Daughter of Nomads (18 page)

He inclined his head.

Just then the carpet turned north and began flying toward the Qurraqorams. She didn't even hear Azhar's command.

‘Wait!' she cried, panicking. ‘I can't leave the nomads.' Her breaths came faster. ‘My nomad mother would be distraught if I disappeared again. And Anjuli is there, I can't go without her.' An image of Rahul filled her mind. ‘Rahul wouldn't like it—'

‘Rahul?' Azhar's face transformed as he scowled. ‘What part does he play in decisions you make?'

‘He takes my safety seriously. Like you do,' she added, more calmly than she felt. ‘Please, do this for me. Take me back.' Chandi and Yazan filled her mind now. Azhar was asking her to leave them all.

He stared at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, his mouth a hard line. ‘So be it.'

She had never heard him speak like this as though she had asked too much.

He gave a sudden command. ‘Neechay, jao.' Jahani's stomach dropped as the carpet descended so quickly that the landscape below her blurred. Within minutes, it slowed and they were landing in the same clearing. The nomad camp was just over a rise.

With a heavy heart, she stepped from the carpet. She couldn't leave the nomads now, not when she was discovering her heritage and learning her language. She glanced at Azhar, sitting on the carpet, watching her. Was he waiting for her to change her mind?

He rested his right arm across his chest, then lifted it out as if saluting a queen. ‘Be careful who you trust. When you are ready to hear, I will tell you what you need to know. Qhuda keep you safe.'

‘And you.' She truly meant it. She wanted him to be safe, always. Especially since she was the reason he was on the run from Muzahid. As she walked away, she looked back to find he hadn't moved. She hesitated. What if she was making a mistake? She told herself to keep walking. There was nothing else she needed to know.

When she returned to the river, she could barely concentrate as she found her pot and filled it with water. Her mind flitted from one image to another: Azhar's confusion and disbelief when she said she wouldn't go north, the way he'd said goodbye, and the carpet. She remembered the old stories Hafeezah had told her: only a prince with sacred blood was able to fly a carpet. She was so engrossed with this new thought that she didn't hear a footfall behind her.

‘Are you supposed to be out by yourself?'

She jumped and turned to find a man leering at her. He wasn't a nomad and he was armed. She clutched the heavy pot of water to her chest, willing him to go away. Was he alone or were there more men?

‘I can see what's going through your beautiful head.'

She wasn't far from the camp; she could hear the sounds of the sheep and a dog barking. Layla – where was she? If she called for help would they hear?

He stepped closer. ‘But it will do no good. I want some information and then I'll let you go on your way. We're looking for a girl.' He looked her up and down. ‘About your age, too.'

Her heart jumped in her breast.

‘But she has prettier hair than yours. I'm told it's red like a carpet. Are you hiding a girl like that in the camp?'

She shook her head and pointed to her mouth, hoping he'd think she didn't speak Hindustani. Most of the women only spoke the nomads' mother tongue. If she spoke Persian or Hindustani, she'd give herself away.

‘But you understand some of what I say. I can tell.' He narrowed his eyes at her.

She tipped her hand from side to side to show ‘a little'.

His stare was piercing as he took another step closer. She stumbled backward, clutching the pot. He grabbed her arm.

‘Not so fast. You nomad girls are freer than the nice girls kept at home in the villages. You wouldn't mind a kiss.'

She strained her head back as he bent closer. She could hear his heavy breathing and smell the meat he'd eaten on his breath. She did the first thing she thought of: she dropped the pot of water. It landed on his feet and his grip on her arm loosened as he cursed. It gave her the moment she needed.

Chandi! She ran toward the sounds of the animals.
Chandi, am I close?

Suddenly the mare was beside Jahani, neighing and snorting, her rope torn. ‘Oh, ju na, Chandi. Quick, get me away.' She mounted and Chandi turned toward the camp.

When Rahul saw Jahani riding Chandi, he ran over to see what was happening. ‘What are you doing?'

‘I was getting water. An armed man questioned me about a girl with red hair. But I didn't speak.'

