her. She was happy, more than she ever had been before. Basma just couldn't see it because their definitions of happiness differed.

Most Al-Seglawi families were already outside, reloading their supplies onto the backs of their strongest stallions. Aisha spotted Qadira and her husband Ma'mun struggling with the task by themselves. After waiting just long enough to enjoy the sight, Aisha trotted over and grabbed one of the ropes between her teeth. Qadira shot her a sidelong glance, at first with suspicion and then gratitude.

"So," Qadira said once they had finished securing her belongings, "you left the Nahr al'Wan rather abruptly." She tipped her nose in the air to look down at Aisha.

Aisha's ears flattened and she tried not to think about the why. "I was startled."

"Startled?" Ma'mun furrowed his brow. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Aisha muttered, turning away to return to where the rest of their family was getting ready to leave.

As she passed between two tents, she caught sight of Sheikha Wardee. Each gilded strand of her resplendent headdress and robe shimmered in the lingering rays of moonlight, which gave her a glow much like the ethereal horse that kept haunting Aisha.

"Good morning," Wardee said in her far-carrying voice, and all heads turned toward her. "The calm of the Nahr al'Wan has faded. Al-Seglawi stirs, and we must follow. I give my thanks to the herd of Al-Abeyan." She turned her head to look at Sheikha Zeinab. "May Al-Abeyan give you strength."

Zeinab's smile was so bright that Aisha could see the joyful glimmer reach her eyes, even at a distance. "Strength have I become." Her nose pressed to Wardee's before they parted ways, Zeinab remaining still and Wardee starting to crest the nearest dune.

When Wardee reached the top, she tilted her head back so that her throat was as taut as could be while she hummed. The note carried on a wind that swept up and over her, sending ripples across the lake that startled a few herons into flight.

Every member of Al-Seglawi's herd felt the pull on their soul as Wardee's hum reached their ears and, as one, they mirrored her movement into a deep bow against the sand. Aisha glanced up, uncertain if she was or was not hoping she would spot the music-voiced apparition.

There was nothing on the dune except for Wardee and sand.

"Al-Seglawi," Wardee called and rose to her full height. "Guide us through the desert so that we may walk your path."

After a breath's pause, the wind shifted and Wardee followed it with the herd behind her. It was always a long journey after the Nahr al'Wan, but with their stomachs full and coats clean—save for Aisha's own, she noted somewhat bitterly—it was rarely an unpleasant one.

"These veins are ours," Wardee sang to ease the monotony of walking.

"To us the zephyr of this desert belongs

"She who has willed to us is the beginning."

Aisha closed her eyes just long enough to join in with the rest of the herd's reply.

"A good life we have lived

"Within our spirit we cherish her."

Rhythm and melody eased the burden of traversing the desert, but it did nothing for the weight pressing on Aisha's mind.

The darkened spires of Jibal al'Khali loomed ahead, growing nearer as the sun climbed over the horizon. She had never seen the ruins nestled within the eroded mountains for herself, but they would occasionally find relics from the once-great civilization while mining.

Aisha could remember the time when she was younger and Adil had returned with a broken vase that he found in the sand. The inscription on it fascinated her, a long series of unfamiliar curves that swept across the cracked and tarnished silver; how someone could carve such a delicate script onto metal was a mystery.

The herd would set up camp at the base of the Jibal al'Khali, where the mountains fell away into a flat wasteland known as the Harrat Hashd. Sand gave way to the steep cliffs that tore the Harrat Hashd in two, a dark and foreboding valley that rarely saw the sun.

It was there that the Djinn were rumored to sleep, guarded by all manner of fearsome creature that slew all who dared to disturb the mighty Djinn—or, at least, that was what parents told their children to keep away from it.

More importantly, the wasteland was the most abundant site to find khatar al'ahmar. Tension raced along Aisha's sides at the knowledge of why Al-Seglawi would lead them there.

"I hate when we mine at the Harrat Hashd," Basma said, walking at Aisha's side. She tilted her head to look up at her with soft, pleading eyes. "Please be careful."

Aisha glanced away from Basma's gaze. "Of course I will." Her nostrils flared as she snorted. "I'm just as capable as the stallions, you know."

"Yes," Basma replied in a quiet voice that held no conviction, and they continued walking with the herd in silence.

When the sun approached its zenith, they took shelter in the shade of large boulders and ate the still-fresh olives and figs. Nawar and Zahra chased after every lizard they saw, and Sahar repeatedly sent Aisha to stop them before they got too far. They saw it as a game. Aisha did not.

"We will arrive at the Harrat Hashd before the day is through," Wardee announced, her gaze locked on the black mountain ridge. "May we find an abundance of obsidian and khatar al'ahmar."

Aisha tensed and looked down at the canvas bag that hung from her neck. Was it Al-Hamdani's water within, or was it from the khatar-bought barrels? Though her tongue felt swollen, she turned her head away at the thought of drinking the water it held.

Al-Seglawi had a plan, but Aisha couldn't understand what it was.

The twins started to grow restless while the herd waited for the sun to begin its descent. It wasn't until Nawar tried to climb on top of Zahra's back and nearly fell off that Sahar cleared her throat.

"My blossoms, come, sit. Let me tell you something important."

Nawar's ears perked. "A story?"

"Is it about the manticores?" Zahra whispered, her own ears drooped.

Sahar regarded them with a soft smile. "No, it's not a story, nor about the manticores. It's about where we are going, and why you must be good and stay within the camp when we get there."

A sigh dragged out of Nawar. "Because it's dangerous, we know, we know."

"It's more than dangerous," Sahar chided. "The Harrat Hashd is where the Djinn rest. We must take care not to disturb them."

Aisha rolled her eyes as the twins gasped in shock and awe. She had explored the valley when she was their age and found nothing of the sort. Cobras and a small pack of hungry hyenas, yes, but no supernatural beings.

Certainly none like the mare of smoke and cloth that moved in an ever-present breeze.

"Do they all rest there?" Nawar asked.

Zahra pranced in a circle around her sister. "Do they have pillows?"

"Are they big pillows?"

Mercifully, Sheikha Wardee called for the herd to assemble and resume their journey, which distracted the twins long enough for Aisha's headache to settle. They had been full of energy since the Nahr al'Wan, and she was already tired of it.

The sky was a brilliant blue painted with long, rolling clouds of white that occasionally drifted over the sun and gave short reprieves from its heat. Nawar hoofed at every bush in search of scarabs or lizards, and Zahra tried to move only by hopping on rocks.

"I wish I had their energy," Basma said, giggling.

Aisha snorted and flicked her ear. "I'd hate to have to hate you."

With a small sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cough, Basma turned her head away to hide a grin that Aisha already caught sight of.

By the time they finally arrived at the base of the Jibal al'Khali, Nawar and Zahra were visibly vibrating with excitement at the prospect of seeing the Djinn. Sahar guided them to where the ground fell away into the great valley, and Aisha followed if only to see their reaction.

"Do you see the breath of the slumbering Djinn?" Sahar asked, lowering her head to their level.

The twins' eyes were wide as they gazed at the curls of smoke rising from the valley's fissured floor, illuminated by the dwindling rays of the setting sun. Things lurked below, slithering among the shadows and cracked stone.

"And if you're not quiet," Aisha cut in with a smirk, "you might wake them up. You don't want the Djinn to come and take you in the night for angering them, do you?"

"No!" Nawar and Zahra exclaimed together, and they moved to seek shelter by hiding underneath Sahar.

Sahar glowered at Aisha with narrowed eyes. "The Djinn have no interest in taking my flowers, but I will see to it that they find reason to take you if you don't go attend to your duties."

Aisha snorted and started to turn away, but she paused to look down into the valley of Harrat Hashd. Nothing looked back at her, and yet a chill ran down her spine nonetheless.

"Go," Sahar snapped.

"I'm going!" Aisha lashed her tail to emphasize her irritation as she trotted back to where the rest of the herd was setting up camp.

Raising the tents and unloading their belongings was a simple task, one they had all done a hundred times over; it was what came after that was important that night. While the mountain's base was an ideal location that provided occasional shelter from the sun, the dangers from the Harrat Hashd were not to be taken lightly.

So, while the stallions put together their families' tents, Aisha worked with the mares on grinding dried garlic and rock salt together. The smell permeated the air and even with her headdress firmly in place, Aisha still gagged. It was necessary, however, as it was the most effective snake repellant they knew.

Once the resulting mixture was poured in a complete circle around the camp, the herd broke into their family groups and retired for the night just as the sun slipped past the horizon. Neither Nawar nor Zahra seemed to understand what it meant to retire, as both of them barely stopped talking long enough to even breathe.

"How long until the next Nahr al'Wan?"

"Are all the Djinn in the valley right now?"

"Can we meet them?"

"Do we have any more figs?"

"Oh, yeah, those were really good!"

"The olives were gross, though."

With an unintelligible cry of frustration, Aisha stormed out of the tent and into the cooling night air, ignoring the demands from her mother to return to bed. She had spent the entire day running after those little weeds. The last thing she wanted to do was listen to them a moment longer.

She knew it was irrational, but she hated them. They were loud and obnoxious; everything Basma considered cute about them, she couldn't stand. More than anything, however, she hated how much Sahar loved them.

