Ma'in, the Imperial city-state along the coast of the Arabian Sea
Glancing behind herself, Mari smiled at Wadha, who was engaged in the liveliest of conversations with the woman she was riding with. Both Wadha and the woman returned the unexpected smile after staring for a few seconds and then started chatting again. Mari did not mind, as she had grown accustomed to the staring and knew they were not trying to be rude. As the eldest daughter of Battam, Wadha had been placed in charge of Mari. She was the one that took her food and watched that she didn't wander away and get bitten by a scorpion or something. But even though she was treated fairly and with respect, Mari had learned quickly that the Battam people were not overly accepting of her. She was a mystery and not knowing quite what to make of her, she knew they were eager to deliver her to her owners and be rid of her once and for all.
In the weeks that she had traveled with the clan through the An Nafud, Ad Dahna and now the Rub al-Khali deserts, she had learned to keep mostly to herself and ask for nothing. She spent her days watching the others and keeping herself visible. The only talking she did was to the camels, who had proven to be very good listeners. Mari told them all sorts of things and even shared with them the few Latin words and sentences that she knew. Though it didn't improve her reputation to the Battam as a sane person, the camels seemed to understand her well enough and Mari eventually forgot her fear of them and grew to like them.
Her greatest headache was feeling useless. Everyone, regardless of age, kept busy. She watched as the woman weaved cloth and rugs and rolled goat milk into cheese and yoghurt, wishing she could laugh and chat with them. The men had regular meetings, and made leather straps and tassel fittings for the camels. Some had horses and practiced fighting and scouted all day. The oldest members and the children of the clan tended the herds and each other. It all seemed terribly interesting and not able to speak or approach anyone, Mari felt isolated and inadequate as she stood by the sidelines.
The only thing that Mari could look forward to was reaching Ma'in, the fabled city by the sea. She was starting to make sense of the language, although much slower than the Latin, since she had no one to practice it with. Mari also knew the clan respected the fact that she belonged to the Sultan. They spoke his name and pointed to her with trepidation and Mari hoped it meant she would be safe from harm that way. Valeria had assured her that and turning back to face the setting sun, Mari hoped it were true. She had an increasingly nervous stomach as they got closer to the coast and she wanted desperately to be accepted in her new place.
Her thinking interrupted by giggling, Mari turned and locked eyes with Wadha again. The Bedouin woman suppressed her giggles and fluttered her hand. Mari felt herself turn red as she put her own hand down. She had been absently fanning herself, something none of the others did. She supposed that moving so much would only make her hotter and that the Battams would know better than anyone how to stay cool, but old habits were hard to break.
When it was late summer in Battavia, she and Danea would take turns fanning each other all day. It brought temporary relief and that was all they knew, but here in the desert it was dangerous to over-exert yourself and not be aware of it. No matter how many times Wadha stopped her; Mari would find herself doing it almost subconsciously. It was a small detail, but desert life was full of them. Being in Roman hands had made Mari used to not drinking much, so that was an easy adjustment. What was hard was staying cool and at first Mari thought she wouldn't be able to make it in the extreme heat. The only redemption was at night when the air grew cool and there was a slight breeze. It was then that the desert was at its most beautiful and Mari felt least like a slave.
At times, she wished she could stay among the dunes, but her destiny was somewhere else. For weeks she was anxious to arrive, but now, only two days away, she was feeling the anxiety of knowing she would be inducted into a harem soon. The resolve that she felt leaving the Danube Delta was wavering and without courage she was lost. Gathering what determination she had, Mari kept the steady sway on her camel and trudged on.
In the distance she could make out other caravans, some with hundreds of camels in their procession and even one with only four animals, two of which were horses. To look at the sandy expanse, it was easy to assume that there was nothing to go by, but in reality, the Bedouin nomads were master navigators. They used the sky to lead them along invisible roads in the sand and it amazed Mari how caravans in the distance were drawing closer in the same direction. The land was slowly beginning to show signs of green life and the sky held clouds that were pulled tight, very high into the air. They were near and in a few days, whether she was ready or not, Mari would be in yet another entirely different world.
