Daughter of Nomads

by Rosanne Hawke

  When Azhar saw the sea glistening pink under the setting sun, he gradually lowered the carpet to alight on the roof. He let himself into the rooms, expecting that Kifayat would be writing at his desk. It was a shock to find him speaking with a man by the window. Azhar was about to turn to leave, but something seemed amiss; the other man was talking too intensely. Was he threatening Kifayat?

  Azhar strode into the room. ‘Is everything all right?’

  His father looked up and the other man stepped back.

  ‘Pesar, come and join us,’ Kifayat said. ‘We were discussing the politics of the Qurraqoram kingdoms.’

  Azhar let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. Politics was always a dangerous subject.

  ‘This is Bilal Abdul,’ Kifayat said, introducing the other man.

  Azhar greeted the man warily, and Bilal, in turn, stared suspiciously at Azhar.

  ‘Bilal, this is Azhar Sekandar.’ Bilal’s sudden surprise was swiftly masked as Kifayat continued. ‘I am Azhar’s foster father.’

  Bilal said, ‘Even though we rarely agree, I have come to Kifayat for advice since he was the wazir, the chief advisor to the mir of Nagir. There is more trouble brewing in the northern kingdoms. Even talk of the lost shehzadi being sighted. And I have heard rumours of an army amassing and it is not Dagar Khan’s like we expected.’

  ‘The war lord, Muzahid Baig’s?’ Azhar asked.

  ‘Bigger than his.’ Bilal touched his beard, deep in thought, before addressing Azhar directly. ‘Kifayat has finally just told me the shehzadi survived and you know where she is.’

  Azhar glanced at Kifayat; his father seemed unusually quiet. Perhaps ‘extracted information’ may have been closer to the truth. He searched the man’s face suspiciously. ‘May I ask what is your interest in this matter?’

  ‘The same interest you have, I suspect.’ The man’s eyes brimmed with sudden amusement. ‘I was the wazir, chief advisor to the tham of Hahayul, twelve summers ago.’

  Kifayat broke in. ‘Azhar, you can tell Bilal all you know. It is important now that we work together.’

  Azhar gasped, understanding at last. ‘Were you in Hahayul when the massacre happened, hazoor? We heard everyone in the fort was killed that day.’

  Bilal shook his head. ‘At the time I was in the Kingdom of Qashmir on the tham’s business. It was too difficult to return once I’d heard, as Dagar Khan’s army was occupying the land.’

  ‘They would have assassinated you,’ Azhar observed.

  Bilal inclined his head. ‘I thought I could be of more use from afar as Kifayat has been. I have been searching for the girl in case those rumours were true. My search has led me here to Kifayat.’ He paused before he repeated, ‘Are you sure it is she?’

  Kifayat sat on the divan and poured green tea into Persian glasses. ‘Let us sit and we will tell you what we know.’ He glanced at Bilal. ‘Perhaps you have already heard much of this story, but Azhar has only recently heard the significance of the events we’ll relate. I will ask Azhar to start our tale.’

  Azhar began. ‘When Dagar Khan’s forces attacked the palace in the Kingdom of Nagir, I was six summers old, living with Kifayat. We quickly left and travelled as peasants to warn the tham of the Kingdom of Hahayul of the attack.’

  Kifayat added, ‘But Dagar Khan had split his forces that day to make simultaneous attacks on both kingdoms. Hahayul’s army revolted under Dagar Khan’s leadership and the damage was done before we reached the Kingdom of Hahayul.’

  Azhar continued, ‘When we arrived we slept in the bazaar and heard the gossip: at the funeral, the body of the two-year-old shehzadi from the Kingdom of Hahayul was missing and Dagar Khan’s men were abducting little red-headed girls in order to find her. By then they were calling him the Demon King; he had conquered the Kingdoms of Hahayul and Nagir and began his cruel occupation.’

  Bilal sat forward. ‘But how did you find the shehzadi at such a time?’

  ‘We didn’t, not then,’ Azhar said. ‘Whenever we heard stories of an adopted child we visited the family, but it was never her. Then we heard the nomads found such a child. We decided to follow them. When we discovered them on the move south, Kifayat offered his services as a master of horse.’

  Bilal raised his eyebrows at Kifayat.

