Desert Stars (7 page)

Jalil fidgeted nervously. He had hoped
that it wouldn’t come to this, but now that it had, he saw no
choice.

“
I’m sorry, Father—truly
sorry—but I didn’t come here to ask for your permission. I came to
ask for your blessing.”

“
What?” Sathi asked, his
eyes narrowing.

“
I’ve already made the
arrangements with Sheikh Amr. I’m leaving with the convoy
tomorrow.”

Silence. Jalil held his
breath.

“
I see you’ve gone behind
my back on this,” Sathi muttered. “And I suppose there’s nothing I
can do to stop you?”

Jalil bit his lip and fidgeted
nervously with his fingers. His father closed his eyes and let out
a long, deep sigh.

“
I should have seen this.
Of course.”

To Jalil’s surprise, his father sat up
and brought out a thermos of coffee from the side of the couch.
From a side drawer, he produced two tiny ceramic cups and set them
on the table.

“
So it’s my blessing you
want, is it?” he asked, filling both cups with the thick, black
liquid. He pushed one of them across the table.

“
Yes,” said Jalil,
accepting the glass with shaky hands. The coffee would seal their
meeting, but until the sheikh drank from his cup, there was no
agreement, no understanding. No deal.

“
As much as it pains me to
see you leave,” Sathi continued, “your decision comes at an
auspicious moment.”

“
What do you
mean?”

Sathi lifted the cup of coffee to eye
level and stared casually at it. “My daughter, Mira, approached me
not a month ago, expressing her desire to make the pilgrimage. She
has experienced something of a religious awakening recently, and
wishes to go now, before she marries. Of course, I told her that it
would be better to wait—that it’s customary for a woman to wait to
make the pilgrimage with her husband—but when I told her this, she
broke down into tears.”

Jalil frowned. “Why?”

“
Because she’s afraid
she’ll never marry.”

At those words, Jalil sat
upright.

“
What? How is that
possible? Mira is a wonderful, beautiful girl—anyone would be lucky
to marry her.”

“
I know,” said Sathi, “but
who would want to marry their sons into a tribe as weak as ours?
They would certainly gain no advantage by it. And since most of her
cousins are either married or gone to the domes, her chances of
finding a husband in the desert are very slim indeed.”

Jalil was dumbstruck. He’d never
thought Mira would have a problem finding a husband—but now that
his father mentioned it, he had to admit that the outlook was worse
than he’d thought.

“
What are you getting at?”
he asked.

“
Can’t you see, my son? If
my beloved daughter is to make the pilgrimage, now may be her only
opportunity. Few convoys come out this far, and without a husband
to escort her, I would never think of sending her alone.” He
swirled the coffee in his cup, eying it meaningfully.

“
Wait,” said Jalil,
realization slowly dawning on him. “You want to send her with
me?”

Sathi smiled wide. “That’s
right.”

Jalil swallowed. “But who would be our
chaperone? The temple is on the other side of the world—it might
take us months to get there.”

Sathi laughed. “Chaperone! My dear
boy, what makes you think I could spare a chaperone for that
long?”

“
But—just the two of us?
Alone?”

“
Don’t worry; I know I can
trust her with you. You are a man of honor, after all.”

“
But what will the other
tribes think?”

“
As far as they know,
you’re brother and sister. They won’t think it unusual for you to
travel together.”

Jalil paused to work through all the
implications of his father’s request. “But if I’m leaving the camp
for good, how will she get back?”

“
I have a wealthy aunt who
lives in one of the domes next to the temple,” said his father.
“She can afford to fly her to the spaceport in the east desert, and
I will make arrangements with the Jabaliyn to bring her the rest of
the way. Speaking of which, how much have you saved up for the
journey?”

“
Uh, about eight hundred
credits.”

Sathi clucked his tongue and shook his
head. “Not nearly enough. Agree to escort Mira, and I’ll give you
triple that.”

“
Twenty-four hundred?”
Jalil asked, blinking in surprise. “You would give me that
much?”

“
For my own flesh and
blood? Of course.”

Jalil glanced down at the cup of
coffee in his hand and nervously fingered his locket. Twenty-four
hundred Gaian credits was a lot of money; it would be foolish to
refuse his father’s support. Still, something felt wrong about the
offer.

“
I don’t know,” he said.
“It’s just—”

“
Please, son—think of
Mira. The greatest desire of her heart is to make the pilgrimage.
You asked for my blessing, knowing full well I would never give you
my permission, but how can I give you my blessing if you refuse to
take my daughter?”

“
I just don’t know,
Father,” said Jalil, stumbling over his words. “Are you saying that
if I agree to escort her, you’ll give me your blessing?”

“
Precisely.”

“
And the
money?”

“
Only if you take her with
you.”

Jalil shifted uneasily. Mira might be
his sister by adoption, but that didn’t mean she was off-limits.
After all, in the desert, first cousins often married—even first
cousins who’d grown up in the same camp. For him and Mira to travel
so far together, without a chaperone—

But wasn’t that what Tiera had asked
of him? He had no doubt that her intentions had been honorable. If
he could trust Tiera, who only wanted to set out on her own, why
should he trust Mira any less? Especially if her greatest desire
was to make the pilgrimage, as Sathi had said.

Besides, Jalil needed the money—badly.
The temple lay on the other side world, and though eight hundred
credits would take him far, he doubted it would take him the entire
way.

“
All right,” he said. “I
agree.”

“
Excellent!” boomed Sathi.
With a flourish of his hand, he downed the coffee in one gulp.
Jalil grinned and drank his own, relief flooding through him. After
they’d both finished, they rose to their feet and
embraced.

