One Will Go Home
Neither Anwar nor Abduljama had ever seen such wealth. If this is how a sultan lives, they both approve. "Good morning, my friends, I think I have good news for you. A man and a young woman arrived yesterday afternoon. The young woman claims to be your child, and the man her chaperone."
My Abida is safe! Praise Allah for His infinite mercy. How soon can I see her?" Anwar was on the verge of very unseemly tears of joy at this news. Abduljama forgot himself and cheered loudly.
Faddi sincerely hoped this woman was Anwar’s child. He rarely saw such genuine joy and relief on a man’s face. “I can take you to her now, if you like?” His Duty to protect Meroe usually brought out darker emotions in people.
During the walk to the mosque where Salahuddin and Abida spent the night, Anwar regained his composure, mostly because Abduljama couldn't stop chattering about how worried he was about Abida’s safety.
“Come with me.” It wasn't usually a threatening phrase, but given the situation, Salahuddin wasn't looking forward to the upcoming interrogation. This well-dressed man, who had left him in this mosque, might be soft-spoken, but there was a toughness about him that made Salahuddin quite uneasy. Telling the truth might get him hanged. Lying would expose him to the imagination of an experienced interrogator as he tried to uncover the truth. That would be a terrible idea.
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The holy man whose mosque had ‘sheltered’ them for the night led Salahuddin down a hallway. Abida followed a few steps behind. After a short walk, he stopped them at a curtained doorway, saying, “May Allah have mercy on your souls.” Pulling aside the curtain, he motioned for them to enter together.
Inside, Salahuddin recognized the well-dressed man from last night, two guards, and Anwar, who looked anxious until he and Abida saw each other. Then all semblance of formality dissolved as she ran to her father, and they embraced.
“I like to enjoy that moment when everyone is waiting for me to pass judgment. A room with a thousand people can be as silent as a tomb until I speak. I suppose I was foolish to think that a father and daughter separated by slavers would wait through such formality. At least I have their truth.” Faddi gently placed his hand on Anwar’s shoulder. “Take your child outside. I think the young man who came with you has waited long enough for his bride. My father has asked me to offer you the Grand Mosque for the blessing of this marriage. He also invites you to join him for dinner before you begin your journey home.
Anwar thanked Faddi and left with Abida to meet Abduljama outside on the street.
“As for you,” Faddi turned to Salahuddin, “I am not inclined to be quite so generous, but it is not me you must answer to. Continue your journey. Rafique, the slaver, is the man you seek, and he will probably kill you—if this thing he carries doesn’t drive him mad first. He travels to Alexandria with a two-day lead. Sell your horse and take passage on a boat. Do not come back to Meroe. If you return with the Jinni, I will see you both dead. Am I understood?”
Salahuddin opened his mouth to give thanks and a blessing, but Faddi stopped him. “Say nothing, just leave.”
Salahuddin bowed and quietly left. Outside, he passed a few of the now-familiar city guards and Anwar. “Abduljama and Abida have already left. Will you have dinner with us?”
Thank you, but I must decline. My child is still out there, and I will leave as soon as I can arrange passage. Peace be upon you. I have much to do.” Salahuddin briefly embraced Anwar and left to arrange the trip north. He expected to see city guards everywhere he went until he was away from Meroe, and he was not disappointed in that.