Page 9

In Which Speculation Occurs

T he next farming community had been bypassed by midmorning the next day. The supplies from Qarya were holding out and would likely keep them fed for another week or so.

“Or!” Rahma gasped out of the blue. “Does a creature gain the faery classification by being at least slightly humanoid in shape?” She counted on her fingers as she spoke. “Goblins, pixies, trolls, dryads, dwarves, and djinn all have humanish physical characteristics—generally four limbs and a head or face, yeah? Is that what makes them faeries?”

As’ad mused over her words. “But what about the miraj and shadhaver and phoenixes? Didn’t we say they fall under the faery heading?”

“I know we said so, but what if we’re wrong?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” he said carelessly. After all, he had no stake in the argument. It was mostly an entertaining way to pass the time.

Rahma rubbed at her bottom lip and stared into the distance for a long moment. Then she threw up her hands. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

She turned their conversation to childhood memories. Since As’ad’s resolution to keep his distance was still fresh, Rahma carried most of the discussion. He eventually admitted to a few of the universal childhood experiences, like believing he could fly with the right set of wings and a sufficiently high launching point. The headmistress never let him test that theory, but Rahma had disregarded Suha’s advice in that area and broken her arm in the process.

These recollections continued through their lunch stop and into the early afternoon. The desert had all but disappeared as their steps headed west again. Jungle foliage popped up here and there, but the majority of the green in this area came in the form of grassland. The gently rolling prairie was the perfect place for livestock to graze. The first hour or so, they saw mostly cattle. Then they came upon a unique herd.

“Are those karkadann?” Rahma asked.

As’ad had heard of the creatures but never seen one.

Karkadann were an odd combination of useful and useless. Similar to cows in shape and general size, they were not great for eating. Nor were their other products good for a quick buck. They had scaly skin that made strong, lightweight armor, but only if it was harvested after they died naturally. They grew and aged so slowly that many of the creatures who finally gave up their leather had been born in the time of the ranchers’ grandparents or great-grandparents. At least the karkadann were quite large when they finally passed. This allowed for multiple sets of armor to be made from a single skin.

Their lone horn was even more profitable than the leather. In a powdered form, it served as an antidote to nearly every poison on the continent. But again, removing the horn early was impossible. Anyone who tried was left with a toxic substance that nothing could cure. These limitations were well known and protected the herds. Their size, tough exterior, and poisonous horn also helped, of course. Ruhks were the only known predators.

Seeing the at least partially magical beasts brought a new theory to As’ad’s mind. “What if we are approaching the whole faery/not-faery debate from the wrong angle? Could there be different classes of faery creatures like there are different classes of non-magic creatures?”

“Like humans and cows are both non-magical but we separate them into people and animals?” Rahma’s next few steps bounced. “So there could be people faeries and animal faeries. Makes sense to me!”

Apparently satisfied with that conclusion, she let the subject drop and hummed to herself. “I know we passed a couple homes already, but is there a bigger town soon?”

As’ad looked away from a truly massive karkadann that he half-expected to drop dead as they walked past. “Why?”

“Because I want to ask more questions.”

This reminded him that the girl accompanying him was not here for him. His heart seemed to curl in on itself for a moment with the reminder. Distracting himself from his foolishness, he made an observation that he had been ignoring.

“You haven’t mentioned Suha in a while,” he said, keeping his tone light, as though her answer didn’t affect him.

Rahma coughed once. “Yes. Well, I was trying not to remind you that your goal is to get rid of me.”

“I’m not—” As’ad stopped. That had been his exact goal since the beginning. He amended his statement. “I am concerned for your safety and reputation.”

She gave him a look that he couldn’t interpret. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, then shifted the topic.

“Will you tell me exactly why you don’t trust this Hadia?”

“Gladly.” Rahma rubbed her hands together. “First off, she’s mean to little kids.”

“A grave failing,” he remarked dryly.

“It is when she’s been put in charge of the orphaned ones.”

As’ad couldn’t disagree with that.

“And it’s worse because she pretends not to be. None of the adults would believe us when we reported the things she would say. We were told off for badmouthing an adult when we probably misunderstood what she said in the first place.”

How well could he remember similar incidents of his own. “Childhood is rough,” he empathized.

“Yeah.” Rahma rubbed her hands down the sides of her tunic. “I’m sure mine wasn’t that bad, though.” She didn’t use the words, but he caught her reference to his time in the orphanage.

