The Faithless

I have made edits to certain plot points so if you have a question please ask.

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The guards flanking the gate were surprised to see a woman unaccompanied by a eunuch, but a single flash of the red bangle was enough to stop their questions. Ayaan sat atop his beautiful black gelding, and raised a hand to greet the girls. Beside him was another horse – tall and muscly – tacked with a larger saddle. Khaya and Meia would ride together. They wore identical deep ruby robes and veils with meshes over the eyes. To all observers there was no difference between them, besides the bangle, hidden beneath the long sleeves.

"Shall we?" Ayaan motioned to the horse, then waved at the guards. "Help them up, you idiots!"

The guards scrambled to help the girls mount, and soon enough they were on their way.

Zayan had already been instructed to tell anyone who asked that she was spending the day in her chambers praying and reflecting on yesterday's lessons. The only ones who could interfere with her privacy were Rayta and Rehan. Khaya squinted at the cloudless sky, throwing a prayer to the heavens that he wouldn't come visiting this afternoon.

X

Khaya was still not used to the horse's gait, and found the whole ride uncomfortable and bumpy, despite Meia's best effort to keep her touch soft on the reins. Once they exited the inner city the terrain began to change into something more familiar to Khaya – something disjointed and fractured, foundationless yet seamlessly standing upright. Twists and turns through narrow alleys, wide courtyards, and sweeping archways brought new sights and scents to her without pause – craftsmen and artisans, nursing mothers, young soldiers, street musicians, and more than anything else, children. Tens upon hundreds of children that seemed to be absent from the roads of the inner city.

She coughed as they walked past a lane of tanneries. "How much longer?"

Ayaan motioned ahead with his chin. "Just a bit further, hang on."

Khaya grumbled, gripping Meia's robes tighter as their horses pressed through the crowd. Ayaan had given her no details about the man they were to meet, other than the fact that he was a reputable informant with a penchant for asking strange favours. There wasn't even a guarantee he had what she wanted.

But it was a start.

Ayaan pressed ahead and dismounted further along the road, in front of a giant stone archway. When the girls arrived he helped them dismount, then handed the horses to a pair of scraggly looking kids no older than he was. The narrow courtyard had a stone statue of a giant hawk at its centre, looming above the three visitors. Khaya clutched at her veil from underneath as an armed man approached them. His expression quickly changed from wary to pleasant upon seeing Ayaan amongst the group.

"Unexpected to see you here, Barmaki. Your elders were here earlier this week." He glanced at the girls and raised an eyebrow. "Some unfinished business?"

Ayaan shook his head. "New business. Less pressing."

Khaya shot him a look, but no one noticed through the mesh.

The man nodded. "Luckily, he isn't that busy today. You won't have to wait."

Ayaan leaned to Khaya and said, "Usually its by appointment, Ibn Fakrid is a busy man," as they followed the man down an airy passageway. Soon they reached a set of thick oak doors, plain but for a gold ring at the centre.

The thud of the knocker rang so loudly in Khaya's ears she flinched back

Meia reached out a hand, concern plastered on her face, but Khaya shook her head.

"It was a fly in my veil. Sorry." She sucked in a breath as the doors opened.

She looked at Meia as the door opened. "Stay outside and wait for us."

The strain of wood against iron was a vicious grinding to Khaya's senses, but she anticipated it and swallowed her fear.

It was time to have her questions answered.

X

They stood in a small office with a thick woven carpet, paintings on the walls, and little trinkets decorating cabinets and shelves. A man sat on a cushioned stool, sipping tea in silence. His skin was leathery from decades in the sun, hair a mixture of black and grey where it stuck out from his loosely wrapped turban. The poverty on his face contrasted almost poetically with the lavish décor of his workplace.

His thin lips pulled into a grin. "Tornado boy, back so soon?"

Ayaan gave him a small bow and smiled.