Just then the man stumbled into view. ‘That girl nearly broke my feet.'

Chandi pawed the ground, her eyes white and wild. Then she reared as though to attack. If Chandi had been a tiger she would have roared.

Even the man paused when he saw her. ‘Your horse is wild,' he said. ‘And your girls.'

‘We will not allow you men to bother our women.' Rahul's voice was raised. ‘You must bring all your questions to my father or myself.' He indicated Jahani. ‘Our girls are respectable. Do not presume that no veil invites a lack of respect.'

Jahani heard the man mumble a response.

She was shaking as she rode toward the tents.

Chandi's thought dropped into her mind:
You are safe now
.

But Jahani knew the man would not have stopped at a kiss. She would need to be more careful, and no doubt Rahul would tell her so later.

‘Later' came as Jahani finished her food at the cooking fire with the other single women and Anjuli. Rahul didn't sit with them but called Jahani and Anjuli aside. ‘It is best if you do not collect water or firewood. Let the older women and younger girls do it.'

‘A younger girl would have been in just as much danger from that man as I was,' Jahani objected.

He regarded her and she shifted under his gaze, trying not to notice that his hair was as black as a raven's. She knew Neema and the others were watching. ‘Why haven't you been riding with me?'

She struggled to keep her expression blank. ‘The women told me not to.' She didn't feel like saying why.

‘But that is where you belong. I used to ride with you on my horse when you were a child,' he said as if it were that simple.

But Jahani knew there was more at stake than he realised, now she was grown.

‘Chandi misses you riding her,' he said. ‘It's obvious that you miss riding her, too.'

She glanced up at him sharply. He couldn't know about Chandi, surely.

‘I miss you.'

Even though she felt relief that he didn't know she could talk to Chandi, she felt uncomfortable at his words. She heard Neema clear her throat and spit on the ground.

‘If you want to walk, that's fine, but don't be dictated to if you want to ride.'

She smiled at him in thanks, hoping he'd leave, but it was Anjuli who rescued her, when she asked, ‘Rahul, can I brush Farah for you?'

‘Zarur.' And he took her to the mare.

When she sat again at the women's cooking fire, she thought about Rahul's words. Did she feel as if she belonged here? She felt she was learning, but most of the women still treated her like an outsider. One thing she did know: it would be easy to care for Rahul.

Then Neema growled at her. Jahani didn't catch it all, but it sounded like, ‘I know what you're doing. And you won't get away with it.'

26

Jask Persia Safavid Empire

A
zhar waited until he knew Jahani would have reached the camp, then took the chance to visit Kifayat. Much was filling his mind as he encouraged the carpet to rise higher. He flew as high as the eagles, even higher than when he flew with Jahani. The wind currents were smoother up there, almost allowing him to float and glide, like he had done when he was a child in Kifayat's garden pool. Kifayat had grown a Persian garden in Jask, too. Azhar smiled as memories from his childhood in Persia came to mind. He had mastered many princely skills like carpet flying, swordplay, archery and swimming. ‘There must be no room for slipups,' Kifayat had said. ‘A man who cannot swim can be defeated in battle when he is trapped in a river.'

Now there was too much discontent in the kingdoms, like an evil mist rising, and the time for learning had passed. There were so many warriors, the kingdoms were clanging with their armoury. No one was safe; if anyone withheld a favour from Muzahid or Dagar Khan, their men cut off heads and killed children.

Jahani was the only person who could make him forget the horrific things he had seen. Azhar was desperate to tell her who she was. When he was with her, the words rushed into his mouth and he ached with the desire to tell. But what if she didn't believe him?

When Azhar saw the sea glistening pink under the setting sun, he gradually lowered the carpet to alight on the roof. He let himself into the rooms, expecting that Kifayat would be writing at his desk. It was a shock to find him speaking with a man by the window. Azhar was about to turn to leave, but something seemed amiss; the other man was talking too intensely. Was he threatening Kifayat?

