Movement. Something rustled behind the rocks of the desert. Nerane’s heart leaped into her throat, ready to scream. She was very aware that there was no one around for great leagues of distances except for a few scorpions and a vulture.
Her maid, Khadima, galloped forward on her Himar. Ready to throw herself between the princess and whatever danger might appear.
A man stepped onto the road, covered in layers of red colored cloth and dirt, like a Bedouin. His dark eyes were the only part of him visible. But Bedouins travelled in caravans. Nerane didn’t see any tents, hear any camels, or smell the curries they were known for.
A bandit.
Her hand traveled to the hilt of her blade, which was hidden under her cloak. Khadima already had her knife out; it flashed in the sunlight. “Name yourself.”
“Ṣāḥib al-Jalālah,” the Bedouin said, unbowing. My majesty.
Nerane’s heart jumped. It was a familiar voice. One that belonged with the palace. Panic descended like an icy drop down her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. They were found out.
Her brother would be furious with her. Not being able to control his sister would be like a scorpion sting in his pride. There would be consequences. Painful ones, if she was lucky. Then she would be sent away to marry.
“Shyrah?” asked Khadima, misbelieving. Her blade still stabbed in the sunlight.
“Do they know I’m here?” Nerane’s voice cracked.
“No, my light.” Her relieved sigh was like a breeze on a hot day. “But I wasn’t going to miss you.” The words made her ache, not with sadness this time, but with joy. The Bedouin uncovered his face, and there stood Shyrah. A slight smile on his face.
Nerane could weep; instead, she clambered off her horse, her legs stiff from riding, and flung herself across his neck.
“Shukran, shukran, shukran,” she said over and over again. “A thousand times, shukran.”
He closed his arms around her and held her firm as if she might shatter into a thousand shards if he let her go. It was their first hug since they had been small children. Nerane hoped it would be the first of many.
“How are you ahead of us?” Khadima asked, not as swept away by it all. Frowning down the sandy road. “We drove from sunup.”
Syrah’s brown eyes glowed, and he took a step back, his face blank, while Nerane looked at him, breathless. “I was so worried that you were far ahead of me, I must have passed you in the night.” He straightened. “We need to keep moving; your brother’s guards will be following. The sea is barely a day’s ride away.”
Nerane clambered back on her horse -less regal than she would have liked, cause of her stiff legs, and Khadima didn’t offer assistance, but narrowed her eyes at Syrah.
“I almost drew my blade on you!” Nerane said as she lowered herself gingerly on the saddle. Her skin was sore to the touch from the long ride, her back ached from the long sit. But she smiled widely. In fact, it had been months since she smiled so.
The sun scorched any skin left uncovered. Flies surged around them, desperate for the salt on their skin. Akhal Teke's skin twitched and shivered under her from all these unwelcome guests. He tossed his head up, snorting in annoyance by all these unwelcome guests. His tail swished like a whip.
Besides their animals, nothing moved as far as their eyes could see. No birds in the sky. No lizards on the ground. No leaf to twitch in the non-existent breeze.
“Are we there yet?” She knew it was a childish question, she knew they couldn’t see further ahead than she could, but the sun slashed at her skin, and the hot sand scalded her eyes. Her tongue felt like dry leather in her mouth.
They didn’t even care to respond anymore. Her maid sat hunched in her saddle, oozing misery. Eying Shyrah as if he was the one that turned on the sun. Shyrah rode in front, head bent under the heat, trusting his horse to carry them on.
Through sand. Sand dunes, sand gorges, sand hills, sand valleys.
Sand.
Sand.
Sand.
She wished she were in her cool room, on her silken sheets, with a tray of juicy fruit at her side and a cold glass of water.
Water.
Nerane took out her flask and held it to her lips. “Bah!” The water seared her skin on contact. “What?” She felt like her flask had betrayed her. Nothing about this adventure was anything like the books she had read. Was it all worth it? If she hadn’t run away, she would be married tonight.
Had it all really been that bad? She could have had a few children. Her husband would have taken a few concubines. But she would be comfortable.
Safe.
But then she looked at Shyrah’s back and all those thoughts drifted away. She imagined being in some new land, with him. With green hills, juicy figs, a warm bed. Would there be silk sheets where she was going? She was sure there were.
Salt.
It tickled her nose before she saw it. First, she thought she smelled her own sweat. But it was different. The faint smell of fish mingled with it. The squawk of sea birds as they complained in the sky. Promising water, boats, and freedom.
Her heart lifted in anticipation.
The sea!
Then things went very fast. One moment, they were alone in the desert; the next, people were scattered on the road. Men in white dishdashes and black turbans drove their donkeys, who stubbornly pulled carts full of cork bark.
Women dressed in bright greens, pinks, and oranges sauntered past with baskets full of dates on their heads, while children ran past them, their clothes shimmering in the sunlight. A flock of goats chewed on yellow grass. Their bells chimed as they moved. Trees full of figs. Her mouth watered at their scent.