"Come, sit. What can I help you with?" Ibn Fakrid said, eyes barely registering Khaya.

"My friend needs some help," Ayaan said as he and Khaya took their places opposite him. A maid appeared from the shadows and began pouring tea without instruction.

"And who is your friend?" Ibn Fakrid's iron hard gaze pierced straight through Khaya's veil. His eyes were a startling pale grey, like a rare, cloudy sky.

"My name is al-Khayzuran bint Atta." Khaya carefully pulled back one of her sleeves, revealing the red bangle. As she suspected, Ibn Fakrid seemed to recognise it.

"A royal concubine, how interesting." He leaned back and placed his hands on his knees. "So tell me, sahiba, what can I help you with today?"

She took a short breath and lifted her veil. "I need to know something about the Barmaki family."

Ayaan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to know–"

Khaya elbowed his thigh to shut him up, and Ibn Fakrid chuckled. "Don't worry tornado boy, let her ask the question."

"I want to know exactly how the Barmakis got their... desert magic."

Ibn Fakrid pursed his lips and glanced at Ayaan. The boy sighed. "She knows."

"Hm..." Ibn Fakrid leaned forward and steepled his fingers. "What exactly do you hope to do with this information?"

Their eyes locked. "That's my business, sahib," she declared, inwardly flinching at her rudeness.

Ibn Fakrid's laugh echoed in her ears, a smoky and guttural sound. "Ayaan, you should bring this one here more often. She has more balls than half your cousins."

Ayaan and Khaya both swallowed their giggles.

Ibn Fakrid looked over his shoulder and flicked his wrist for the maids to leave. "Ayaan," he said, "can you leave us alone for a moment?"

Khaya's heart skipped a beat as Ayaan stood up to leave without hesitation. She felt like pulling her veil down again, but her hands were frozen in her lap. When the the door closed the room fell into silence.

Nothing will happen. He can't harm a royal concubine.

She took a deep breath and met his eye.

They were silent for a few minutes before Ibn Fakrid spoke, "I can find out the answer to your question quite easily, al-Khayzuran bint Atta, however in this house we require payment for goods delivered, and that includes information."

Khaya nodded. "I understand, but what can I give you? Jewels? Books?"

He smirked, eyes glittering with mischief. "No, what I need is something much simpler than that."

He stood and moved to a bookshelf, skimming the spines with thick, calloused fingers. Finally, he pulled out a thick tome bound in black leather. He flipped through the pages and placed the book before Khaya. It was a sketch of a purple flower, with a description and various figures on the opposite page.

Khaya's brows knitted in confusion. "You want... a flower?" She leaned over the book and tried to make sense of the labels and words, but it was all jargon to her.

Ibn Fakrid sat and began sipping his tea again. "In the palace there is a special garden where these flowers can be found. You just have to go there, pick a small bouquet, and bring it to me."

It sounded simple enough, but still she hesitated.

"The sooner you give it to me the sooner you'll have your question answered," he added.

After a pregnant pause Khaya tore her gaze from the book and looked at him. "When do you want it by?"

"Let's say a fortnight. I'm in no rush."

Khaya's fists unclenched. "Okay. I'll do it."

Ibn Fakrid's satisfaction was plain on his face. "Good." He stood and moved to a small cabinet on the back wall where he rummaged about till he procured a small envelope. "Just for reference."

Khaya took it and tucked it in her waistband discreetly. "I will take my leave then," she said, and stood.

Ibn Fakrid rested his cheek against his palm. "Khayzuran sahiba," he called just before she put her hand on the doorknob. "Let's keep this just between us, shall we?"

It was not a suggestion.

X

The sun had reached its peak, beating down on the outer city in full force. Sweat dripped down Khaya's brow and stained her veil. She kept one hand around Meia and the other on the envelope in her waistband, feeling the subtle outline of a flower inside it. The more she fiddled with it the more nervous she got.

