Chapter I
Zariyah blinked away the stinging sand from her eyes. Fighting the tears that threatened to burst forth as the teasing voices of the other kids faded to the background of the screeching sound of her bow against the strings of her kamancheh.
"Cripples can't make music." She heard Boaz laugh.
"I heard my dad say her parents should have left her out for the desert to claim after she was born, but they disobeyed the Keepers and that is why her mother died." Nadia's cruel words cut through her defenses and the salty tears spilled over her sun warmed cheeks.
"Shut up, you worthless abhil!"
Zariyah looked up to find her sister, Shamara, launch herself at Boaz, who is almost two years her senior.
Not that size had ever stopped her sister, who was approaching her thirteenth summer.
Shamara swung a vicious punch at Boaz's face as Nadia shrieked in distress.
The older kids rolled in the blistering copper sand and Zariyah knew that Shamara would be forced to scrub out the earthen stains which would doubtlessly cling to her abaya.
She clung desperately to her Kamancheh as Shamara kicked sand into Boaz's face, trying to make herself smaller.
"Apologize to my sister you hemer!" Zariyah flinched at her sister's use of 'donkey'. Their father would not be happy if he heard those words from her mouth.
Boaz cried out as Shamara pulled his hair back when he tried to run, yanking him back to her "Apologize!"
"What is going on here?" An adult voice boomed, and Zariyah stared in horror as her father and another man drew near, a sobbing Nadia clinging to the man's hand.
Shamara scurried off the older boy, "They insulted you Abba and picked on Zariyah."
Shamara stood her ground, her little chest rising and falling rapidly. Her father looked to where Zariyah had curled into herself, clinging to her kamancheh like a shield.
With a slow exhale he ordered Shamara to apologize to the boy.
"But Abba!" she protested.
He shook his head at her, disappointment in his brown eyes, his black brows in a frown.
Shamara scowled.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Boaz shot her a glare.
"You too Boaz," her father said as Boaz got up to leave.
Zariyah could see the promise of retribution in the boys’ eyes as he stared at her before facing Shamara.
"Sorry," he muttered and left.
"Your daughter needs to be tamed Abdul. She doesn't behave like a lady her age should. If she were mine, I'd discipline her publicly for the shame she brings—"
"Enough!" her father cut off the man's words. "I will not allow you to talk like that about my daughter. If your son had the decency to keep his hurtful words to himself, this would not have happened."
"You indulge them too much Abdul. No man will marry a wife with the tongue of a viper and the bite of a desert wolf."
"Then I shall have two daughters to care for me in my old age."
The man flashed a disgusted look at Zariyah, and she flinched from the hatred in that stare. "One, perhaps. The other will ever be a burden."
And with those cruel words he turned after Nadia and Boaz.
Father caught Shamara as she tried to run after the man, fury in her eyes.
"Easy little firefly. You have caused enough trouble for today."
"But they insult you to your face and threaten Zariyah!" her sister protested their father.
He laughed, “It’s harmless words of lesser men. Don’t let it affect you, they are not worth the energy of your anger.”
Zariyah carefully put away her kamancheh.
"Hey little Lightdrop." Her father knelt beside her, wiping the tears from her cheek.
"Don't let their words get to you either. The Keepers knew it was not your time. You had nothing to do with your mother's death."
Shamara threw her arms about Zariyah, "I'm sorry if I scared you Zari."
"I'm not scared," she said weakly, hating the quiver in her voice.
"I have something that will cheer you up, Lightdrop." Her father smiled picking her up. His white teeth a stark contrast to the rich brown of his sun touched skin. Deep grooves of smile lines fanned from his eyes as he carried her to their tent.
Shamara picked up Zariyah’s kamancheh and cane, jogging after them.
Her father was a large man and had to bend to fit in under the tent flap which Shamara held open for him.
"What will make me better, Abba?" Zariyah finally asked, uncertain anything could cheer her up.
"New traders arrived just now, southerners from the capital. I was on my way to come get you. I need my best translator there to help me negotiate the most profitable deals."
Shamara smiled as she put Zariyah's kamancheh away, stacking her cane beside it.
"No one can talk trade like you Zari. The other kids are just jealous because they can only do childish things." her sister added with a wide grin.
Zariyah wasn't convinced but appreciated the gesture regardless.
Her father laughed, "It's true Lightdrop, few of the adults can speak as many languages as you. And fewer still write as many."
A small smile spread over Zariyah's face. At six summers she had mastered speaking as many dialects and languages and writing half of them. This greatly benefitted their caravan which relied on trade for most of the supplies they couldn't scavenge from the desert.
Her chest filled with a small amount of pride.
