Sandstorm (25 page)

Ikram had explained everything to him. The King and Queen were each permitted to have up to five men or women, respectively, in their harems. All immediate members of the royal family were permitted up to three. That he was permitted - even expected - to have his own harem someday had left Sahayl feeling as though he were stranded in the Sands with no water.

He'd given up hope of any manner of relationship not long after his father had turned violent.

Of course he'd had his arranged marriage, but even if Rafiqa hadn't fallen in love with Wafai, he would never have done anything. He just couldn't risk it. Not with his father alive, and who was to say that someday he wouldn't start acting the same way? The battlefield proved he had his father's skill…even temper, in the heat of battle. Was he not known for fighting wildly? Look at how he'd goaded Isra when they'd first met…

But he wouldn't give up Isra. He'd never expected more than to see him in battle, and hope they did not kill each other for a long time. Now Isra was his - forever, according to the laws of Tavamara.

Sahayl shook the thoughts off. He had more important things to think about.

Such as what he would do once he was home. Home. He had not seen the Broken Palace for months, far too busy in the Sands to return to Ghost's sanctuary. Everyone would be there, and other Tribes - if his father were still alive…

If his father were still alive, Sahayl probably would not have survived the ensuing beating for handing the Broken Palace over to the other Tribes. If everything went wrong, and he failed to do his duties as Prince, the Tribes would go their separate ways again - and Ghosts hidden home would no longer be a secret.

That reminded him that most Tribes of the Desert were no longer a secret. Not to him and the men who traveled with him. Shihab had draw two smaller versions of the large map he'd finished the day before they'd left. Even now mapmakers were making essential copies for the army, should Tavamara forces have to move into the Desert.

Those very forces had been offered by Shah, but Sahayl had turned them down. It would be hard enough getting the Tribes to accept him as Prince - if it worked at all - and to arrive with Tavamara soldiers would ruin the slim chance he had.

Still, problems aside, it was good to be home. The sand and sun, the waves of heat that would turn cold as the sun set, Bloodmoon beneath and the familiar weight of his sword at his hip. He smiled behind his mouth cover, and urged his horse to a faster pace.

"It really is the Broken Palace," Shihab said, voice full of awe. "It looks so much like the one in Tavamara, even with all the ruin." He turned to grin at Sahayl. "How did Ghost keep this secret for so long?"

"I know better than to tell you, little shadowfire."

Shihab made a face. "I'm not little."

Isra snorted. "Yes, you are." He started to say more, but fell silent a group of men in the featureless garb of Ghost raced toward them.

Sahayl took a deep breath and called the four of them to a halt. Everywhere he could see patrols evenly scattered across the outskirts of the land which comprised the grounds of the Broken Palace. Off in the distance, the palace itself stood like a long forgotten version of the Palace of Tavamara, once-white stone turned to a dusty brown, much of it broken and fallen in, worn down by wind and sand. Most of the outer walls were all but gone, revealing what once must have been courtyards and lush gardens. The palace had once been a largely open place, most of the hallways and corridors nothing more than covered walkways, only the bedrooms and other private rooms being completely cut off from the outdoors. In this only was it different from Tavamara, which was as closed and protected as possible.

Everywhere people milled - not just Ghost, but so many other Tribes. Even at a distance he could recognize Falcon and Cobra, Owl and Cat. Sahayl felt his heart speed up. Was his hastily formed plan to bring Tribes together against the western threat working? Or was his distance keeping him from seeing trouble? Lady willing it was the former.

"Who goes?" The soldiers demanded, though it was obvious they recognized Bloodmoon and his rider.

Sahayl removed his head coverings and around him the other three followed suit.

"Sandstorm Sheik!" The nearest of the three guards said in obvious relief. "Your arrival is most fortuitous - Wafai has been doing his best, with the help of the Cobra and Falcon Sheiks, but things are falling apart fast. Your presence will make a difference. Please, Sandstorm Sheik, come at once."

"Lead the way," Sahayl said, feeling sick. Sheik. He wasn't a Sheik. Not anymore. He said nothing though, and knew the others would keep silent, waiting until the right time.

They raced down into the valley and through the broken streets that weaved their way toward the Broken Palace, and Sahayl returned all the welcomes called out to him as he rode past.

