by Diana Green
“Such impressive sorcery!” Saba’s father enthused, oblivious to her distress. “I wouldn’t mind a few dozen spells like that for my harem. Very practical.”
“Just standard textbook magic, really,” Sallizahn responded. “I’m capable of far more.”
The pasha grinned like a cat over a bowl of cream. “You cast it with barely an incantation or a gesture needed. I always assumed spells would be complicated.”
“They can be. Perhaps soon I’ll demonstrate something more elaborate, to honor the union of our families.”
“An excellent idea.” The pasha threw his arm around Sallizahn’s shoulders, as if they were old friends. “I couldn’t be more pleased with our arrangement. We’re bound to do great things together, you and I.”
Hearing the satisfaction in her father’s voice, Saba lost all hope of reprieve. Her fate had been set, and all she could do now was adjust her expectations. Perhaps with luck she’d find a way to manage Sallizahn, to win his confidence and keep his attitude toward her benign. Though not an inspiring prospect, what other options remained?
The rest of the evening passed in a blur, with a small late supper and performances by her father’s favorite musicians. Saba drank more wine than usual, hoping to lessen the despair threatening to swallow her. Each time she felt Sallizahn’s touch, her stomach twisted and her skin ran cold. She tried to hide this reaction, and thankfully he seemed not to notice.
When at last Saba’s father dismissed her, she stumbled back to her rooms and fell into bed, without bothering to change into nightclothes. Batul offered to help her undress, but she sent the maid away, not wanting anyone to witness her misery. After weeping into her pillow for almost an hour, she fell into exhausted sleep.
Later Saba woke, still unsteady from excessive wine. In the shadows of her room, someone moved, and a man’s voice cursed quietly as he knocked into a table. She started to shout out, but a hand clamped over her lower face. A strange smelling cloth shoved up against her nose and mouth, and she knew nothing more.
Chapter Four
Saba came awake in semi-darkness. She lay on her side, wrapped in a cloak. An aching grogginess filled her head, and her body felt unreasonably sore. To make matters worse, both her hands and ankles were bound.
With a jolt of fear, she remembered the intruders in her chamber. Had they abducted her? Where was she now? Nothing could be seen from her current position, except a natural rock wall—most likely the back of a cave—and three horses, standing in the shadows.
Taking long slow breaths, Saba fought down a surge of panic. Whatever her captors wanted, she’d fare better dealing with them in a calm state. Perhaps they weren’t complete barbarians and could be reasoned with.
An angry suitor seemed the most logical source for a kidnapping. What if her father had announced Lord Sallizahn’s claim to her hand, and some other lord took the decision badly? He might have sent his men to steal her away in the night. It was a bold move, considering the retribution likely to follow. Despite the risk, such things were known to happen—possession being nine-tenths of the law.
“With the sun almost down, it should be cool enough to take the horses out.” A woman’s contralto voice carried from the front of the cave. “I’ll walk them down to the stream, so they can graze before we ride on.”
“I’ll go, if you like.” A man’s gravelly voice answered. “You didn’t sleep much this afternoon.”
“I know…too many thoughts rattling around in my head. But it doesn’t matter. I want to get outside and stretch my legs.”
“You’ve never been one for waiting patiently,” the man teased. “Always jumpy as a jerboa, when there’s nothing to do but sit tight and bide our time.”
“Maybe that’s what they should call me.” The woman gave a rich throaty laugh. “But ‘Jerboa’ doesn’t sound as good as ‘Falcon’. It might not strike sufficient fear into the hearts of wealthy lords and merchants.”
“True enough. Little hopping rodents don’t inspire the same respect as birds of prey.”
“Probably because one eats the other.”
The man chuckled. “I think we can both agree, ‘The Falcon’ suits you better. And you’ve certainly earned the title.”