Azhar strode into the room. ‘Is everything all right?'

His father looked up and the other man stepped back.

‘Pesar, come and join us,' Kifayat said. ‘We were discussing the politics of the Qurraqoram kingdoms.'

Azhar let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. Politics was always a dangerous subject.

‘This is Bilal Abdul,' Kifayat said, introducing the other man.

Azhar greeted the man warily, and Bilal, in turn, stared suspiciously at Azhar.

‘Bilal, this is Azhar Sekandar.' Bilal's sudden surprise was swiftly masked as Kifayat continued. ‘I am Azhar's foster father.'

Bilal said, ‘Even though we rarely agree, I have come to Kifayat for advice since he was the wazir, the chief advisor to the mir of Nagir. There is more trouble brewing in the northern kingdoms. Even talk of the lost shehzadi being sighted. And I have heard rumours of an army amassing and it is not Dagar Khan's like we expected.'

‘The war lord, Muzahid Baig's?' Azhar asked.

‘Bigger than his.' Bilal touched his beard, deep in thought, before addressing Azhar directly. ‘Kifayat has finally just told me the shehzadi survived and you know where she is.'

Azhar glanced at Kifayat; his father seemed unusually quiet. Perhaps ‘extracted information' may have been closer to the truth. He searched the man's face suspiciously. ‘May I ask what is your interest in this matter?'

‘The same interest you have, I suspect.' The man's eyes brimmed with sudden amusement. ‘I was the wazir, chief advisor to the tham of Hahayul, twelve summers ago.'

Kifayat broke in. ‘Azhar, you can tell Bilal all you know. It is important now that we work together.'

Azhar gasped, understanding at last. ‘Were you in Hahayul when the massacre happened, hazoor? We heard everyone in the fort was killed that day.'

Bilal shook his head. ‘At the time I was in the Kingdom of Qashmir on the tham's business. It was too difficult to return once I'd heard, as Dagar Khan's army was occupying the land.'

‘They would have assassinated you,' Azhar observed.

Bilal inclined his head. ‘I thought I could be of more use from afar as Kifayat has been. I have been searching for the girl in case those rumours were true. My search has led me here to Kifayat.' He paused before he repeated, ‘Are you sure it is she?'

Kifayat sat on the divan and poured green tea into Persian glasses. ‘Let us sit and we will tell you what we know.' He glanced at Bilal. ‘Perhaps you have already heard much of this story, but Azhar has only recently heard the significance of the events we'll relate. I will ask Azhar to start our tale.'

Azhar began. ‘When Dagar Khan's forces attacked the palace in the Kingdom of Nagir, I was six summers old, living with Kifayat. We quickly left and travelled as peasants to warn the tham of the Kingdom of Hahayul of the attack.'

Kifayat added, ‘But Dagar Khan had split his forces that day to make simultaneous attacks on both kingdoms. Hahayul's army revolted under Dagar Khan's leadership and the damage was done before we reached the Kingdom of Hahayul.'

Azhar continued, ‘When we arrived we slept in the bazaar and heard the gossip: at the funeral, the body of the two-year-old shehzadi from the Kingdom of Hahayul was missing and Dagar Khan's men were abducting little red-headed girls in order to find her. By then they were calling him the Demon King; he had conquered the Kingdoms of Hahayul and Nagir and began his cruel occupation.'

Bilal sat forward. ‘But how did you find the shehzadi at such a time?'

‘We didn't, not then,' Azhar said. ‘Whenever we heard stories of an adopted child we visited the family, but it was never her. Then we heard the nomads found such a child. We decided to follow them. When we discovered them on the move south, Kifayat offered his services as a master of horse.'

Bilal raised his eyebrows at Kifayat.

‘He was good enough with horses and has taught me all he knows as well,' Azhar said in explanation. ‘I doubt the nomads needed another horseman, but they allowed us to travel with them. We saw the child. She was only two summers, but knew her name was Jahani, spoke words of Burushaski and wore a northern silver taveez to ward off evil.'