The guards brought them to a halt in the middle of the inner courtyard - it's equal in the Tavamaran palace was covered, glass set into the ceiling to let in light. Sahayl frowned at the scene before him. Dismounting slowly, he strode through the ring of people.

"We've had enough," snarled a man Sahayl didn't recognize. But the markings he did know -

this was the Fox Sheik. His long, curved sword was drawn, blinding where the high sun struck the blade. "You do not command us, Ghost. I am tired of taking orders from you."

Wafai watched the other man calmly, and Sahayl knew he and other Ghost were the only ones who could see how truly angry Wafai was. He started to speak, but was prevented when the Fox Sheik suddenly surged forward with a battle cry and the circle of men pulled back as the argument turned into a duel.

Sahayl loosed his sword in its sheath. "Bahadur, would you help me?"

"Of course, my Prince."

"Disarm the Fox Sheik. I will get Wafai's attention." He smiled briefly. "Though he will likely knock me one for taking him by surprise." The smile faded. "That he has not noticed my arrival is a bad sign. Isra, Shihab, be prepared, cover the crowd. Bahadur, now!" As one they broke from the edge of the circle, surging into the middle of the fight, and Sahayl intercepted a swing from Wafai, grinning as he saw realization flash across his friend's face.

"Sahayl!" Wafai shook his head. "My Sandstorm Sheik." He dropped his sword, and almost absently looked to where Bahadur had neatly defeated the Fox Sheik, and held him pinned to the ground, face shoved into the sand to stop the screams of outrage the man was obviously trying to voice. Eventually the thrashing ceased.

Sahayl nodded. "Let him up, Bahadur, but keep a hold of him. If he tries anything, knock him out."

"Yes, my Prince," Bahadur said calmly.

Turning, Sahayl motioned Isra and Shihab forward, then addressed the crow. "Get back," he said sharply. Few in the crowd were Ghost, and it was obvious they were there only to keep Wafai from harm. He snapped further orders, until the circle had pulled back to the edge of the courtyard. "What is going on here?"

"Ghost seems to think they have the right to command the entire Desert, that's what!" The Fox Sheik snapped.

Sahayl drew a deep breath, and tried not to grimace as he saw other men - soldiers, several Amir and Sheik, recognizable simply by their manner, the way the people around them shifted and moved. Now was as good a time as any. "First and foremost," Sahayl announced, his voice loud, carrying across the now-crowded courtyard, hopefully revealing none of his anxiety, "this place is home to Ghost. We have invited you here in good faith. If you have a problem with that faith, you may leave. No one is forcing you to stay. I am Ghost Sheik and it is only by my pleasure that you are here. Do not attack my people, do not attack each other, or I will deliver you to the heathens myself."

He barely kept from looking at Isra, at Bahadur or Shihab. It would weaken his position to be seen taking strength from others. This would have to be done himself, at least at first. By the Lady, he wished he was anywhere else. "Furthermore," he said, and held out his hand for the scrolls that Shihab immediately handing over, his shadowfire far more familiar with how to handle these things than he. "Once Tavamara and the Desert were one country. I am reinstating that bond, and am under Tavamaran laws declared a Prince of Tavamara and by the King's command his voice in the Desert." He waited for the protests, and was thrown by the abject silence that met his pronouncement. "That means, honored Sheiks and sons of the Desert, that I do, in fact, have authority over all of you."

"Ridiculous!"

"I refuse to believe it!"

"Greedy Ghost!"

Sahayl stood still as the Owl Sheik strode forward, quiet but obviously furious. When he drew close enough, Sahayl returned the scroll to Shihab and motioned for him to show the contents - adoption forms, a copy of the arrangement between Tavamara and the Desert. He stood watching quietly as furious people moved closer, one hand on his sword, noting the way Bahadur and Isra stood ready, how even Shihab stood alert as he began to explain.

"Sandstorm…" Wafai's voice was quiet, but to Sahayl it was louder than the din that surrounded them. He turned to look at his best friend, the one he'd always leaned on when his burdens became too heavy. Wafai stared at him wide-eyed, disbelieving. "Are you really a Prince? How is this possible? You went to get help…"

"This was the only way," Sahayl said with a sad smile. "Please say you are not mad at me."

Wafai glared. "I'm going to wring your neck, Sandstorm Prince. How like you to find the one solution that forces you to take the greatest burden."

Sahayl grinned.

