We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya 2)

Altair pilfered an oily dolma on the way to the stables, swinging onto a dark steed and grinning when Kifah swung onto a flea-bitten gray with ease. “Akhh, One of Nine. There’s no one else I’d rather ride with.”

She arched an eyebrow into a perfect curve, and Altair learned there really was something he couldn’t do. With a pang, he remembered he had an eternity ahead of him, and only half his sight. He foresaw lament as his close companion for some time.

“Must your every comment allude to your … tendencies?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I sincerely admire our friendship, and there is truly no one else I would rather make this journey with and—”

“Tell me one more lie, and I’ll make sure this horse’s shoe is the last thing you see.”

The stable boy snickered.

Altair sighed dreamily. “Not a soul treats me as kindly as you do.” He gestured to the entrance and tossed the boy a coin. “After you, sayyida.”

Kifah looked at freedom the way a besotted person looked at a lover. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

They charged down the snow-steeped hill from the palace, Kifah’s ululation echoing in the frigid air. Hirsi took to the air with a shrill promise, and the streets of the city soon echoed with the clamor of hooves. Spindly trees bent over like old men, and fat camels wended slower than their owners. People greeted them as they passed, smiles wide and eyes bright, for the Demenhune had always been more amiable than the rest of the kingdom.

“These rebels, do you think we can trust them?” Kifah shouted over the rush of the wind.

Whoever they were, Altair intended to make use of them. They were short on support, and Arawiya was short on a future.

“What we do know is that my charm will win them over to our side. We’ll have ourselves a little army in no time.”

He heard her snort loud and clear.

They had no choice; this wasn’t a skirmish over territory. It was all of their tomorrows in one fragile fist. They slowed in the thick of Thalj, where the sooq bustled with the midday crowd.

Kifah drew up her horse with a curse and disappeared into an alley. “Oi, look at this.”

“I was always warned not to follow strangers into dark alleys,” Altair mocked darkly. “Is that…?”

Kifah ripped a sheet of papyrus from the wall, and Altair stared at the face he knew as well as his own. Nasir. The countenance was almost exact, even to the scar slashing down his right eye.

“‘A thousand dinars,’” he read, “‘dead or alive.’”

“Bleeding Guljul. Should I be insulted that you and I are completely worthless?” Kifah asked.

“I would never admit this to his face, but my brother looks far better in person,” Altair said.

Kifah snarled in frustration.

“What? They didn’t get his nose right!” Altair exclaimed.

“Could you at least pretend to be concerned?”

Altair looked at her. “What should I do? Weep?” he asked, more harshly than he should have. “Will that make the posters disappear? Will that make my eye come back? Benyamin, too?”

Kifah looked away.

Altair exhaled long and slow.

“Akhh, let’s leave being woeful to Nasir, laa?”

Kifah eagerly obliged, passing him the poster.

“It’s the perfect way for the Lion to turn the people’s fear of the Prince of Death into a reward.” Altair rolled up the poster and tucked it into his bag. “And he’s using the ifrit to spread word. No one else can travel so quickly. Khara, with them on his side, everything will move quickly. He might not see a need to prioritize the hearts, but it’s clear he sees us as a threat.”

“Then let’s prove him right,” Kifah said. She paused, studying him in the dusty light of the alley. “You’re starting to worry.”