Desert Stars (6 page)

“
Here,” said
Shira
, finally stopping in the
back of an old brick storage cellar. “Now, my dear, let’s have a
little chat.”

Mira swallowed. “What did I do?” she
asked timidly.

Shira
bellowed with laughter. “Oh
honey,” she said, “you look as frightened as a mouse! There there,
don’t be so upset—you’re not in trouble, dear.”

“
I-I’m not?”

“
No,”
Shira
chuckled. “Far from it.”

It’s about Jalil,
Mira told herself, her heart pounding twice as
hard as before.
It’s got to be.

“
What do you think of
Jalil?” her mother asked, as if on cue.

“
He’s nice,” Mira
answered, blushing in the dark. “I-I like him a lot.”
Oh Lord, I sound like an idiot.

“
Good, good. Do you have
any feelings for him?”

Yes!

“
I, uh, I
guess—”

“
You guess, girl? Don’t
play games with me. Do you or don’t you?”

Mira wished she could sink through the
ground and disappear. Even if she could, though, her mother would
just lift her back up again and scold her the more for
it.

“
Yes,” she whispered,
staring down at her feet.

“
Good! That’s
very
good.”

“
Why?” Mira asked. The
earnestness in her voice surprised her.

“
Because your father and I
want to marry you off to him as soon as we can.”

Mira’s stomach leaped into her mouth
as a wave of adrenaline surged through her trembling body. For a
moment, she couldn’t speak.

“
Unfortunately,” her
mother continued, “there seems to be something of a
complication.”

“
Complication?”

“
Yes, dear. A
complication. You see, rumor has it that Jalil wants to leave the
camp, most likely on pilgrimage—and after that, well, who knows if
he’ll ever come back.”

Mira’s stomach fell through the floor,
and her legs turned to water. “Leave?”

“
That’s right, dear. If
that’s his plan, he’ll probably ask your father for his blessing
sometime in the next two days and leave with the Jabaliyn convoy
before the end of the week.”

“
That—that’s
terrible.”

“
I know, dear. I
know.”
Shira
glanced to either side and
leaned intently forward. “That’s why we needed to talk.”

Oh no,
Mira thought to herself. From her mother’s tone of voice,
there was doubtlessly something devious on her mind.

“
What do you
mean?”

“
You don’t want him to
leave, do you?”

“
Well, no—”

“
And he’s been making eyes
at you, hasn’t he?”

“
I—I don’t
know—”

“
Oh, don’t be so modest.
You’re just his age, and of all my daughters, you’re certainly the
most beautiful.”

Where is this
going?
Mira wanted to ask. Instead, she
kept silent.

“
We need to keep Jalil
from leaving,” her mother continued. “If he does, your father’s
inheritance will pass to the Jabaliyn, and we’ll be completely at
their mercy once he dies. You wouldn’t want to see your mother poor
and destitute, would you?”

“
No,” said Mira, shaking
her head dutifully.

“
That’s why we
must
keep Jalil from
leaving us, no matter the cost.” Her eyes gleamed as she leaned in
closer, her voice so low that Mira had to strain to
hear.

“
What is it,
Mother?”

“
Your father and I want
you to go with him.”

Mira frowned. “Go with him? On the
pilgrimage?”

“
Yes.”

“
Alone?”

“
Of course,” her mother
said, grinning mischievously in the dim light of the glowlamps. “We
want you to get to know each other so well that he can’t help but
fall in love with you, if you know what I mean.”

Mira closed her eyes for a moment and
swallowed. Her heart raced as she considered the implications of
what her mother was telling her. Jalil, fall in love with her—but
how? He only ever saw her in passing around the camp, and never for
very long. If he ever did notice her, it was only as his
sister—never as anything more.

“
I don’t know,” she said
uneasily.

“
You’re not a little girl
anymore, dear,” said her mother. “Trust me, he’ll notice you—and
when he does, you
must
convince him, one way or another, to come back and
stay.”

“
But how?”

Without warning,
Shira
reached up and pinched her breast—hard. Mira
squealed and nearly doubled over from the pain.

“
Why do you think Allah
gave you these?”
Shira
said, a tone of contempt in
her voice. “Jalil is a man of honor—find your way into his bed, and
for honor’s sake, he’ll come back and marry you.”

The shock of her mother’s words hit
Mira with all the subtlety of a rockslide. She leaned against the
wall behind her for support.

“
But—but
that’s—”

“
You want to marry him,
don’t you, child? It’s not wrong if you marry each other
afterward—and don’t worry about the strawberries at your wedding,
I’ll take care of that.”

But I won’t deserve
them.

“
And one more
thing,”
Shira
continued, leaning in to
tower over her. “Your father and I have a lot riding on this. If
you should fail—” She made a cutting motion across her throat.
“Understand?”

Mira trembled where she
stood against the wall, hugging her chest as she cowered
under
Shira
’s fierce, imposing
eyes.

“
Y-yes,
Mother.”

“
Don’t be too concerned
about it,”
Shira
said, turning to go as if
the matter were already settled. “The temple is on the other side
of the world; you’ll have plenty of time. When you’re both alone
together, you’ll know what to do.”

Mira bit her lip and nodded, rubbing
her chest where her mother had pinched her. The pain still
throbbed, and an awful sinking feeling in her gut made her want to
throw up.

This is wrong.

It wasn’t just the part about getting
into Jalil’s bed—though Allah knew that was frightening enough. It
was how manipulative and deceitful it seemed, to shame him into
marrying her.