After she had stormed several paces outside the circle of tents, she finally slowed to a walk. She tilted her head back to look up at the sky that stretched in every direction, dark and filled with innumerable specks of shimmering stars. Her anger washed away under the vastness of it, and her hooves came to a halt so she could fully appreciate the view.

The full moon stood out against its deep blue backdrop, shrouded in a glowing white veil. An entourage of stars gathered directly above Aisha in a cluster that looked like clouds of light blue and soft purple.

She felt so small and insignificant under it all.

The sound of movement off to her right jolted her heart into pounding against her ribs, and she whirled around to challenge whatever manner of creature tried to catch her unaware. At the sight of Sheikha Wardee approaching, she quickly dropped down to prostrate herself against the sand.

"May Al-Seglawi give you strength," she murmured, stretching her neck to touch her nose to Wardee's hooves when they were within reach.

Wardee regarded her with a slight raise of one brow. "Strength have I become. What are you doing out here, Aisha bint Sahar?"

Aisha cleared her throat as she straightened up. The pounding of her heart didn't cease. If anything, it only grew more desperate in its erratic beating. She was alone with the sheikha without an elder in sight.

Her mind told her to say nothing and return to the tent. Basma wanted her to let it go, and she knew she should; after all, Al-Seglawi herself had led them to where they would find the most khatar al'ahmar.

And yet she knew that there would never be a more perfect opportunity. She would never get to talk to Wardee like this again. Before she could stop them, the words were already falling past her lips.

"I need to warn you of something, Sheikha."

The raised brow arched higher. Wardee tilted her head, the golden jewelry she wore ringing like music. "Oh? And what is that?"

"I—" Aisha licked her suddenly dry lips and glanced around to be certain of their privacy. She continued in a hushed voice, "I saw elders In'am and Tawfiq during the Nahr al'Wan engaging in something—something wrong."

Wardee said nothing at first, but surprise did light up in her eyes. The sight of it sent a wave of relief through Aisha: the sheikha didn't know.

"When you say wrong," Wardee finally asked, "what is it that you mean?"

The details poured out of Aisha faster than she could remember. "I saw Elder In'am returning to camp with barrels of water. She claimed Al-Seglawi provided them, but that makes no sense! Al-Seglawi has never done such a thing before. Then, during the Nahr al'Wan, I saw her and Elder Tawfiq with Hadar stallions discussing a deal. Khatar for water."

Aisha hesitated, then added with as much strength as she could muster, "I don't know why they are doing it, but it's not right."

Wardee hummed in thought. She began to walk a circle around Aisha, silver eyes trailing over her body that suddenly felt exposed under the scrutiny of her gaze. "Aisha bint Sahar, you are the mare who failed to attract a stallion two years in a row. You bring untold shame upon your family to instead go mining with our stallions."

Stopping in front of Aisha, Wardee lowered her head so their eyes could meet at the same level. "And yet you, of all mares, seek to tell me what is right and wrong? To question the actions of my elders?"

As all the confidence evaporated from her, Aisha's blood ran cold and her knees grew weak. "What?"

"The herd, the family, and the self—always in that order, and no other." Wardee snorted and raised back to her full height. "Do you understand what this means?"

Before Aisha could reply, Wardee snapped, "In all of my years as sheikha, I have yet to encounter someone as selfish as you. And you dare to speak to me as if I do not provide for this herd?"

"But, the khatar!" Aisha cried in a voice too small for her to recognize as her own. "It's supposed to be purified by Al-Seglawi, not sold to the Hadar!"

"The khatar is to be separated from the ahmar so that we may safely make our dyes. If there is value to be found in the khatar by trading it for water, is it not my duty as sheikha to ensure my herd is provided for?" Wardee sneered down at her. "You would have me willingly turn away from something as precious as water?"

Aisha flinched back a step, hoping that distance would give her strength. It did not. "What about the balance of the herds? Water is the duty of the Al-Hamdani herd, to ensure that there is always enough and that it goes untainted. What if the water in the barrels isn't clean?"

Wardee narrowed her eyes to silver slits. "You have drunk the water yourself. Do you not feel fine?"

She dropped her gaze, unable to look Wardee in the eyes any longer. "Yes, but—"

The wind stirred around them, a gentle breeze that felt more like a caress against Aisha's cheek. That now-familiar voice of a quiet mizmar slipped into her thoughts.

".لا تستسلم"

Aisha jerked her head up and saw the tendrils of cloth floating through the air around the smoke-like apparition standing behind Wardee. Relief returned in full force, even more than before, as she gazed into the golden eyes that were locked on her.

With a furrow of her brow, Wardee followed Aisha's gaze, her head inclining as she searched the desert with a flick of her eyes. It was when she turned back without recognition in her face that a revelation struck Aisha with actual, physical pain.

"You—" Aisha couldn't say it. She couldn't give voice to the terrifying thought that went against everything she knew.

"I tire of this game," Wardee said with a sigh. "Return to your family. Become a dutiful daughter. Cease the trouble that you cause for the herd. And speak of what you believe you saw to no one."

Aisha trembled as she forced the words past her lips. "You can't see Al-Seglawi, can you?"

The brief but distinct flash of fear in Wardee's eyes was the only answer Aisha needed.

"Oh, ya Djinn." Aisha took a step back and her hoof sank into the sand. "You can't. Could you ever?"

Wardee surged forward to close the gap between them and hissed, "You know not of what you speak, child."

Aisha was beyond fear of the sheikha. Her terror went far deeper into the core of her being as the world she knew fell apart around her. A tight knot formed in her chest and twisted around her lungs, making it impossible to breathe for a moment.

Just as her head grew light and she felt like she might drop to the sand in a broken heap, the ethereal being she now realized was Al-Seglawi herself caught her gaze again.

The wind stirred around them, and the Djinn gave a slow but firm nod. All at once, Aisha found the strength to speak again from the simple gesture.

"But I do." Aisha barked a shaky laugh, though she didn't know why. "I do know. I know that you are a gilded lie that we have followed like blind fools!"

The blow of a hoof against her face came as a surprise, and Aisha stumbled from the impact and the shock.

Wardee towered over her and snarled, "I give you this one chance, Aisha bint Sahar. Forget what you believe you have figured out and return to your family. Return to your life of mining with stallions and disappointing your mother."

Aisha opened her mouth, and Wardee said in a low voice, "Consider the consequences of your actions before you speak, child."

"There is nothing to consider," Aisha said, pushing her face into Wardee's. "I cannot simply forget that you are nothing but a false sheikha."

Silence held them with tension so thick it hurt to breathe. Neither blinked nor moved until, finally, Wardee released a long and heavy sigh as she shook her head. "Then you leave me with no choice, Aisha bint Sahar."

Author's Note

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.

الشمس اعاشِرة ☼ Sun X

☼ Tenth Sun ☼

Wardee tossed her head back and gave a trilling cry, the sound echoing past the dunes, off the mountains, and down in the valley. Hyenas replied to the baleful ululation with cackling cries of their own, and something far in the distance yowled at all the noise.

The once-still camp was now bursting with activity, and Aisha watched it all unfold with fear. Stallions barreled out of tents to defend their families, who followed soon after to see what the danger was—and then all of them froze.

Wardee stood tall and towered over Aisha, the moonlight catching every thread of her robe. Her eyes pierced through the darkness as she addressed the herd in her far-carrying and firm voice.

"My sisters and brothers of Al-Seglawi, my duty as your sheikha is one of which I am normally proud."

Everything within Aisha was trembling, from her hooves to her teeth. She saw, among the crowd of confusion, her mother's eyes were widened with worry.

"However, tonight is a sorrowful burden I must bear." Wardee's shoulders rolled as strode forward to stand between Aisha and the others. "Aisha bint Sahar is no longer welcome within our herd."

Basma lunged forward, pushing past the horses standing in her way, and skittered out into the open. "What?! Why?!"

Wardee stopped a few paces away from Basma and peered down her muzzle. "Your sister is harmful to the herd. She is a poison that is killing the roots of everything we stand for."

"That's not true!" Aisha blurted out, but a part of her knew it was a futile effort. All eyes were on the sheikha to seek her guidance and wisdom.

"I'm—" Basma's chest heaved with a sobbing, shuddering gasp. "She's—"

With a snort, Wardee looked past her at Sahar. "How do you raise your daughters for one to become venom and the other to follow her?"

Sahar ran forward to stand protectively in front of Basma, her expression open with desperation. "Basma cannot be faulted for loving her sister!"

"Please," Aisha whimpered as dread filled her chest that suddenly felt too tight to breathe.

"No, she cannot." Wardee's voice was colder than the air around them. "But you are at fault for encouraging your daughter to ignore our tradition, to pursue the path of a stallion, to bring such shame on your family."

Sahar's eyes widened even further and she looked past Wardee to search Aisha's face. Whatever it was she sought couldn't be found, because Aisha had nothing to give.

"Sahar, I see now where the problem lies." Wardee walked past her without glancing back. "Take your family and go, before your daughters can do more damage to the herd. Your kin are exiled from Al-Seglawi's embrace."

The air was full of whispers that seemed to attack from all angles. For a moment, all Aisha could see was the despair on her mother's face, the tears running down her sister's cheeks, and the retreating forms of the herd that was once hers.

"Aisha," Sahar said, taking a step toward her, "what have you done?"

