Firelight

The maids who had dressed Khaya had done nothing to remove the gold leaf from her body, which was now beginning to peel and flake off. She was itchy and as visible as a blot of ink, clad in a red qamis so bright it hurt to look at. Despite this she had a wide smile on her face. Today was her first session with Parviz, which meant a visit to the library, and an opportunity to ask all the burning questions locked in her throat.

Maya had escorted her to the library, from where one of the guards guided her to a private alcove shaded by a yellow curtain. It was more spacious than it appeared, with a bookshelf and writing table fitting in comfortably. Parviz sat on a cushion with his legs crossed, opening his eyes when the curtain shifted.

"Welcome, sahiba."

She sat opposite him and opened her notebook on her lap. Her eyes were wide and alert.

Parviz leaned back. "So tell me, why is it you want to learn Fiq? Most of the girls choose to hone music or dance."

"From what I have seen, the Prince isn't really interested in what his harem women are up to," she shrugged, "So I thought why bother trying to woo him when I can further my own learning?"

Parviz pursed his lips, clearly impressed. "A formidable ideology for a woman in such a position."

She knew what he meant. Her place in the harem was easily replaceable. She had to remain in the Prince's favour if she wanted to keep it.

She sighed and smiled sheepishly. "I talk a big talk for someone who knows next to nothing about Fiq."

Parviz's laugh rumbled. "We shall soon change that, my dear."

Without introduction they dove straight into the texts laid out on the table; treatises on moral judgement and governance. Khaya scribbled furiously, filling her notebook with unfamiliar words like obstruction, jurisprudence, opposition, and philanthropy. Parviz explained the judicial hierarchy; names of judges and their various powers, who controlled what areas of law and whose decisions outweighed the rest. Khaya had to sketch out a complicated chart of interconnecting lines and arrows to remember it all.

Parviz paused his lecture to pour them both a cup of tea. "I think for one day that is enough."

"I wanted to ask–"

He raised a hand to silence her. "Deliberate on what you have learned today and then bring your questions to our next meeting."

"It is a separate matter, Qadi," Khaya paused, unsure of whether to continue. He nodded. "I was wondering if you had any more stories about the Barmakis?"

He crossed his arms and frowned. "What kind of stories exactly?"

"I mean about their rumoured 'abilities'."

Parviz chuckled, and she didn't expect him to react any differently. "I'm afraid what little I've told you is all I know. I'm sure some stories have been penned, though I would caution you to take them as just that. Stories." He gave her a soft, stern look. "You can always ask one of the librarians to brush through the archives."

Khaya hid her dissatisfaction with a nod. Either he was hiding something, or there really was nothing more to the story.

"I will take my leave." She closed her notebook and rose.

"Study what I taught you today well, so we can continue without pause," Parviz said.

Khaya nodded and bowed before turning to leave. The same guard led her back to where Meia was waiting. As they headed back to the harem Khaya's mind wandered. Asking the librarians seemed to be the only path available, but with all the eunuch's prowling around her enquiries were sure to be noticed – if there was any truth to the stories, that was the last thing she wanted. She could request an audience with Yahya directly, but if he didn't like what he heard he could easily throw her out of the palace, or worse, cut her throat. Asking the prince himself would have the same consequence. Khaya pursed her lips and sighed.

If I have to speak to a Barmaki, it must be someone who is close enough to the inner circle, but not powerful enough to hurt me.

She knew next to none of the Barmakis besides Yahya and the Vizier; perhaps they had wives and sisters, but she already knew that the Barmaki harem was separate from the royals'.

Khaya sucked in a long breath and held it for a moment. The sunlight pouring in through the open balconies reflected off the applique on her qamis, turning her into a bright beacon with every other step. Khaya sighed and ambled on. The day would be long, and filled with time to think.

But first I have to get out of these stifling clothes.

x

Ayaan al-Barmaki scratched at the collar around his throat, as he did when he was bored. It was an hour after the evening prayer bells had chimed, and the palace was getting ready to turn in for the evening. He tapped one of the rubies on the collar.

Only three left, then I can finally get rid of this stupid choker.

He huffed, sending a lock of hair flying out of his face. As he turned the corner a small light drew his attention to the courtyard ahead. The silhouette of a woman sat on a stone bench by a rose bush, rising and falling with the slowness of sand dunes. Ayaan was about to walk past, but something glinted off her wrist that made him pause.

