A/N
This story is currently undergoing a revision, hopefully for the last time; it was slightly reworked in 2013 so there have been some changes since the original version. As my first published work this story will always have a special place in my heart, and I think it deserves to be perfected. Read at your discretion.

First Prologue: Purity

My name is Tülay al-Mhámmed.

My parents and I try to avoid the Crusaders from the Holy Roman Empire. They call themselves "hands of God" or a similar ostentatious moniker. I have heard they are marching to claim the Holy Land, the place called Jerusalem. Perhaps they should go on a quest to find some maps because Konya is definitely not the "Holy Land".

Konya used to be ruled by the sultan Kilij Arslan, but the invaders marched right in and seized power. How they obtained the throne, I do not know, but if I were to speak such an opinion in public my tongue would be cut off. Often has my father stated what a pity it would be to lose a voice as liberal as his own.

He is not an Anatolian. My father is from a magnificent city called Damas, or so he describes. He made his fortune there before coming to Antalya to try his hand at jewelry vending, but he ended up defending them instead. He had the favor of Arslan and his father before him, earning a respectable living as a royal caravan guard.

My mother worries each time he leaves for the Orient, but he always returns– sometimes with new scars on his hands, always with presents for us. My mother is a dancer and although she hates father's work, she loves the trinkets he brings home. My parents have a harmonious marriage and are still very much in love, so I leave to give them time alone.

On this night I am wearing new silk garments into the market. Since the day is over there are no merchants, but that is fine with me. I am content with solitude; it is not as though I have siblings to keep me company. Some days I just wander around the city, discovering new paths to places forbidden to me such as the palace courtyards and fruit groves.

I hope it is safe for me to return home. Tonight is brisk with a cold wind blowing down from the hills, nipping my exposed toes and biting at my heels like a stray dog. My leather sandals almost make no noise on the road as I begin moving with the rhythm of the wind, doing what has been ingrained in me since I could walk. Little did I know that I had an audience.

There were three soldiers at the end of the street.

My heart began pounding. I had seen them often in the daytime, but the moonlight gave them a much more menacing air. I knew they were watching me and would not let me go free of admonishment, so I approached them cautiously. "Child of Zanarhi?" the middle soldier asked roughly in my language.

"Yes..." I replied, keeping my eyes downcast. "Have I broken the law of your master?"

"Come with us," they commanded, and marched me toward the seized palace. I had only been inside a few times so I did not know my way around... I did not know any escape routes. But for fear of being struck down and thrown in the sewer to rot, I followed them.

Everything blurred together until we reached the throne room. In place of Arslan sat an old man wearing a tunic adorned with a cross, the mark of the Crusaders. He stood and descended the steps, never taking his eyes off me. Slowly and deliberately he came down. I stood like a statue and the man smiled at me, showing crooked teeth. I tried not to wince. "Dear girl," he spoke with false reassurance, "do you know why you are here?"

"No." My reply was so quiet I was unsure I had spoken.

"You are here because I have heard much gossip about you. I have been told that your mother is a beauty without equal and the best dancer in the city, attributes you have inherited. My men would appreciate someone to keep their spirits high as we march south." His smile turned lurid and my heart sank.

That night I became their prisoner. Someone –a bought noble, perhaps– tried to persuade me that my parents would be compensated after the crusade. I did not care for the way he spoke as if I were an easily-bought doll. Two soldiers led me to the harem; I fought them every step of the way, but they were armored and significantly outweighed me. After an hour someone came to offer me a meal, but I was more concerned with escape than nourishment. I stood at the gate screaming for them to release me, but the guards only laughed darkly.

I gave up after several hours of searching for a gap in the brickwork to chip away at, anything that would return me to the outside world. Why couldn't I have been abducted during the daytime after I had seen my parents once more? "Because you are swine!" I shouted. "You took advantage during Arslan's absence because you are too weak to face Seljuq swords head-on! Cowards!" I cursed them even though they could not understand me and fell asleep muttering insults to none but my own ears.

Sometime later a metallic sound woke me. I felt dizzy and lightheaded, likely from refusing the food. The entrance of the harem was hazy; I could not bring the gate to freedom into focus. But that was where the noise had come from, so I forced myself to sit up. "H-hello? Is someone there?" My voice was weak from so much yelling. I caught the sound of a blade slipping into a sheath; I recognized it from sparring with my father, who would have taught his sons to fight. A lightly-dressed figure appeared at the gate, everything but his robes hidden in the gloom. "Who are you? Please, help me!" I prayed he could understand.

My heart soared when I heard keys jingling. I crawled forward hastily, using the rugs to pull my trembling legs, climbing soft cushions as if they were mountain peaks. The gate swung inward and the figure stood still, beckoning my freedom.

"Eğer övgü!" I breathed. I could tell by his physique that he was some kind of warrior. "Sağol!" Could he even understand me? I tried Arabic, the language of my father and the Ayyubids. "Thank you, kind sir! How did you know I was here? Who are you?" I gazed up at his face, but it was obscured by the shadow cast by his hood. His robes were unlike anything I had seen before.

"Where is the treasure?" the man asked. His tone was rather brusque and unpleasant.

"Treasure?" I laughed. "This is an empty harem, as you can see... Who are you?"