Changes
For a second, Aisha's dark eyes widened as she recognized her brother. Then, they regained their normal diameter as her face smoothed out and became impassive. Arching an eyebrow, she observed with cold courtesy, "My name is Zarina bint Shamal. I'm afraid you have the wrong person."
"Your name is Zarina bint Shamal, and my name is King Jonathan," Zahir snorted, ignoring the fact that both Cait and Keir were staring at him as though they feared that he was insane. After all, normal people didn't insist that a supposed stranger didn't know their own name. Of course, Aisha wasn't a stranger, but Cait and Keir couldn't know that the alleged stranger Zahir was addressing was actually his sister. As such, his behavior must have appeared odd indeed to them.
Perhaps noticing that Cait and Keir were gawking at her and Zahir, Aisha offered a brief tinkle of a laugh that rang false in Zahir's ears. "You must be confusing me with my cousin Aisha. Everyone is always going on about how similar we look, but the truth is that she has a birthmark, and I don't."
Then, before Zahir could answer, she snatched his elbow and yanked him into her stall. Her lips still twisted into an almost painful looking smile, she hissed into his ear, "What in the name of Mithros were you doing?"
"It's funny you should ask that, since I was wondering what in the name of Mithros you were doing here," retorted Zahir.
"I should think it was obvious to anyone with semi-functional eyes that I was brushing my horse," Aisha responded in a clipped voice. "I don't see what's shocking enough about that for you to shout my name out and risk destroying my cover here."
"The very fact that you feel the need to operate under cover here proves that you shouldn't be here at all," he snapped. He decided that the king's prohibition against challenging a woman's career decision did not apply to his sister. After all, Aisha was no stranger, and, by Bazhir law, she was under his authority, although she would probably never acknowledge that herself any time before Tortall crumpled into the Emerald Ocean.
"Why exactly shouldn't I be here?" Aisha arched her eyebrows.
"First of all, you aren't supposed to leave the tribe without permission from the chief—that would be me, in case it might have slipped your mind as so much seems to have—or the chief's appointed representative—who would be Nadir," snarled Zahir, his vision tinged crimson with his wrath. "Just by running off, you face being whipped within an inch of your life when you return to your tribe, and, frankly, you deserve to be. You should be beaten for your selfishness. I bet you didn't even consider before you ran away how your actions would affect others. I wager that it never entered your stupid little head that maybe you disappearing in the desert would make many tribesmen waste hours they could have spent doing something productive trying to find your worthless skin, and that your disappearance might distress your family, who would believe you to be dead."
"Don't you dare call me stupid!" Aisha's eyes scorched him. "I'm smarter than you give me credit for. I knew how my actions would impact my family and the rest of the tribe, and I still chose to flee from our tribe. I planned my escape for days, so that my disappearance would coincide with a sandstorm, which would erase any traces of where I had gone, since I didn't want to be tracked down and dragged back to face a thrashing. Perhaps I was selfish to disregard the feelings and the desires of my people in favor of my own, but selfishness isn't the same as being stupid."
"You're a fool if you believe that you can just choose to leave behind your people." Zahir snorted derisively. "We belong to the desert and to our tribe, Aisha. Even if we want to escape them, they'll always manage to keep us in their grip. If you haven't learned that by now, you must have gone through your life with your eyes closed."
"That's what you say, but yet here I stand away from my tribe, and no lightning bolt has struck me down yet for the blasphemy of daring to be myself." Aisha shook her head. "We can escape the desert. We can escape our tribe. We can escape pointless traditions. It's just the belief that we can't escape these things or that we shouldn't wish to do so that imprisons us."
"We have a duty." Zahir glared at her. "The tribe is more important than the individual, because only the tribe endures after the individual is dead."
"The tribe is nothing more than a collection of individuals." Again, Aisha shook her head. "It doesn't make sense for us all to be held hostage to each other."
"We're not held hostage," Zahir growled, feeling fires blaze in his cheeks.