Saba sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening. The Falcon! How had the region’s most notorious bandit found her way into the pasha’s palace? And why kidnap a princess? Had she hired out her services to one of the disappointed suitors? If so, the outlaw had accomplished her work with incredible speed.
In her peripheral vision Saba saw movement. Someone walked toward the back of the cave to fetch the horses. She closed her eyes and went limp, pretending to be unconscious. Eavesdropping on her captors seemed the best way to gain information. They might not be so forthcoming, once they realized she was awake.
Despite a healthy sense of caution, curiosity got the better of Saba. She opened her eyelids a sliver, to peek at the bandit passing by leading the horses. The person appeared slim and not particularly tall, their form mostly hidden under layers of loose desert clothing.
Could this be the infamous Falcon herself? In the low light, it was impossible to see much detail. Saba caught a glimpse of sharp features, a narrow blade-like nose, and high wide cheekbones. The hair remained covered and the eyes shadowed by a brown headscarf. In another moment the outlaw was gone.
Saba waited, hoping the others might talk more. But silence filled the cave, minute after slow passing minute. Perhaps there were just the two of them, the man and the woman. It made sense, with only three horses. In that case, nothing could be gained by feigning sleep.
With a pained groan she pushed off from a boulder, trying to roll so she faced the front of the cave. Being bound, she couldn’t control her momentum, and got a face full of sand as her head thumped to a stop. The added grittiness in her already dry mouth brought on a coughing fit, causing her chest to burn. Whatever inhalant the bandits used to knock her unconscious left a nasty residue in her lungs.
“Want some water?” the male outlaw called.
“Yes,” she croaked, her voice barely functioning.
A large shape lumbered toward her, backlit by the mouth of the cave. As her eyes adjusted, she made out a stocky bald man, bringing a water skin. He looked exactly as she would imagine a bandit, his broad face and muscular arms marked with scars, his belt hung with throwing daggers and a scimitar. He wore patched homespun clothes the color of sand, redolent with odors of smoke and horses.
He propped Saba up against the cave wall, unwrapping the cloak from around her arms, opening the top of the water skin, and placing it in her hands. Despite her wrist bindings, she got a firm grip and lifted the precious liquid to her lips. The water slipped down her throat, easing away the pain. She couldn’t resist gulping, some dripping down her chin and onto her chest.
“Take it slow,” he cautioned. “I don’t want you throwing that up. You’ve been quite a while without water, so you’d best go at it gently.”
She lowered the water skin. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“Half a night and most of a day. The travel will go easier now that you’re awake.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He shook his head. “Come now, Princess. You don’t really think I’d share the location of our camp?”
It had been worth a try. Since he didn’t seem particularly hostile, she might be able to bargain with him. Perhaps they could come to some arrangement where he’d return her to the palace without delay—and even more importantly, untouched.
If not, her situation could prove dire. As far as Saba knew, Sallizahn’s warding remained in place, ready to activate should any other man take her. How severe the pain would be, she couldn’t guess, but there was a chance the spell might kill her.
Sallizahn clearly adhered to a rigid traditional code. By that reckoning, she’d be worthless and culpable if another man stole her virginity. In the sorcerer’s own words, punishment would be ‘right and proper’
under those circumstances.
“If you return me to my father immediately, he may pardon your offense.” She tried to sound regal and sure, keeping the fear from her voice. “There might even be a reward, for your wise decision.”
The bandit snorted. “That’ll be the day.” He pushed to his feet, taking the water skin with him. “The pasha would love nothing better than to see my bloody head on a spike, hanging over his fine gold gates.”
“But if you return me unharmed, I’m certain—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “No fairy tales. We both know better.”
Saba’s chest tightened, her stomach knotting, and bile rising in her throat. Something had to be done! But how could she convince this ruffian to help her?
“Please. Just listen to me.” She fought back tears. “I have jewels and other valuables. If you sneak me into the palace, I’ll give them to you. I’ll never tell a soul who it was that kidnapped me.”
