Beyond the Veil

☼ 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."