Aisha's gaze darted to the side to where Al-Seglawi had been, but there was nothing. Panic prickled the frozen blood in her veins and she started to stammer sounds with no direction of what she was trying to say.

Sahar slammed her hooves against the sand. "Aisha! What have you done?!"

"Take only your belongings," Wardee called from where she stood outside her own luxurious tent. "Then, before the sun rises, I expect to see nothing of the family of Sahar."

Then, after the herd retreated back to their beds, they were alone—save for the lingering presence of Qadira and Ma'mun. Neither said anything, but they watched with concern etched on their faces.

Nawar poked her head out from around a nearby tent. "Ummi?"

"What's going on?" Zahra appeared beside her.

Sahar's anger faded to fear at their voices, and she turned to rush over to them. "Shh, my sweet blossoms. Don't worry." She nosed their foreheads. "We are taking a little trip."

Without a word, Adil led the way back to their tent, Sahar and the twins following him. His expression betrayed nothing, but Aisha knew.

"You have to understand," Aisha started to say as she trailed after them.

"Understand what?" Sahar snarled as she whirled around and marched toward Aisha, stopping her in her tracks. "Understand that we should congratulate you?"

Aisha shrunk back. "I—"

Sahar stared her down with fire in her eyes. "Because it does seem that congratulations are in order. You have fulfilled your dream of serving yourself and only yourself—always in that order, and never any other."

With a strangled sound somewhere between a snort and a growl, Sahar turned away to aid Adil in taking down their tent. Aisha could only stand there, her chest tight with a suffocating pain when she looked over to see Basma hadn't moved.

Tears fell one after the other down Basma's cheeks and she heaved a shuddering breath. Her whole frame trembled with the emotions that showed plain on her face: despair, anger, and fear.

When Aisha opened her mouth to speak, Basma turned away to tend to the confused twins while Sahar and Adil worked together to pack up their belongings. She knew she should help them, but her legs refused to work.

Aisha watched it all as if it were a dream: the last rope secured to Adil's back, the tearful goodbye between Qadira and Sahar, and the reluctant departure of her family from the life they had always known.

Just before she slipped out of sight, Sahar snapped, "Are you coming, Aisha?"

Qadira remained outside her tent to stare at Aisha with an expression of contempt. Aisha ducked her head and hurried after her family, trying to shake off the feeling of Qadira's hateful gaze.

"Where are we going?" Zahra asked, her ears drooping low as she looked between Sahar and Adil.

Sahar opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out beyond a strangled whimper.

"To the city of Al-Jawhar," Adil said without looking away from the desert ahead of them. "It will take several days to cross the desert, however."

Nawar scuffed her hooves against the sand as she walked between her parents. "But we never go to Al-Jawhar. Aisha always says—"

"It doesn't matter what Aisha said," Sahar interrupted with renewed anger burning through her voice. "That's where we're going. It's not up for discussion."

Aisha trailed behind, dropping her head low to focus on their prints in the sand rather than their actual forms. It was easier that way. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

There was a pause before Basma came into view beside her. "We'll get through this," she said in a low voice between them, but there was no conviction to her words. "The twins need us all to be strong. They don't understand."

"Right," Aisha managed to say, her gaze flicking up to land on her little sisters. They stayed so close to Sahar that her legs brushed against them with each step. "Right."

It gave her a purpose, however fleeting: she would do what she could to keep her mistakes from further hurting her family. With renewed vigor in her step, she trotted forward to walk beside her parents, who stalwartly ignored her presence.

"Hey, Zahra," she said with the most casual tone she could muster, like nothing had happened.

The little filly's ears perked before her eyes raised to meet Aisha's. "What?"

Nawar leaned forward to peer around Sahar with interest as Aisha stuck her nose in the air and cantered ahead of them all. "I heard that at night, you can sometimes see Al-Seglawi and Al-Abeyan shaping the dunes for the new day."

"What?" Zahra squeaked and sprinted ahead, darting between Aisha's legs. "Can you really? Really, really?"

When Aisha glanced back, she felt a brief burst of relief at the gentle smile on Basma's lips as she came up beside her again. "Oh, yes," Basma said. "But only if you're quiet and well-behaved."

Sahar gave a weak, tired chuckle. "Otherwise, you might startle them, my little flowers."

Nawar and Zahra drew close to one another, their ears and eyes alert as they searched the dim surroundings for signs of the Djinn. The starry expanse above kept the path well-lit, but shadows cast by the dunes still reached for them with potential dangers lurking within.

"We follow the star of the north to guide us to Al-Jawhar," Adil said in his low voice that rumbled over the quiet sands. "How do we find the star of the north, however?"

After a careful pause of consideration, Basma perked up. "We seek the Qafzat, the galloping leaps whose tracks guide us toward the star of the north."

Adil flashed a smile at her. "Very good. So long as we know the stars, we can always find our way."

Zahra stopped to look up at the sky, her head tilted all the way back until it seemed she might lose her balance. "There are hoofprints in the sky?"

"The heavens are home to beings far beyond our understanding," Adil explained, and Aisha smiled from the memory of when she had asked that very same question. "Only with careful practice and a vigilant eye will you be able to see the canvas above us."

For a long while, the twins were silent, both taking in the nigh endless expanse of constellations whose names were a mystery to them. Eventually, however, one broke into a yawn and the other followed suit.

"Come on," Aisha said, stopping and lowering herself to their level. "I'll carry you."

Nawar looked at her with a moment of suspicion, but another yawn convinced her to take the offer. She scrambled onto Aisha's back and buried her face into Aisha's exposed mane.

This prompted a brief smile from Basma, who helped Zahra onto her own and said, "We will set up the tent soon, don't worry."

Nawar yawned loudly. "But what about the herd?"

A tense quiet fell before Sahar snapped it with a terse reply. "We do not talk about the herd now."

The twins looked at one another with mirrored confusion, but gave in to their exhaustion before they could raise more questions. Once they were asleep, Aisha watched Basma's expression grow cold and distant.

Though she walked with her family, Aisha felt a suffocating loneliness. Hooves scuffing the sand and wind whispering in her ears were the only sounds that filled the air as they walked, Adil guiding the way.

For a while, Aisha could endure the pain that clenched her chest with every moment that passed and no one spoke. She reminded herself that this was her punishment, and to suffer in silence was the least she could do for them.

But a thought wriggled its way into her mind. Would they forgive her if they understood? She ran her tongue along dry, cracked lips and tried to mull over her words before she opened her mouth.

The elders were selling khatar for water. That went against their tradition. It imbalanced the herds!

'As if that is worse,' the imagined scorn of her mother's voice replied, 'than what you have wrought with your own selfishness. At least the water benefits the herd.'

Aisha's ears flicked back and she shook her head. No, the important part was that the sheikha was lying to them. Everything they knew about her, their herd, their history was founded on a lie.

But still she could hear her mother snort and say, 'Then you should have approached us first, instead of rushing headlong into danger on your own. Your pride has brought our family to ruin.'

There just had to be a way to explain it that would make them understand. She couldn't make it all the way to Al-Jawhar with the weight of their disappointment bearing down on her every single step.

That was, of course, assuming they traversed the desert safely without running out of water or food. That thought sent a chill down her spine, and her gaze fell to the sand in front of them. A few paces ahead, she saw the shape of a familiar bush of rigid, spindly leaves jutting out of the sand.

She paused to lean down and chomp at it, then jerked her head back up to tug it out by the roots. Nawar stirred and gave a sleepy whine of unintelligible confusion.

After inclining her head to offer the bush and having it cautiously accepted, Aisha explained, "It'll fill your stomach and soothe it at the same time." She looked over at Basma with a hopeful smile and received a guarded expression in return. "Keep an eye out for any more."

Nawar's lips curled back as she chewed with distinct displeasure on her face. "'S'gross," she mumbled.

Adil regarded Aisha with a ghost of a smile in the pale moonlight. "And where did you learn this?"

With a flush of pride that dropped into sheepish uncertainty, Aisha returned her attention to the sandy expanse ahead. "From my time feeding myself, before Raqeeb Hadi allowed me back."

Sahar snorted. "If you hadn't rejected that stallion at your Khetbah, you wouldn't have had to eat like a wild animal."

"I remember the shame in his family's eyes," Basma added in a soft but terse voice.

Anger and frustration flared within her chest and before she could stop herself, she yelled, "What would you have had me do?! I would have been miserable as a wife!"

Sahar rounded on her with renewed fire in her eyes. "More miserable than you are now?"

Aisha bit back a sudden sob that tore from her throat as tears sprung forth. She dropped her head in submission, waiting for her family to start walking again before she followed behind them. The guilt renewed its weight on her, so heavy that she struggled to breathe.

A shadow passed over them through the moonlight, followed by a series of shrill warning cries—kak, kak, kak, kak! Aisha's body tensed and they all came to a halt, looking around instead of up for whatever danger had been spotted by a shaheen falcon overhead.

The air whistled as the falcon plummeted toward the sand off to their right and whipped back up with a cobra clutched in its talons. It all happened so fast that it hardly seemed like it had happened at all; the desert was quiet and still once again.

"That was close," Sahar mumbled as she moved closer to Adil. "Do you think there are others?"

Adil shook his head and resumed walking forward. "We must keep moving. If we keep this pace, we can reach Al-Abeyan's oasis before tomorrow is gone and nightfall returns. We'll rest, resupply, and leave before the hospitality wears out and the questions begin."