“Sorry, Princess. Not going to happen. We have other plans.”
He turned away, climbing a short rocky incline toward the mouth of the cave. Beyond him the entrance formed a rough arch, revealing a patch of sky. Other than that, nothing of the outside terrain was visible.
The man rummaged in saddle bags and called back to her. “We have food. Nothing fancy, but it’ll fill an empty belly.”
“No. I can’t eat anything.” Her stomach churned and rebelled as it was, with only water to contend with.
The man returned. He studied her a moment, then crouched down by her side. “Look, I know this must be frightening. But you need to keep your strength up. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us tonight.”
Where were they taking her? By morning would she be in the hands of some disgruntled lord, intent on claiming her for his own? The thought sent panic shivering through her body.
“Please. You don’t understand. I can’t be given to any man but the one my father chose. If someone else tries to force me…” Her voice failed momentarily, as tears slid down her cheeks. “I…I don’t want to die.”
The man’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Who’s going to kill you?”
“My future husband and his cursed warding spell.” She began to tremble, overwhelmed with dread, remembering the invisible magic collar closing over her windpipe.
“Easy now.” The man put a calming hand on her shoulder. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” He spoke kindly, as if soothing a spooked horse. “We don’t mean you harm, and no one under the Falcon’s command will molest you. She won’t tolerate that sort of thing.”
He looked directly into Saba’s tear-glossed eyes. “Believe me, Princess. No one crosses her on that. We all know it’s the reason she challenged our old leader…to protect the girls in camp who didn’t want to share his bed.”
Saba tried to take that in, amazed. All her life she’d seen women treated like chattel, living as prisoners—albeit pampered ones—with no right to refuse the man who ruled them.
“How does the Falcon manage it?” Her voice carried more than a little awe. “Why do you accept a woman’s authority?”
“If you knew her, you wouldn’t need to ask.” The bandit gave a short laugh. “She’s a true fighter, that one…as strong-willed as they come and better at planning than our last leader. Hell, she got us both into the palace and back out again with not a scratch on our hides. And that’s bringing you along, on the way out.” He spoke with great warmth. “Under her leadership, the band has fared better and lost fewer men than ever before. So, it’s little wonder we follow her. We’d be idiots not to.”
He offered Saba a reassuring smile. “You see, Princess. There’s nothing to worry about. As long as you behave and don’t give us any trouble, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
She listened, experiencing her first glimmer of hope. Surely the Falcon wouldn’t hand her over to some lust-driven suitor—not if she felt a responsibility to protect women. There had to be another explanation.
“So…you didn’t abduct me for one of the petitioning noblemen?”
The outlaw’s brow furrowed. “Of course not. We don’t hire out to the likes of them. We steal their gold free and clear, no strings attached. Pigs’ll sprout wings before we let some entitled asshole tell us what to do.”
Saba forced herself to look him in the eye. “In that case, why did you take me from the palace? What exactly are your plans?”
“No mystery there, Princess. You’re leverage. The Falcon wants to trade you for one of our own being held in the palace prison. Once your father agrees to the exchange, you’ll return home. A court physician will likely examine you, to confirm you haven’t been spoiled. And since that’s sure to be the case, your future husband will have nothing to complain about. Everyone can rest easy. End of story.”
He made the situation sound so simple.
“Is that really all there is to it?” she asked. “You don’t want anything else from me?”
“Not a thing. And now we’ve got that settled, you should try to eat. Bread and dates won’t give you too much problem. We’ll wait on the dried meat till your stomach calms down.”
Saba felt heartened. At least this man wasn’t a total beast.
“Would it be possible to unbind my wrists?” she asked carefully. “Otherwise, eating will be difficult.”
He considered, rubbing his bald head while looking her over. “I see no harm in it. You certainly can’t overpower me, and there’s nowhere to run.” He gestured toward the cave mouth. “Just a whole lot of desert out there, and someone like you won’t have a hope of surviving alone.”
