Page 10

Which Begins and Ends with a Mystery Woman

T he stately woman held his gaze for a moment, then melted into the crowd. As’ad felt sure that he had seen her somewhere before. He doubted she was a resident of one of the towns he had scammed. Her dark hair and eyes were similar to many of the Sharamilans, but her lighter skin tone and regal features set her apart. He could have met her in one of the bigger cities, but it seemed more likely that he had seen her more recently on one of the busier roads. Several caravans passed through on their way to the coast, after all.

Shaking off the odd encounter, he eased away from the spice merchant and wandered behind Hadia. The woman was speaking with—or at—a grandmother who didn’t seem inclined to respond. A glance at the way the currents of people were moving told As’ad that a perfect opportunity was about to strike. He slid into the heaviest part of the traffic and allowed it to push him close to Hadia. The waspish woman didn’t even notice when he reached into the bag over her shoulder and pulled out a folded parchment. He carefully tucked it into his robes as he continued moving with the ebb and flow.

Picking her pocket had been a risk, as he was both out of practice and didn’t know if she carried anything useful to them. The thickness of the paper gave him hope. Nobody wasted paper like that to doodle nonsense.

As’ad found Rahma waiting for him just off the road on the western end of the community. Marj was longer than it was wide, and they were a considerable distance away from the square. That didn’t prevent As’ad from wanting to put more space between Rahma and that woman. He asked her to wait a little longer for answers. Rahma obliged him and even remained quiet until he felt there were a sufficient number of low hills behind them.

The jungle still sent tendrils into this part of the country, but the mountains were looming ever closer and some of the plant life reflected that. As’ad pulled off the road by a stand of trees whose leaves lacked the waxy texture he was used to.

“That was faster than I expected,” Rahma remarked.

It didn’t sound like an accusation, but he hurried to explain. “She was asking about young people who wouldn’t be missed.”

His companion huffed and crossed her arms tightly.

“Then I stole something from her bag and decided to make my escape before she noticed.”

Rahma grabbed his arm. “And you are positive she didn’t see you?”

He smiled at her concern and reached up to poke the worried lines between her eyebrows. “I am positive.”

Her worry melted into a matching smile that soon grew with excitement. “What did you snag?”

As’ad held up both hands. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t know yet.”

“How don’t you know?” she asked, curling her hands in the front of his robes and shaking them in her impatience.

“I couldn’t look at it in the square”—she released him with a nod—“and I wanted to examine it with you.”

Rahma beamed at him. “That is an excellent reason. Where is it? What is it?”

“I think it might be a letter,” he said as he liberated it before she could take it upon herself to search him.

Despite her eagerness, she didn’t snatch it from his hand but waited until he passed it to her. Then she unfolded it and leaned into his space so they could both see it as she read aloud.

“Well done.

The latest shipment was more than satisfactory. You will be compensated accordingly.

We have had requests for specific stock. Fill these orders before the next shipment leaves J at the end of the month for a bonus payment.

—P

Wanted:

(1) 13–15 m woodworking

(2–3) 12–16 f sewing

(1) 13–15 m/f cattle”

The P used in place of a signature had a very distinct embellishment that turned his stomach to lead. That symbol was used by Pozik, a dwarf with more underworld connections than Aladdin.

He leaned away as Rahma reread the letter to herself. Pozik’s involvement was bad. Potentially life-threateningly bad.

“But what does it mean?” Rahma sounded frustrated, and the paper crumpled a bit where she clutched it. “Clearly, Hadia is getting paid by this ‘P’ person, but the rest is mud.”

As’ad looked her in the eye. He could tell she understood more than she wanted to. Because if the letter said what she thought, Suha was in far more trouble than she originally knew.

He pushed her braid off her shoulder to rest his hand there. “I recognize the signature.” His thumb traced up and down her neck. “Pozik the dwarf has his fingers in just about every criminal pie in Mafur. I haven’t heard anything about him since I left the capital, but Hadia is mixed up in something far more dangerous than I think she realizes.”

Rahma let the letter fall to her side. She reached up to hold his hand against her neck and shoulder.

“The specific stock he wants is . . . people, isn’t it?” Her voice wavered, and tears filled her eyes.

He gathered her into his arms. “I’m afraid so,” he whispered into her hair.

After a few moments, Rahma took a shuddering breath and straightened her spine. As’ad reluctantly let her pull away.

“C’mon.” She snagged his hand and led him to a tree with decent shade. “Let’s sit while we figure this out.”