"Then how come I'm not allowed to leave my tribe?" demanded Aisha, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why do I have to face the threat of a public whipping if I decide that I want to live somewhere else? How come I can't pick whom I want to marry—"
"Because with your nonsensical ideas, you'll end up not wedded at all or married to a rock," Zahir muttered, his hands balling into fists. "Some girls get a say in their marriages, but you do not, since whom you wed will have a great impact on the tribe."
Ignoring her brother's comment, Aisha went on passionately, "Why are you allowed to leave the tribe but I'm not?"
"I'm a man." Zahir's spine stiffened with pride. "A man's duty lies outside the tent, and a female's lies inside it. It's acceptable for a man to leave his tribe, but it's not proper for a female to do so. Anyway, I was the son of a chief. It was my duty to learn to be a warrior so that I could defend my people. You are the daughter of a chief. It is your duty to marry well. That is the best way you can serve our tribe."
"I can ride as well as you can." Aisha's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Why shouldn't I be allowed to ride out and have adventures like you?"
"You're a female," Zahir informed her tersely. "You stay in your tent and keep your face hidden behind a veil. You weave, cook, and clean. You support the men in your family. You help the women around you, and teach girls how to keep a tent in good order. If you did your duty, you wouldn't have time to complain about not going off to war, and if you focused on your chores, you wouldn't waste time daydreaming about such things."
"In short, women do all the work, so men can have all the fun," Aisha concluded, her tone as sharp as an arrow piercing into his skin.
"No." Zahir lifted his nose into the air. "Men fight and die so that women can be kept safe."
"What if a woman doesn't want to be safe?" Aisha's eyes contracted once more. "What if a woman wants the chance to endure the same dangers as men? What if a man doesn't wish to have to ride into war? What if a man would rather stay home and cook than rush into glorious battle?"
"If a man is weak, he should be ashamed enough of his cowardice not to mention it in public." Zahir's lips tightened. "If a woman is immodest enough to want to be like a man, she should at least have the decency not to make it obvious that she is so unfeminine. Anyway, it doesn't make a difference what they want. They have their roles to fill in the tribe, and if they do not meet their obligations, the whole tribe will suffer for their selfishness."
"Or maybe the woman who wants to be like a man can perform the tasks of the man who wants to be like a woman, and vice versa," argued Aisha. "Perhaps the whole tribe won't crumble just because the tribe no longer denies individuals the right to choose their own destinies."
"Well, you don't get to pick your own fate." Zahir's eyes smoldered. "You get to do what you're told just like everyone else, since you aren't half as special as you think you are. You're going to pack up your bags tonight and leave here before anyone uncovers your identity, because I don't want anyone thinking my sister is immodest enough to want to be a warrior. You will return to our tribe, and you'll take the beating you deserve for being idiotic and selfish. You will not tell anyone in our tribe about your stint with the Riders. If you do, no man will want to marry you, and you'll be stuck as a useless old maiden aunt in my family tent forever."
"I'm not going back." Aisha's face rivaled a boulder for hardness. "I'll commit suicide before I go back."
"You whore," spat Zahir. Suddenly, his hand itched to slap his younger sister across the face. The sound of his palm striking her cheek would be so cathartic, and maybe if he bloodied her lips, she would finally shut her insolent mouth. "How dare you talk of killing yourself when I've been mourning your death for days? Do you ever think about how much you hurt the people who love you?"
"You plainly don't love me if you called me a whore," Aisha countered curtly.
"I called you a whore because I love you," established Zahir through gritted teeth.
"You should tell that to your wife one day." Aisha scowled.
"Unlike you, my wife won't be a whore," scoffed Zahir.
"I'm not a whore!" Now, it was Aisha who looked ready to smack her brother. "I have never slept with any man, nonetheless multiple men. I've never even kissed any man besides from you or Father. I haven't even looked at a male lustfully, even though there are plenty of boys who can't stop undressing me with their eyes. Just because I refuse to be a typical female, that doesn't make me a whore. The sooner you figure that out, Zahir, the faster we'll stop arguing."
"The sooner you figure out that any Bazhir girl of your age who doesn't wear a veil is a slut, the greater your odds of making a successful marriage despite this indiscretion of yours will be," Zahir retorted.
