The Serpent's Veil

White Smoke

6. WHITE SMOKE

Yahya rode with one hand wrapped around the reins and the other resting on his thigh. His white mare bellowed and snorted, swishing her tail. A set of burly men held up the palanquin swaying beside him. It was gilded in blue and gold carvings, with thin slats on either side, and when he hunched forward he could see inside.

"Has she woken up yet?" Yahya asked.

One of the bearers shook his head. "Not a sound."

Yahya's eyes dropped and he sighed. "She is such a fool."

His eyes turned pensive, gazing at the slats. It had been four nights since she had lost consciousness, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to explain why his servants were wasting their strength carrying an 'empty' palanquin. He could have left the girl with Afsa as before, but considering the fact she had let her wander off in the first place deterred him from the idea.

And so he had vacated his palanquin.

A shout startled Yahya from his reverie. He stood up in his stirrups but could afford no better view than before.

It seemed they were halting soon. The soldiers had already begun dispersing to mark the camp boundaries. Behind them the carts and horses stopped, and the riders dismounted. Yahya coaxed his horse ahead and motioned with his hand to towering men carrying the Barmaki palanquin. They followed him without breaking step.

As they set the palanquin down Yahya dismounted with a sigh, and without a word a servant took the reins and guided the horse away.

Ж

From a distance a pair of glassy eyes watched the caravan. They belonged to a veiled man atop an ebony horse. His grey kaftan fluttered in the gentle breeze.

A small group of men dressed in similar shades stood behind him.

"Rabb, what will you have us do?" one of them asked.

Scabbards scraped against armour. They were restless.

The glassy eyes squinted, then glanced at the cloudless sky above.

"We will wait for the stars."

Ж

A soft light diffused through the panels, filling the palanquin with a warm glow. Khaya's eyes peeled open, still heavy with sleep and fatigue. Her hands flew to her ears as the memory of the previous night came to her. The thundering sound of Yahya's footsteps, the deafening roar of her breaths, the distant pulsing of her own blood. She lay frozen, waiting for the bombardment of sounds.

But none came. There was only silence.

With a sigh of relief her body relaxed. She sat up and stretched in what little space she had and blinked several times before surveying her surroundings. Through a set of slats she peered outside. There was a rush of activity, with men scrambling to pull supplies off the carts and horses, children running in every direction, and noblemen alighting from their palanquins. She looked down at herself, noting that she was still dressed in her indigo qamis. There was a cloth strewn by her feet, a veil, upon closer inspection. She reached for it.

"What are you doing? Get it up." A muffled voice carried through the panels and Khaya's hand stopped in its place. The floor beneath her lurched, and she grabbed at the walls to keep herself straight. She gazed out of the slats to intermittent images of a white horse and a veiled man. On the ground beside him a thin woman stood dressed in rich reds, only her eyes visible through the niqab she wore.