"There's my beautiful girl. Now why don’t you get ready to receive our guests?"
Zariyah nodded as he placed her on a large pillow.
Shamara brought her cane for her.
"Shamara." The tone in their father’s voice made both girls look up.
She flinched. Their father only used her name in that tone when Shamara was in trouble.
"Yes Abba," Shamara said hesitantly. Zariyah knew her impulsive actions had embarrassed him. Even if it was in her defense.
"I want you to take the afternoon to go train with Zain. If you are going to fight, I want you to learn how to win."
Shamara’s mouth fell open. A huge grin spread on Zariyah’s cherub face at her sister’s stunned expression as she squeezed her hand encouragingly.
"Zain, Abba?" she asked with a hopeful voice. Zain was their father’s sword master and friend. He was a loyal guard who had practically raised them and taught Shamara how to fight in secret. Or so they had thought.
Her father chuckled indulgently as he withdrew a dagger from his sash and held it out to her.
"I know you have been taking lessons from him. Today you proved that those talents would be used to protect your sister and her honour."
He held out the plain looking holster to her.
She took it. In her hands the dagger was like a short sword. Delicately curved like the scimitar which hung from her father's hips.
Shamara took the dagger in awe. Zariyah saw a shiver run through her as she held it in her trembling hands.
"It used to be your mothers'. Forged in the Temple of Light, blessed by Aten under the power of the sun. As your mother fought to protect the weak, so too you will be called to defend the light one day."
She stared at the blade, withdrawing it from its plain holster.
There was nothing plain about the white silver of the curved blade. Intricate runes were carved down the spine. The hilt carved from some unknown beast's ivory. And when she turned it slightly a ray of sunlight caught it and bounced rainbows throughout the tent.
Zariyah got up and hobbled closer to her, delight in her hazel-green eyes.
"Abba!" Shamara sheathed the blade, overwhelmed.
Smiling, he gathered both his daughters in his strong arms.
"You are both a gift from Aten. Children of the light. And I am blessed to be called your father." He pressed a kiss on both their foreheads.
"I have a gift for you as well my little Zariyah."
Zariyah's eyes lit up with delight as he reached into the collar of his thawb and pulled out a spherical pendant on a simple leather string and tied it around her neck.
"What is it, Abba?" she asked, her maudlin mood forgotten.
He moved his fingers around the sphere, pressing in tiny buttons.
The little sphere opened slightly, and bright light filtered out through tiny holes. "Oh! Look Abba! It's like tiny stars! Is it magic?"
He nodded.
Even Shamara gaped up at the scattered light, for once unable to say anything witty.
"It's an astrolabe," her father said showing her how to open and close it. “It is like a star map, which you can use to navigate by. Look.” He turned the globe in circles as the girls stared at the stars illuminated against the roof of their tent.
“The stars don’t move when you rotate it?” Zariyah asked in awe.
“No, they don’t. They have been bespelled to always reflect that of the true night sky above. Even in daytime, it will reflect the stars. And just as I have taught you two to navigate by the stars you can use this astrolabe like a map no matter how dark it is. Or where you may find yourself. See here? This is the dragon. And over here, the archer, chalice, heretic and oracle.” He pointed at each of the familiar constellations.
Zariyah held the globe in her tiny hand, staring up at the stars illuminated on their tent. “The dragon is north, the oracle west, the archer south and the heretic east.” She recalled her lessons.
“Very good, you remember well.” Her father chuckled.
“What is that bright one?” she pointed at a flickering constellation which stood somehow brighter than the rest.
“This is Xānag, when the night is darkest, it will take you home.”
Zariyah watched the flickering star in awe.
Smiling, her father showed her the little buttons to press to close it.
She pressed the globe against her heart. “Thank you, Abba.”
"It's been in your mother's family for generations. And now it is your burden to carry."
Zariyah frowned at the tears in his smiling eyes.
"You never talk about Maman," she whispered cradling the now closed sphere in her hands.
“She told me I would know when to gift these to you. She loved you both so much. And I wish she could have seen how beautiful you both have grown." He wiped a tear from Shamara’s cheek. The only time Zariyah ever saw her sister cry was when Abba spoke of Maman.
Zariyah wondered at the significance of why he gave them the gifts today.
"Can you tell me of her Abba?” Zariyah risked asking.
Her father would often speak of his love for his late wife, but rarely elaborate. He smiled tenderly at them as they settled on his lap.
"She was a great beauty. I knew I'd love her when I first laid eyes on her. She had striking hazel eyes like yours little Lightdrop, with rich velvety light brown skin and long black hair. She was fierce and loved to spend time training in the sun like you, little Firefly. She was my golden glow at sunrise and the warmth of my sunset. Her tongue could tame even the most educated man," he laughed. "Like you Firefly. She had the spirit of fire in her. But she was also smart like you, little Lightdrop. It was she who taught you the words before she—was lost."