"That's hilarious." Aisha emitted a wild laugh that seemed to contain more anger and frustration than humor. "You see, if I was concerned about making a good marriage, I wouldn't have fled from our tribe to escape one!"
"What are you talking about?" Zahir gaped at her. "Now that Father is dead, I am the only one who has the authority to marry you off, and I have made no plans to do so."
"Nadir said that since he was the chief of the tribe in your place, he had the power to decide who I married." Tears of fury glistened in Aisha's eyes now, but she stubbornly refused to let them flow down her cheeks. "Mother should have protested this intrusion on your rights, but she was too much of the meek female our customs had taught her to be to make any fuss at all. I could have refused, of course, but girls who don't marry who they are ordered to get stoned, because the greatest fear of any society is the uncontrollable female, so every society has to devise horrid methods to punish any female who won't obey orders."
"Nadir didn't mention to me any plans to marry you off." Zahir's forehead furrowed, as he started to wonder what reasons his cousin had to keep these facts from him and what other secrets his kinsman might be hiding from him.
"He wouldn't have," declared Aisha grimly. "He wanted to be wed to me himself."
"Oh, well, that explains why he didn't bring up the topic," snickered Zahir. "He didn't want to risk angering me by telling me that you made the blood in his veins roar with desire."
"Perhaps." Aisha sounded as though she didn't believe this, but Zahir, realizing that a female couldn't be expected to understand a man's desires, ignored her dubiousness.
"I don't see why you didn't want to marry Nadir, Aisha," he said, instead of trying to explain the incomprehensible to a female. "Nadir is gentle, so he wouldn't abuse you, even though you have a sharp tongue that would tempt any husband to beat you. He is not a fool, so you won't have to suffer the indignation of living with the tribe idiot, and he can hunt, ride, and fight with the best of them."
"I don't want to marry Nadir, because I feel no attraction to him, and I don't love him with anything but the affection one cousin should have for another," answered Aisha, her manner abruptly weary. "I don't wish to wed someone just because they aren't as bad a husband as they could be. Just because somebody is supposedly a good man, that doesn't mean that man would make a good spouse for me."
For a moment, Zahir frowned at her in utter bafflement. Then, it occurred to him that his sister, despite her unconventional behavior, was a female, after all, and she would be subject to the typical fears of her gender. Women, he remembered, might be temptresses, but they also were terrified of sexual activity. It was just another female folly.
"I see why you don't want to get married now," he commented, trying to sound understanding. "You're afraid of the wedding night. You're afraid that it will hurt to be with Nadir."
"I'm not afraid of anything." Aisha glowered at him, her exhaustion disappearing.
"Then go back to the tribe," ordered Zahir. "Act like a proper young woman, and if you're lucky, Nadir will still want to marry you."
"I'm not returning to the tribe," Aisha announced stiffly.
"You'll do as I say," growled Zahir. "I'm your brother, and your chief. You owe me your obedience."
"I owe you nothing." Aisha's eyes locked on his. "Any authority you have over me exists because I choose to grant it to you."
"No, the authority I have over you is something you have no control over." Zahir shook his head. "My power over you is built into the natural order of things. You are a female, and I am a male. You are younger than me, and I am older than you. I am chief, and you are not. Male beats female; old outranks young; chief is in charge of non-chief."
"I will not go back to the tribe. I will not be beaten by anyone. I will not marry anyone I don't choose to." Aisha's chin jutted out. "You won't be able to make me do any of those things, so what does all your authority over me amount to?"
"I could kill you for defying me," snapped Zahir, although he knew as he spoke that it was an empty threat. He could never kill his sister. The grief that had swamped him when he had believed Aisha to be dead was proof enough of that.
"Killing me for defying you would just demonstrate that I am capable of disobeying you, and that your authority isn't absolute." Unfazed by his threat, Aisha studied Zahir icily. "If you kill me, I win, and you lose."
"I'll tell the Riders that you aren't fifteen yet." Zahir's eyes gleamed craftily. "Then, they'll kick you out, and you'll have no choice but to return home."
