“With respect, my lady, it is not,” somebody else replied, and Jebel caught sight of J’An Nasrim pushing forward. The worldly traveler winked rakishly at Jebel before facing the high lord and lady. “No quester has ever been asked to undertake a test. One cannot pretend to be invincible. Those who return and claim success are always greeted without suspicion. If, later, it should prove to be a lie, the liar can expect a grisly, painful, protracted execution. But if you demand a test at this point, you will set a new, unsavory, and belittling precedent.”
Even though J’An Nasrim was not thought of highly in Wadi, there were murmurs of agreement all around. Most of those present were sure that the boy was lying, but this was not the time or place to question his honor.
Wadi Alg coughed and said, “We will, of course, take you at your word. The slaves will be freed tonight.” He paused craftily. “As I recollect, you undertook the quest in order to compete in the mukhayret.”
“Yes, my lord,” Jebel said, “but—”
He’d been about to say that he wasn’t interested in becoming the executioner now, but Wadi Alg interrupted. “Very good. We look forward to watching you compete. It will be most invigorating to follow the fortunes of a successful quester in action.”
Though the high lord phrased it lightly, his implication was clear. The mukhayret would serve as Jebel’s test. If he beat all other contenders, his word would be accepted and the city would rejoice. If, on the other hand, he declined to compete or was defeated in the competition, it would mean death at the axe of the new executioner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jebel spent the three days before the mukhayret at home with his father and brothers. They spent many hours talking about what Rashed Rum, J’Al, and J’An had been up to since Jebel left, but said little about his year in the wilderness. It wasn’t that they weren’t interested in his adventures — they most certainly were! — but none of the three was convinced that Jebel had been to Tubaygat. They felt embarrassed talking about things that were probably pure fantasy. Jebel sensed this and kept his tales of wonder and terror to himself. He understood why they found it hard to accept his word. When he had proved himself, they could discuss his journey. For now it was nice just to chat about their everyday lives.
Many people wanted to visit, but a stern Rashed Rum turned most away. Two of the few he admitted were J’An Nasrim and Bastina — he could tell that both were truly interested in Jebel and not in whether or not he’d seen Sabbah Eid.
Jebel would have happily told J’An Nasrim about his trip, but the traveler didn’t ask many questions except to inquire as to the fate of Tel Hesani. Jebel told him as much as he could about the Um Kheshabah, of his bravery and loyalty, and J’An Nasrim went away proud of his old, lost friend.
Jebel also talked of his quest with Bastina, who turned up shaking a hand filled with three silver coins at him. He had forgotten all about the coins that he had given to her just prior to setting off on his quest.
“I decided to spend them on a memorial stone for you,” Bastina said, pocketing the coins again.
“But I’ve come back alive,” Jebel said, pointing out the obvious.
“Yes,” Bastina smirked. “But you have to die one day. I’m happy to wait.”
Unlike his father and brothers, Bastina believed him implicitly. Jebel enjoyed telling the sad-faced girl his story. She listened quietly, prompting him only when she required more details, such as when he was trying to describe the colors of the siq or the movements of the rock spirits. When he told her about his meeting with Rakhebt Wadak, she shivered deliciously, knowing the story would fuel her nightmares for months to come.
Jebel asked about Debbat Alg a couple of times. Had she said anything about him? Was she excited by his return? Bastina didn’t want to get sidetracked talking about her mistress, but she could see how keen Jebel was for news.
“Yes, she’s excited,” Bastina muttered. “She doesn’t believe that you completed your quest, but she hopes you did. The thought of being married to an invincible executioner appeals to her. She will be a most appreciative wife.”
“I hope so, Bas,” Jebel sighed. “She’s so beautiful, so exquisite…. But I want her heart as well as her face.”
Bastina stifled a snort — she didn’t think the high maid
The day of the mukhayret dawned bright. The crowds had started to gather in the hours before sunrise. Excitement had been at fever pitch all week but escalated to fresh heights as news spread of Jebel Rum’s return. While almost nobody believed that the frail, skinny boy had met Sabbah Eid, they couldn’t be certain until they saw him in action. And if they were wrong about him… well, it was rare to be present when a new executioner was appointed, but if that executioner turned out to be a successful quester, it was more than the chance of a lifetime — it was the chance of a millennium.
The area around the competition fields was packed solid by the time of the first event. There would be ten events in total to test the speed, strength, and skill of the sixteen entrants. Four fields had been set aside, and two events would be staged in each. Another would take part in the river, and one on the streets of Wadi, where the entrants would have to run a ten-mile race beneath the blazing midday sun.
Mukhayrets normally didn’t draw a lot of entrants. Nobody wanted to be beaten and disgraced in front of a large crowd, so only those who truly believed themselves capable of winning put their names forward. But on this occasion there were many worthy competitors — seven from Wadi (three from the one family, which was unheard of), the rest from various parts of Abu Aineh.
J’Al and J’An Rum were two of the favorites. There were a couple of others strongly fancied by wagerers, but most of the serious gamblers were betting on Zarnoug Al Dahbbeh. He had been born in Abu Aineh but raised in Abu Judayda. He was a huge, steely-eyed young man. The others would have to perform to their highest standards to defeat the Um Judayda.
Jebel was the dark horse of the tournament. Almost nobody had bet on him, and there were only scattered, ironic cheers when his name was announced.
The first four events were tests of strength: rock throwing, two rounds of javelins — one with each hand — and weights. The weakest entrant would be eliminated from each event.
The young men drew straws to determine their order. J’Al was to go second, Zarnoug Al Dahbbeh eighth, Jebel eleventh, and J’An fifteenth.
Jebel studied the crowd as the first four contestants prepared to throw their rocks. Every class of um Wadi was present, the rich jostling for position with the poor. Except for the high lord’s box, there was no elitism at a mukhayret. You had to come early and be prepared to use your elbows to get a good view.
Jebel was especially interested in the people sitting with the high lord and his family. His father was there, and several of the city’s highest officials. But only Debbat Alg caught Jebel’s eye. She looked more stunning than ever. She had spent the last two days preparing for this. It was common knowledge that the winner of the mukhayret would almost certainly choose her to be his wife, and she wanted to look her best when her big moment came. Jebel’s stomach flipped when he saw her, and for the first time since his return he was glad to be involved in the competition.
To the sound of a mighty roar, the four contestants lobbed their rocks down the field. J’Al’s rock went the second farthest, so he was guaranteed a place in the next round. But he wasn’t happy with his throw, and Jebel saw him scowling as he returned.
The next four threw, and Zarnoug Al Dahbbeh’s rock went farther than anyone else’s. The crowd murmured nervously. Though he had the right by birth to participate in the mukhayret, nobody wanted to see an outsider win. The crowd could only hope that he was all brute strength and would slip up in the events where more skill was required.
Jebel was up next, with the third batch of throwers. His stomach fluttered as he stepped forward. He hadn’t