"Back away!" Wafai suddenly bellowed, surging forward and punching a man bearing Owl marks, wrapping a hand around Shihab's arm and yanking him back, drawing his sword as he forced them all back. "Ghosts!" he shouted. "Leave them. Come protect your Prince."

From the edge of the crowd, where they'd been trying to peacefully keep people back, nearly two dozen Ghost separated from the crowd and formed a protective line in front of Sahayl and those standing with him. Wafai glared at the crowd. "If you want to discuss matters, my fellow brothers of the Sands, you will do so peacefully or Ghost will show you why it holds the Broken Palace and not you!"

"No man has the right to rule the Desert, and certainly not a Ghost! Do you know what he did to my Tribe!"

Wafai narrowed his eyes at the speaker. "We have discussed this before, Cat Sheik. If you make me repeat myself one more time-"

"And why is there a heathen with him? Why should we trust a Ghost, especially when he sides with Tavamara and arrives with a heathen?"

Sahayl frowned and stepped forward. "His name is not Heathen. He is Shihab, son of Ikram, son of Tavamara, son of the Lady of the Sands and he is my honored guest and under the full protection of Ghost. So too Bahadur, son of Galal, former son of Jackal, son of the Lady of the Sands." He motioned last to Isra, drawing a deep breath. Wafai would kill him for announcing all the changes this way, not giving him a chance to prepare himself. "Isra, honored nephew of Jabbar, son of Falcon, son of the Lady of the Sands and my most honored companion." That Isra was technically his concubine - the word felt strange even as a thought - need not come up for some time. But 'most honored companion' was as subtle an indication of their relationship as Isra sharing his wine dish. He could feel Wafai's glare, knew he was shocked, but he could not look away from the people staring him down. "To insult any of these men is to insult me is to insult Ghost and the royal throne of Tavamara. If you have problems, face them directly - with me - and do not malign my honored friends. Wafai."

Wafai sheathed his sword and immediately stepped forward. "We've kept your room ready and waiting for you, Sandstorm Prince. Come with me." His temper blazed in his eyes, and Sahayl almost winced at the lecture he would receive the moment they were away from prying eyes. "Ghost!" Wafai barked. "Keep everyone back."

"No," Sahayl said. "If they want to speak with me, then in an hour I will speak with the Sheiks.

In the main dining hall, yes? But I would like to rest first; we rode hard to get here."

"This way, my Sandstorm Prince," Wafai said, pausing briefly to snap more orders, looking relieved when Noor and Kahlil appeared. "Take care of things," he said before all but dragging Sahayl away, not releasing him until they were in the old rooms that had most likely once belonged to the royal family - to Princes whose names had long been forgotten. He eyed Sahayl and the three men surrounding him, nearly vibrating with his barely restrained temper. "I'm going to wring your neck, Sandstorm Prince. Can you never do something the easy way?"

"Saa, brother of my soul, when has there ever been an easy way?" Sahayl smiled faintly as Wafai rolled his eyes and set to work removing his outer traveling garments, lightweight but sturdy robes that kept off the worst of the sand, lessened the force of the winds that swept through the Desert upon occasion. It was a relief to be out of them. "I don't suppose we might have water."

"Wine," Shihab said as he stripped down to just his pants, then collapsed at a low table and pillowed his head in his arms.

Bahadur chuckled. "Tired out, little shadowfire?"

Shihab rolled his eyes. "We can't all be indefatigable warhorses, now can we?"

Isra copied Shihab, but rather than the table he moved to stand near Sahayl.

Wafai eyed the three men suspiciously. "A Jackal, a man who you say is not a heathen though he looks like one, and that confounded Falcon." He glared at Isra. "I was hoping you'd get lost along the way."

"Unlike you," Isra shot back, "I know how to keep my guard up. I'm surprised you're still alive, Ghost."

Wafai narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. "I underestimated you once, Falcon, I won't do it a second time."

"You'll still lose."

"Try me," Wafai said.

"Enough. Isra. Wafai." Sahayl wrapped a hand around Isra's upper arm, tugging him back.

"There's no need for the two of you to fight."

"So says you," Isra muttered, then abruptly turned and leaned to give Sahayl a quick, hard kiss. He pulled away and tossed a smug look over his shoulder, then strode to the table where Shihab sat. "We definitely could use some wine."