Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers and Universal Pictures own the character of Ardeth Bay. I do not profit from this work.
Thanks for the review, Crazy Lunar Maiden. I have about two or three more chapters. It is finished already, so don't worry about it being one of those WIPs that never ends.
***
The days passed swiftly, and I was relieved that he made no other move towards me. I relegated the kiss to a chance occurrence; as chieftain's son he no doubt took whomever he wanted, and was used to such liberties. It hurt to think it, though.
He seemed content to spend the days covering as much sand as the camels would allow, and the evenings telling stories. Sometimes he asked me small, innocuous questions about my clan and my life; he compared our ways with the Druze, and there were many differences. The Druze were followers not only of Allah but of other religions as well, religions I'd never known. They were learned, educated, and their camps were more or less permanent.
"I could teach you to read," he said one night.
For a moment I closed my eyes and savored the thought. To read the Koran! To know, for myself, what Allah had said to His people through His prophet, Muhammed! But that was blasphemous. "No, no," I said sadly. "It is forbidden."
He raised an eyebrow. "Forbidden? You were not allowed to read?"
"There is only the Koran to read," I said firmly, "and no woman may touch this, by Muhammed's command."
He sat still, absorbing this. Finally he met my eyes again. "There are other books than the Koran."
I flushed, embarrassed, hoping that he didn't think me so primitive as to believe that there was only one book in the world. "I---yes, but---"
"Books are where we record the wisdom of the ages," he said, the firelight reflecting on his face; he looked like a golden djinn. "We must keep them, and learn from them, else we repeat the errors made by our ancestors."
I made no reply.
At night I slept as far from his body as the small tent would allow.
***
On the twelfth day we entered the foothills of the great mountains. Ardeth had grown in strength and vigor with each step towards his homeland. He seemed to radiate joy. He was restored to his people, and it was clear that they loved him. The camel and sheep-herders on the outskirts of the camp all knew him, and approached to hear his sad tale; all mourned the loss of Faris and the other warriors. Ardeth would not linger long, though; he meant to reach his father's settlement, and continued at a steady pace, my camel following a little behind, hanging back respectfully whenever someone hailed him.
When we finally entered the camp I was amazed at how large it was. People were everywhere, milling about, all trying to claim Ardeth's attention. I could see their fondness for him. Despite his tattered clothing and begrimed experience he radiated the subtle power and surety of a man born to rule. I watched from a distance as he told those assembled his woeful tale, and I grieved again at my father's shameful ambush in the dead of night, attacking a wounded man and slaughtering the other warriors as they staggered out of their tents. The murders weighed upon me. Many of the women began to wail and shake their fists, cursing my father and his clan forever, surprising me with their outspoken tirades. Some of the men brandished well-worn guns, shouting for revenge. The few near me were grim, murmuring to themselves.
My camel was nervous at the sound and sight of so many unfamiliar people, and I dismounted wearily, stroking her nose. I spoke softly to her. I was so tired and overwhelmed myself that I sympathized with the poor beast. One of the men standing next to me looked at me with open hostility. "Who are you?" he asked brusquely, though it was the worst of manners to question a guest so. Though I myself had to wonder whether I could even be considered a guest. Judging by my appearance, I did not look worth of such.
"Tuema al-Rahi," I answered unthinkingly.
His face blanched, the look of horror upon him as he asked, "You? It was your clan that killed Faris?"
I had unwittingly given my clan name, but even so I would not avoid the guilt that my father had brought upon our name. "Yes. It was my father who was commander of the ghazu."
His face transformed suddenly into that of a man possessed, and he leapt upon me so fast that I had no time to react. It was all I could do to raise my arms against the hail of blows as my back was crushed into the rocky ground. The man's curses were unintelligible. I was aware of a fierce shout, and suddenly the beating stopped and a hand gripped my arm, pulling me to my feet. Ardeth's harsh glare was upon the older man, who was being restrained by two of his fellows.
"This woman is not the source of your anger," he said, his voice deadly. He towered over the man who had struck me. "She should be thanked."
"She is the daughter of a godless son of a whore!" spat the man.
Ardeth brought the full fury of his gaze upon him, and the man averted his eyes. "She saved my life. She freed me from the tent of her father. She has crossed the desert with me for twenty camel rides. My father will wish to thank her for all she has done, for the great risk she has taken."
Voices murmured around us, and I forced myself to look at the man, to meet his gaze with a strength I did not feel. His eyes held mine and then dropped. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "Faris was my only son."
"I pray for you," I said quietly. "I can only hope that Allah will see fit to open my father to remorse for the evil that he has done." My head was buzzing, and I blinked heavily. Things were blurry.
The man nodded, moving away, grief-stricken.
Ardeth pulled me close, looking deeply into my eyes. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
I was embarrassed by his attention. "I am well," I answered softly. I wished that I had not followed him into his camp, that I had turned and gone some easier way, somewhere I would not feel the weight of so many eyes upon me. Faces surrounded me, pressing inwards, colors were beginning to leech away---
He must have seen this, because suddenly he was shouldering his way past everyone, pulling me along after him. We came to a large tent and he thrust aside the flap. I glimpsed a rich profusion of rugs and tapestries before the flap closed again, cutting off the light and laving us in cool dark. His hand steered me, laying me down onto a bed made soft with thick furs.