Clay houses were scattered as far as she could see. First few and far between, but then more and more and more. Until there were only houses and nothing in between. All pushed together as if they were huddling against the elements.
Shyraz and Khadima rode to either side. “We should get rid of the animals,” he said.
“What?” Nerane patted the neck of her magnificent horse. Giving her up was never part of her plan.
“We stand out like a princess in a manure field,” Khadima agreed. Nerane looked around, and they were right. People were giving them odd glances. She swallowed away something foul in her throat.
Fear? Pride?
They got off and walked to a nearby stable. Shyraz and Khadima walked as if they hadn’t been molded into their saddle, and Nerane followed as fast as their stiff legs would allow.
It was filled with screaming donkeys, manure, and flies. The man wouldn’t accept their horses. “Horses are fine creatures, but nobody is going to buy those from me. I’ll take the donkey, though.”
Hiram was a fine creature. He looked doubtful as Shyrah and the donkey man laughed and shouted as they fought about a price for the animal. The donkey put his ears in his neck at the very idea of sharing a pen with such common creatures. Nerane felt sorry for him. At last, Himar was sold for four silver coins and a sack of bread.
They walked further into the city and wandered closer to the docks, if the smell of fish was anything to go by. More birds squealed, squawked, and sang in their horrible tone. Just like the people, they got louder with every step.
The smell of manure hit them before seeing the stable. A couple of horses stood behind a fence. Their heads down, their big eyes sad. Their soft noses pat the ground for any grains people might have dropped. “We cannot leave Akhal Teke here.” She patted her horse's beautiful head.
“It’s either this or the butcher.” Shyraz was curt as he led his horse there. Nerane didn’t move. Running away was one thing, but leaving a horse as brilliant as her own in a dump like this? “No, we keep looking.”
“We can’t-”
Nerane straightened up, lowered her voice, said, “I’m still your Ṣāḥib al-Jalālah, and if I say we keep looking, we keep looking.”
Syrah sighed. The maid simply nodded. Nerane didn’t appreciate being sighed at like an ignorant child, but kept silent. They were tired. It was ok. This time.
The three of them wandered the crowded streets, filled with the sharp smell of spices. People shouted out their wares, shouted at each other, and the customers tried to shout above it all. Monkeys shrieked, chickens clucked, sheep bleated. It was a cacophony of noise, and Nerane rubbed her temples; a headache stung behind her eyes. She hoped they would find someone soon.
“Negmti,” My star. Syrah said when he looked back at her. “I will look for a good place to sell the horses. If you stay with Khadima, I will come back shortly with the silver.”
Nerane nodded. “That would be well.” Anything that would get her out of this pushing and pulling.
They used the money to buy fresh figs. Nerane enjoyed the crackle of the seeds, the sweetness of the fruit. She stopped mid-chew.
There it was. In all its glory.
Nerane gaped at the sea. It was just like the desert, but a magnificent blue-green, and it kept moving and glistening like diamonds were hidden just under the surface.
“Ṣāḥib al-Jalālah, shall we have some tea?” Khadima pointed at a small stall with pillows laid out before it, it had a brilliant view of the endless ocean.
Nerane and Khadima sat on the pillows, sipping hot tea. Men sat around them, talking about the catch of the day, complaining about the prices of spices. She felt invisible, and she enjoyed it.
Nerane and Khadima stared out over the many colored boats in silence. From small to large. Fishing boats with weather-beaten men, big vessels with proud captains, little round boats with gray-haired, shriveled-up women, filled to the brim with fruit, chickens, and more to sell to the captains.
“Which boat should we take?” Nerane asked as she tore off a piece of flat bread that the owner of the stall had offered them and handed it to her maid.
Nerane had to admit she didn’t know a lot about boats. They were described in her books; she had seen them float along the river, but nothing like this. She spotted one she liked. A dark wooden one with the wooden sculpture of a mermaid on its bow. The Captain, dressed in a shiny red tunic, was conversing with a man, pointing out to sea.
“Maybe that one.” The maid pointed to a smaller vessel close to it. It was a nondescript piece of wood that also floated, and men were unloading the cargo. Big wooden crates. Nerane didn’t like that one; it wasn’t as pretty.
Shyrah came back with a smile and a big leather purse. Nerane shot up, “Where did you sell her?” While Khadima asked, “How much did you get?”
“Enough for that boat to take us to Al Garbe.” He pointed at a big boat that wasn’t docked, its sails crumpled up.
“But I wanted that one,” Nerane pointed at the boat with the mermaid on it.
“That boat is going to the other side of the world,” Shyrah said in a mysterious voice.
“I want to go to the other side of the world!”
“Ṣāḥib al-Jalālah, the other side of the world would take months to get to and is extremely dangerous. We need to take small steps.” Shyrah said in a gentle voice that Nerane started to like less and less. She frowned.
“A small distance is not enough to escape my brother.”
“The sail can take up to 3 days, and passage is not cheap, my light. We can carry on from there.”
Nerane nodded. It sounded fair. She was ready to leave this life behind. “Let’s go!”