The dunes encircled Madinat Almulihi like a nest, and I could not climb them fast enough. I thought of Rafal, the defiant storyteller who had been executed at my father’s command. He said the city was surrounded by stony cliffs that could not be traversed by camel. But there were no cliffs, only smooth slopes of sand. When Saalim was freed and Madinat Almulihi was restored, the desert had changed, too.
Finally, I saw the city. At first, it appeared as scattered piles of salt bricks. The white stone buildings gleamed dully under the sun. But it was not the city that held my attention, nor that of my companions. It was the immense stretch of blue sparkling beyond it.
The sea.
Tavi did not believe that it was water, convinced that it was Eiqab’s trick again. We had seen so many of them as we traveled—inviting pools swirling on the sand’s surface, only to disappear as we neared.
“How can you be sure?” she asked me with wide, hungry eyes.
“The legends say so,” I said, unable to tell her the truth. I had once been here and had walked across crumbled stones with Saalim. I had run across the shore as the ocean licked my heels. I had watched mewling white birds—gulls, they were called—soar above the sea and sit atop fallen walls. I had lain with Saalim, our limbs entwined together, our breath in each other’s lungs. She would not believe it. Magic was not real, after all. I had not believed in magic myself until it knelt before me in the form of a jinni, washing the blood of slain men from my hands.
Seeing Madinat Almulihi ushered the swift return of those memories and with it, all of my worries. I had gone on this journey to see if King Saalim shared more with the Saalim I remembered than his golden eyes. I knew it was foolish to think I could charm a king, coax the answers I hoped to hear out of him. I was a castoff king’s daughter, a tired ahira—used, soiled, unworthy. And if he did not want me? If I came all this way to find that Saalim did not know me from another salt chaser? I sucked in a breath, imagining life in an unfamiliar place without the person I wanted most.
As we neared Madinat Almulihi, it emerged as if it had been forged by gods. It was a beacon of wealth, of dreams. Stepping on the stone streets after so long on the sand felt like waking from a daze. Suddenly, we were somewhere real.
At the entrance to the city, Saalim was met by two riders. He and several of the soldiers left us behind as they rode away with him.
“Has something happened?” I asked Kofi, a nearby soldier. My voice rose in worry.
“Nothing,” he said, frowning at me. “They are returning home.”
To the palace. My steps faltered. So that was it? He was gone from me so suddenly. I do not know why I expected something more, one last opportunity to speak to him. There was no way our paths would cross easily. How would I find him again? I bit my cheek and stared ahead but saw only all I had lost.
“It is like nothing I imagined,” Tavi whispered.
Blinking, I finally saw the city we walked through.
We passed stone homes covered with wooden rooftops, many of them alongside livestock enclosures. Lines with clothing told me that these were peoples’ homes, and the green plants that crept across the walls and filled crevices between bricks told me that this was nothing like my settlement. Here, life flourished.
We traveled down what seemed like the main road. It was wide, and we shared it with people carting goods, children chasing chickens, and unfamiliar soldiers on horseback. If it had not been evident by our dusty clothes and weary limbs, then it was abundantly apparent by our awe that we were from elsewhere. The soldiers, eager to get home, tried to hurry us along, but we were slow with curiosity, gawking at this, elbowing each other to talk of that.
Residents stood in their doorways watching us, frowning with arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Where there were no people, there was a carved piece of wood that served as a door. For privacy, Saalim had explained to me once. I marveled at the luxury. There were little holes I remembered Saalim called windows, too. They let in the wind and the light, he had told me. Some had pots hanging in them, green spilling from the edges. Others had delicate fabric coverings. And some had tiny faces with curious eyes that watched.
This place was nothing like the deserted, crumbled ruins I remembered when the jinni Saalim brought me here. It felt so long ago, but it had not even been half a year.
A gust of wind blew across my face. I inhaled and smelled the sea—the wet life—whirling with the dryness of the desert.
As we walked further into the city, the buildings grew larger, the homes and shops closer together, the people louder and more jubilant. But, too, bolder in their displeasure. I could count on both hands the number of times I heard someone call to us that we should return to where we’d come from.
The bitter reception did not diminish our enchantment with the city, though I cringed with each insult.
At a wide intersection, down one street stood an impossible number of shops with beautiful storefronts. They had brightly painted walls and swinging signs each more elaborate than the next. People swarmed between them, but movement from a rooftop stole my gaze. There, atop the busy shop at the corner, was a woman standing alone on the flat roof. She leaned on the edge as we passed. Something about her was familiar. The robes she wore were thick and long like mine, but it was her face that held my attention. She looked at us warmly, almost welcoming. A stark contrast from the others.