Maybe he’ll fall in love
and change his mind on his own,
she
thought hopefully to herself.
Maybe I
won’t have to sleep with him just to get him to come
back.

If he didn’t, though, she didn’t know
what she’d do.

Chapter 3

Jalil stopped outside the
doorway that led to Sathi’s private quarters. He hesitated for a
moment, running through the monologue he’d practiced in his head
nearly a hundred times.
Hello, Father.
With your blessing, I wish to leave with the Jabaliyn convoy. Yes,
I’ve already spoken with Sheikh Amr about it. No, I don’t know when
I’ll be back. No, I can’t promise I’ll return, but—

Before he could bring his hand up to
knock, the door creaked open. “Jalil, my son!” boomed his father,
making him jump. “Come in, come in. I’ve been expecting
you.”

A little shaken, Jalil stepped into
the private study. The room was well decorated, with purple silk
hangings draped across the walls and a faded mosaic on the floor
depicting a garden full of fruits and animals. A pair of highly
ornamented ceremonial gold swords hung on the wall immediately
opposite the door, crossed above the red and white banner of the
Najmi tribe. An old, dusty computer sat in the corner, the hologram
projector switched off to conserve energy. Illumination came from
an enormous stain glass lamp that hung from the center of the
vaulted brick ceiling.

Jalil swallowed and sat cross-legged
on a small cushion near the center of the room, while his father
stretched out on the couch.

“
Some tea?” Sathi asked,
motioning to a large golden kettle on the ornate wooden table
between them.

“
Yes, please.”

With his free hand, the sheikh took
the kettle and poured the tea. Jalil leaned forward and accepted
the second cup, taking a short sip before setting it
down.

“
So,” Sathi asked, pouring
himself a cup, “have you been enjoying yourself these past few
days?”

“
Yes, I have,” Jalil
answered.
Small talk first, then the big
stuff.

“
Excellent. It’s not every
year we have a wedding.”

“
I know,” said Jalil,
taking another sip of his tea. “But maybe this year, we’ll be
blessed to have two.”

Sathi threw back his head and laughed.
“Yes indeed! God-willing, perhaps we will.”

What did I say that was so
funny?

“
I’ve heard a lot of good
things from the Jabaliyn tribe,” Jalil continued. “They won’t
forget our hospitality.”

“
Good, good—as well they
shouldn’t.”

“
Mazhar is with the camp
to stay, then, is he?”

His father let out a tired sigh.
“Perhaps. But it isn’t right for a man to stay in his
father-in-law’s tent. I don’t know whether they’ll choose to
stay—only Allah knows.”

They’ll stay,
Jalil thought to himself. Lena was Sathi’s oldest
daughter; the inheritance would pass to her, making her husband the
next sheikh of the camp. No tribesman in his right mind would pass
up that kind of wealth.

“
Mazhar seems like a good
man,” Jalil said. “God-willing, he’ll do well here.”

“
God-willing,” muttered
Sathi. He took a long sip of his tea.

Jalil set down his drink and coughed.
“There is something I wanted to speak with you about,
Father.”

“
I know, my
son.”

Jalil frowned. “You do?”

“
Yes. You want to make the
pilgrimage to the Temple of a Thousand Suns, don’t you?”

At his father’s words,
Jalil’s stomach fell through the dusty mosaic floor.
How does he know?
he
wondered. It was too late to stop now, though. There was nothing to
do but press on.

“
Yes,” he
whispered.

“
And why do you wish to do
this?”

Jalil took a deep breath. “Because it
is the duty of all believers to make the pilgrimage at least once
in their lives. I’m young, I have no wife or family obligations,
and—”

“
Yes, yes, I know all
that. But why go alone—why not wait until I make the pilgrimage,
and go with me?”

Sathi looked at him expectantly,
waiting for his answer. Jalil shifted where he sat.

“
There are other reasons,”
he said, without elaborating.

Sathi narrowed his eyes. “When can we
expect you to return?”

Jalil squirmed, unsure how to answer.
For a moment, he considered evading the question, but that would
never do; it was now or never.

“
I’m sorry, Father,” he
said, casting his eyes down, “but I cannot promise I will
return.”

For several moments, neither of them
said anything. His father shifted uneasily.

“
Why?”

“
Because I must find out
about my birth family,” Jalil answered, squirming a
little.

“
Ah,” said Sathi, leaning
back. “So that’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Jalil said nothing.

“
Oh my son, my beloved
from the stars, why do you feel that you must leave us? Are we not
family enough for you? We who raised you from boyhood into a
man?”

“
Yes,” Jalil said quickly.
“Yes, you are. You will always be my father, and Zayne will always
be—”

“
Then why must you chase
after these shadows from the past—shadows that you may never
grasp?”

Why does he have to make
this so difficult?

“
Because I need to know,”
Jalil said as he nervously fingered the locket beneath his shirt.
“I need to find out where I came from.”

“
You are my son. Is that
not enough?”

No,
Jalil nearly said.
It’s not.
Instead, he looked away.

“
Don’t leave us, son,”
Sathi continued. “We need you here. I need you. Your sisters need
you. What will we do when all of them are married off? Who will
lead the camp?”

“
I’m sorry, Father,” said
Jalil, bowing his head. “But this is something I must
do.”

Sathi shook his head. “If you leave,
this camp will turn to the Jabaliyn tribe before I die. I had to
significantly increase Lena’s dowry for Sheikh Amr to agree for his
son to move into our camp. Unless Mazhar divorces Lena and returns
to his father’s tent, my debts will be nearly impossible to repay.
No, son, I’m afraid I cannot give you permission to go. I need your
help here.”