  ‘He was good enough with horses and has taught me all he knows as well,’ Azhar said in explanation. ‘I doubt the nomads needed another horseman, but they allowed us to travel with them. We saw the child. She was only two summers, but knew her name was Jahani, spoke words of Burushaski and wore a northern silver taveez to ward off evil.’

  ‘It had to be her,’ Kifayat said then. ‘I had seen the shehzadi that day the treaty between the kingdoms of Hahayul and Nagir was signed.’

  Bilal nodded, obviously understanding. ‘She was beautiful even at two summers, like her mother.’

  Azhar glanced up sharply at his tone.

  ‘She was certainly engaging as a child,’ Bilal added.

  ‘She still is,’ Azhar said.

  Both men looked at him intently and then at each other. A look passed between them, but Azhar ignored it and carried on with his tale. ‘At the time I was too young to know of her parentage. We lived with the nomads for two summers until the child was adopted by a landowner in the Kingdom of Kaghan. Kifayat again offered his services as a master of horse to the landlord and so we watched her grow for a summer. When there was another attack on her life, her adopted parents hid her and her ayah in an outpost of the empire where they thought no one would find her.’

  ‘Did these people know who she was?’ Bilal asked quickly.

  Kifayat shook his head. ‘I don’t believe so. They thought she was in danger because of her fairness and Dagar Khan’s obsession with red-haired girls.’

  ‘It would be good to see her again,’ Bilal said.

  Azhar didn’t comment; rather, he turned to Kifayat. ‘I need to tell her who she is. As Bilal sahib says, “Trouble is brewing”, and while she doesn’t realise her background she is defenceless. It seems that not only Dagar Khan’s men are searching for her.’ He turned to Bilal. ‘They have been abducting fair girls Jahani’s age for summers, but now there is another contender for the kingdoms.’

  ‘The war lord,’ Kifayat said flatly.

  Azhar tilted his head. ‘I believe he has discovered why Dagar Khan wants to kill Jahani and he has decided to claim the northern kingdoms for himself. He can’t do it without her.’

  ‘And neither Dagar Khan nor Muzahid Baig knows of your part in this?’ Kifayat asked.

  ‘Only we know,’ Azhar turned to Bilal, ‘and now you also. I am a phantom only for, as far as anyone knows, I died in the Nagir fort when Dagar Khan attacked it.’

  Bilal looked at him oddly.

  Azhar smiled ruefully. ‘My friend of similar age and height was found dead in the arms of my mother, the queen. Anyone who knew his true identity had been slaughtered. He was buried as me – the Shehzada of Nagir.’

  ‘So, you are the true Azhar Sekandar?’ Bilal said wonderingly. ‘This is astounding news indeed.’ He paused, thinking. ‘But to tell Jahani the truth could be dangerous,’ he added slowly. ‘What if it frightens her into madness? She could flee from such a burden or ally herself to the wrong people. Is she strong enough to accept her birthright?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Kifayat said. ‘Will she be able to take up the call and give her life to the people of the Kingdom of Hahayul? See them from a ruler’s perspective?’

  ‘I’m sure she will and, undoubtedly, she’ll have some perspectives of her own,’ Azhar said drily. ‘You do not know her.’ He stopped, searching for the right words. ‘She is strong and feels a pull to the north. I fear that if I don’t tell her soon she will not trust me and, once lost, her trust will not be easily regained. Already I believe she is being influenced by the nomad prince.’ His mouth tightened.

  Kifayat frowned at him. ‘Rahul? Why would he do this? When you were children he cared for her as you d
id.’

  Azhar tilted his head, thinking that even a worthy man would do all he could to win a girl of such beauty. And if Rahul had guessed Jahani’s true identity, that would be even more dangerous.

  ‘And you care about her trust?’ Kifayat asked with no hint of teasing. He glanced at Bilal and both men leaned closer to hear his answer.

  ‘Baleh, yes,’ Azhar said simply.

  Kifayat and Bilal regarded him thoughtfully. Then Kifayat said, ‘Tell her all and prepare her as best you can. It is time to take Jahani north.’

  Bilal added, ‘There is a house near Baltit Fort in Hahayul where her grandmother still lives. Fortunately, Dagar Khan never considered the grandmother a threat. That may be the best place to go. You’ll need to arrive by night as the town is heavily guarded by Dagar Khan’s cavalry.’

  ‘In the meantime,’ Kifayat said, ‘it is best you both sleep here tonight and stay another day. We have much to plan and discuss.’

