A piercing stare met Ala as he averted his gaze from the retreating Blue Skin and met that of his father's. Yes surely this was not in any way part of the plan he had set out with. Bringing in that plague into the walls of his Kingdom was failure, but not failure graver than coming back empty handed and facing his father as a greater disappointment than he already was.
The deathly stare dragged on and the Vizier observed from the background, stroking his maroon henna dyed beard in quietude waiting for the resounding sound that followed moments like this. For it was no new nor surprising sight for the King to strike his son not caring of anyone's presence, sometimes even in the vicinities of the court. Bala had witnessed it countless of times and even gotten acquainted with the routine. On good days, it was only a jab to the jaw loosening a few teeth or a kick on the abdomen spluttering slobbers of blood but on bad days, it was worst; multiple cuts by a sword or a hundred lashes from a horse tail whip and sadly, from the look on Kallam's face, Bala feared today might be one of the latter and he was right.
Wincing, Bala wished for the loud and merry haggling of oblivious merchants with their patrons just a few feet below to elevate into the canopy and drown out the svelte sound of the whip as it licked Ala's back and sliced through the thin cloth of his white tunic. It hadn't been a hundred whips but Kallam stopped when sweat gathered on his temple and his wrist tired of handling swing of the tail.
Ala's tunic now bleached in the red of blood fell to the ground in shreds as he got up from kneeling and stretched painfully to his full height, bare chest glistening with sweat under the scarlet light of the setting sun and a pattern of blood-dripping snakes adorning his back but blank faced none the less. Showing pain wasn't the place of a son of Kallam and he wasn't about to shame his father a second time.
"Forgive me Father, I had no other choice. It was either this or the whole treaty to be annulled."
"This?" Kallam heaved wondrously, his hands still tight on the whip. "This, letting the enemy into our territory?"
Ala pursed his lips, whether it was from a loss of words or the pain radiating from the wounds gaping on his back, Bala strained to figure out but couldn't as he continued to observe the duo and finally decided that it was a safe moment for a Vizier to share his wisdom. "Your Majesty, the Blue Skin is only a boy, I reckon he is the youngest of the sons of Ibra. The one they call The Ghost for his oddly not being anything like the other four and thus hidden as a shame... I'm surprised he was even tasked so, for his father and people alike deem him incompetent. Majesty, I assure you, their is nothing alarming about him."
Save for the color of his eyes. Eyes that danced between hues of the ferocity of a crackling fire and the serenity of a pearl lost in the depths of sea. Eyes of a ghost.
Bala mused but tightened his lips, speaking nothing of his suspicions in his efforts to calm his King.
"The Ghost? Why would Ibra send him and forgo his Lion?" King Kallam blurted. Assad was he who was feared by the whole of the Sudan, his infamous brutality and bravery living up to that of the Lion he was named after. Then why would Ibra send such a weakling in his stead? Kallam looked to his Vizier in earnest confusion. Bala was the only one allowed to witness this much of his vulnerability.
"Your Majesty it might be because Ibra's motive is the opposite of what you think it is." Bala answered, curious of how Ala's trembling figure suddenly stiffened at the mention of that. "It might be because he wants you to rid him of his burden..."
Kallam's eyes slowly started to widen with realization as Bala continued. "...it is no secret that he resents the boy and he thinks him a taint to his regal image. Blue Skins are savages... but are equally as savage in fiercely abiding by their beliefs. They fear their Deity more than anything. It is the greatest of blasphemies for a Tuareg to annihilate the other of the same blood. So Majesty, I believe, it is Ibra's tactic to send him here in hopes that you would end him."
There was a brief silence, as if the atmosphere itself was deciphering Bala's words. Then came Kallam's thunderous laugh, breaking the silence and surprising all two men making them gaze at the King curiously.
Kallam didn't stop there, he walked towards his dejected son, his voice still resonating in hearty laughter and eyes rimmed with mirth as he enveloped Ala in a bare hug not minding the fresh wounds he had just inflicted on him.
"Father?" Ala whispered, stupefied.
"Yes my son?" Kallam released Ala and held him by the shoulders, matching the dark swirls of his son's eyes with his. "Today, I'm in a better mood than I've been in many suns... and why? I believe you ought to know."
Ala responded with a nodding head and a smile despite his lack of understanding. All he wanted to do was cringe in pain at the way his father was pressing his raw wounds.
"You my son, deserve a feast tonight!"