Zariyah could see the pain in her fathers’ eyes as he held them closer. While he was an affectionate man, she couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong.
"Abba?" she asked tentatively.
"I'll be fine little Lightdrop." He wiped at her frown attempting to smooth the lines between her brows.
"I need you two to promise me something."
"Anything, Abba." Shamara said eagerly.
He nodded his approval and looked at Zariyah until she echoed the words.
"Always keep these gifts close to you and on your person." Then he turned to Zariyah with deep sadness in his eyes as he added, "Never let anyone see the globe. Only take it out when night is darkest and there is no other light to guide you. There are people who would kill to have this astrolabe, for it can find that which is lost, to those who seek it.”
Zariyah tucked the orb into the collar of her abaya. "I promise Abba." Though she did not understand why he asked her to keep her gift hidden when Shamara would get to practice with hers. And it made her a little sad.
She was about to ask, when the tent flap opened, and Zain peeked in. "Abdul, the guests are ready. Shall I show them in?"
Their father gave them one last squeeze and a kiss on their foreheads.
"Go now, Firefly, learn to dance with your blade." he winked at Zain who grinned as Shamara skipped happily away.
Her father carried Zariyah back to a comfortable pillow and straightened his thawb before going to meet the traders.
Zariyah pressed the sphere against her chest, and she could have sworn it felt warm against her skin.
She watched quietly as her father let two men into their tent.
The first was dressed in a black thawb that seemed to swallow the light from the room. He wore a black turban tied around his head. And a very large scimitar dangled from a wide sash at his waist. He met her stare with icy obsidian eyes and a smile which stole all warmth from her body.
He stopped across from her, still standing, as another man entered ahead of her father.
The second man was dressed in foreign finery the likes of which she had never seen before. Where the first man was as darkness itself, this one practically glimmered and shone with colour and wealth. Huge gemstone rings adorned his fingers, even the hilt of his scimitar was bejeweled beyond practicality. His clothes glittered with metals and rainbow-coloured jewels stitched into the fabric.
When he looked at her, she could have sworn she stared Death in the eyes, and she couldn't help the terrified whimper from escaping as she retreated away from the intimidating men.
"Why Abdul, you never said you had another beautiful daughter. Perhaps you will sell this one to my harem. I can make you a very rich man." The bejeweled man grinned, revealing gold cased teeth.
Her father stepped between her and the terrifying men, "Neither of my daughters are for sale Zebani. I am already a rich man simply for being called their father."
"Why is it you allow a girl to be present in the negotiations of men?" The man in black sneered, The word 'girl' a curse upon his thin lips.
"Saladin, you will find my daughter to be quite intelligent and useful in the negotiations."
Saladin mumbled something in a foreign language and her father turned to her with a smile.
She blushed as she translated his words for her father, "He says he thinks a mule has more talent for trading than a girl..."
Her father smiled at the man's shocked expression. "Like I said. She is quite useful in my negotiations."
Zebani slapped Saladin on his back in amusement as he took the offered spot her father indicated.
"I like this girl. Does she read as well?"
Her father glanced at her with pride. "She can speak six of the trade languages fluently and read and write in two. And she has yet to see her seventh summer."
Zariyah flinched at the predatory look of Zebani as he looked her up and down with measured appreciation.
"Quite the jewel you have here, tell me, is she betrothed already?"
"As I already stated Zebani. My daughters are not for sale. They will marry for love one day. Now let's talk about those beautiful silks you have brought."
Her father opened a small fire pot and stoked a hearth stick in the ever-burning camel-dung pellets. He lit some incense about the room before returning with a pot of warm spiced tea and offering each man a ceramic cup before taking his own. The tent filled with the familiar scents of frankincense and myrrh mixed with cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom from the black tea which her father reserved for the wealthiest merchants and special occasions like their birthdays and large celebrations.
Throughout the negotiations Zariyah felt both Zebani's interested stares and Saladin's sneering looks her way. She tried to make herself as small as possible, wishing she could escape outside with Shamara and Zain.
Zariyah could hear the clanging of swords outside the tent, Shamara practicing with her new gift, no doubt. She reached for her orb only to remember it was supposed to stay hidden. Though she still took comfort from its warmth against her chilled skin as the adults spoke.
A shiver of dread ran down her spine as the minutes dragged on. An ominous threat lingering at the back of her mind, and she couldn't stop the fear from festering in her heart as she sat through the negotiations.