  27

  Lalazar Kingdom of Kaghan Mughal Empire

  After breakfast the following morning, Jahani was saddling Chandi in readiness to break camp. ‘I wish I could ride on you with Anjuli,’ she whispered.

  Chandi snickered.

  Rahul found Jahani resting her forehead against Chandi’s nose.

  ‘Jahani.’

  She turned to face him.

  ‘Ride with me today,’ he said softly.

  She searched his face. He was smiling, his eyes warm. Should she?

  Chandi nudged her from behind.

  ‘I’ll see,’ was all she said.

  The women’s tent was already folded; the women and Anjuli were organising their mats and bags. Jahani walked over. ‘Anjuli, I’ll ride with you today.’ She said it quietly, but Anjuli was so excited she repeated it.

  Suddenly Neema was filling Jahani’s whole vision. ‘You can’t ride with Rahul,’ she screeched.

  ‘Why not?’ Jahani had had enough of Neema’s controlling ways.

  ‘It isn’t seemly to push yourself on to a man.’

  ‘I am doing no such thing. I am only riding, and Anjuli will be with me.’

  But Neema did not back down. ‘You’ll be more noticeable. You’ll put us in danger.’

  Yasmeen arrived and told Neema to shut her mouth. The other women kept quiet, but Jahani could sense their nervousness. Why should she bow to their fear when Rahul thought it safe?

  Kamilah looked pinched in the face, but she gave Jahani a tremulous smile. In a lull between the shouting, she said, ‘Jahani should ride. She could be helpful.’

  Neema snorted. ‘You should stick up for yourself, not let me do your fighting.’

  ‘I don’t want you to fight for me, Ammi,’ Kamilah replied. ‘I am happy for Jahani to ride.’

  ‘So am I,’ Yasmeen said firmly.

  Anjuli squeaked. ‘And me.’

  Neema stormed off and the other women returned to their tasks. Jahani smiled at Kamilah, grateful she didn’t have to tell them the truth: that Rahul had asked her to ride with him.

  Moments later Jahani and Anjuli mounted Chandi and joined Rahul and Farrah leading the flocks. How Jahani loved the noise and smell of the animals, the push of the flocks following each other, and the lambs and kids frisking around their mothers. Layla and the other dogs were happy keeping the flocks on track with sharp barks. Jahani caught a glowering scowl from Neema walking beside the goats. She sighed.

  ‘We’ll be leaving the river today and heading toward the fields of Lalazar,’ Rahul said.

  ‘Where would we be if we kept following the river?’ Anjuli asked.

  ‘We would end up at Lake Lulasar. It is the home of the Kunhar River.’

  Jahani glanced at him. ‘Is it as beautiful as Lake Saiful Maluk?’

  ‘Almost.’ Rahul smiled. ‘There is so much beauty in these mountains. Higher up it is difficult to travel with flocks, but here there are still grassy slopes to easily move them across.’

  Just then there was a disturbance behind them. Men were shouting, dogs barked, sheep bleated. Rahul called a stop to the nomads and wheeled Farah around to check the commotion. Jahani urged Chandi to follow and gasped at the sight before them. Sheep were veering off the track, slipping down a steep slope, some rolling like puff balls. Jahani felt the urge to look up, and there on the mountain side, she spotted light tan animals with white legs and faces. They looked like dogs but were much bigger. ‘Look,’ she cried.

  Rahul’s face darkened as he saw them. ‘Wolves.’

  Immediately Rahul and Tafeeq sprang into action, riding around the flock and shouting at the nomads to keep the animals and children safe in an inner circle by placing their pack horses and donkeys around the circumference.

  Jahani watched as more and more sheep slid down the hill, the wolves separating the lambs from their mothers. Before her thoughts could stop her, Jahani lowered Anjuli to the ground.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Anjuli cried.

  ‘Stand with Yasmeen,’ Jahani shouted.

  She rode Chandi to the edge of the track at a gallop. When the track ended, Chandi leaped into the air as if she were flying, then her hooves hit the grass with a thump. Jahani only just managed to stay seated. She leaned back, holding tightly to the reins as Chandi almost vertically ran down the slope.

  You are truly a mountain horse, Chandi, thought Jahani.

  The practice is good. Be careful now.

  There was a shout behind her. She glanced back to find Rahul and Farah close.

