☼ 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.