Sahar looked up at him and said in a low, mournful voice, "Ya hayati, we can't make it that far. We haven't even slept since traversing that distance to get here."

"We can't set up the tents in the open desert, either." Adil shook his head, his words punctuated with a soft but strained huff. "It's too dangerous."

Aisha bit her lip before blurting out, "So is over-exhaustion." She winced when their eyes turned on her as if she were the danger. Perhaps she was. "I'll stay awake and guard the tent. You need sleep."

There was a long silence before Adil slowed to a halt. He looked between the members of his family, then relented with a long sigh. "I accept your offer. Come, then. Let's set up the tent."

It was a somber affair as they unloaded their rolled-up tent and baskets of belongings from Adil's strong back. None of them spoke beyond simple commands to take this or remove that, setting everything down into a pile before beginning to raise the tent.

Nawar and Zahra sat off to the side, leaning against one another and yawning back and forth. Aisha caught glimpses of irritation flickering across one's face that was returned with a light glare until Zahra nipped at Nawar's neck.

"Hey!" Nawar cried, jumping to her hooves.

Sahar heaved a sigh and tugged on the rope between her teeth to tighten it before she chided, "Please don't fight, my darling blooms."

Zahra butted her forehead against Nawar's. "She won't stop yawning, and it's making me yawn!"

"You bit me!" Nawar's nostrils flared as she snorted.

Basma trotted over to them with her best attempt at a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Come, now, the tent is ready. Why don't we go to sleep?"

Zahra glared up at her. "No! Why are we here? We shouldn't be here!"

Nawar gasped. "Ummi said we're not supposed to talk about it!"

The anger in Zahra's expression melted to desperation as she started to cry. "But I want to go back to the herd!"

"Ummi said we're not supposed to talk about that, either!"

Aisha whistled to get their attention and inclined her head toward the tent. "Little weeds, go with Basma and sleep."

To her surprise, Basma glared over her shoulder. "Stop calling them that."

"I'm not a weed. Nawar's a weed!"

Nawar's lips curled back in a sneer and she reared back to drive her forehooves down into the sand, then kicked it up at her twin. "Am not!"

"Nawar!" Basma put down a hoof to try to separate them. "Don't—"

"Are, too!" Zahra lurched forward to butt her forehead against Nawar's.

Something snapped within Basma the moment the twins' heads collided with a resounding thwack. "Enough!" she yelled, and both foals cowered against the sand.

Aisha recoiled when she became the sole focus of Basma's ire, eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a sneer. "Do you see what you've done, Aisha?! If you could have been less stubborn—less you!—then none of this would have happened to us!"

Her words echoed throughout the desert around them, silencing any further argument between Nawar and Zahra. Their family watched in silence as Basma heaved a shuddering sob.

"I'm sorry," Aisha whispered and cringed at how hollow she sounded.

Basma huffed an empty laugh. "You weren't sorry when you shamed our family at both of your Khetbahs. Did you ever realize what happened while you were out there running? Ummi had to endure watching all of the other mares' daughters with their new husbands, proud and content. They told Ummi how sad it was, how unfortunate she was."

All Aisha could do was bite back another useless apology, bowing her head to avoid the pain in Basma's gaze.

"You weren't sorry," Basma continued, "when you got what you wanted and spent every day like a stallion, away at the mining site while Ummi sat at camp. Every day she had to listen to the same comments about how you were a disgrace to our family. But you were never sorry!"

Aisha glanced up to see their mother standing with Nawar and Zahra and doing everything she could not to look over at them, but the sorrow on her face was hard to miss. Mumbling something to the twins, Sahar guided them into the tent with Adil following behind her.

They had left her to deal with the worst consequence of her actions: the loss of her cherished sister's love. Aisha swallowed and, returning her gaze to Basma's, she managed to say, "I didn't know."

With a roll of her eyes, Basma turned and walked away. "No. You knew. You just didn't care." She gave Aisha one last look of unrestrained contempt over her shoulder before disappearing through the flaps.

It was difficult to breathe with not just guilt crashing down on her, but regret. She had never known there was a distinction between the two feelings until that moment, and they boiled together in a dark self-loathing.

While the rest of her family settled in for a long and uncomfortable night, Aisha remained outside and gazed up at the sky. The stars twinkled far above without a care for the plight she'd put her loved ones in.

How much food did they have? How long would it last? Would they make it to Al-Jawhar before it ran out? Would they be ambushed by the dangers that lurked in the desert? Could they defend themselves?

Suddenly, Aisha became aware of every sound near and far. The twins had already started snoring. Basma was crying quietly, trying not to be heard. Sand skittered as it was pushed around by the wind.

Or was that the sound of a cobra hissing before it prepared to strike?

And was it the wind howling, or something that was on its way to prey upon them?

She looked over at the tent where her family slumbered and her heart finally shattered when she realized that there was nothing she could do to fix the situation. Because of her stubbornness, her family was condemned to death.

There was only one thing she could do for them now: lighten the burden.

Though she wanted to be strong, tears started to well up and fall down her cheeks as she steeled herself for the decision she had to make. It would be easier while they were asleep—for them, at least.

Once it seemed that she had run out of tears, Aisha relaxed into focusing on the surroundings. She would fulfill her promise of guarding them while they slept. The desert was, mercifully, quiet and still throughout the night; the worries and fears circling her thoughts kept her painfully awake.

Would they make it to al-Jawhar safely? What sort of life awaited them in a city they had never seen and never known? How would it change the twins, leaving the freedom of the desert?

Would any of them ever forgive her?

The night sky started to lighten as the sun prepared to rise, and soon Adil would follow suit. Aisha quietly snuck inside the tent and looked at the slumbering forms of her family. In sleep, they seemed at peace. She could almost pretend that nothing had happened, that if she went outside, they would be back at camp.

With as much resolution as she could force herself to have, she dressed to the best of her abilities while unaided. She was unable to properly secure the headdress in place, but so long as she didn't encounter any strong winds, it would suffice.

Her gaze travelled over her family again, and an ache she couldn't fully describe seized her to start the tears anew.

It was, she imagined, a little like dying.

Basma seemed restless in her sleep, twitches running along the muscles of her sides. Aisha approached her carefully and almost fearfully so that her hooves moved without sound. Once she was close enough, she leaned down to place the softest kiss she could manage on the back of Basma's head.

"I know it's not enough," she whispered in a hoarse voice, "but I'm so sorry for everything." She pulled away before her tears could fall and risk waking her. "I love you, Basma."

Aisha went over to where the few baskets of their supplies were stored and chewed on her lower lip as she considered her options. She tested each canvas bag to see which had the least amount of water and, finding it, slipped its strap over her head to rest against her shoulder.

Food was a different matter entirely. There wasn't nearly enough of it for the rest of her family, and she had no way to store it on her own. Reluctantly, she ate two of the dried dates and bade her family a silent farewell with one last mournful look.

The desert greeted her without any fanfare, just a gust of wind rustling through dry bushes and the sight of sand dunes swallowed up by darkness. Her robe fluttered around her trembling legs that threatened to buckle underneath her, but her mind was made up.

"If you're listening, Al-Seglawi," she mumbled as she started forward into the night, "please take care of my family so that they may walk your path."

Author's Note

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.

الشمس الأولى ☼ Sun I

☼ First Sun ☼

In the harsh climate that claims most of Saddle Arabia live the nomadic Badawi. Proud, noble, and—most of all—free, these horses roam the ever-shifting sands of the great desert, ar-Rub Wafir. They live and die by the choices they make, for they are in charge of their own destinies.

Aisha bint Sahar followed the winds wherever they led, and they always urged her forward into the horizon. Though she belonged to the herd that served the Djinn of the Wind, Al-Seglawi, she was free. She was alive.

A mare's voice pulled Aisha out of her slumber, light pouring into the darkness. "Get up this instant."

With a groan, she lifted her head off the pillow to stare blearily at Sahar, who hovered at the entrance to her family's tent. It was large enough to fit all of her family at night, with pillows strewn about on a simple rug that had been in their family for generations. Off to the side sat a few baskets, one filled with dried dates while the others held their spare and ceremonial clothing.

"What, Ummi?" Aisha ran her parched tongue over dry lips and winced. "I have worked my shift already. I am due this sleep!"

Sahar lowered her head to allow more sunlight to filter through the front flaps and snorted, her nostrils flaring with a dangerous impatience. "My little blossoms have wandered from camp again. Go find them before they are lost to the sands."

At Aisha's side, her quiet and gentle younger sister stirred and nuzzled closer. "Aisha?"

Aisha held her mother's gaze before relenting with a frustrated groan as she pushed herself upright. "Go back to sleep, Basma. I have to track down a pair of weeds."

Sahar withdrew with another snort, the flaps closing behind her, the tent growing dark once again. It was a momentary reprieve from the sun that Aisha was about to endure for Al-Seglawi knew how long. If those two really were to get lost, however, she would be to blame for delaying, so she hurried to her discarded clothes, still stained with the powder of ground gemstones.

"I'll help," Basma said in her voice as sweet as honey and as soft as silk.

She was at Aisha's side in an instant, reaching her head down to grasp the black robe with simple blue embroidery and tossing her neck to drape it over Aisha. It covered her from shoulder to hoof, woven in such a way to breathe well but still keep out the scorching sun and biting sand.