Mari glanced over at the royal guards. They were an impressive display of muscle and clad in nothing but draped pants and enormous curved sabers, they were also very intimidating. Mari had thought the Romans were imposing, but these men were truly daunting. Turning back to where Battam was negotiating his fee with a dour looking woman, Mari tried to still the beating of her heart. She was sure everyone in the palatial room could hear it and fidgeting slightly with the added weight of her leg irons, tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach. Seeing that her sellers were still negotiated heatedly, Mari chanced another glance at the room they were in.
The palace was something you could see even before entering the city. It was a brilliant white building that sparkled from a distance, as if bits of glass had been engrained into the walls themselves. It sat atop a cliff overlooking the Arabian Sea and even the forty-foot stonewall perimeter that guarded the city could not keep its dome shaped roof tiers and spires from view. The room that Mari was now in was massive in size. The largest structure in Battavia was the meetinghouse, which was big enough to hold most of the village people, but this was much, much bigger. The doomed roofs on the exterior were made of highly reflective brass. On the inside, the brass was engraved with designs Mari had never before imagined. The white walls were covered in ornate rugs and the floors were a highly polished stone with veins that ran inside it.
Needing to feel it, Mari shifted her left foot very slowly, to not make her leg irons clang. Turning her sandaled feet so that she could wiggle her toes out, she touched the white stone and gasped at the coolness of it. It was magnificent and wiggling her other foot, was almost out of her sandal, when the leg irons shifted. She snapped her head up to see the impatience in both Battam and the woman and flushing slightly, Mari looked down again. The old Sheik said something too quickly for her to understand, but Mari recognized that it was a command to stop moving. Regretful that she couldn't touch the magnificent white floors again, Mari stood stock still and listened to the voices of her traders rise and fall in disagreement.
She knew Battam did not mean to be short tempered with her, and that it was his long day that had him so aggravated. She did not understand exactly why that was so, but he was so distraught, that he almost looked close to tears at times. It started when they reached the gates to the city.
The entry was long and tedious, taking most of the morning. Guards poked through many of the wares the Battam clan was going to trade and even ordered a few packs to be opened. Mari assumed they were checking for contraband and kept herself well hidden with the other women while she watched them slash through things with indifference. Battam and the other men seemed very displeased at the treatment. Apparently the clan paid money to enter the city and Battam argued over how much for nearly an hour until the guards seemed about ready to hurt him. It was the quick intervention of the Battam horsemen that prevented violence and the money was quickly paid. Mari watched with apprehension, having assumed that Ma'in would be more pleasant, but it all faded away when they were finally led in. She could not believe what stood before her eyes.
Ma'in was massive, with paved roads leading in many directions and two-story buildings packed tightly along the streets. The streets themselves were a flurry of activity, with carts lining them and people busily selling everything from salted fish, pottery and oil lamps to woven baskets, jewelry and goats. It seemed everything was in chaos, but Mari saw the rhythm in it all as their camels slowly moved through the throngs of people. They were headed for drink and lodging in the quieter regions of the city and she could not tear her gaze from the people as they were making their way through the stands and open tents, selling and buying their assortment of things. But there was also a presence among the people that if you looked hard enough, you could spot anywhere.
All around, Mari could spot the deep blue turbans of sworded men standing in pairs on almost every corner. They were dressed like guards and had the curved sabers at their side. But not all were sentries. Some walked behind men who were also dressed in blue robes and collecting coins from the venders. Mari was wondering who they were and why they all dressed alike, when she looked up and instantly understood.
The royal palace stood high in the background and now having an unobstructed view, Mari saw the enormous, long blue banners that fell from window openings down the palace walls. They were the same blue and fluttered in the breeze. It was going to be her new home and instead of feeling happy that it was as splendid as it appeared, Mari could only feel an unexplainable sadness. She stared at it for an eternity, until her caravan turned down a street and she could no longer see it. With moist eyes, Mari adjusted her hood again, since people where pointing and whispering along the street, and tried to see where the Battam were headed.
