The Diviner

came Ra’abi, Jemilha, and Za’arifa.

When Kemmal and Kammil were fifteen years old, they were importantly married, one to a girl of the Harirri, the other to a girl of the Tallib. Two years later, Addad married Ka’arli, “Black Rose” of the Azwadh tribe and prize of her generation. With personal ties to the three most powerful tribes in the land, and the Shagara as his own kin, in the early spring of 649 Alessid received the sign from Acuyib for which he had been waiting for nineteen long, busy years.

—RAFFIQ MURAH, Deeds of Il-Nazzari, 701

12

Alessid had been expecting the summons to Abb Shagara’s tent. Creating the impression that he was not expecting it, however, took some doing. The normal course of his day was to rise at dawn, start the fire outside in the stone pit and set the water on to boil, then wake his wife. They shared a large mug of qawah together—outside, if the weather was fine, to watch the sunrise gild the desert and spark white off distant snow- covered mountains—then woke the children for the morning meal. After this, he went to greet his wife’s parents, and he and Razhid tended and trained horses until noon. Another meal at his wife’s tent, a brief rest, an hour spent listening to the children’s lessons, and he was back with the horses until dusk. It was a calm, rational, productive, well-ordered life, and very little ever happened to disturb it—or the self-discipline with which he conducted it.

But today would be different. Today he must be readily available while appearing to be vitally busy. He lingered inside the tent until Mirzah chased him out. Rather than leave the vicinity, he spent a great deal of time inspecting the sand-colored wool for imaginary worn spots. He hauled out his best saddle and polished the silver hazziri, then did the same with the bridle. He scrubbed iron grills and pot hangers, cleaned ash from the firepit, and was in the middle of rebuilding the entire circle of stones when at last Abb Shagara’s fourteen-year-old nephew came to him.

“Alessid,” said Jefar, “if you have time, Abb Shagara asks for your presence in his tent. If you have time,” he repeated diffidently.

Alessid was well aware that the new Abb Shagara had not phrased it that way. If anything, it had been a direct order—”Bring Alessid to me instantly.” How he regretted the death of Meryem’s wise and whimsical son. But the successor was the one he must deal with, and a haughtier man he could not imagine. Jefar, however, was a polite boy, deferential to his elders, and in awe of Alessid’s horses, so on his lips brusque command became respectful request.

Quite deliberately, Alessid took his time. He washed his hands and face, donned a fresh robe, and told his eldest daughter that he might or might not be back for the noon meal. Ra’abi, twelve years old and in charge of her sisters when her mother was otherwise busy, looked up at him through long black lashes.

“Will you come hear our lessons? Jemilha and I have learned a new song.”

“I wish very much to hear it, but I cannot promise to return in time. Why don’t you sing it for Grandfather Razhid?”

“Because we want to sing for you!”

Alessid cleared his throat. Ra’abi was the most imperious of his girls, fretful for the day when she would rule her own tent. “I will try,” he said. “Ayia, I cannot keep Abb Shagara waiting.”

“You’ve washed and dressed, and that takes time, so you can’t be in that much of a hurry—”

“Ra’abi, enough.”

He was the only one who could quell her. She bent her head submissively—though her small fists clenched at her sides. “Yes, Ab’ya.”

Alessid walked with Jefar through the encampment. Since last night, when Abb Harirri and Abb Azwadh had arrived with a dozen each of their strongest young men, the usual calm efficiency of the Shagara had been disturbed. Not by much; nothing much ever agitated the composure of these people, a thing Alessid found comforting. Perhaps it was the timelessness of the desert wastes around them that produced such peace. Or perhaps the word was balance—between the eternal dry wilderness and the undying hidden spring, between the winds that in winter lashed storms of cold rain and in summer stinging sand. This balance was not the precarious one he would have imagined. There was a space in which the Shagara and other wandering tribes existed, a space as unchanging as the land. They knew its dimensions, its dangers, every plant that could heal or kill, all the signs and signals of scents on the wind and colors in the evening sky. They altered nothing about its qualities and rhythms, knowing how to live with it and within it. And, Alessid reflected, when one did not worry about having to change the land every year to grow crops, and when one knew precisely what must be done to survive and even to thrive, the orderly round of life took on a tranquility of purpose. It was not a gentle serenity—life here was harsh and demanding—but the Shagara did not contend with the land. They were part of it, and to battle against it would be like battling themselves.

But the presence of Abb Harirri and Abb Azwadh had caused a stir. Alessid knew from the rumors brought to him by his wife that there was a battle coming, and as he entered Abb Shagara’s tent and bowed, he hid his eagerness for the day.

Abb Harirri was the father of Mirzah’s father Razhid; Abb Azwadh was the great-uncle of Alessid’s son Addad’s wife. Both men were in their vigorous sixties, lean and tough, their full beards only slightly grayed. They were men accustomed to command, not entreaty. Alessid greeted them as the kinsmen they were to him, and at Abb Shagara’s gesture sat on a pile of carpets. He was never remiss in his respects toward the man; besides, he knew he could afford to be generous. He was well aware why the Harirri and Azwadh Fathers were here.

Young Jefar poured qawah for them all, handed round a small silver plate of delicacies, and retired to a corner of the tent. Although Abb Shagara’s servitor was supposed to become invisible, with downcast eyes and deaf ears, Jefar was as alert as a stallion scenting new mares.

“Your wife is well, and all your children?” Abb Harirri asked politely.

“I thank you, yes,” Alessid replied. “We hope for a son next year, to name Razhid for his grandfather.” He turned to Abb Azwadh. “I hope that my son Addad causes happiness in the tent of the beauteous Black Rose.”

“Ka’arli is with child, which is a great happiness for us all,” Abb Azwadh said, but his smile was fleeting. He had more important matters on his mind.

Alessid, on the other hand, was completely delighted by the news. He showed it only with a slow nod, for it would be unseemly to gloat over this new link to the mighty Azwadh.

“And your horses?” Abb Azwadh went on. “All goes well with them?”

It was the next round in the usual courtesies—but Alessid knew this was not mere civility but the beginning of serious discussion. “Forty-two foals this year,” he reported, “and thirty-eight now in training.”

“And those fully educated but not yet claimed?”

“Twenty-six.” There were in fact twenty-seven, but one of them was already privately bespoken by Jefar’s father. From the corner of his eye he saw the boy’s head jerk up, a blaze of joyous speculation in his dark eyes. An instant later he had resumed his self-effacing stance. Alessid was not surprised by his insight; Jefar was a clever, likable youth, and it was a pity Ra’abi was as yet too young to be considering him as a husband.

“Ayia,” sighed Abb Harirri, “let us pace no more around the water hole, but slake our thirst. Alessid, the Harirri and the Azwadh would like to purchase as many horses as you can spare. You know that the tribes have moved to certain lands each season since time began. The Harirri winter lands are within two days of Hazganni. Closer than we are comfortable with, but there it is. Yet Sheyqir Za’aid al-Ammarizzad contends that we are too near, and—”

“There have been raids, and deaths,” interrupted Abb Azwadh. “Our own winter camp is much farther from Hazganni, and yet our tents too have been burned and our people killed.” He paused, and his mouth vanished between his beard and mustache as he bit both lips hard together.

“There will be vengeance, Abb Azwadh.” Alessid spoke quietly.

“This is why we need your horses,” said Abb Harirri. “Riders on the swiftest of them can stand guard, and come to warn us of impending raids. When we move camp, they can range out to patrol the trails ahead, and