Meanwhile, Aisha pawed a hoof to slide the headdress along her leg and skillfully dipped her head to catch it as she tossed it up. Her ears wiggled until they slipped through the holes in the long black-and-blue cloth that draped down her neck and rested over her muzzle, leaving only her eyes and ears exposed.

Aisha never, ever left camp without a veritable tent of clothing to protect her. No grains of sand, carried along the life-giving and life-taking wind, would mar her so long as she wore proper protection. She cherished her dark chestnut coat that differentiated her from her light-colored family—save for Basma, whose white coat was marked with matching chestnut patches.

"Thank you," Aisha said, turning her head to nose Basma's fondly. "Enjoy your rest for the both of us."

Basma smiled and took a step back, away from the flaps that Aisha walked toward. "Please come back safely."

Beneath the cloth that covered her muzzle, Aisha smirked. "I will, but I cannot guarantee the same for the weeds."

And with that, Aisha stepped into the harsh world outside the safety of her family's tent. Under the suffocating heat of the midday sun—which chased away the very idea of shade—life in the herd of Al-Seglawi carried on as normal. Mares sat together with the piles of gemstones that they ground beneath their hooves, creating a fine powder that would become expensive dyes. All of the tents were set up in a circle to shield their work from the wind, each a different color and pattern to designate the family that owned it.

Among the working mares was her mother, who stared intently at her. Aisha returned the stare by curling back her lips in a hidden sneer, then tore her head to the side and moved between the tents to leave the safety of camp and venture out into the vast, endless expanse of desert she called home.

Already, she felt the effects of the heat that caused the horizon to shift and shimmer into mirages for those that wandered too long under the sun. The backs of her exposed ears felt hot if she kept them still, so they flicked and swiveled in each direction to listen for her youngest sisters.

The wind whispered as it dragged across the sand, and she could still hear the idle chattering of mares. She picked up the pace to put distance between her and the camp until all signs of it slipped behind the dunes so that she could focus on her search.

There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach when she was surrounded by nothing but sand and distant black mountains. It was as if she was the only soul wandering the desert, completely alone and at the mercy of that which lurked just out of sight. The mere thought of being lost and separated from her herd sent the hairs of her coat standing on end, so she urged her senses to work harder.

She started with sight—but all she could see was sand in every direction, and any traces of her youngest sisters had already been brushed away by the tireless winds that shaped ar-Rub Wafir's dunes. She closed her eyes to block out the vision and shifted her attention to sound.

Other than her beating heart, the only noise she could hear was the occasional ruffling of the cloth that kept the refreshing air from reaching her coat, but also spared her from the grains of sand that bit at her exposed ears.

Something scrabbled against the sand nearby. Her ear flicked toward it and she heard tiny movements, much too small to be her sisters' hooves. She cracked one eye open and caught a glimpse of a burrowing scarab just before it disappeared.

Aisha sighed and closed her eyes again. Taste and touch were of no use, leaving her only with smell. She had no choice but to ask the very same winds that were working against her for assistance and hope they complied.

After a moment of silent prayer, the stillness around her sprung to life from a sudden gust of wind. It caressed not just her ears, but seemed to reach beneath her robe to soothe her anxious heart.

Her eyes snapped back open when she inhaled the scents that drifted along the breeze. The smell of lavender and saffron were carried to her from somewhere nearby, and it brought a sense of relief as well as irritation.

Her sisters were close.

Aisha turned to face the wind and started forward to follow it to where it had brought the scent of her sisters' perfumes. It was an extravagance that annoyed her just as much as they did; their mother had traded one of the few necklaces she owned for bottles of oil to pamper the twins with.

"Nawar! Zahra! Where are you?"

Giggle. She skidded to a halt as her ears swiveled in the direction of the sound.

"Nawar, Zahra," she called, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the dunes that sailed off into the azure horizon. "If you don't come out right now, I swear—"

"We're right here!" Nawar chimed, a flash of white flickering in and out of Aisha's peripheral vision, accompanied by more giggling and a thundering of small hooves.

Just as Aisha jerked her head to the side, something—someone collided with her. She fell to the ground, her assailant tumbling down with her.

Aisha gave a whinny of surprise, then grunted in pain. "Zahra, you little shi—"

The filly squealed and scrambled to her hooves to escape the impending wrath of her older sister. "Dirty words! You're it!"

"This is not a game!" Aisha chased after the fleeing filly with anger guiding her through the newfound ache in her side. "Get back here before—"

Cheerful laughter gave way to a cry of surprise when Zahra's hooves hit the top of the dune, where the loose sand shifted beneath her. Aisha, with more experience guiding her, slowed her pace and dug deep to get a better grip, then peered down at her fallen sister.

Nawar bounded into view and—because the twins just always had to do everything together—followed right in the hoofsteps of her sister by tumbling over the dune to land beside the whimpering Zahra.

"Oh, don't be such children about it," Aisha chided with a derisive snort. "You two fall all the time. Get up, follow me, and don't make Ummi send me after you again."

Nawar rolled around on the sand, kicking her legs in the first stage of a tantrum. “I don’t want to! If we go back, Ummi will make us do chores!”

"We want to stay here and play!" Zahra did the same, careful not to collide with her sister.

Aisha watched them as they rolled, squirmed, kicked, and whined. Finally, she snorted and turned to descend the dune back in the direction of home. “Fine. Then I'll leave you two here. Without food and water."

"We'll be fine!" The sound of the fillies scrambling to their hooves followed by them running after her gave Aisha pause. Zahra bounded forward into view and stuck out her tongue. "We found water. We can find food!"

"Yeah, we can stay out here forever!" Nawar giggled and pranced around her twin.

Aisha's brow furrowed and the muscles along her sides twitched in agitation. "What do you mean, you found water? Where?"

Zahra looked at Nawar, who looked back at her. They said nothing, and yet by the wiggles of their ears, she knew they were having a full conversation within the silence.

"Where?" Aisha repeated, taking one threatening step forward.

"Okay! Okay, we'll show you, but you can't tell Ummi!" Nawar started bounding off in the direction opposite of the camp, Zahra running after her.

With a sigh, Aisha trotted behind them. "If this is just a mirage or an excuse to avoid going home, I swear to Al-Seglawi..."

Zahra glared over her shoulder. "It's not! It's real! We really found water!"

Aisha just snorted in reply. Neither of them had a scrap of cloth on them, leaving them exposed to the desert's harsh touch, and yet neither seemed fazed by it in the least. They would be sorry later, though, when the numbing joy of having fun wore off. Then they would have something to actually tantrum about.

"Here it is!" Nawar cried, disappearing behind a dune with Zahra. "We found it!"

Aisha frowned, but held her tongue until she saw what they had found for herself. There was no scent in the air of the precious, life-giving liquid; there was, however, a strange, musty smell instead. And when she caught up to the twins, she saw why.

The entrance to a cave sat before her, gaping mouth open. Waiting. Entreating. Demanding.

"We went in and found water," Zahra proclaimed with a proud swish of her tail.

Every nerve along Aisha's back and sides jolted to life and she glared down at the twins. "You went in?! What if a follower of Al-Hamdani found you encroaching upon their territory?!"

Nawar jumped forward before Aisha could stop her, crossing the threshold between their world and another's. The clattering of her hooves against stone echoed off the cave walls, sounding like a whole herd of little horses.

"It's just right ahead!" Zahra bounded right past Aisha and after her sister. "There's no one of Al-Hamdani here."

Aisha felt her heart pound, urging her to flee. It was unnatural for her to go underground. She was of Al-Seglawi. She belonged to the wind.

Her sisters turned a corner and vanished from sight, though she could hear their giggles chasing after them. Each resonating sound grew further away and, fearing she might lose them, Aisha stepped all the way into the cave.

She could still feel the heat and the wind at her back, pressing against the flanks of her robes and whispering for her to return to the world she knew. Ahead of her was a darkness that threatened to devour her, with no sun nor moon nor stars to guide her deeper into the caverns. She sucked in a breath of the cold, stagnant air, and forced her legs to move forward.

Her shadow stretched out ahead of her on the uneven surface that was the color of sand, but harder than the gemstones she crushed daily. Each fall of her hoof against the stone resounded loudly into the darkness only to return as a hollow echo.

She could still hear her sisters' giggling, but the sound bounced off the walls so many times that the cacophony was almost maddening. The howling of the wind grew distant as she pressed further into the tunnel that widened and, eventually, split into three.

A frown tugged at her lips. She looked off to her right and saw nothing but shadows. Ahead of her curved away from the entrance's light and seemed to grow narrow and unwelcoming. When she looked at the remaining path, she knew at once that it was the right one—for better and for worse.

Crystals were embedded in the walls of the leftmost tunnel, all glowing with a dim light that cast the sand-colored stone in a blue hue. If she had doubted whether the herd of Al-Hamdani lived within these caves, then she certainly didn't anymore.

Aisha sucked in a breath and coughed when her lungs tried to reject the heavy, unfamiliar cold. "Nawar," she rasped, her voice coming back to her twice over. "Zahra! Come back!"

The only response she received was an eerie quiet that was anything but silent. The air thrummed with something—alive. It almost sounded like music, though there was no rhythm she could catch. Each note was almost like a distant tapping of a drum, but something was off and it set her further on edge.