  At the bottom of the slope Chandi skidded to a stop. The sheep were scattered and terrified, running whichever way they could. The lambs bleated as the wolves cut between them, causing more havoc.

  Jahani watched, aghast. Weren’t these just wild dogs? She kneed Chandi forward. ‘Ao, Chandi, I’m supposed to be good with dogs. Let’s see.’ She glanced at Rahul. He had an arrow nocked. Nomad men on the rise had their bows ready, too. But they wouldn’t be able to shoot them when Jahani was so close to the wolves.

  As she approached, the biggest wolf spun around. It snarled, ready to attack, its hackles raised, its razor-sharp teeth bared.

  Jahani didn’t move Chandi back. They held their ground as Chandi tossed her head and another wolf crept up on her side. Then another. Chandi stamped, impatient.

  Steady, Chandi.

  Jahani stared at the wolf in front of her. ‘Stop!’ she yelled. Then she thought, Go away now and you will not be hurt. Go!

  She held her breath. There was no answering thought in her head, but the wolf stopped snarling. It growled at the others and suddenly they all bounded toward the mountain ledge where Jahani had first seen them. As relief flooded her body, she gulped deep breaths.

  Rahul trotted up and reined in Farah beside Chandi. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, concern furrowing his brow.

  Jahani nodded, the relief bringing tears.

  ‘Follow me. We still have our flocks to rescue.’ They quickly trotted about, rounding up the sheep and lambs. Someone let Layla loose and she raced down to help. Then they drove the animals back up the slope, with Layla chasing any that wandered off.

  When they rejoined the rest of the nomads, Tafeeq rode up to Jahani. His eyes were bright as he stared at her and said, ‘Thank you for your quick thinking. You are a true nomad daughter.’ Then he looked at her as if puzzled, but he didn’t ask how she had frightened a vicious pack of wolves.

  Suddenly Yasmeen started up a cheer. ‘Wah! Wah! Jahani, shahbash!’ Everyone joined in except Neema, standing in the shade. She stared shrewdly at Jahani, but she wasn’t glowering anymore. She nodded at Jahani as Anjuli mounted Chandi and they took their place again beside Rahul at the front of the nomads.

  As the tribe moved on with excited chatter from children, Rahul kept glancing sideways at Jahani. ‘How did you do that?’ he finally asked. ‘It was so dangerous – you could have been killed. At the very least they could have taken a lamb each as they left. But we’ve had no loss at all.’

  Jahani s
hrugged. ‘Maybe they were frightened of our horses?’

  Rahul studied her with the same expression as his father. Then he smiled and she recognised respect in his eyes.

  She returned his smile and patted Chandi’s neck. Thank you, pyari Chandi, for trusting me.

  This is my wish.

  ‘We will reach the plateau they call Lalazar by midday,’ he said. ‘It is called the Land of Flowers but some call it the Pari Fields.’ Fairy Meadows.

  As they travelled to Lalazar, Jahani gazed at the beauty surrounding her: the green meadows filled with flowers of every colour, even purple, the high mountains nearby, their snow-tipped points shining in the sunlight and the nomads at one with the life and colour of this astonishing place. A markhor, his huge horns curled against the sky, stood on a mountain ridge watching their passage. She wondered if Yazan was up there, too, looking out for her.

  Rahul was right: what a wonderful life to travel like this, feeling at home with her people and the mountains. Now she would be hidden from Muzahid and Dagar Khan, for whatever reason it was they wanted her. If only she could let Zarah know she was safe, and have Hafeezah with her, then her joy would be complete.

  A shadow passed the sun and she looked up to see a flock of birds flying high overhead. She searched the sky for Azhar.

  Oh, my faithless heart, even after everything the nomads have sacrificed to bring me north why do I still think of Azhar?

  1

  Lalazar, Kingdom of Kaghan Mughal Empire First Moon of Autumn, 1662

  The day turned dark as night. Ash burned the tiny child’s throat. Every direction she turned, people screamed and shoved through the crowd. Black smoke billowed through doorways and windows. She coughed and a woman held her close.

  ‘Move!’ a man shouted, helping them to run.

  The child gasped as the smoke descended like giant black wings. Fire surrounded them, licking their clothes. The woman tripped into the flames, and the child tumbled down beside her. She howled, while the man rolled them into a shawl to kill the flames.