Ayaan trotted up beside them and handed her a water flask. She reluctantly let go of the envelope, hidden beneath the folds of her qamis, and took it.

"Did he tell you what you wanted to know?" he asked.

Khaya shook her head. "He said to come back in a fortnight."

Ayaan bit his lip, then shrugged. "He's always up to something."

Khaya returned his flask and paused to look at him for a while. She had been caught up in finding answers that she almost forgot that Ayaan himself had a special ability.

"Why did he call you tornado boy?"

Ayaan blew a lock of hair out of his eyes and grinned. "Watch this," he said, and subtly flicked his fingers without letting go of his reins.

Ahead, a fruit seller's rickety cart lost balance. The neat pyramid of peaches, oranges, and melons tumbled to the ground, sending the nearby crowd into a frenzy. As the two horses crossed the cart's path, Ayaan bent down and curled his fingers, picking up a fallen peach with controlled gusts of wind. Even though she knew it was mean, Khaya laughed.

He took a bite out of it, spraying the juice all over his chin, and offered some to her.

As the journey went on, Ayaan continued playing tricks on the townspeople. He sent kufiyahs flying off men's heads, threw women's veils askew, tickled idle horses, and rang small mosque bells.

Both Khaya and Meia remained amused the whole ride home.

X

The horses ambled up to the harem gates an hour later, hardly fatigued at all. The girls dismounted with help from the guards, and handed their horse to Ayaan.

Just before they turned to go back inside, Ayaan grabbed Khaya's sleeve.

"By the way," he hissed, "don't tell anyone I told you about my desert magic. My mother will kill me!"

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," she looked over her shoulder to make sure the guards couldn't overhear, "tornado boy."

He laughed. "Only my friends call me that."

"Well," she crossed her arms, "can't we be friends?"

"Hm, only if you tell me what your desert magic is. Then we have a deal." He stuck his chest out and they shook hands.

"Deal–"

"Khayzuran sahiba!" Zayan rushed towards them from the harem entrance.

Khaya was surprised to see him looking so frantic "Zayan? What's wrong?"

"You must come inside quickly!" He grabbed Meia's hand and beckoned to Khaya. "No time to waste!"

She raised a brow and glanced at Ayaan, who shrugged.

"I'll see you in a fortnight then, Khaya," he said, winking.

She waved goodbye and followed Zayan inside. Once the doors closed behind them he let out a huge breath.

"Prince Rehan is visiting tonight."

His name jolted her out of her stupor. Again, that pressing dread – she had almost forgot her place at the palace.

Whore.

Zayan had picked up the pace, heading straight for the hammam.

"How do you know he's coming?" She knew it was a stupid question. Whispers flowed through these halls faster than running water.

"It is my job to know, sahiba. Anyway don't worry I've prepared a private bath for you. Meia can help, although it looks like she needs one herself." He allowed himself a small laugh, sounding even more feminine than usual.

"Thank you," Khaya said. At least she had a few people looking out for her.

When they entered the hammam all but one of the women gave them a cursory glance – a plump, caramel skinned girl sitting cross legged on a stool glared at Khaya. Her thick hair was draped to preserve her modesty.

Khaya pretended not to notice as they entered the private bathing room. Zayan gave her a quick bow and took his leave. The air inside was thick and heavy with the scent of desert orchids, almost choking her. Everything was already laid out neatly, including soap, oil, cream, combs, and a fresh set of clothes. She had no doubt that the real dressing up would happen in her bedroom.

Rose petals floated on the water in the tub, beckoning her.

"I'll be fine alone," she said when Meia moved to help her undress. "You should go have a bath too."

She bowed, grateful for the dismissal. Khaya pulled off her veil and skimmed the water with her fingertips.

The thought of seeing the Prince was not as fearful as it had been the first time, now that she knew he was more or less a pleasant person, but she knew this time would be different. He would expect something from her.

She didn't know if she could give it to him.

At least, not yet.

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