She pressed forward, her side brushing up against the wall as she tried to steady her trembling legs. A strange softness greeted her, and, when she leaned down to squint at what it was, she found sprawling patches of moss clinging to the damp stone.

Damp. That was the word. Everything around her was damp. The world she knew was hot and dry, but this cave felt how the stallions looked when they returned from a day of labor. There was a slight sheen to the walls where the crystals' light touched them, as if everything was coated in sweat.

At the very least, Aisha certainly was. She had traversed dunes in storms and faced scorpions at her hooves with less fear than was coursing through her veins at that moment.

"Nawar! Zahra!" she called again. "Where are you?"

Something growled off to her right and she kicked out her forelegs in surprise, but instead of some manner of creature, her hoof struck water. She blinked as she came back down onto all fours and caught sight of a dribbling stream in the dim light. Her gaze followed it up to one of the tapered structures jutting from the ceiling, but just as she realized that it was water and tried to drink it, it was gone.

Her ears twitched and swiveled as she worked to discern the sounds all around her. She heard her own breaths that came out in erratic puffs as well as the frenzied pounding of her heart. The strange drums still resounded from somewhere ahead of her, but she didn't hear any hoofsteps drawing near.

At any moment, she could be found by someone from the Al-Hamdani herd, the only one that had no code of hospitality, if not the very opposite of it. Their role as the Keepers of the Water was to ensure the underground reservoirs remained clean and pure, so they reacted to anyone in their caves as a threat.

That included two stupid fillies and their aggravated older sister.

Aisha continued forward and finally realized she wasn't hearing drums at all. It was the sound of water falling and splashing into some sort of pool. Her steps hurried to carry her faster and she felt the tunnel going wide before she noticed the walls at her sides falling away to stretch into a large cavern.

It was a lake. An entire lake filled the space in front of her, its surface almost perfectly smooth save for the occasional ripples when a drop fell from the jagged ceiling. Her throat went dry from the sight and sound of water, and it beckoned her closer with the promise to quench her sudden thirst.

The moment she was close enough to catch a droplet on her tongue, something moved in front of her. She froze and prepared herself for the worst, muscles tense and ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

In the wavering darkness, she saw eyes. Equine eyes that glowed like twin golden suns. They moved toward her and a long, beautiful face materialized around them. Delicate chains dangled down from a pair of ears and connected to a veil of silver coins, but as the figure moved, there was no familiar sound of metal ringing on metal.

Aisha chanced a downward glance to see that the form had no hooves at all, but instead, the ethereal horse's legs simply faded away. She did notice, however, a strange protrusion on the center of the horse's head—a spiraled, curved horn adorned with what looked like a tassel.

A voice like a plucked qanun resounded in her mind and filled her with a warm sensation. "يمكنكِ رؤيتي؟"

She didn't understand, but her knitted brow seemed to be enough of an answer as the eyes in front of her widened. All at once, a series of awful noises clashed together against the inside of her skull and she staggered back.

"What do you want?!" Aisha winced at the throbbing sensation of her own voice echoing off the cave walls. "What are you?!"

Everything went silent and the horse's rippling movement stilled. Nothing for a moment, and then it retreated into the darkness before Aisha could regain her senses.

She gasped for air. Air that was too still, too cool. Sweat matted her coat and chilled her to the bone. Shivers seized her muscles.

"Hello?" she called in a voice that had suddenly gone raspy and weak. "Are you still there?"

Only the trickling of water and the pounding of her heart replied. Perhaps she had hallucinated it. The darkness was an unfamiliar entity, but if it was anything like the bright desert sun, then she could have simply seen a mirage. That would explain everything.

Hoofsteps echoed somewhere from behind her. Her ears flicked, seeking out all the information they could glean. They weren't bounding or accompanied by giggles, and there were several of them. Was it a patrol of Al-Hamdani's horses?

With shameless greed, Aisha leaned down and lapped at the water. It was cold. Pure. Wonderful. She could have remained there and drunk from it for all the suns and moons that stood between her and the afterlife.

As the hooves drew closer, she pressed herself against the wall and prayed under her shallow breaths. She hoped that the dark colors of her robes would help her blend in, but when she saw a pair of strikingly bright blue eyes in the darkness, she realized it was a hopeless cause.

"You are trespassing," a masculine voice hissed.

Aisha pulled away from the wall to stand tall and proud despite the tremor in her legs. "I'm seeking my sisters."

"We're here," Nawar squeaked, stepping out from behind the stallion.

Zahra appeared on his other side. "He found us."

"Diversions," the stallion of Al-Hamdani said with an icy tone. "Diversions so you could steal our water and contaminate it." His gaze flickered to the pool beside her and he peeled back his lips to bare his teeth in a sneer. "Leave. Now."

Aisha gave a low chuffle, summoning the twins to her side. They practically stumbled over themselves in their hurry to flee from the stallion and ducked between Aisha's legs to seek shelter. She could feel their trembling disturb the air around them.

She took a step forward. Nawar and Zahra scurried around her hooves to use her as a shield as they passed the stallion, his eyes never leaving them, their eyes never leaving him. Once they turned a corner, Aisha hurried her gait when she heard the distant wind calling for her return.

The soft, rustling whistle of freedom. She could taste sand on the air. Heat mixed in with the cold that licked at her sides. Light illuminated her path until she jumped across the threshold from the cave into the open desert.

"We're so sorry!" Nawar dropped down and rolled in the sand, burrowing into its biting yet comforting embrace. "We didn't mean to get caught!"

"I missed you, I missed you," Zahra chanted, digging a hole and sticking her head in it.

Aisha watched them with stern eyes, though she shared the sentiment entirely. Sand felt right under her hooves. Wind was a blanket that guided and protected. "What did you learn?"

Zahra popped up. "No more caves!"

"The stallions of Al-Hamdani are pretty," Nawar mused as she lay on her back. "Did you see his eyes?"

Aisha let out a long sigh, then breathed deeply. Replacing the stagnant air in her lungs soothed her irritation. "Come on," she muttered, turning to follow the wind that urged her forward. "Ummi is waiting."

The sounds of their whining as they reluctantly followed were drowned out by the memories of the strange vision. She could hear the words echoing like a distant howl, though they still made no sense. It was like trying to remember a song she had only heard once.

A shiver ran through her. Those ethereal eyes were etched in her memory. The discordant noises were burned in her mind. Fear and uncertainty clung to her soul.

She would have to consult with Sheikha Wardee about the experience. For now, her focus had to remain on getting her sisters home before they stumbled into more trouble.

As they crested the third dune, the sandy expanse was overtaken by brightly colored tents. Relief filled her chest at the sight and she broke into a gallop, care for her siblings lost in the wind.

She was home.

Author's Note

For the record, there will be several lines in languages throughout the story that Aisha doesn't speak. They appear for flavor but only sparsely. Anything said in them is not necessary for your understanding of the story, plot, or events.

Don't panic, hold onto your towel, and enjoy the ride through Aisha's eyes!

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.

الشمس الخامِسة ☼ Sun V

☼ Fifth Sun ☼

When the sun neared the horizon, the five sheikhas let out trilling ululations that cut through the noise of the Souq. Everything ground to a halt before the previous energy returned anew as horses returned to their herd's section to begin packing up the sundries they'd traded for or failed to trade.

Dread weighed heavily on Aisha's shoulders as she stood near the base of the obelisk, her thoughts whirling in her mind like a sandstorm. Time was slipping away. After the mingling and courting of the Liqaa al'Khetbah, there would only be two trials between her and her herd's Trial of Chasing.

What did Al-Seglawi want for her? What did she want for herself? What was her life going to be like after the day was done?

"Aisha," Sahar called, trotting across the empty expanse of sand. "The Liqaa is starting. What are you doing?"

Aisha didn't look at her, her gaze instead focused on the symbol of Al-Seglawi that loomed above her. "Waiting for a sign."

Sahar gave a derisive snort. "The sheikhas have called for the commencement of the Liqaa. What more of a sign do you want?"

"Something I can trust," Aisha muttered under her breath, but diligently started walking to where the rest of her herd waited.

The smaller tents of each family had already been moved to crowd near the five large, open-air canopies spaced out around the focal point that was the obelisk. Aisha stood with the other eligible Al-Seglawi horses and tried to keep her head down.

Nazli gave a soft whinny of delight as she pranced in place. "Oh, I hope the Liqaa will be enlightening. I have five suitors. How am I going to choose?" She tossed her mane and offered a tight smile to Aisha. "It must be nice to not have to worry about that."

Though Aisha rolled her eyes, she bit back a reply and instead focused her attention on the empty expanse of sand that surrounded the obelisk. She listened to Nazli brag to the other mares about the attention woefully forced upon her, as well as Hassan's excitement over finding an interested Al-Hamdani mare.

Once the activity among the herds quieted down, the sheikhas whistled in unison to signal the next phase of the Khetbah. Like locusts upon an oasis, the eligible horses—nearly a hundred in all—poured into the open space and began to mingle in a massive swarm of curiosity and desire.

Mares and stallions used sight, sound, and scent to search for a potential mate. Touch and taste, of course, were strictly off-limit senses, but the cacophony of whinnies and whistles, pheromones and perfumes, dances and prances filling the cooling evening air was more than enough to turn Aisha's stomach sour.