She shook out the sheet as he settled in next to her. As he sat closer than he needed to, he spared a thought to be grateful that his rats were still snoozing.

“Should we suppose that the bracketed numbers indicate an amount?” she asked.

“I think that’s a safe assumption.”

“Then on the first line, Pozik wants one something to do with woodworking.”

“Given what we know about who Hadia has been escorting, I think we can also read the next numbers as an age range.”

Rahma took a deeper breath that pressed her shoulder more firmly into his. “And the ‘m’ likely stands for ‘male,’ which means he wants a thirteen-to-fifteen-year-old boy with woodworking skills.”

“Or at least a woodworking background,” As’ad pointed out. “At that age, apprenticeships have only just started.”

She moved her finger to the last line. “That would make sense for this one, too, since he is open to a boy or a girl with a cattle background.” Her voice grew bitter. “I imagine it’s easier to get people used to slavery when they’re young.”

“Now, we don’t actually know that these are potential slaves,” he began. “But it doesn’t look good,” he added hastily when she shot him a look.

“Dare we hope that Suha wasn’t in the last shipment?”

As’ad wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Is she a seamstress?”

“Wha—? Oh!” She scanned the sheet again. “She was more of a weaver, like her mother, but yes. She could sew well enough.”

“Maybe she’s one of the sewing set that Hadia is collecting?” As’ad could hear the false hope in his voice.

Apparently, so could Rahma. “That would be nice, but I don’t think we can count on it.” She slumped against him. “I’m still determined to save her; I just need a moment to feel my feelings. Then I can move past them.”

“Feel your feelings?”

She rolled her head back on his shoulder so she could see him a little better. “You know, taking the time to acknowledge and experience your emotions so they don’t sneak up later and control your actions.”

That was a completely foreign concept to As’ad. He generally tried not to have too many emotions in the first place, as they seemed to complicate things. Peace and contentment were the ultimate goals, and neither of those expected much feeling from him.

“Oh. What are you feeling now?”

A tired laugh huffed over her lips. “A wee bit of despair, lots of dread, more hopelessness than I’d like to admit.”

“Oh,” he repeated, not sure what to do with all that.

But she continued, her tone gradually warming from listless to fiery. “Sorrow for everyone whose life has been stolen from them, anger at Pozik and Hadia for thinking that any of this is okay, and”—she sat up fully—“the determination I need to fix it.”

As’ad opened his mouth, ready to remind her of some salient details.

She held up her hand to forestall him. “I know. I know that we don’t know how big this is. And we don’t know where Suha or the others are. And we don’t know how to stop it, either.” Rahma grabbed his free hand and clasped it with both of hers as she looked imploring up at him. “Will you help me figure out what we can do, and do it?”

Drowning in her dark eyes melted the last icy piece of indifference in his heart. He would do anything this woman asked.

As he came to that realization, an idea sparked.

“What was the date of the next shipment?” As’ad asked as he detached himself from her and walked to the cart.

“Uh . . . Here! The next shipment is set to go out in . . . seven days.”

“Perfect. That gives us a timeframe to work with.”

Rahma watched him dig through the back of the cart for a while before asking, “What are you doing?”

“Looking for—Ah-ha! These.” He held up the maps that had somehow migrated to the very bottom of everything. Fat Carl protested the daylight interrupting his slumber, then promptly rolled over. As’ad smiled as he tucked the canvas cover back into place.

“With these, we can try to work out a timeline with the letter. Do you remember how long ago Hadia was in Qarya?” He looked at Rahma with a grimace. “Did you ask that part?”

Her movements were slow as she joined him at the flattest rock he could find. “I did ask that.”

He glanced up from unrolling the correct map to see an odd expression on her face. “What?”

She hesitated, then knelt and helped him hold the map open. “You never said whether or not you would work with me.”

A sheepish smile tugged at his lips as heat climbed his neck. “I’m an idiot.” He rested his hand on hers and held her gaze. “Yes. I will help you.”

She beamed at him.

“I had an idea and jumped straight into it without answering. My apologies.”

Her free hand dismissed his apology with an elegant wave. “All is forgiven. What was your idea?”

He pointed to Jabal at the map’s edge. “I think we can assume ‘J’ stands for Jabal. None of the other towns or villages within a reasonable distance start with ‘J,’ and you heard her mention Jabal specifically.”

“I agree.”

His fingers walked the distance between Qarya and Jabal, then from Jabal to Marj. “When about did they leave Qarya?”

Rahma sat back on her heels and peered at the scattered clouds as she made the calculations. “We were there, what? Four days ago?”