A short while later, they were at a designated plot and clicking her tongue, so that her camel kneeled down, slid off the harness stiffly. Moving to the side, as was her custom, she waited until the clan was settled and Wadha came for her. Only this time, it was Battam who fetched her. He not only had her Roman issued wrist chains, but leg irons as well. He held them out wordlessly, and Mari stood up from the rock she had settled on and stretched her hands out. He secured them around her hands carefully, and hating that she could not keep from crying, sniffed forlornly as he bent down and did her ankles as well.
When he finally stood, Mari looked up and to her surprise every last person in the Battam clan had stopped their unpacking and was looking at her. Wavering slightly under the cautious regard, Mari swallowed and felt her knees get a little weak. Feeling dismal at the prospect of never seeing the clan again, Mari cleared her throat and said farewell. First in her Germanic tongue, then in Latin, and then in the one she had picked up from them. The Battam stood in collective shock before slowly, answering her back. Touched that every last person in the vast family took their turn to respond, Mari smiled self-consciously and turned to face Battam. Despite his lousy temper that day, the old Sheik smiled his approval at her move, took the chain between her hands and walked off. Mari followed him back into the chaos of the Ma'in streets with her eyes cast down to the ground so that her hood revealed nothing of her appearance. In reality she knew exactly where she was headed to and as they made their way to the massive palace nestled high on a sea cliff, Mari hoped that it would all that Valeria said it would be.
Lo'gan mounted Nayif with a last killer glance at the royal guards before pulling the reins on his stallion to lead him in. Khalaf had warned him to expect resistance on the way into the great city, but Lo'gan was not in much of a mood to be told what to do. Luckily, Harabi had a quick tongue and intervened before he did something foolish.
"Are you okay?"
Lo'gan nodded without looking at Harabi and stopped as the caravan in front of him ground to a halt. The city had double walls, which meant once you passed inspection at the first gate, you had to wait to be counted to pass the second. Eyeing the three story, double walls with distaste, Lo'gan wiped his brow in the confining afternoon humidity and pulled his camel in close. They were the smallest caravan around and had to keep together to avoid getting lost in the shuffle.
"You should not have told that guard that he was a camel dropping. Or did you want to spend your first night here in a dungeon?"
Lo'gan ignored the mischief in Harabi's voice and worked at calming down his temper.
"But it was nothing. Let's forget that my brother, and talk about where we are going first."
Lo'gan gave Harabi a look that did not hide his animosity.
"We must see the Sultan first. That search was an injustice."
"Of course, of course, but then I know this most excellent place with a……"
"You will find nothing but trouble and if you thief your way into danger, I will not be responsible."
Harabi made a gasping sound and opened his eyes wide to show his indignation.
"I am not a thief and I just saved your hide back there! That guard was livid when you refused to unpack!"
Lo'gan snorted at the memory of the scuffle.
"You saved his hide, not mine."
"Whatever."
Not allowing Lo'gan's disposition from dissuading his fun, Harabi rolled his eyes and filed that story away. Despite what Lo'gan thought, he did save them from one hell of a fight. Perking up as the caravan before them picked up and moved, Harabi moved his horse to a steady trot. There were no guards ahead, instead a blue robed scribe. Harabi dismounted before Lo'gan did and approached him with flourish.
"Good day, sir."
The turbaned scribe did not even blink.
"Name and business."
Harabi grinned and bowed graciously.
"I am Harabi al Dawasir and this is my associate Lo'gan al Jabir."
"Name and business."
"We come to see the great Sultan in regards to a small error that was……"
"Do you have a royal decree?"
Harabi laughed. Lo'gan raised an eyebrow.
"Dear sir, it was inscribed for all the clans to see, so we could not take it. We are representing two clans in……"
The scribe sighed in utter boredom and began his prepared speech halfway through Harabi's.