Ghalib wove his way through the crowd toward her, his tail perked and head held high to show his well-bred physique. Another stallion circled her with a flash of his white teeth to flaunt his good health. And another went for a more direct route, passing by her so close that they nearly brushed together.

They vied for her attention the same way an Al-Kehilan trader would show different rugs. And to them, it was perfectly natural; she, on the other hoof, wanted nothing more than to run away. Ghalib had shown her glimpses of a personality in the short time they walked together, but now he was reduced to the same as all the other stallions.

He challenged the others that eyed her, flaring his nostrils and acting every bit the strong, protective stallion that she should desire to have—and she would be lying if she said she had no interest in him.

"You still intend to chase me?" Aisha asked as she circled Ghalib, her gaze flickering between him and the ever-moving mass of bodies around them.

Ghalib's lips twitched into a brief but confident grin. "I intend to catch you."

She flicked her tail and inclined her head to give the impression of looking down at him despite behind much shorter. "And why is that?"

There was a pause, and she saw a flicker of amusement cross his face before he took on a somber expression. He breathed in through his nose and huffed the exhale like a petulant foal caught in a lie.

"It was always my intention," he began in a low voice, "to wed a mare of Al-Seglawi. I have lived my life in the sand, sun, and wind. The stationary life of the other herds doesn't suit me."

Aisha narrowed her eyes and trotted forward to end the circling dance they had entered. "I see. So, I am a matter of convenience for you."

With a chuckle, Ghalib followed close behind her. She fancied that she could discern the sound of his hooves against the sand from others', but even as she thought it, she knew it was a silly notion. The heavy thud of each hoof sounded just like any other horse's, regardless of how she felt about them.

"Perhaps at first," he admitted, "but I find you endlessly interesting. I imagine our marriage would be one that would never grow boring."

He picked up the pace to walk alongside her and lowered his head to her level. "I will ensure that you are well cared for. If it is a matter of my endurance, then I intend to prove to you during the Trial of Chasing that I have it. Mining for your happiness will be my pleasure."

Just as Aisha opened her mouth to respond, the sheikhas whistled once more, and she was compelled to return to her herd's tent. There were a few shouts of anger as the stallions and mares who had been unable to secure the interest of someone else returned to their families, already having failed the Khetbah before it had officially begun.

Basma greeted her with a knowing smile as her eyes shifted between Aisha and, across the way, Ghalib.

"He seems like a strong and capable suitor," Sahar commented, pushing a bowl of dried dates over when Aisha dropped down onto the blanket with the rest of her family. "What is his name?"

Basma excitedly cut in, "Ghalib bin Halimah." She flashed Aisha a bashful smile that bordered on apologetic. "I asked around when I saw he was interested. He is very well-respected within the herd of Al-Kehilan."

Though Aisha knew that Basma was only looking out for her, she couldn't help the look of irritation that crossed her face. "He is a stallion like any other."

Qadira snorted. "He can't be ordinary if he is so intent on chasing you."

Ordinary. While Sahar gave Qadira a sharp reprimand that Aisha would have enjoyed any other time, her attention was ripped over to where Ghalib sat under his herd's tent.

"I would still like to chase you, if you can be content with an 'ordinary' life as my wife."

She suddenly realized the meaning behind Ghalib's words. He wanted a truly ordinary life. He would want her to remain at camp with the other mares, to raise their foals, and to be content with his care as 'her stallion'.

Sheikha Raeda al-Kehilan came forth to stand at the base of the obelisk, which she then walked around in a slow circle as she spoke in a far-carrying voice.

"We are blessed by Al-Kehilan with the gift of life. Through her guidance, we seek and find our destination without delay, no matter the obstacle that may lay before us."

The eligible mares of Raeda's herd walked forward and fanned out into the open space around the obelisk.

"Those who intend to follow us through the desert, I ask that you come forth now to begin the Trial of Seeking."

Stallions from the other herds trotted out to line up before Raeda. Two Al-Kehilan elders came out from under their canopy to attend to the stallions by placing a blindfold over their eyes.

"What are they doing?" Nawar piped up.

Sahar smiled down at the twins who were snuggled up against her side. The activity of the Souq had all but completely worn them out. "To join the herd of Al-Kehilan, the stallion must find his intended mare without aid of his sight."

Zahra made a small 'o' with her lips. "That sounds like fun!"

The blindfolded stallions were, one by one, guided by the elders into a quick spin before sent in a random direction. There was laughter among the horses watching when two stallions bumped into one another, and gasps of surprise when one found a mare right away—then laughter again when it was clear she wasn't the right one.

Nawar shook out her sand-dusted mane and jumped to her hooves. "Can we play?"

"I want to play!" Zahra chimed.

"No, my little flowers." Sahar leveled a serious look at them. "The trials may look like a game, but they are very important. If a stallion fails, it brings shame upon him and his family."

Aisha felt her muscles tense when Sahar added in a low voice, "And it is just as shameful if a mare fails to attract a stallion."

Stallions trotted blindly and mares giggled to tease them in the right directions. Aisha chewed slowly on a date and allowed her attention to wander while the Trial of Seeking carried on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw ribbons of sheer cloth floating through the air.

Her own shroud remained still against her form from the lack of any wind moving across the desert, so she turned her head to look at the oddity. She expected to see Nazli or one of the other eligible Al-Seglawi mares prancing about and making a scene, but instead she found herself catching a glimpse of golden eyes—and then nothing but sand.

There was no one there, and yet her heart pounded and her mind raced. Something had been there.

The mirthful voice of Sheikha Zeinab tore through Aisha's panicked haze. "We are blessed by Al-Abeyan with the gift of sand. Within her oasis, we grow the vegetables, fruit, and grain that sustain us."

As before, the eligible mares took the pause in the sheikha's speech to prepare. They brought with them cloth sacks held between their teeth that they dropped and pushed open to expose the melons inside. Each sack held three of the light pink fruit, which were oddly shaped with five distinct ridges.

Nawar gasped and nudged her head against the underside of Sahar's muzzle. "Ummi, what are those?"

"Starmelons!" Basma replied with a gleeful giggle before Sahar could. "They're my favorite. Well, if you get one that's ripe, that is. Harvested too soon or too late and they're very bitter. But—"

"Those who intend to live with us in the oasis," Sheikha Zeinab interrupted, "please come and choose your starmelon wisely for the Trial of Knowing."

Aisha watched as the stallions went to stand before their intended, then began testing the fruit. Most drummed on the hard rinds with a hoof; two tried rolling them around; and one in particular had a length of wheat that he balanced on the top of the melons.

When one finally took a bite, cheers broke out when he straightened up with a grin. The mare whinnied her delight and they trotted away together, which encouraged a nearby stallion to make his selection. He reared back as if he had been struck and spat it out, earning a disappointed look from his mare.

"It's about patience and perseverance," Sahar explained to the twins' questioning looks. "They should have spent the Liqaa learning from their mares how to discern the ripeness of a starmelon."

With every successful selection that was made, Aisha felt pain lance through her chest. She was going to outrun Ghalib. He was going to return to his family with the shame of failure through no fault of his own. In a way, she felt as though she was betraying the warmth he had shown her.

At the least, she consoled herself with the knowledge that he wouldn't waste his time on her at the next Khetbah. It would spare them both the trouble.

The sound of Sheikha Wardee's voice cut through her thoughts, sending her heart back into its frantic pace. "We are blessed by Al-Seglawi with the gift of wind," Wardee said with her usual voice of deep, rich silk. "Her sacred winds guide us to where gems lay hidden beneath the sand, so that we may color the world in her hues."

With a sigh, Aisha walked with the other Al-Seglawi mares to their spot on one side of the open space, her ears flicking at the sound of excited and eager giggling all around her.

"Those who intend to run alongside us under her guidance, I wish you luck in the Trial of Chasing."

Aisha watched, somewhat uncertainly, as the group of Al-Seglawi's intended gathered across the sand; there were nearly twice as many stallions, largely due to Nazli's coquettish behavior during the Liqaa. Aisha almost felt ashamed to see two of them looking at her with fire in their eyes.

Almost unbidden, her eyes met Ghalib's, and he flashed her a smile. She returned it by looking away.

There was a long silence until Sheikha Wardee whistled. The high-pitched sound rang out across the desert, and the trial began. The hooves of the Al-Seglawi mares moved without a sound, but a few of them whooped with delight as they soared halfway across the sandy expanse. Before they crossed paths with the stallions who sought their favor, they broke out in every different direction to scatter in the wind.

Aisha's job was to run like the wind, to ensure that the stallion who caught her was swift and strong. More than that, her goal—according to her mother—was to eventually be caught. However, if a stallion couldn't catch her of his own strength and will, then why should she allow him to be her mate? Were Ghalib to be truly worthy of her, then he would outrun her without her aid of slowing down.

Behind her, she heard the sound of two bodies colliding, and chanced a glance over her shoulder to see a stallion sprawled on the sand, Ghalib still chasing her with a look of determination. She tore her focus back to her sprint and urged her muscles to find more strength. Her hooves were precise in every movement so that they barely scuffed the sand as she galloped ahead with the cloth fluttering all around her.

Ghalib gave chase with raw power, but she was faster and more agile. She was the wind. Though he was the sun that warmed her in a strange, unfamiliar way, she moved too swiftly for him to catch.