A second later, As’ad counted the same. “Yes.”

“Then Hadia and the others were there fifteen days ago. About.”

“That’s probably close enough,” he assured her. “It’s about three days to Jabal from Qarya using the main route.”

Rahma narrowed her eyes at him, but he pretended not to see. “If they went straight there, that would give Hadia time to drop off her first load and leave to get more. I’m guessing she’s here looking for someone used to cattle. Would you agree?” He turned innocent eyes on her. She pursed her lips but nodded. “I thought I could figure out the timeline better, but too much information is missing and I don’t see how we can know for sure that Suha is still in Jabal. But we have to act like she is.”

“Yes.” Rahma slapped the ground with her hand.

Some more finger-walking gave As’ad another estimate. “I believe we can make it to Jabal in four days. That gives us just under three—better say two days, to be safe.”

That decided, the black-haired beauty pushed to her feet. “Let’s go, then!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

As’ad hurried to repack the maps and catch up with her.

The next days blurred together. Rahma wanted to move as fast as possible, and As’ad felt a similar urgency. Not quite as sprawling as the capital or some of the larger coastal cities, Jabal was still a full city. Finding a single girl presented a thorny problem.

It was highly unlikely that simply asking around would direct them to her. Hadia had been getting away with this scheme for a few years at least. She couldn’t have done so without getting caught if she wasn’t wily. From what As’ad remembered of Pozik’s criminal enterprises, the dwarf likely had one or more storehouses in the city. Depending on how he moved the “stock,” they could make some educated guesses about the location.

On the third night after deciding to push for Jabal as fast as they could, Rahma and As’ad discussed the most likely places to begin their search. Rahma wanted to ask at a magistrate’s office, but As’ad pointed out that Suha and the others were unlikely to be meandering the streets. Nor were they required to present themselves. Hadia would have snuck them in or hidden their identities.

“What do you remember about the large group traveling with those two dwarves?” Rahma asked as she tried to get Alzali to jump over a twig. As’ad watched the rat lunge for the treat the girl held just out of reach. The gray rat hadn’t quite grasped that she was being asked to jump.

“I don’t actually remember that group,” he admitted.

“Darn. I was hoping to pick your brain so I could compare your memory with mine. Because I think I’m misremembering to make the facts fit the story.”

“What do you mean?”

Khudha chose that moment to nip one of her sisters. As’ad pulled her out of the pile that had been happily bathing each other and placed her on his shoulder.

“Well, it seems to me that all of the people in that group were younger than we are, for one.” She nudged the treat closer so Alzali could snag it. “They didn’t look thrilled to be there, but I just assumed it was because they were walking through lunch.”

Fat Carl found a rock by the fire upon which to sing the song of his people. His squeals and chitters were as emphatic as they were aimless. After a few seconds of impassioned speech, he turned his tail to the fire and jumped down, waddling off in search of who knew what.

Rahma looked to As’ad for clarification. All he could do was shrug and shake his head. That oddball continued to defy all his expectations.

“Anyway, now I’m questioning whether or not my memory is accurate. Just because Pozik is a dwarf doesn’t mean every other dwarf on the continent works for him.”

“That’s true,” As’ad said slowly. “But there’s also no reason to rule it out. It doesn’t change our plans, so we’ll keep it in mind.”

The nights and the days had grown steadily cooler as they moved into the foothills. Their path angled northwest away from the southern border. The foliage became more evergreen forest and far less jungle. Their fire that evening was quite large, and as they went along, they collected any bits of wood that fit in the handcart. Rahma had thanked him twice more for the warm clothes. As’ad was grateful that he had thought to purchase another layer for himself.

They reached Jabal midway through the fourth day. The sight of the city sitting at the base of the mountain range between Sharamil and Bavenpier caused Rahma to stop in the middle of the road. Her jaw dropped as she took in the mass of buildings and people that had to be ten times the size of Nahr.

Built on the Sharamil side of the pass that connected both countries, Jabal had grown from a small outpost into a thriving metropolis. Merchant caravans from all over the world passed through here on their way to Mafur and Fanostrin. As such, inns, warehouses, and all manner of businesses had sprung up to cater to the merchants’ needs. A long wall ringed the city in a semicircle. There was no need for such protection where the city met the sheer wall of the mountain.

Rahma looked at the collection of buildings with delight. As’ad saw a million places for Suha to be hiding.

As they trundled through the city gates, a woman caught As’ad’s eye. It was the lady who had seemed out of place in Marj. She held his gaze and dipped her chin.