The man stepped over and touched one of the poles of the tent just as Basim brought me to a stop and dismounted.
“Greetings, stranger,” he said.
“Greetings,” the man replied in a voice coarse with desert grit and thirst. “I am lost, and my camel is exhausted. By the mercy and blessings of Allah, will you give me shelter and water?”
Basim shouted for Nasr, then nodded. “Of course you are welcome as our esteemed guest,” he said. “Please come inside, and I’ll have the women see to your camel.”
Safiya came to untack me while Basim and the other men welcomed the visitor. “I am glad that man has come in peace this time,” she murmured into my ear. “Every time there is a raid, I fear someone will take you. And I fear even more that Father would not try to get you back.”
As soon as she released me, I trotted over to Jumanah. She was standing near the waterfall nursing her current foal, a lively colt who was already turning gray like his dam.
Why is that man here, and why do our humans not chase him off and add his camel to our herd? I asked Jumanah. Do they not realize he is the one who raided us?
Oh, I am sure they realize it, Jumanah replied. But human herds are ruled by many strange customs. Nasr and his family are bound by honor to welcome anyone into their home who asks for their help. And likewise, that man would do the same if they came to his camp.
I suppose that is not so strange, I responded thoughtfully. It is much like the way we accepted Hasna into our herd, even though she was a stranger to us when she first came. Or the way Majeeb and his herd always welcome us whenever we rejoin them. Still, it does seem strange after what happened with Tawil.…
Who is Tawil? the foal asked, looking up, his tiny muzzle smeared with milk.
Another hungry colt, like you, Jumanah told him fondly. Now hurry and drink your fill so I can go and graze.
The foal looked confused as he glanced over at the fillies born that year to Hasna and Ibtisam. I could tell he had no idea what colt his dam meant. Just like me at that age, he knew nothing of the larger world beyond our oasis.
But I left it to Jumanah to explain it to him as I trotted off toward the grass, still filled with wonder and confusion at the ways of the humans.
More time passed, and my training with Basim continued. Soon I knew to walk, trot, canter, gallop, and halt at the merest hint of his aids. I could tell he was pleased with me by the way he chuckled and patted me throughout our rides, and it pleased me a great deal to please him.
After a while, he began teaching me something new. When we returned to camp after a ride into the desert, the other horses often nickered to me, and I would usually return their greeting. However, Basim made it known that he did not wish me to do so.
“You must learn to be quiet if you are to be a good war mare like your mother,” he told me sternly as he spun me away and put me into a tight circle after one such nicker. “Otherwise the noise might alert the sleeping encampment we are trying to raid, and that would do us no good at all.” Moving so quickly in such a small circle was difficult and uncomfortable for me, which made me understand that Basim was unhappy with what I’d just done.
After that, each time I nickered to the others he would let me know it was not what he wanted. It wasn’t long before I understood that I was never to speak to the other horses while he was riding me. From then on, I was as silent as I could be. And that pleased Basim as well.
There were other lessons to learn. He taught me to remain steady beneath him even when his brothers threw stones at me. The first few times it was impossible not to react, though I did not panic and was careful not to unseat him. Finally I learned to withstand the unpleasant stinging of the stones and continue in whichever direction and at whatever gait my rider requested of me. Knowing how pleased Basim was when I did this gave me so much satisfaction that after a while, I barely felt the sting of the stones anymore.
Once Basim rode me out of camp beside one of his brothers on Gameela. Each man carried a young goat in front of him and several camel skins and some woven goods draped behind. In this way we traveled a great distance. This pleased me, as I enjoyed nothing more than the feeling of the desert sand passing beneath my hooves.
Finally we came within view of something very strange. A number of dark shapes rose from the desert—like tents, but larger and made of some odd substance.
I let out a snort of surprise as soon as Basim dismounted—for I knew better than to make a sound while he was on my back. What can this place be? I asked Gameela.
I have seen this place before, she told me. It is a place where humans live who do not travel as ours do, but rather live in the same oasis all the time. They call it a town.
The town was very odd indeed. There were countless humans wandering around everywhere, along with a great quantity of dogs, camels, and other creatures of every description. Basim took the goats and the other items and hurried off, while his brother led Gameela and me to a trough to drink. The water tasted mustier than that of the clear desert springs I was used to, but after a few snorts of surprise I decided the difference was not worth worrying about when I was thirsty.
After that I stayed busy looking around at all the new sights. Other horses pranced past with their riders, and one stallion stopped to call to us, though his rider scolded him and urged him on. A boy passed by, driving some odd birds before him in a flock. Several people stopped to ask Basim’s brother about our breeding, which humans always seemed to enjoy discussing at great length, or to talk with him about other matters.
Finally Basim returned. He no longer had the goats and other items, but was carrying two large bags.
“We did well today, brother,” Basim called out, sounding cheerful. “Yusri was pleased with the kids and was generous with his flour and spices in trade. And I exchanged the skins for some fresh vegetables and other things that will make the women happy.”
“Good.” His brother squinted up at the sun. “The horses should be rested enough. We’d better go if we wish to be home by nightfall.”
We set out again across the desert, reaching our oasis just as the sun disappeared from view over the distant horizon. Safiya was waiting for us, ready to help take care of me after the long ride.
During these days I continued to see much of her. She was growing up into a fine young lady, old enough now to wear a veil like her mother and older sisters, but she was always quick to volunteer to care for me after a ride or training session. She was better than anyone else at brushing every speck of desert dust out of my glossy coat and rubbing my legs until they no longer felt weary. Though I was quite fond of Basim, it was Safiya whose company I sought over all others.
One day, more strangers arrived at the encampment. There were several of them this time, all looking sun-scorched and exhausted. They were traveling on foot, except for one old man who rode a scruffy camel.
“We are pilgrims making our way to Mecca, if Allah wills it,” the old man croaked out. “We have not come across another oasis for many days and are nearly out of water.”
“You are welcome here, my friends,” Nasr told them with a polite bow. “Please come inside for some refreshment.”
“May Allah bestow his blessings upon you!” the man exclaimed in relief, while his companions murmured their own gratitude.
Soon the camel was resting in the shade and the humans were inside the tent. They emerged after a while and made their way over to us, with Nasr and the old man at the front of the group.
“Indeed, your herd is even finer than you described,” the old man said as he looked us over. “The gray broodmare is as stout and sturdy as can be, and the two chestnuts quite elegant.” He turned to gaze at me. “As for your young black mare with the look of a falcon—why, she is the finest horse I have had the pleasure to see in some time.”
“Thank you. I am honored by your compliments, my friend.” Nasr’s gaze wandered over me as well, his eyes troubled.
“Come,” Basim said, putting out a hand to guide the strangers along. “Let me show you our equally fine camels.”
The group moved on toward the spot where the camels were resting near the water. But Nasr lingered behind the others, still studying me with that troubled gaze. Safiya emerged to dump some old tea water and spotted him standing there.
“What is it, Father?” she asked, stepping toward him.
He turned away, and for a moment it seemed he would choose not to answer her. But then he turned abruptly and nodded toward me.
“Basim says Sarab’s daughter has been doing well in her training,” he said. “I have decided to give her a chance. I’m going to see if I can make your Yatimah into my new war mare.”