The heat of the afternoon was easier to bear in the palaceâs interior garden. There was no breeze to disturb the plants and the sun shone at its brightest, but the water in the pools cooled the air just enough so they wouldnât feel as if they were baking in the desert dunes.
Resting under the porch and listening to the plucking of an oudâs strings, Shoshan felt almost at ease. It made him glad to be out here in this quiet heaven instead of in the main courtyard, watching his fellow slaves spill their blood and guts on the sand. Of course, not everyone shared the same opinion.
âIâm bored,â Nazila, Erinaâs second youngest daughter and not yet married, whined for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. The Sheikâs favorite daughter, Nazila was as close to being a mirror image of her mother as was possible for a young girl. Today, however, she was far from her usual beautiful self; draped over a pile of silk pillows, she kept a permanent scowl on her lips, beads of sweat rolling down her neck even as a servant fanned her skin.
Though he couldnât help the sigh that left his mouth at the girlâs comment, Shoshan refused to take the bait. He wouldn't be doing the sick girl any favor by encouraging such behavior, so, as pitiful and miserable as the young beauty looked right now, it was best to just ignore her. Rubbing his damp forehead, Shoshan placed a red stone on the wooden board in front of him and let his eyes rest on his opponent.
Lujayn, Erinaâs youngest daughter, also still too young to be married off, had been humming along with the oud, a smile brightening up her plump features as she twirled the green stones in her hand. Like him, Lujayn did not pay much attention to Nazila, sparing her older sister only a brief glance before also moving two stones on the seega board, taking two of his red stones in the same move. âItâs your turn, Zahir,â she said, a twinkle in her exotic silver eyes.
Shoshan had to smile despite himself. The little rascal was good at this game. He might not win this match after all.
"Itâs too hot in here and Iâm bored,â Nazila tried again in a hoarse voice once she realized that no one was going to honor her with a reply. âI want to see the slaves fighting." She cleared her throat and rolled onto her side, nails scraping over the intricate patterns on the carpet.
Maybe ignoring wasnât going to cut it this time.
"Youâre still recovering, Nazila. Your mother wants you to stay here and rest."
"Donât call me by my name, slave!â she retorted, sitting up to give him a very familiar glare. Beauty was not the only thing the girl had inherited from his mother, he supposed. "I'm done resting. I'm bored and I want to see the fight!"
âI donât,â Lujayn intervened, turning to face her sister. âItâs nice here. I want to stay and play seega with Zahir.â
âWho cares what an ugly, fat baby like you wants!â
âShut up, youâre the ugly one, you sweaty pig!â
He shouldâve seen this coming. When Erina informed him that the boys were going to spend the day at their uncle, and that he was to keep the girls inside the house and take care of Nazila, Shoshana suspected that her order wasnât going to be as easy to follow as it sounded.
"Thatâs enough!â he shouted, grabbing Layjanâs wrist to stop her from throwing the stones at her sister. âYou two are not allowed to go outside. If you're bored, Nazila, then there are plenty of games we can-"
The words died in his throat. The music stopped, Banan, the oud player, laying the instrument down on her lap, and the fanning also ceased, the house slave's eyes opened wide in fright.
There was noise inside the house. Someone was screaming.
For a moment no one moved, not one word was spoken. Then, slowly, Shoshan let go of Layjanâs arm. He looked about and noticed that the guard that had been standing by one of the gardenâs archways was missing. Something was definitely wrong.
âZahir?â It was Banan who spoke first, voice wavering as she clutched the oud close to her chest and searched his eyes. Bringing his hand to his face, he made a gesture for them to be quiet and stay put, then took a couple of careful steps toward the entrance.
Quiet as a mouse, he went inside. The sounds got louder and louder the closer he got to the hall that opened up to the courtyard, and that made him feel terribly uneasy. Thatâs where the Sheik and his wives were, along with most of the slaves who were watching the fights. Something must have happened there.
Just when he was about to step into another corridor, someone ran right into him, almost knocking him over. It was a working slave, an old, nearly skeletal man, shaking and breathing heavily while clutching onto his arms.
âPlease, call down.â He grabbed the manâs shoulders and pushed him away so he could look at his face. âWhatâs going on?â
The man could barely talk, but after a few breaths words came out and Shoshan was able to catch a few.
â...the Sheikâs wife dead... the witch, laughing... guards and slaves dying... a riot...â
A riot. Everything else was both disturbing and confusing, but that word alone was what made Shoshanâs heart skip a beat. If the slaves were rebelling then this was his change to escape, to get back his freedom and go back to his home. Home, a word that had become so foreign to him. What was home? Was it the sea, were his fellow crew members were? Or was it Basht, where he had no family?
Family...The sisters! What about Nazila and Layjan? The boys were safe at their uncle's home but the girls were caught in the middle of this commotion. If they had killed the Sheikâs wife, then they could very well kill the Sheik himself and his daughters, couldnât they? Even the slaves. If there was really a riot, then who could tell what the slaves would do to the girls? Would they protect them, or would they hurt them in spite?
He couldnât take take that risk. He would escape, but he would make sure the girls were safe first.
Letting the man go, Shoshan took a deep breath to calm his thoughts. The stables. They weren't very far from the garden. He could take them there and send them to their uncle, who'd have no choice but to offer them protection. Then he could find a weapon. Maybe take one from the guards, he knew he could do that much.
Having a plan, no matter how simple, made him feel much more brave and confident. Turning away from the screams, Shoshan started running back to the garden, praying to all his gods, asking them to keep the girls safe, who, despite everything, were still pure and did not deserve to die for someone else's sins.
They would not die, he would not die here. He would escape, he was going back home.