“It never ends,” Tavi said in awe, untroubled by the jeers. Her eyes darted from the buildings, to the wide stones underfoot, to the bright plants that crept down the stone walls. She touched a wall carefully, as if it would break, then gently brushed her finger along a leaf. “It’s so soft.”
I felt it, too. We giggled, the surreality heady.
“What’re you doing?” a woman with a shrill voice said as she stepped out of the home we were touching.
I stammered incoherent sounds.
“Nothing for you here. Mind your hands and keep moving.” She jutted her chin forward, and we both looked away, hurrying to the middle of the street so that we would not be tempted again. As we walked away, she mumbled something about salt chasers.
“They are unhappy to see us,” I whispered.
Tavi shrugged. “They don’t know us, eh?”
In the cracks between the stones grew flowers I recognized—their petals closed tightly in the sun.
“Moon jasmine.” I pointed to the flowers. “They open at night.”
Tavi looked at them swaying in the wind and smiled.
Behind us, I could no longer see the desert—only the low dunes that swelled above the city. The deeper we traveled into Madinat Almulihi, shepherded along by the soldiers, the more apprehensive I became. I knew the city was large, but I had not expected to feel so small.
“Where are we going, do you think?” Tavi asked.
I shrugged, wondering the same. Those from my settlement were gathered together. The further we walked, the closer we huddled. Our home was childish by comparison, small and fragile. Shame burned my face as I thought of the pride my family—and sometimes even I—felt of our home. The largest in the desert, the center of the salt trade! The Salt King, the most powerful man! My father thought himself a god sitting atop a throne of salt. Now more than ever I understood that he was a feeble man with stolen treasure and only an illusion of power.
That village had been my whole world until Saalim had shown me there was so much more to it. Now I was seeing the world. And I was not ready.
The people of Almulihi continued to stare. They appeared unusual in their bright clothing with open necks and bare faces, hair whipping up with the wind, and they all spoke with the same melodic cadence to their words.
Firoz and Rashid came toward us from farther up the line. Firoz’s smile stretched to his ears.
“We know how to get to the baytahira,” Firoz said, walking at our side as he continued to explain. “Amir said we’ll be able to get there on foot quickly. We’ve already passed it, actually.”
Rashid continued the explanation, but I did not listen. Why had they asked Amir? What if he told Saalim? He would think me so soiled, he’d never let me step foot in the palace.
“We need to find a woman called Kahina, the proprietress of the baytahira. She’ll find us a place to stay and work,” Rashid said.
My stomach turned. “Good,” I said. “Everything is working out, eh?”
Firoz and Rashid agreed and began discussing what they would see and do in the city, unbothered by our cold welcome.
“. . . heard the game-houses are huge. People serving drink and food until dawn!” Firoz’s smile grew impossibly wider.
Rashid said, “We’re in a real city now.”
Tavi’s pace had slowed, and she fell behind them. “I don’t want to,” she whispered, staring at Rashid’s back. It was like she waited for me to give her the alternative, the other secret option I’d been holding behind my back this whole time.
“I don’t either. But what else is there? We can’t separate.” Where would Tavi and I go in this enormous, hostile place? “It’s just for now. We need somewhere to sleep and . . .”
“Work,” she spat.
“I’m sure this Kahina will know other ways to get coin.” I could not meet her gaze.
Tavi stared straight ahead, her mouth flattening into a tight line.
I pressed on. “We have to stay together.”
“I know.”
“Well,” Rashid said as he and Firoz came to a stop. “Are we going?”
I had no good reason to delay, but I had to try. “Not yet. I want to see where they take us.”
Where were they taking us?
When the sky began to purple, we arrived at a break in the crush of buildings. Smooth swaths of stone were punctuated with gardens that led to wide stairs. Smaller structures surrounded the expanse like children at their father’s feet. At the center of it all was the palace.
My shoulders fell back, my fists relaxed. This was what legends told of Madinat Almulihi. Glinting domes perched atop white-washed towers. Windows with flickering light sprinkled the walls. Wide balconies stretched over the palace like crossed arms.
And somewhere inside was Saalim.
The steps ahead were lined with soldiers who waved when they saw the caravan approach. It was an unexpected gesture of welcome. Those whom I assumed were servants rushed from low, open-walled buildings adjacent to the palace. They went to the animals, hauling the barrels and wares away. The camels were gathered and led back down the street while the unloaded horses were taken to the buildings whence the servants had come.
