Badriya as-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and picking people's pockets for a living. Her world discriminates against women and orphans, and it is only her damned luck that she happens to be both. She yearns for more but can't do anything else...
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"Take him away."
A white cloth shrouded the boy's body just before Saleh and another man carried him away.
Ever since he and the crew brought him into one of their many safehouses hidden throughout Zarab, Hamad, the crew's resident healer, tried using smelling salts to have him awake so he could feed him food and medicine, but it was all for naught. All the healer could do was tend to the boy's many injuries and have him cleaned up, wrapping him in bandages and even giving him a fresh set of clothes.
By the time the boy breathed his last, Ayaz knew a fact for certain: he was the Rashid Badriya had been talking about.
After questioning some of the prisoners from a few days back, Ayaz came one conclusion: Rashid had been kidnapped by the slave traders somewhere in the south, the same region where he met Badriya for the first time. It wasn't far-fetched if the two had been in the same town.
The stranger part was, the longer Ayaz inspected Rashid, the longer he was sure that he had an uncanny resemblance with Badriya's so-called right-hand man, Kareem.
Ayaz knew he should feel something for Rashid's death, but instead he felt that he was a sign to something terrible about to happen. And he was right.
Just after Rashid's body had been removed from the infirmary, a reedy-thin kid barged inside, breaking the still silence of the room. Ayaz recognized him as one of the spies he assigned to shadow around the city. Jahan, Ayaz thought his name was.
"Z-Za'eem!" Jahan leaned against the doorway, gasping for breath. "T-The sayyida. S-She..."
Ayaz shot up. The spy didn't have to tell who he was talking about. "What is it?"
The spy swallowed. "She's... She's dead."
Ayaz thought he had misheard-that Jahan was talking about someone else, but it was a foolish thought. A stupid wish. There was a moment where everything spun so fast and then slowed down to a halt at the same time.
He could hear blood rush into his ears. He could hear his heart threatening to get out.
"Where are you going?"
Ayaz let his anger control him. He let it fuel his legs into moving at a pace that was quickening by the second. One moment he was in the cool safety of the hideout, then he was under the blazing heat of the sun the next. It didn't take long until he reached the city's central plaza, a large expanse where public happenings were held, whether it be a criminal hanging or an announcement for a certain jewel hunt.
"Ayaz, stop!"
A growing crowd gathered in the area, loud murmurs coming from it. Ayaz, fury still boiling in his blood, started for the crowd, but then a pair of strong arms pulled him away, leading him to a secluded corner.
"Let me go," Ayaz growled. "Do not get in my way."
Idris shot him a firm look. "Don't do this. Not in front of your people. The Sultan will know about-"
