“You are my son,” Rashed grunted. “You’re always welcome, even…” He had been about to say “even if you disgraced yourself and tarnished the family name,” but he hesitated and instead said “no matter what.”
There was a long silence, all four unsure of what to say next. Jebel broke it by asking if there was any news.
“Any news?” J’Al exclaimed. “You’ve been away for a year — of course there’s news! But where to begin? Have you heard about—”
“Peace,” Rashed said. His gaze was on Jebel, and though he still looked at his son warmly, there was concern in his expression. “We should hear from Jebel first.” He led the boy to the table, and they all sat down together, as they had so many times in the past. “I’m sure you have much to tell us. But first, your quest — was it a success?”
J’Al and J’An hid smiles. They appreciated the fact that their father was being diplomatic, but really! It wasn’t a question of whether or not Jebel had made it to Tubaygat but if he had got any farther than the borders of Abu Aineh.
Before Jebel could answer, Rashed said, “We won’t be ashamed if you failed. I should have mentioned you when I praised J’Al and J’An in public. This was my fault, and if your quest was unsuccessful, I will accept the blame. You need not worry about people criticizing you or—”
“Father,” Jebel interrupted. “It’s all right. I don’t care what people think.”
“Then you did fail,” J’An said.
“No, I didn’t,” Jebel replied quietly, causing his father and brothers to blink.
“What do you mean?” J’Al snapped. “Are you saying you’ve been to Tubaygat?”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense!” J’An snorted.
“Jebel,” said Rashed uneasily. “To undertake such a harsh quest was an act of bravery. If you failed, you need not feel ashamed. But if you lie about it now…”
Jebel wasn’t surprised or offended by their doubts. In their place, he would have been skeptical too. “We can discuss this later,” he said. “First I have a promise to keep. Where are Murasa and her children? I vowed to free them when I returned.”
“They’re in Fruth,” Rashed said. “I didn’t want to keep them here — you know I don’t trust slaves — so I made them stay in their old home.”
“I’ll fetch them,” Jebel said, then paused. “I’m not sure how to confirm their freedom. Are there papers I must sign?”
Rashed gazed at his son, gravely troubled, then saw something in the boy’s eyes that made him bite his tongue. “I’ll take care of the technicalities,” he said gruffly. “Bring the slaves to the palace. I will meet you in the chamber of registration — ask when you arrive, and you’ll be directed to it.”
Jebel bowed and set off for Fruth.
Behind him, J’Al and J’An squinted at their father. “Do you really believe—” J’An began.
“Enough,” Rashed cut him short. “He is my son, and flawed as he might be, I will not have him openly disrespected.” He pointed at J’Al. “J’An Nasrim has returned to Wadi. Find him and tell him that Jebel is back. Ask him to meet us at the palace.” J’Al opened his mouth to argue. “Go now!” Rashed barked, and J’Al was out of the house and running before the echo of his father’s command stopped ringing.
Jebel thought that he’d have to ask for directions to Murasa’s house, but his feet remembered the way, and before long he was standing in front of the doorway with the long strips of colored rope hanging from the crossbeam. “Entrance requested,” Jebel called softly, and a woman’s voice invited him in.
Murasa was playing with her children. When they saw Jebel, the games stopped. Her face whitened with shock, then grew hard. “Greetings, master Rum,” she murmured, standing in order to bow.
“Greetings,” Jebel said politely. He felt even more nervous than he had on his father’s doorstep.
“I am pleased to see you again,” Murasa said unconvincingly.
“And I’m pleased to see you,” Jebel said with more honesty.
There was a strained silence, then Murasa said, “All went well, my lord?”
Jebel winced. “It didn’t go as expected but, yes, I suppose it went well.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t kill your husband.” Her eyes widened and filled with hope. Jebel hated having to dash that hope, but it couldn’t be avoided. “He’s dead,” Jebel said, and the warmth faded from Murasa’s face. “He was killed by an insane missionary at Tubaygat,” Jebel went on, beginning at the end. Then he told Murasa and the children about his quest, the adventures he and Tel Hesani had faced together and separately, the trials they’d endured, and the awful price they had paid at the finish.
It was a long tale, and by the end everybody was weeping, Murasa, the children, and Jebel. It never crossed Murasa’s mind that Jebel might be lying — he spoke in the simple tones of one who was telling the unadorned truth.
“You are not the boy I met a year ago,” she said when she finally could speak.
“No,” Jebel sighed. “I’ve changed. It’s probably for the worse — I’m sure the gods will curse me for my weakness — but even so, I wish it had happened earlier. Maybe I could have saved…” He trailed off into silence, then told Murasa to get ready. “I’m anxious to settle this. You won’t spend one more night as slaves.”
“One night isn’t much,” Murasa said.
Jebel shook his head, recalling his treatment at the hands of Bush and Blair, and the Um Biyara. “One night of slavery is
Murasa nodded, then turned to her children and told them to fetch anything they wanted to bring — they were leaving this wretched place in a few minutes and never coming back.
*
There was great excitement at the palace when Jebel turned up. Rashed Rum had entered with J’An a couple of hours earlier and requested an audience with the high lord. Wadi Alg swiftly appeared, flustered, wondering what had prompted the unexpected visit. When Rashed Rum said that his youngest son had returned from his quest and was demanding freedom for the wife and children of the slave he’d sacrificed, Wadi Alg didn’t know what the executioner was talking about. His wife, Danafah, had to quietly remind him of the thin boy he had sent on his way the year before.
They were all waiting for Jebel when he arrived, his father and brothers, Wadi and Danafah Alg, the officials responsible for the deeds of slavery, and as many more as could squeeze into the chamber. Debbat Alg was there too, along with Bastina. Neither girl could believe that Jebel had come back victorious. Bastina was afraid he’d be humiliated and executed. Debbat suspected the same thing, but she was looking forward to it — she had no time for deceiful little boys who pretended to be heroes.
All talking ceased when Jebel and the slaves entered. They marched to the table of the high lord, and Jebel bowed respectfully. “Sire,” he said.
“Welcome, master Rum,” Wadi Alg replied with a tight smile. “It’s been some time since you were last before me. Have you kept well?”
“I survived, sire,” Jebel answered neutrally. “And I have come to seek freedom for Murasa and her children, as agreed when you sanctioned my quest.”
The high lord cleared his throat. He didn’t want to openly question Jebel in front of the boy’s father, but he had to. Phrasing his words carefully, he said, “That deal was only valid if you completed your quest or died on the path, not if you returned unsuccessfully.”
“But I
Wadi Alg frowned. “You’ve been to Tubaygat? You petitioned Sabbah Eid? You sacrificed the slave and were granted invincibility?”
Jebel looked at the high lord and said, “I am not a liar, sire. I will undertake any test you deem necessary.”
Wadi Alg didn’t know how to respond. Before he could think of something, Rashed Rum said softly, “My son’s oath is mine, my lord. If you doubt his word, you doubt mine too.”
“No!” Wadi Alg gasped. “I didn’t mean to insult
“My husband doesn’t doubt your son,” Danafah interjected smoothly, as her husband floundered. “But a test is customary, I believe.”