"You have no proof that I am your sister, and that I am not yet fifteen." Aisha shrugged. "Besides, even if I am kicked out, I can find another job in the city."
"Fine," Zahir conceded, almost blinded by rage and resentment. "Ride like a man. Fight like a man. Act like a whore if that's what you want. Don't even wear a veil. Let any man see your face. Forget that you are supposed to be a proper Bazhir woman, and become a loose Tortallan one, instead. That's what you want, and in Tortall, we don't stop each other from selfishly abandoning the virtues of our ancestors. Then, we call it progress, instead of decay."
"Don't act all holier than thou on me," hissed Aisha. "When was the last time that you attended prayers with a shaman? When was the last time you prayed the five ritual daily prayers at sunrise, noon, mid-afternoon, sunset, and nightfall? When was the last time you observed the month of fasting?"
"That argument proves my point, not yours." Miserably, Zahir shook his head. "I'm a chief, and I haven't participated in those rites since the last time I was in the desert. Yes, I know that any time is the proper time to praise the gods and any place is the right location to worship, but I would feel like a fool if I just got down on my knees in the middle of a lesson or a conversation, so I don't follow the ritual prayer schedule anymore. There is no shaman around whom I can say prayers with, so I have to do it myself when I find the time and energy. The physical demands of my life make it hard for me to observe the month of fasting, and I feel like an idiot not eating when everyone else is, so I eat before sunset during the month of fasting. Gods, Aisha, what's happening to our people?"
"We're changing," Aisha murmured, her expression softening. "That's not a crime."
"It is when it feels like we're changing into something worse." Zahir's lips twisted bitterly.
"No, we're changing into something better, but we're just experiencing some growing pains," insisted Aisha, her hand squeezing his. "Sometimes things have to seem to get worse before they can improve, Zahir."
"I hate change." Zahir wrinkled his nose at her.
"I know."
"There was nothing wrong with the old way of doing things."
"From your perspective, possibly." Aisha rolled her eyes. "Not everyone has the benefit of being on top in the old order of things."
"Change won't fix all of the problems," Zahir warned, "and it will probably create a hundred new ones."
"Future generations will just have to mend our errors, then, won't they?" Aisha shrugged her shoulders, completely unconcerned.
"Great Goddess, I have missed you, Aisha." Before he recognized what he was doing, Zahir found himself chuckling. "Stay here as a Rider if you want. It gets lonely being practically the only Bazhir around here, you know. When you are one of a few Bazhir here, you learn all about how it feels to be lonely in a palace crammed with people."
"I'd stay with or without your consent, but it's nice to have it, anyway," remarked Aisha, a grin splitting across her features.
Zahir hesitated, and then said awkwardly, "I do love you, Aisha. It's because I love you that I say harsh things to you and order you around. It's because I love you that I lose control when I worry about you. Love is supposed to be so pure, but it just makes me commit my cruelest crimes."
"Love also makes you relent and brings out the best in you. Besides, I love you, too, Zahir, and when we love someone, we stand by them even though we have seen them at their worst. Love may make you commit your gravest crimes, but love can also redeem you." Aisha's voice was mild, as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Zahir's cheek. Smirking, she added, "Oops, I probably shouldn't have kissed you. That makes me a whore, doesn't it?"
"No, it doesn't." Although he realized that she was teasing him, Zahir couldn't help but smiling. "It's acceptable for girls to kiss their brothers and fathers as long as they aren't attracted to their brothers or fathers."
"Don't worry on that score," Aisha assured him mockingly. "Nobody could ever be attracted to you."
"Now that's not true," Zahir educated her, lifting his nose in the air haughtily. "Many a serving girl has been attracted to me."
"In your imagination, perhaps." Aisha dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
Zahir opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off by gasping, "Blast, I'm five minutes late for lunch. I'd better go."
Then, before he could offer any form of farewell, she had hurried out of the stable, her mane of glittering black hair trailing behind her in a way that convinced Zahir that if anyone except him ever called her a whore, he would disembowel that individual. She was his sister, after all. He alone could deride her, since it was his obligation to protect her from everybody else.