She heard a chime of laughter as Nazli was caught, one of her suitors bounding ahead to grab one of the ribbons of cloth between his teeth. Aisha watched out of the corner of her eye as they slowed to a halt and, panting, the stallion prostrated himself before Nazli.

"I, Ziyad bin Ramla, relinquish my service to Al-Abeyan to follow your path," the stallion began.

Aisha's right hoof scuffed the sand and her rhythm stuttered. Though Ziyad's voice faded as her running put distance between them, she knew the rest of the words by heart.

"May Al-Seglawi accept me as yours, for I shall be both your shade and shield. All that I am, I give to you."

She couldn't do it. She couldn't give up the freedom she loved to become yet another married mare, to have foals and bicker for status like all the rest. She couldn't watch Ghalib’s burning warmth become a dull ember as he grew frustrated with her until infatuation turned to loathing.

The pounding of hooves against sand filled the air and forced her attention back to what was happening around her. All of the other Al-Seglawi mares had been caught; Aisha was all that remained of her herd. Though she didn't look, she knew her mother's disapproving gaze was bearing down on her.

'It is time to be caught,' she could hear her mother say, and in response, she galloped past the perimeter of tents. A chorus of surprised gasps followed her as she ran up a dune, jumped, and soared through the air before landing right back into stride.

To Ghalib's credit, he had put up a good effort until then, but she could hear exhaustion slowing the beat of his hooves behind her. He was wearing down. He didn't have what it took to catch her.

And, shortly, victory was hers—as she doubled back to sprint toward the circle of tents, Sheikha Wardee's whistle signaled that the trial was over. She had outrun him.

Aisha tossed her mane as she looked back to see Ghalib breathing heavily, his expression one of hurt and confusion. A sudden pain gripped her chest; a part of her was uncertain if she had made the right choice, but to be caught meant sacrifice. Her freedom was her life's blood; did he not feel the same?

As she moved past him to walk back to camp, Ghalib sucked in a breath and said in a low voice, "I wanted to catch you." He shook his head and followed after her.

"I know." She continued forward, the ache of running starting to set into her muscles with a searing pain.

"I would have taken care of you." He shot a sidelong glance at her. His confusion hardened into a distant bitterness, and she found herself longing for the way he had looked at her before.

"I know," she repeated, her voice growing quiet as regret shifted within her like dunes in the wind.

His muscles tensed and he spat, "Then why did you run?"

Aisha ducked her gaze with dwindling resolve, but she replied with feigned conviction, "Because I have known my freedom longer than I have known you."

"You're a foolish mare." With a snort of irritation, Ghalib quickened his pace and lengthened his stride to put distance between them. "Freedom will not shelter you from hardship."

There was nothing more to say. Ghalib went to his herd, Aisha went to hers, and she knew that their paths would not cross again. She watched his rigid posture as the horses she assumed were his parents looked upon him with disappointment. Whatever connection had sprung between them, her actions had severed.

Sahar waited for her with eyes that, all at once, were burning with fire and wet with tears. Aisha stopped a pace's length away and forced a neutral look onto her face, despite her aching muscles, lungs, and heart.

They stood in silence as, right next to them, Nazli introduced her new husband to the horses that were now his family. The joy in their voices felt like a physical blow as Sahar continued to stare long and hard at Aisha.

And then, Sahar simply turned and walked away.

"We are blessed by Al-Hadban with the gift of sun," Sheikha Hajirah called as the world moved on without a care. "It is through her blistering heat that we craft the jewelry that adorns us and the fire that warms us."

Basma looked up at Aisha with an unreadable expression, then shifted her gaze to watch as Al-Hadban mares scattered hot coals across the sand. Their father loomed over the twins with a silent, oppressive force radiating from his rigid stance that kept them from making a sound. His eyes were focused away from Aisha, but she felt his disappointment more intensely than her mother's.

"Those who intend to endure the heat with us, be wary of the danger in the Trial of Dancing."

Aisha remained still as stallions were challenged to impress their mares by performing a dance upon the bed of coals. Though she stared at the careful but swift movement of their hooves, she hardly processed what she saw. Everything felt so distant as she tried to figure out what her mother's departure meant.

Was she being abandoned? Or, worse—would she be exiled from the herd? Was that an actual possibility? Had something like that ever happened before?

A chill ran through her at the thought, and she gave a small cry of surprise when her mother seemed to suddenly appear at her side.

"Well, then," Sahar said in a voice that hid none of her anger. "Congratulations are in order."

The words formed a knot in the pit of Aisha's stomach. "What do you mean?"

Sahar smiled; it was a hollow thing, tight and sharp. "You get what you've always wished for. I have arranged it with the elders." Her neck stretched out and she grabbed Aisha's veil between her teeth. With a hard yank, the string pulled taut against the back of her neck before giving way with a biting snap.

Dropping the sheer cloth into a light breeze that stirred with eerie timing, Sahar continued, "You shall join the stallions in mining as soon as we set up camp tomorrow."

The empty smile fell away and Sahar's expression shifted to a scowl. "I don't understand why you want to be like this, Aisha, but I won't fight you anymore. Have your way. See where it takes you, but do not cry to me when the reality of your choices does not match your imagination."

Aisha blinked, her mouth hanging open. It was difficult to find a word to describe her feelings with how strongly they crashed together in her chest: surprise, confusion, excitement, and a little bit of dread.

"Thank you," she managed to finally say in a hoarse voice.

Sahar sneered and jerked her head away. "Don't."

Sheikha Awqaa began to speak, allowing Aisha a reprieve from her racing thoughts to watch the final trial. "We are blessed by Al-Hamdani with the gift of water. It is our privilege as well as our duty to ensure its purity so that we may survive."

Only two mares came forward from the herd of Al-Hamdani, hushed whispers following them. Although the other trials were more ceremony than challenge, the allure of water came at a cost.

"Those who intend to protect that which keeps us alive, it is time to prove your worth in the Trial of Sparring."

Each mare dropped a vase onto the sand which they stood protectively over, their expressions hardened against the two stallions who sought their favor. Aisha watched as the one from her own herd, Hassan, gave a flirtatious toss of his head that earned nothing more than a slow blink from the mare he moved toward.

The challenge was, in theory, simple: all the stallions had to do was knock over the vase that the mare guarded. In practice, however, it was a dangerous task.

Hassan treated it like a game, laughing as the mare met his every move with ease. Everyone among the watching herds remained silent and still as his carelessness was apparent to them all.

"Oh, no," Basma whispered under her breath, her eyes going wide. Aisha glanced at her, then looked up to see what she predicted as a pained cry tore through the air.

The mare of Al-Hamdani held up one leg and, even at the distance, Aisha could see blood against her light gray coat. Horrified, Hassan backed away from her; he knew—just as they all did—that to injure a mare was to receive retaliation thrice over, and he had drawn blood.

Aisha watched as a large stallion charged from the sidelines, perhaps the mare's brother or father. Hassan had no choice but to accept the consequences of his mistake, his head bowed as he braced for the impact. The stallion bowled him over, sending him sprawling into the hot sand. All watched as he reared back, aimed, and dropped both forehooves down onto Hassan's foreleg with all of his might in the name of retribution.

It was unlikely that Hassan would be able to walk unaided for days.

The punishment was accepted with little more than a somber silence from the crowd, but Aisha heard a muffled whimper from the mare she recognized as Tahira, Hassan's mother. She looked over to see Tahira burying her face against her husband's neck, eyes clenched shut.

It all seemed forgotten when a roaring cheer overtook the crowd as the other stallion found success in his task. Finally, the Khetbah was well and truly over. While Hassan's family hurried to tend to his injury and others retired to spend the night ruminating on the shame the day brought them, Aisha watched everyone else dive straight into celebrations.

The air was full of life once again as stallions bade their families a final farewell to join the herds of their new wives for the feast that always followed the Khetbah. Almost everyone around her seemed to be in a state of unbridled joy, but all Aisha felt was a numbness in her chest.

She finally had what she wanted, yet it didn't feel real. All she could do was shake her head to clear her thoughts and move toward her family as they started into their tent, but Sahar's stern look kept her at bay.

Basma glanced over her shoulder with a look of uncertainty before she ducked her head to avoid their mother's gaze and walked over. "Aisha," she prompted under her breath, almost sounding tired.

"Yes?" Aisha's brow arched. "Are you going to say that you're abandoning me, too?"

Basma gave a quick shake of her head. "No! No, I'm not. We're not—You're not being abandoned. Ummi's just—I just—" She hesitated, her ears folding back. The question finally came out in a soft, almost broken voice: "Why?"

With a guarded tone, Aisha asked in reply, "Why what, exactly?"

"Why were you not caught? Ghalib had a clear interest in you." Basma averted her gaze. "He was handsome, wasn't he? And determined in his chase. Why did you outrun him?"

The sand felt hot against her hooves as she shifted uncomfortably, an overwhelming sensation of bitterness pressing down on her shoulders. "He wasn't right. None of them are or will be. You wouldn't understand, Basma."

Basma released a soft sigh and said in such a tiny voice that Aisha may have misheard, "I often don't anymore."

Aisha said nothing, and Basma didn't press any further. Although they stood side by side, the distance between them felt suddenly vast and unfamiliar.

Author's Note

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.