‘It had to be her,' Kifayat said then. ‘I had seen the shehzadi that day the treaty between the kingdoms of Hahayul and Nagir was signed.'

Bilal nodded, obviously understanding. ‘She was beautiful even at two summers, like her mother.'

Azhar glanced up sharply at his tone.

‘She was certainly engaging as a child,' Bilal added.

‘She still is,' Azhar said.

Both men looked at him intently and then at each other. A look passed between them, but Azhar ignored it and carried on with his tale. ‘At the time I was too young to know of her parentage. We lived with the nomads for two summers until the child was adopted by a landowner in the Kingdom of Kaghan. Kifayat again offered his services as a master of horse to the landlord and so we watched her grow for a summer. When there was another attack on her life, her adopted parents hid her and her ayah in an outpost of the empire where they thought no one would find her.'

‘Did these people know who she was?' Bilal asked quickly.

Kifayat shook his head. ‘I don't believe so. They thought she was in danger because of her fairness and Dagar Khan's obsession with red-haired girls.'

‘It would be good to see her again,' Bilal said.

Azhar didn't comment; rather, he turned to Kifayat. ‘I need to tell her who she is. As Bilal sahib says, “Trouble is brewing”, and while she doesn't realise her background she is defenceless. It seems that not only Dagar Khan's men are searching for her.' He turned to Bilal. ‘They have been abducting fair girls Jahani's age for summers, but now there is another contender for the kingdoms.'

‘The war lord,' Kifayat said flatly.

Azhar tilted his head. ‘I believe he has discovered why Dagar Khan wants to kill Jahani and he has decided to claim the northern kingdoms for himself. He can't do it without her.'

‘And neither Dagar Khan nor Muzahid Baig knows of your part in this?' Kifayat asked.

‘Only we know,' Azhar turned to Bilal, ‘and now you also. I am a phantom only for, as far as anyone knows, I died in the Nagir fort when Dagar Khan attacked it.'

Bilal looked at him oddly.

Azhar smiled ruefully. ‘My friend of similar age and height was found dead in the arms of my mother, the queen. Anyone who knew his true identity had been slaughtered. He was buried as me – the Shehzada of Nagir.'

‘So, you are the true Azhar Sekandar?' Bilal said wonderingly. ‘This is astounding news indeed.' He paused, thinking. ‘But to tell Jahani the truth could be dangerous,' he added slowly. ‘What if it frightens her into madness? She could flee from such a burden or ally herself to the wrong people. Is she strong enough to accept her birthright?'

‘Indeed,' Kifayat said. ‘Will she be able to take up the call and give her life to the people of the Kingdom of Hahayul? See them from a ruler's perspective?'

‘I'm sure she will and, undoubtedly, she'll have some perspectives of her own,' Azhar said drily. ‘You do not know her.' He stopped, searching for the right words. ‘She is strong and feels a pull to the north. I fear that if I don't tell her soon she will not trust me and, once lost, her trust will not be easily regained. Already I believe she is being influenced by the nomad prince.' His mouth tightened.

Kifayat frowned at him. ‘Rahul? Why would he do this? When you were children he cared for her as you did.'

Azhar tilted his head, thinking that even a worthy man would do all he could to win a girl of such beauty. And if Rahul had guessed Jahani's true identity, that would be even more dangerous.

‘And you care about her trust?' Kifayat asked with no hint of teasing. He glanced at Bilal and both men leaned closer to hear his answer.

‘Baleh, yes,' Azhar said simply.

Kifayat and Bilal regarded him thoughtfully. Then Kifayat said, ‘Tell her all and prepare her as best you can. It is time to take Jahani north.'

Bilal added, ‘There is a house near Baltit Fort in Hahayul where her grandmother still lives. Fortunately, Dagar Khan never considered the grandmother a threat. That may be the best place to go. You'll need to arrive by night as the town is heavily guarded by Dagar Khan's cavalry.'

‘In the meantime,' Kifayat said, ‘it is best you both sleep here tonight and stay another day. We have much to plan and discuss.'