I gasped. “They’re not kept there?” The walls were as pristine as that of the palace, and the floors were cleaner than my father’s halls. Fine quarters indeed for work animals.
Tavi said, “Perhaps we can stay with the horses instead of the whores.”
We continued forward, stepping slowly up the stairs as we took it all in. The walls lining the stairs were the smoothest stone I’d ever seen. In front of the palace were more gardens with flowers so bright, I could see them at dusk. Groomed trees lined the entrance in perfect symmetry.
Though I could scarcely see them, I knew the windows and doors were bordered with small, decorative tiles, one of which lay in my sack.
Where in the palace was that tile missing now?
My gaze continued upward to the domes that towered above us. When Saalim and I found shelter in one that had crumbled to the shore, it had seemed immense, but seeing it atop the palace was even more unbelievable, as if they were placed by Masira’s hands. We must be near the sea now . . . yes, I could hear it.
The rush of waves was incessant in its song. I searched for the sea, longing to see it again now that we were so close, but buildings obstructed my view.
“Keep moving!” Parvaz yelled, swinging his arms toward the stairs. “We’re all hungry!” He repeated it over and over. I empathized with his urgency. If a meal was promised at the end of this journey, I wouldn’t want to be shuffling us around. We moved very slowly, every turn revealing something new and fascinating. For once, our eyes were hungrier than our stomachs.
“Come on,” Firoz said, grabbing my elbow and tugging me back down the stairs.
I shook my head, yanking free from his grip. “No. First, we go the palace.”
“Do you know what they call the man who tries to keep me from food?” Tavi said grimly. “A vulture’s meal.” Her smile could not hide her irritation.
“Yes, we all should eat,” I agreed. Perhaps Saalim would be inside. “We will go after.”
Rashid said, “We shouldn’t arrive too late. Kahina may be hard to find at night.”
I lowered my voice to a purr. “Aren’t women in the baytahira only found after dark?”
He said nothing.
I took Tavi’s elbow. “Come. First, we eat.”
We were led into a large room with an arched, elaborately tiled ceiling. At its center, Amir stood with Nassar. Two disconcertingly vacant thrones sat behind them. A few soldiers lingered beside them. I searched for Saalim, but he was absent.
The floor was layered in the dust our clothes and shoes carried in, and I could almost see it in the air. We did not belong in this glistening palace. In the immensity of the room, with most of Saalim’s soldiers having left us, I understood finally how many we had lost on this journey. There were perhaps half of the villagers standing with me than had began the journey.
“Welcome to Madinat Almulihi,” Nassar said. He did not speak loudly, so we were forced to silence our whispers to hear. It was strange seeing Nassar here. For years, I had known him only as my father’s vizier. I’d even hated him. But I did not know he had been trying to sabotage my father—to find Saalim—all that time. Now, he was Saalim’s advisor. I tried to slow my rapid heart and relax my arms by my side. He is no threat, I told myself over and over.
Nassar went on. “As you have a new king, your loyalty to him will be shown in your respect for our city and customs. You will earn your keep here, as we do not tolerate beggars.”
Kofi scoffed and glared at our group.
“You are invited to one last meal provided by King Saalim, after which you can rest for the night in our guest quarters should you have nowhere else to go. You are to find your own place in the City by morning.” Nassar directed us to the next room, equally large but much less extravagant.
Long tables were set with piles of food. Behind them, fires and counters held still more food, tended to by palace staff. The feast reminded me of my father’s winter and summer festivals—only, if this was for poor villagers, I could not imagine a feast for nobles.
“We will remain here, along with Nika and Mariam, should you have additional needs.” Nassar gestured to two women who stood at the periphery of the room. Their clothing was soft and flowed with such delicacy, it had to be the thinnest fabric in the world. They had wide scarves, equally delicate, draped over their shoulders. They were so elegant, they looked to be a queen and princess of legends. One had wide, dark eyes and a soft smile. She was much older than the other, whose eyes were narrowed, scanning us as though taking count.
I turned to Firoz. “Let’s stay until morning.” I might have one last opportunity to see Saalim. I vowed to myself that I would speak to him.
Rashid overheard. “We go tonight.”
“It’s foolish,” I said, trying to hide the fury that thrummed through me. Why the rush? “We know we have a place to stay here. We don’t know what to expect—”
“Emel. Tavi.” It was Amir. “Come to me.” He beckoned us, eyeing Rashid and Firoz warily.