“
Good luck, my boy,” said
Jalil’s father as he pulled him close. “May Allah go with you
both.”

* * * * *

“
Mira? You’re
leaving?”

Mira looked up from her packing to see
Rina standing in the doorway to the older girls’ tent. Amina and
Surayya were probably out doing chores—or seeing off the Jabaliyn
men, which was more likely. Either way, she was alone with her
little sister.

“
Yes,” said Mira, packing
her last set of clothes. “I’m going away for a while.” Sunlight
filtered in through the coarse weave of the dark tent fabric, the
only indication in the dimly lit room that it was day
outside.

“
Where?”

Mira gave her a reassuring
smile. They’d always been the quiet ones in the family, and with a
mother and sisters as vocal as theirs, that had given them a bond
that the others couldn’t understand.
I’m
going to miss her,
Mira realized as she
contemplated the long journey ahead of her.

“
Do you know the picture
in the front hall? The one with the pretty white tower surrounded
by a landscape of glass?”

Rina’s eyes widened. “You’re going
there?”

Mira nodded. As she closed the canvas
duffel bag and rose from the stiff mattress pad that had served as
her bed for most of her life, her little sister ran up and hugged
her knees, as if to never let go.

“
Oh, Rina!” she laughed.
“Don’t be sad. I’m not going to be gone forever.”

Rina sniffed and looked up with her
wide, innocent eyes. “When will you be back?”

The question made Mira
think back to the conversation with
Shira
the day
before in the darkened cellar.
If you
fail…

“
God-willing, not
long.”

Rina’s shoulders shook as she quietly
began to sob. Mira dropped her bag and knelt down, touching a hand
to her face.

“
Rina? What’s
wrong?”

“
When Mother says
‘God-willing,’ it always means ‘no.’”

Mira wrapped her arms around her
little sister and held her in a warm embrace. “I’ll come back,” she
whispered. “I promise.”

She held Rina tight until her sobbing
stopped. Outside, the shouts of the Jabaliyn men and the starting
of engines sounded through the fabric of the tent.

“
I have to leave now,” she
said, letting Rina go as she rose to her feet. “Be good
now.”

Rina nodded and rubbed her nose with
the back of her hand, her eyes still filled with the sadness of
goodbye.

Mira slipped on her headscarf with one
hand and lifted her duffel bag with the other. Strange to think it
contained nearly all of her worldly belongings: a few changes of
clothes, some headscarves, a set of prayer beads, and a pretty
stone that Rina had found in the desert and given to her. The
rest—mostly some old pieces of jewelry, including some copper-gold
bracelets and a pair of garnet earrings—she wore on her
person.

Smiling one last time at her little
sister, she walked down the outer corridor toward the side
entrance. Rina watched her go, but didn’t follow.

The glaring light of the sun made Mira
squint and lift a hand to cover her eyes. It was already late
afternoon, and the heat of the day had reached its peak only an
hour before. Several of the young men loading the caravaneers had
foreheads streaked with sweat, while perspiration pooled in their
robes under their arms.

Practically the entire
camp had come out to see the Jabaliyn convoy off.
Shira
stood by Mira’s father, arms folded across her
finest embroidered red and black robes. Little Majd and Alia stood
by her knees, looking on with wide, wonderstruck eyes. Zayne
embraced Jalil at the door of one of the caravaneers, Tiera
standing aloof a few paces behind her.

Mira stopped and turned around to look
back at her home one last time. The tents from the wedding were
still up, their once bright colors faded from exposure to sun and
sand. Beside them stood the reddish-brown adobe huts of the camp,
the ancient windmill outlined sharply against the deep blue sky.
Her eyes lingered on the faded brown tent that had served as the
bedroom for her and her older sisters since childhood. She imagined
Rina watching through the peephole and gave a weak smile. Beyond,
the dusty plain stretched out in all directions toward the
seemingly infinite horizon. Surrounded on all sides by harsh,
unforgiving desert, the camp seemed like the only safe place in the
world—and she was leaving it.

“
Mira!” came
Shira
’s voice from behind her.
“What are you waiting for, girl? The convoy’s leaving!”

With a heavy heart, Mira swung her bag
around and hauled it toward the waiting convoy. The warm exhaust
from the rumbling engines licked at her face and caused the air to
ripple.

Jalil ran to meet her. “Here,” he
said, “let me take that for you.” Before she could object, he
snatched the bag from her hand and threw it onto the
caravaneer.

Sathi and
Shira
walked forward. As Zayne stepped back to join
them,
Shira
took her husband’s arm and
held onto him possessively, the way she always did when Zayne was
around.

“
Jalil, my son,” said
Sathi. “I have something for you.”

“
Yes?” said Jalil. “What’s
that?” He jumped down from the caravaneer and went to see his
father.

Sathi reached into his light tan robes
and pulled out the gift. At the sight of it, Mira gasped—it was her
father’s gold- and bronze-plated sniper rifle, a priceless family
heirloom.

“
What?” said Jalil, eyes
widening. “Father, I can’t—”

“
Please take it, I beg of
you. Take it to remember us by.”

“
But—but that’s your
grandfather’s rifle. I can’t possibly accept it.”

Shira
clucked in disapproval,
making Mira cringe.

“
You would refuse my
parting gift?” Sathi asked, a wounded expression on his face.
“Please, my son—take it. I would be honored.”

Jalil hesitated for a moment, torn
with indecision. Mira knew, of course, what her father was trying
to do. Any extra reason for Jalil to return would work in the
sheikh’s favor. The pre-emptive guilt written across Jalil’s face
showed that the ploy was working.

“
Very well,” he finally
said, taking it carefully with both hands. “Thank you,
Father.”