“You may be . . . passionate about justice,” As’ad started, “but that can’t be your only reason for suspecting the woman of nefarious doings.”

She had smirked while he scrambled to find the right descriptor, but now her face took on a serious expression.

“Of course not. My suspicions have been simmering in the background for years.” Her sigh sounded disgruntled. “But I didn’t do anything until it affected me personally.”

“What specific things did she do?” he asked to shake her from her self-condemnation.

The woman at his side played with one of the curls that defied the containment of her braid. “It wasn’t only things she did. Some of it was things that happened.”

“For example?” he prodded.

“A few years ago, she went on a trip with the two little ones she was caring for, then came back without them.”

“Where did they go?”

She shrugged. “West. Hadia was close-lipped about the whole thing. Only said that their relatives wanted ’em.”

“Are you thinking that trip was to Jabal?”

“I am now.” Her lips turned down. “Not too long after that trip, she started traveling more. A lot more.”

As’ad ran over various scenarios that could include traveling. Most of his ideas were criminal in nature.

“She said she was visiting her own family. But she started wearing fancy clothes, and her house is full of really nice things now.”

“Is her family wealthy?”

“That’s the thing!” Her arms flew out to the sides. “Until a few years ago, she always talked about how being from an orphanage had prepared her for taking care of orphans.”

“She could have extended family that she hadn’t met yet,” As’ad said doubtfully.

Rahma gave him a look he completely agreed with.

“But why would they give her money and make her travel all the time?” he questioned. “If they liked her that much, wouldn’t they want her to live closer?”

“Now that we know she was traveling with more than just Suha this time”—she ignored the eyebrow he raised when she used the word “know”—“I think she’s collecting orphans and outcasts from all over and trading them in for money.”

A frown creased As’ad’s face. “That brings up two questions. First, outcasts?”

“One of the couples that I talked to at the crossroads mentioned that their nephew had run off. They said he wasn’t a bad kid but had trouble fitting in. Well, the aunt said that. Her husband seemed to think the kid just needed a couple more months of ‘physical’ discipline. And she agreed.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Anyway, he disappeared shortly after Hadia came through town.”

“Or the woman you think is Hadia.”

“Close enough.”

“Second question: How could she be trading them in? Indentured servitude isn’t really a thing anymore. Plus, any money earned that way was strictly for paying off debts.”

A deeply uncomfortable expression sat on her face.

“You don’t think—slavery has been outlawed since the sultan’s grandfather reigned!” The very idea curdled his stomach.

“Well, I initially considered more of a black market adoption sort of thing because the first children she made disappear were pretty young. But people desperate for children probably don’t want the older ones who are about to move out and get married or start apprenticeships.”

As’ad opened his mouth, but she jumped in first.

“I also thought of some weird ‘buy a bride’ service when Suha left. But that falls apart with the nephew.”

“It also seems unlikely that one woman would have a hand in that many different ways to get rid of people,” he pondered aloud.

“All I know is that something is very wrong with the whole situation.”

With the approach of evening, the lights of Marj twinkled brightly. As it was a rest day, the community was still fairly lively. Rahma wanted a chance to interview more people, and As’ad couldn’t stifle his curiosity, either, so they decided they could make camp a little later than usual. He preemptively appeased the rats by slipping a couple of treats into their cages before any of them woke.

To Rahma’s delight and As’ad’s dismay, they arrived to discover that a dance was being held in the square. Rahma asked where they should stash the cart, but he didn’t want to leave it, so she slipped into the dance without him.

As’ad set up the cart at the edge of the lantern light and leaned against it to glare into the crowd. When a hunched crone hobbled past him, her return glare was so unimpressed, he made an effort to be more pleasant. None of these strangers deserved his baseless wrath.

As he watched Rahma swirl across the dance floor with partner after partner, As’ad finally recognized the pinch in his gut as jealousy. He had become accustomed to being the only recipient of her smiles and attention. But he didn’t have any claim on her. In fact, he had less than no claim, and she would be leaving as soon as Suha was recovered.

Almost before he recognized that he had decided to move, his feet led him to where the dark-eyed beauty was catching her breath next to the refreshment table. He didn’t say anything, simply held out his hand in invitation. His own breath caught in his chest as he watched her eye his offering with a playful smirk.