“We have work for you in the palace,” Amir said when we were near.
We gaped at him. The palace? I bit my cheeks to hide my smile. Eiqab be praised! Tavi’s hand gripped mine.
“Ah,” he said as if understanding. “It requires work to earn coin, see. The coin you use to buy what you need—”
“No,” I said perhaps a little too harsh. “We know how coin works.” I looked around, unsure how to ask the question. “But why? We are . . . unskilled.”
He nodded, understanding. “Honor. Children of a slain ruler should be provided for.”
That was not the desert way. Children of a slain king obeyed the new king lest they face death. But I would not dwell on the differences between the people of the sea and those of the sand. He said they had work for us.
Tavi and I did not have to go to the baytahira! We did not have to face our past to find our future. Relief washed over me like cool water. I looked to my sister and saw she understood the same.
“What will we do?” I said, turning back to Amir.
“You will be housed and trained by those who work for the palace. They are people the king trusts.” Amir leaned in and smiled warmly. “And I do, too. They are good people. You will find that, with them, you are welcome.”
It was too much to believe. Tavi and I, together and safe. We would be working for the palace. Perhaps Masira was not so devious after all. Saalim’s path and mine would cross with certainty! I pulled her arm into my side, squeezing her hand even harder. It was everything we hoped for, and I felt like the threads, finally, were being pulled together. There was a tapestry of a future I could see. The image appearing before me was bright and beautiful.
This is why we had made the journey. It would be worth it in the end.
“Emel,” Amir said, “you will find lodgings with Altasa, the palace healer. She is old and tired. She said she needs strong arms and an even stronger will. When I told her about you, she thought you would serve best.” He grinned.
“Tavi has arms even stronger than mine. We will serve her well,” I said.
Amir shook his head, frowning behind his beard, and looked to my sister. “You will live and work with Saira. Her husband is a great fisherman, and he supplies us with most of our fish. Enormous hauls when he comes ashore. The best seabream. Saira said she would happily take help.”
“Where will we live?” I asked, trying to envision where a healer and a fisherman’s family would find a shared space.
“Altasa lives on the palace grounds, of course. In the gardens. Saira lives along the west canal. It’s an easy walk from here.”
I shook my head slowly. “Amir,” I said, my voice weak. “While I am grateful for this, we cannot be separated. She is my sister. Is there somewhere we can stay together?”
“This is what has been arranged. If you will not have it, then do what you please.” He shrugged sadly. “Altasa and Saira are good women. You will be treated well, fed, and have a place to sleep. You will have plenty of opportunity to see each other. Do not fear.” He lifted his arm as if to lay it on my shoulder, but then he reconsidered and dropped it back to his side.
Tavi said, “It is our only offer?”
Amir nodded.
I spun to face her, “We’ll figure something out. We stay together.”
Tavi looked from me, to the tables laden with food, to Amir. She glanced behind me, where Rashid and Firoz were waiting. To the ground, she said, “Not much choice, eh?” With immense resolve, her gaze locked on Amir’s. “I would be happy to help Saira.” Her words were as solid as the ground we stood upon, but I could hear the fear that pressed against the floor, searching for the cracks in which to take root.
Amir stared at me, waiting for my response. My mouth hung open. This was not what I wanted. Slowly, I nodded.
“Good!” Amir clapped his hands together. “Nika will make introductions after we eat. Now, come join us.”
He went to the table and piled his plate high, as though making up for the long journey.
“There is another way,” I said, cringing. The baytahira would not be so bad, would it?
“I’d rather be away from you than to be there. Besides, he said we’d only be a short walk away from one another.” She smoothed down her robes. “Now, I’m hungry.” She followed Amir, not looking back at me once.
Finding Firoz and Rashid, I told them our plan.
Firoz drew back. “How quickly you abandon us.”
Rashid pressed his hand to Firoz’s back.
“The baytahira . . .” I began, unsure of what to say. Firoz looked at me with so much anger, I wanted more to put out the flames of his fury than give him a meaningful explanation. “This will be better, see, because we will get coin and we can all find a place to stay together sooner. We’ll have a job right away, and—”
“We were supposed to do this together.” Firoz spat the last word. “Nothing has changed, has it? You belong in the palace. I belong in the streets.” He turned from me. Rashid looked at me sadly, then followed Firoz without another word, without a meal.
As quickly as they had come together, the threads of my future were coming undone.