He should have known then. Should have seen with his heart and not just with his eyes.
Tariq started from his remembrance when the caliph descended those same open-arm staircases in a sudden rush. This time, the caliph did not make a show of his entrance. He moved swiftly and without ceremony. Behind him followed the Shahrban of Rey, along with the captain of the Royal Guard.
“Why are you here?” The boy-king did not stand on even a semblance of formality.
A part of Tariq liked him a bit more for it. But only a little bit.
The shahrban flicked a glance toward Omar before drifting past Rahim and then back to Tariq. “Sayyidi, perhaps we should—”
“Shahrzad is gone,” Tariq said in the same unceremonious tone.
The captain of the guard immediately reached for the front of Tariq’s rida’. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you to keep her safe, you feckless—”
Without warning, Rahim’s scimitar flew from its sheath, slicing toward the captain of the guard’s throat. The shahrban tossed a sharp command into the shadows as he withdrew his own weapon.
Omar remained still, taking in the converging mayhem with an unnervingly agreeable expression upon his face.
“Enough!” the caliph said sharply. The command echoed through the hall.
The guards drew back as one.
Tariq nodded at Rahim, who dropped his sword at the same moment the captain of the guard released the front of Tariq’s rida’.
“We are not beginning on a promising note, my friend,” Omar said to Tariq with a slow shake of his head. “But I do see what you mean about the young caliph. He is not a man of many words.” His eyes gleamed in the light of the lion torch to his right. “But he appears to be a man of the right ones.”
The caliph let his eyes linger on Omar. Though he said nothing, unspoken questions abounded in his piercing study.
“I am Omar al-Sadiq.” Omar stepped forward. “And I’ve been told you are a man worthy of earning my trust.”
“By whom?” the caliph said.
“By Tariq, of course.” Omar’s smile was wide and gap-toothed.
A brow crooked into the caliph’s forehead. “Did he use those words?”
“No. But it was implied in our conversation. In his choice.” He paused. “And I believe he has chosen well, at last.”
The caliph’s eyes shifted to Tariq.
“You see, despite all your differences, the White Falcon has chosen you,” Omar explained. “Thus, we are here to fight alongside you. It would be a great honor for you to earn my trust, as I quite like your wife and do not wish to see her come to harm.”
The caliph’s features hardened. Tariq watched his hands curl at his sides.
“Shahrzad has been taken to the seat of Parthia,” Omar continued. “To the sultan in Amardha.” Both the shahrban and the captain of the guard stiffened at the words, though the caliph remained still, his expression carved from stone. “I believe she was taken by hired mercenaries. Men contracted by Tariq’s uncle Reza bin-Latief and funded by a sultan who wishes to see you fall from your throne.” Omar tilted his head to one side. “So I ask you again—can I trust you?”
A small moment passed in which silenced engulfed the space. “What is it you seek by trusting me, Omar al-Sadiq?” the caliph replied softly. His knuckles had gone white.
Tariq knew the caliph was seeking a trust of his own. For Khalid Ibn al-Rashid did not yet know how to gauge the Badawi sheikh.
“The lesser of two evils,” Omar replied without pause.
“That’s a rather unflattering overture.”
“I wish I had the occasion to offer better.” Omar grinned. “For I have spent time in your wife’s company, and she is delightful. Moreover, she seems to have faith in you. Now it appears Tariq has faith in you. So I would like to follow suit. If you will leave my people in peace—and protect the lands on which we thrive—I will ride at your side.”
The caliph considered this before glancing at Tariq. “You would turn your back on your uncle?”
Tariq’s jaw clenched tight. “My uncle has lost sight of what it is I fight for. And I”—his lips caught on the words—“I am not certain I ever knew what it was I meant to fight for. But Omar speaks true; if Uncle Reza has taken Shahrzad against her will, then you are indeed the lesser of two evils.”
The caliph nodded. “I cannot rally all of my bannermen in time. But I can send word to those nearby, and—” He stopped in consideration, looking to Tariq once more. “Do you know of the Fire Temple in the mountains by the sea?”
“I am not familiar with it.”
Rahim stepped forward. “I know of it.”
Again, the caliph nodded, this time to Rahim. “Would you send a message there for me through your falcon?” He looked to Tariq.
Though puzzled, Tariq agreed to the request. “Yes. May I ask why?”
“I know someone there who might be willing to help.”
THE BURNING BANYAN TREE
SHAHRZAD LEANED AGAINST THE COLD STONE WALL. A constant trickle of murky water passed by her slippered foot. The heavy chains around her wrists and ankles clinked with the smallest of movements.
She did not know how much time had passed.