One hundred years (or seconds) later, she slid her small brown hand into his. He folded his fingers over hers, then laughed when she impatiently tugged him onto the dance floor as a new song began. The notes were quick and light. Their feet fairly flew, and As’ad saw no one but her. More of Rahma’s curls had pulled free to frame her face charmingly. Her eyes glowed and he felt like the only man in the world.

All too soon, the song ended and the pair reluctantly stopped. Like the dancers around them, their breaths came fast. When the musicians began a new tune, Rahma quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t wait for his response, though, and had him twirling around the square before he could say yes.

This song was a touch slower, and As’ad’s breathing returned to normal. His heart rate, on the other hand, refused to settle down.

“What’s going on, my Tongue-tied Piper?” Rahma teased in a low voice that wasn’t likely to be overheard.

Suddenly, As’ad realized he would do anything to be hers. But what did a criminal lowlife have to offer this virtuous, exciting young woman?

He tried to fob her off with a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not much of a dancer?”

“You’re doing just fine.” She beamed at him.

Several times, other men attempted to steal Rahma away from him. She turned them all down kindly, somehow managing the feat without creating hard feelings. Eventually, their travel-weary feet demanded a break. Rahma took advantage of the opportunity to chat with the older folks sitting on the side. Naturally, she mentioned that they were in the company of the renowned Pied Piper.

As’ad reluctantly settled into the role (after pausing to collect his notebook), disappointed to lose her exclusive company but knowing that he would have her all to himself again tomorrow. As he made the rounds, he occasionally overheard his beautiful companion asking her questions about orphans and outcasts. He missed most of the answers, as the residents were all-too-eager to discuss their theories about why the rats weren’t plaguing Marj.

Though he hadn’t planned on revealing his identity, again, it worked in their favor. He was invited to make camp in the square with the other visitors, who he learned were traveling merchants. In the morning, while stalls were set up for the monthly market, some of the regular residents added to As’ad’s food stock. If this kept up, he might not need to pull another con until he left the country.

But leaving the country meant leaving Rahma, and his mood soured.

He had barely finished checking that all his pets were tucked in when a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him away from the cart. He was ready to defend himself when he recognized Rahma’s voice in his ear.

“She’s here!” Her harsh whisper felt damp on the side of his face.

“Suha?”

“I wish,” she sighed. “No, Hadia is here. Look. By the man selling leather necklaces.”

As’ad peered around the corner of the building she had dragged him behind. Two women stood by the leatherworker’s stall. One was plump and jolly-looking. She laughed and bargained with the merchant. The other woman wore fine clothes that set her apart from the others. The supercilious expression might have had a hand in the bubble of space around her, as well.

“The one who looks like everyone is beneath her?”

“Yes! We need to follow her!” Rahma stepped forward, but As’ad held her back. The feeling of her in his arms distracted him for a moment, and she frowned at him before he remembered to speak.

“ We don’t need to do anything,” he spoke over the protest that he could see forming on her lips. “She would recognize you. I can follow her.”

Rahma begrudgingly nodded.

He moved his hands to her shoulders. “Can you move the cart out of town? I don’t want her seeing you, and we can leave after my reconnaissance.”

“That’s a good idea.”

He was slightly surprised that she didn’t argue about needing to do it herself. Surprised but grateful.

Peering around the corner showed that Hadia had moved away from the leather goods and was now shunning a stall dedicated to cookware. As’ad helped Rahma get the cart moving on the cobblestones by shoving the back. Once she got it started, she would be fine, and the hard-packed dirt road outside of town would make it easier.

Everything As’ad had learned about working a crowd came back to him. He took his time seeming to browse the wares, never quite making eye contact with any of the sellers. Hadia frowned at everything and everyone until the man who served as Marj’s version of a mayor came into view. She followed him to the side of the market. As’ad trailed them, taking a position near a busy stall lined with spices and dried herbs.

He missed the beginning of the exchange, but Hadia was asking about useless people looking to relocate. She didn’t use those words, of course, but As’ad could tell that’s what she meant by “young people who don’t fit in or have a home.”

The community’s leader took exception with her tone and very politely, if coldly, told her they didn’t have anyone like that here. Hadia announced her intent to ask some of the others, and the man dismissed her with a deep nod. After she traipsed off, As’ad saw the man approach some of the locals. From their expressions, he guessed they were being warned about Hadia.

As’ad didn’t have time to speculate on their actions; he needed to follow the suspicious woman. As he turned to do so, his eyes caught on another member of the bustling throng.