No doubt he was right. Saba knew nothing but life in the palace. The open desert might as well be the other side of the moon. The bandit drew a knife and cut the ropes from her wrists and ankles. She rubbed the raw skin, grateful to have freedom of movement once more.
“I’ve got a salve that’ll help,” the outlaw offered. “If you just come up front with me, I’ll get it from my pack.” He rose and moved toward the cave mouth.
Clumsy from staying in one position too long, Saba tottered after him. Her limbs tingled with intense pins and needles, as the blood began flowing normally. She stumbled over a loose rock and plopped down awkwardly on the cave floor, scraping her knee.
“Don’t worry, Princess. You’ll get your legs working soon.” The man brought her a small jar of salve, and she rubbed the pungent substance over her abrasions. Relief came immediately.
“Want a hand up?” he asked, reaching to help her rise.
She still felt weak and unsteady on her feet. “Perhaps I should try eating something, as you suggested…to regain my strength.”
He took the jar of salve and gave her bread and dates. With them in hand, she carefully climbed the remaining incline to the cave mouth. The air inside was too stuffy and still. She wanted wind on her face and a view of the surrounding land.
Saba stopped at the opening, overcome by the desert’s immensity, stretching away into the hazy distance. The cave entrance sat partway up a hillside, affording a magnificent view to the horizon. Never before had she seen such a vista. Always there had been palace walls looming around her and tall towers carving up the bowl of sky.
“It’s so big,” she murmured, sitting on a boulder.
Below, a plain spread toward far mountains, burnished in amber evening light. Sharp-edged dunes cut across the flats, their ridges an endless contrasting pattern of light and shadow. Pinnacles rose here and there, like sentinels of red stone, guarding the rippled sands. And over it all the sky spread a vast mantle of evening blue, with the sun slowing sinking in the west.
“The open desert does take your breath away,” the outlaw remarked, sitting nearby. “And this is only a small part of it.”
“I’ve never been outside the city gates…before this.” She drew a deep breath, relishing the clean spare smell of the breeze.
“Well then, Princess. You’re in for quite an adventure.” He grinned, an old scar angling across his chee
k pulled up the corner of his lip. Another sliced through his right brow.
Despite the man’s rough appearance, his eyes shone with a friendly light, and Saba’s fears ebbed. Her fate with these bandits might be uncertain, but it seemed less dangerous than she’d first imagined. And surely anything that delayed her marriage to Lord Sallizahn couldn’t be all bad.
“You may call me Saba. I don’t care much for being royalty.”
“Ah. A good sign we’ll get along.” His grin widened. “I’m Makeem, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Chapter Five
After eating a simple meal and drinking more water, Saba felt better. Makeem collected the remaining gear, and together they walked to where the horses grazed. A stream ran along the bottom of a red rock ravine, with deep emerald pools shaded under clusters of palm trees. Some grass grew there, along with broad-leaf shrubs.
Saba knelt by the water, grateful to wash her face. Purple orchids and wild oleander—not so different from flowers in the palace gardens—dotted the bank. She recognized a green bee-eater, zipping past on jeweled wings, its head a flash of brilliant turquois in the late light. A bulbul’s trill carried through the quiet evening, falling like familiar music on her ears. Perhaps the desert wasn’t so alien after all.
“You’ll need different clothes and shoes.” Someone spoke, behind her. “Those slippers won’t last.”
Saba turned, startled—the Falcon having approached silently. Unlike earlier in the cave, her headscarf was pushed back, and she stood in the bright glow of sunset. This revealed a tanned angular face beneath cropped hair which was dark with reddish-brown highlights.
The woman wouldn’t be described as pretty, there being little softness to her lean features. Instead, she was a striking looking individual, conveying an aura of confidence, intelligence, and sharp focus. This held true of her eyes especially, amber tinted and fierce as any bird of prey.