Bala drew closer, joining in the King's merriment. "Yes, Majesty, indeed he does."
Kallam grinned - a sight to behold - and looked to the inside of the palace, his face basking in the last light of day, tinted in a lavender glow pursued by the austere dark of night. "And the boy, let him wine, let him dine, let him take as many women as his heart desires but... not a single hair on his head is to be touched. Ibra's treasure shall return to him safe and sound and with tales of our great hospitality."
~•*•~
Ala's back arched, an attempt to brush off the light fabric of his tunic that stuck to the freshly slathered balm of herbs on his wounds. He narrowed his eyes, gazing through the night as he waited for his sister's slender silhouette to arrive. He had sent her a message earlier, beckoning her to their rendezvous; a straw thatched gazebo they had played under as children. Three pairs of shining eyes glistening with the delightfulness of mischief, three voices echoing through the fields in laughter laced with childish ecstasy oblivious to the fact that one day, one day they'll be reduced to only two left.
"Brother." Dije greeted, exposing her cloaked face to the light of the torches fixed to the walls.
Ala wished his eyes would cease to notice how by every passing day, Dije grew more and more to only a ghost of her former self. The ebony of her skin now a paler hue, the brightness of her orbs now diminished to inky swirls laden with despair and the edges of her lips that had once so instantly shot up to a lustrous smile, slackened in emptiness. Her features were no longer that of a bubbly girl that has blossomed to the last of her teenage summers; sharp in wit, fierce and adventurous, but that of a subdued soul; cowering as she watched the fiery ado of her spirit ebbing away.
"How have you been dearest?" Ala motioned his sister to seat on the leather carpet bedecked with tiny recliner pillows.
"Alhamdulillah" she whispered, cautious as she spoke a tabooed word before she gathered the layers of her cloak and dress trying to find a comfortable position to sit. "Happy Moon of the Fair." she smiled a blank smile finally sitting opposite her brother.
Ala's own smile was a sad smile and that smile wasn't all they shared for Dije's words of the festival had opened up a flood gate of memories. The last fair that had passed had been so different from this one. So full of joy, a luxury too expensive for their bereaved souls to afford now.
How time was a foe.
Dije thought in spite and Ala acknowledged the wistfulness that fluttered in her eyes but chose not to address it or address his. "It is a beautiful festival, more grand than it has ever been. Have you visited any stalls yet?"
"No." Dije answered, her voice shaky. "You know very well brother, I can't."
To Dije, the commencement of the fair ushered in nothing except a melancholy bout of memories. It shoved it in her face that everyone else was able to forget and move on except her. Everyone was back to the normality of life while she was still lost in an abyss. Three moons had sailed away since then but she felt it like it was yesterday.
"He would not be happy seeing you like this Khadija." Ala's voice drooped low, his tone a plea but he immediately noticed how Dije's complexion paled, her lashes coated in moisture and hurried to propose a change in topic by presenting her a silver ornament. "I'm sure this will look beautiful on you."
Dije took it into her hands, cradling the silver pendent in her palms as it caught the soft shimmers of the crescent moonlight. The necklace was a breathtaking masterpiece, it was engraved in intricate designs of flowers and a text Dije peered at curiously and Ala noticed.
"It's in the Tuareg tongue, I have no idea of its meaning." he chuckled, a surprisingly earnest one. "I should have asked the Blue Skin vendor for I know my sister is the most inquisitive of the inquisitive. She will not rest until she finds out, will she?"
He was right, for Dije had already wanted to question where he found a silversmith in a nomad city such as Razf. There was doubt in her mind of where he truly got the necklace but then the engravings of their script supported his claim and though still curious, she let the thought go.
"It's exquisite brother, thank you. I shall wear it to your feast tonight. As it is, I am short of silvers to wear."
"Then I shall get you many more on my next visit to Razf but for now, speaking of the feast, I think I should be on my way there. Father will not have me late for my own function."
Dije parted her lips, as if to ask why he would have plans of a second visit to that land of barbarians but instead, she followed Ala's suit and stood up. "Very well. I am happy as well as proud of you brother."
For those words, Ala's eyes should have twinkled with pride but instead they darkened with an emotion he had buried deep within, it was the only purpose he had sworn to. He believed he owed his broken sister this much, he believed he owed his fallen brother this much.
I promise you dearest, I shall rid you of all the darkness that hunts you and avenge his death, even if it be the last thing I do. Then you will be truly proud of me. Soon.