Rebel of the Sands

“See, I’ve thought it all out, though.” He tapped his head. He was pretty dumb to be acting like he was the smartest man ever born. “Sure, if I marry Shira I’d get a little bit of that money. But seeing as you caught it, if you were to get married, the Buraqi wouldn’t belong to your uncle no more.”

It would belong to my husband.

Damn him. He wasn’t clever, but he was right. And worse, he was serious. Here was the moment I’d been trying to outrun, only it wasn’t coming at my uncle’s hand.

Anger burned my fear straight out of me. “I’d rather shoot myself.” I’d rather shoot you.

“You wouldn’t have to.” He was still smiling, his teeth looking too big for his handsome face. “The army will probably do it for you once I tell them you were with that foreigner they’re after.” His gaze stripped me all the way from my blue eyes to my boots. “Of course, they’ll probably torture you first.”

I smiled at him sweetly instead of knocking his teeth in. “Still sounds better than a lifetime married to you.”

Fazim’s hand slammed into the wall behind my head, scaring the smirk straight off me. “You know, I don’t have to wed you first.” His voice was low, his smile still fixed, like he thought he was charming me. “I can make you worthless. Then you’d have no choice. You could marry me or hang. If you’re anything like your mama, you’ve got a fine neck for hanging.” His free hand traced a line along my throat. I could best just about any man in this desert if I had a gun. But now I was unarmed and helpless.

“Fazim.” Shira’s voice saved me. “What are you doing?”

Fazim pulled away, just far enough for me to see Shira standing in the narrow opening between the two houses. Her mouth was pressed together in that way I remembered from when we were little, when she was trying not to cry. I pulled away from him and scrambled back toward the street. My pace slowed just as I passed Shira. I thought she might stop me, stick an arm out and demand to know what I was doing between a wall and her lover. But she stepped aside at the last moment, her eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

I bolted for home.

•   •   •

I HAD TO leave. Bluffing took more brains than Fazim had. He’d go to the army and tell them I knew about their traitor. I wasn’t going to beg Jin. I was going to make him take me with him.

I paused in the doorway into my uncle’s house, listening for any noise that might mean I wasn’t the first one to get back to the house. When I was sure, I stepped inside, letting the floorboards creak below my boots, praying this would be the last time I ever walked over that threshold.

I snatched up everything I could find that I thought might belong to me from the chaos of the bedroom floor, and a few things I knew didn’t.

I dashed into the boys’ room. It was even worse than ours, with clothes piled halfway up the walls; I grabbed a shirt that seemed as clean as anything got around there. Across the house the front door banged open. I heard Aunt Farrah call my name.

I slung the shirt around my neck as I eased myself through the window, dropping to the sand below before she could think to check the boys’ room.

The main street was busy with folks hanging lanterns, setting out tables of food to sell, and tuning their instruments in the last dredges of daylight. We’d had nothing to celebrate since Shihabian, the longest night of the year, when we remembered the time the Destroyer of Worlds brought darkness and celebrated the returning of the light. That’d been near a year ago now. The Last County was thirsty for celebration. There would be plenty tonight. I just wouldn’t be here for it.

Nobody noticed when I slipped into the store, shutting the door on the noise of the street. As soon as I did, I knew it was too quiet. The floorboards creaked under my feet as I took a step into the shop. Dust motes danced between the shelves.

“Jin?” I whispered into the shop. I felt stupid just for saying it.

I was too late.

He’d gone.

I didn’t know why I’d figured he would stay.

The shirt hung loose in my fingers. It was stupid of me to think he would help me anyway; he didn’t owe me anything. Besides, this was the desert; everybody looked out for himself.

For one wild moment I considered running to the young commander. I could sell Jin out to them before Fazim sold me out. No. I shook the thought off as soon as it came. I’d never be traitor enough to go to the army.

I shoved the shirt in my bag. I’d just have to find another way out of town before they got to me.

The sun had finished setting by the time I made my way back out of the store, and Dustwalk was lit for celebration. Small oil lanterns strung between houses and torches burning in the street lit up the sorry spectacle. What was left of our food was laid on tables to sell, but liquor was flowing freely as folks wove through the music and sang along. I gave it another few drinks before someone got into a fight.

Half of the Last County was here by now, come to see the Buraqi, which was tethered in the center of town, tossing its head angrily. Uncle Asid was trying to soothe it, but the immortal beast was getting more and more worked up with the crush of bodies jostling to touch it. Finally my uncle started to lead it away from where it might kick a person’s head in. I kept one eye on it and the other out for Fazim as I pushed through the crowd, dodging dancers and drunks.

Something whacked hard into my ankles, shooting pain up my leg. I kicked back without thinking and turned to see Tamid standing just out of reach in the crush of people, propped on his crutch and looking all innocent, like he hadn’t just hit me with it.