"We cannot give you access to the palace grounds without a decree. Our great and noble Sultan will be celebrating his fortieth birthday tomorrow and cannot see commoners. If you return next season……"
"What?!? He threatens our lifewater and cannot see us? We demand that……"
The scribe jumped back at Lo'gan's outburst and actually looked something other than bored. Seeing his plan go to waste, Harabi held him back and giving Lo'gan a crazed look.
"Lo'gan can you go check the horses? Now?"
"But…"
"They look thirsty."
Lo'gan glared at the scribe, who actually cowered and stomped off with one last glare at his companion. Harabi turned to the scribe once again, showing every last one of his teeth in a wide smile.
"Sir, my apologies. I completely understand. My brother here has been in the sun too long and well he needs to be……well, alleviated."
The scribe turned to look at Lo'gan's livid features from where he was petting Nayif and fought the smile that wanted to creep onto his lips. Lo'gan flexing his hands, certain they were talking about him.
"Alleviated?"
Harabi nodded sagely.
"It's a long story. That's why were a really here. The rest was just a cover. Would you have any, uhh, recommendations?"
The scribe raised his eyebrows and straightening out his thobe, leaned forward.
"If you can afford it, the eastern district has some very choice places."
Harabi withdrew a coin from somewhere in his robes and discretely placed it on the stand the scribe worked on. The blue robed man opened his eyes wide before slipping it into his own robes.
"I thank you for that information, sir, and well, hope it will be enough to help with his……problem."
They both turned to look at Lo'gan's frantic pacing a little ways off with a smirk. The scribe added two more polished black pebbles, and four white ones to the tall basket next to him.
"You and your animals have been counted. You may enter and good luck with your brother and this, uhh, problem."
Harabi nodded sadly and walked off. Without going anywhere near Lo'gan, he mounted his horse and secured his camel's lead. Lo'gan was split between choking him and getting on and following him. Eventually curiosity got the better of him and he mounted Nayif and pulled up alongside Harabi.
"Well?"
"We can enter."
"What good will that do if we can't even see the Sultan?"
Harabi shook his arm and a square stone marker fell out of his sleeve. Catching it with his hand, he held it out for Lo'gan to see. Lo'gan grabbed it and instantly recognized the single tiger claw carved into the center.
"What the hell is this?"
"That is a decree. The Sultan is having a celebration tomorrow and all we have to do is get the proper clothes and show up at the palace door with a gift and that little invitation."
Lo'gan smiled despite himself and tucked the little stone tablet into his sash before anyone saw it. They were already inside the crowded city and there were guards everywhere.
"And how exactly are we going to get money for fine clothes and a gift?"
Harabi beamed at Lo'gan and turned to the roads leading to the eastern district.
"Well, dear brother, we have all night to gamble, plus I know some people."
"In other words, you'll steal them."
Harabi looked at Lo'gan with an ear to ear smile before pulling ahead to lead the way. Lo'gan shook his head and wondered how exactly they would pull anything off if Harabi was thrown in a dungeon for stealing. Sighing heavily and feeling the decree in his sash, he at least admitted that the Dawasir was good. Maybe he was worth having around after all. Forgiving him for whatever nonsense he told the scribe at the gate, Lo'gan weaved Nayif through the crowds slowly. He knew where they were heading, since he went there every few years, when he went this far south.
It was something most clansmen did when entering the city limits, but for once, Lo'gan did not want to just find the first willing female. He wanted something different this time. He knew that if someone as experienced as Harabi said he'd only heard of a green eyed female and not seen one, that he would probably never see one neither, but something in Lo'gan wanted to look just in case. His dreams had intensified and he was increasingly desperate to find her. Even if it was futile, he would look.
Little did Lo'gan know that he had just passed his mysterious dream woman, wearing a long robe with a hood, chained to a merchant, who was heading to the great white palace on the cliff to give her away to someone else.
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