"Sahiba?"

She jumped, and her gaze found Ayaan. Her face was veiled by a purple scarf, but in a certain light he could almost see through it.

"I remember you," she said, "Ayaan."

"Ayaan al-Barmaki to you," Ayaan huffed. "You're not an official so you have to address me properly."

She chuckled, eyes crinkling. Even with her whole face hidden she was gorgeous. Ayaan sat down next to her and propped his face on his hand. The firelight glinted off the rubies on his collar, drawing her attention.

"Why are you sitting outside so late? The prayers are over so you should be in the harem now," Ayaan said.

"I know, I think Meia forgot she left me out here. But it's nice..." She ran her eyes over the courtyard, which glowed eerily in the dim firelight.

Ayaan squinted. Something was troubling her.

"Sahiba, do you want to see a cool trick?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What sort of trick?"

Ayaan smiled and bent down to gather some petals. "Watch this."

He opened the hand with the petals, and with the other made a small circular waving motion. At first nothing happened, and she was about to call him out, but then suddenly her mouth dropped.

The petals in his hand were beginning to rise, at first one at a time and tentatively, then all together in a gust of movement. They twirled in a circle, following the motion of Ayaan's free hand, forming a small petal storm in his palm. He looked at the royal concubine's smiling eyes and turned his palm towards her, then blew the petals. They flew around her head, one after the other so quickly it made her dizzy, then settled in her lap.

She let out a disbelieving huff, looking at the petals, then at the boy beside her.

"Bet you've never seen that before." Ayaan crossed his arms and grinned.

"How did you do that?" Her voice was energised, eyes wide and curious.

"That's a secret, sahiba." Ayaan shook his head. "I'm not really supposed to show that to people, so count yourself lucky."

She cocked her head to the side. "Then why did you show me? And my name is Khayzuran, not sahiba."

"Because you seemed sad," he said, suddenly sheepish.

Khaya laughed softly. "I wasn't sad, but thank you anyway." She paused, looking at the petals in her lap then back at Ayaan. "Let me ask you a question, Ayaan al-Barmaki."

"Hm?"

"Were you born with that... ability? Or did you somehow get it later on when you were little."

"I was born with it." There was not a hint of doubt in his voice. "Why do you ask?"

Khaya pursed her lips. "Because... I can do something like that too, but I was not born with it."

Ayaan stiffened, eyes widening by a fraction. "Like what?"

"That's a secret," she said, and winked.

His mouth turned down at the corners, suddenly serious. "Are you bluffing, Al-Khayzuran sahiba?"

"No," she declared, "I swear by... our Caliph that I am telling the truth."

Ayaan's lips parted.

Taking the Caliph's name... she must be telling the truth...!

Panic suddenly flooded through him. There was no way she could hold desert magic if she was not a Barmaki by blood. "Tell me what it is, sahiba," his voice lowered, "or I will tell uncle Yahya."

Her body froze, and fear flashed across her eyes. Ayaan smiled inwardly; no one could pretend to be unafraid of his uncle.

"No!" She almost stood up. "You can't tell him anything."

"Then tell me what it is."

She paused, biting her lip. "I will tell you, but first I need your help."

He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"I need information about the origin of these... abilities, or whatever they are."

"Desert magic," he clarified.

"Yes, so, will you help me?" She leaned towards him, eyes begging. Desperation radiated off her beautiful figure. It didn't suit her.

Ayaan had to admit, this was something very intriguing. A concubine, not Barmaki, not royal, not even a native of Baghdad, acquiring an ability that only bloodlines carried.

A long silence passed between them, and she said again, "Please, Ayaan. Will you help?"

He sighed, pretending to be uninterested. "I think I know someone who can help, but we have to leave the palace in secret."

Khaya nodded. "When do you suggest?"

"Tomorrow, after morning prayer. Meet me at the harem gate."

The firelight was beginning to burn to embers now. The inky sky was dotted with a multitude of stars. Khaya stood up and took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Ayaan al-Barmaki."

He bowed his head, and as she left the courtyard in search of her handmaid, he began fidgeting with the buckle of his collar.

Just three more.

___

This chapter is not as nice as I wanted it to be... but I'll fix it during editing lol

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- D