The home of Zamora Nchama was not grand.
And no, he was not understating it.
Sand and his camel were the only other main figures around. He tightened his clothing over his face as the sand whipped around him as he inched closer and closer to the housing.
A large round lump protruded out of the sand with the coating of heavy stone and wooden shafts poking out the front. It was, at least, large enough to house a decently sized family. Perhaps two-and-a-half-sized families could fit. One the size of Lisib's, but that wasn't saying much when they were greeted by the young man known as Lord Nchama dressed in grandeur with eight servants by his side. Far more than could fit in that building.
His curiosity was piqued.
Beta Nchama was happy to greet him with a strong grip and shoulder bump as if they had known each other for far longer than a few minutes.
"I've been warned that your relative is going to marry my son," the young man said as if Omega Goshiyya wasn't only a few years younger than him. "It's a great year, indeed! I now worry of the day my daughter is married off. Time passes so quickly!"
The servants and Beta Nchama led him through the main area, which housed several more servants and was the entirety of the protruding hump outside. Still, from there, the beta led him down a winding area below ground where the housing opened up into its own sort of small city.
It was smaller than the El Mahdy's but not by much.
For whatever reason, his nephew had truly struck gold in his luck.
With a loosened grip on his clothing now that the sand no longer cut at his face and his camel tucked away near other camels, he followed the beta until they reached an opening of candles and resin wafting in the air like candies or willowy soft leaves from the shorelines.
It was as if the shorelines of his childhood had attached him these last few days. It was as if he were pondering returning to that cursed land his father had to run away from.
Perhaps it was the memories of youth that he could no longer share, or it was the brazen familiarity of wonder that his nephew created with his natural ease of navigating the world that very well should have consumed him as it did his father.
"You appear lost in thought, Lisib Sarakhs," Zamora Nchama said in that rolling, buzzing-like voice of hers. She wore the clothing of a dancer as if in rebellion to something he could not understand. With gold trinkets dripping over her like an extra covering of clothing among the silken fabric that clung to her, the tattoos of her people engraved in her skin reflected in the shimmering candlelights brighter. Certainly, if there were nothing magical about this woman, then there would be something mesmerizing in her motions. It would not have surprised Lisib if she did indeed carry the bloodline of emperors and empresses. "You will have wasted your time if this is all you wish to do in my home that allows few outsiders and no visitors."
Her unwrapped hair fell over her shoulders in intricate twists little different from the snakes that had begun to hang down from above. His eyes began trailing the walls and ceilings above.
Everywhere his eyes lay was a snake of every color, shape, and size imaginable. The tapestries that clung to the wall were in a style unfamiliar to him and what he also gathered was ancient.
"The El Mahdy have sent gifts to be added to Goshiyya's dowry," Lisib said as he lowered his knees to the cold ground. "We are grateful for the opportunity that will allow our families to join as one."
"Do you know why I have agreed to this marriage?"
Lisib thought she had every reason to refuse this marriage, so he was greatly curious about her answer.
"Not at all."
"Because my son has had visions of your nephew his entire life," she sighed and her hands grazed the lush carpeting around her. "He didn't model himself in the image your nephew would like but knew earlier that his appearance would appeal to him and that your nephew's honesty appealed to him. There were a few times I was tempted to look for this boy and end his life before my son could meet him. I resisted such urges."
Lisib replied but smiled uncomfortably, "My nephew won't appreciate it."
"The young never do!" She laughed, but it was brittle and coarse. "Goshiyya's father was a good man too, you know. He used to always say that when the baby was born he would celebrate for every lunar night until it turned black. And then he would kiss his cheeks until he would complain like all children do. But a good man was dead before he even saw the baby's birth. And I was called a demoness for cursing his great life."
A threat settled in the tense air.
"If there's anything you should know about the Sarakhs," Lisib said as he stood up. His posture tall and straight. "We don't believe in curses."
"That is good to hear."
Lisib left the settlement with guards at his heels or glares at his back. When he reached his nephew, twisting his hands as if avoiding his gaze, Lisib looked him in the eye and said, "What have you done?"
"What you said grandfather never did," his nephew replied and then dropped his head into his hands. "I put our family first. We're bringing Sokkari home."
"I'm not sure that's possible, but," Lisib said as he clapped his hands on his nephew's shoulders. "You may have saved our clan. The game has opened up for us."
"I know," his nephew said, his voice muffled through his hands. "I know."
"And from now on, you will never know a day of peace."
His nephew groaned.
They took to their camels and rode home.
Kinya Sarakh is not a weak man. He loved his wife, his daughter, his son, and he wasn't sure how he would've dealt with the grief his father created if his brother hadn't been there. There was one thing he did know about himself, though, was that he was a passive man. He did not do things. He waited. And however long that wait was would be the length of time he was willing to bide his time.
His time for waiting had ended. A missive had shown through that his son now had two marriages. From the port boatmaster's, he found that his son's foreign lover is pregnant.
Ongoing missives between him, his wife, and scribes that had seen their daughter's curious nature piqued by the foreign minister gave rise to an idea. To interrupt and end such friendly conversations would look rude at best and cruel at worst. His reputation was at stake to either allow his daughter to make their family in their biggest moment appear weak and lacking due manners or--
His fingers tapped the table and even his wife looked over at him.
"She should be punished with constant guard," his wife said as she tossed the missive on the ground. "Talking, even joking about runaway lovers is one thing, but spending time in the company of a foreigner in public? Even if we don't care about our clan, the Empress has dignity and a face to keep. What if she wants to execute her? What if they use our family as a reason for the ruined peacetalks? Our clan could die overnight."
She began to pace as the time inched on and their daughter still hadn't arrived home.
He exhaled slowly and finally said, "We should give her what she wants."
"You sound ridiculous," she replied. "She doesn't know what she wants."
"She's old enough where she should."
The two of them shared a look and then his wife's face broke.
"What if she can't--what if it's too much for her."
"She's had time. We can't give her more."
"I can't see this," and she left the room.
He could hear her crying in the room, but he straightened his shoulders like his father taught him. Unlike his father, he knew what it meant.
Pattering footsteps sounded outside the house. He could hear her sliding sandals like the hundreds of times he'd heard his daughter rush into the house day after day, year after year until today, when she entered the room as a grown woman. With the help of imported tree bark and fruit oils, her twisting hair had grown long.
It was time.
"Kaara," he said. "Sit with your father."
She stared at him for a moment and then settled in the chair in front of him. Nothing was said for a moment and then he sighed.
"I merely asked her questions," Kaara admitted.
She had a lighter complexion than most people in their village. Lisib and he shared a different look than their father, who had been a different shade of tan, like his father and forefathers before him in the east. But his daughter would've fit in his with his father's people by skin only. She was truly her father and mother's daughter as he could see his wife's stern expression glaze over her face.
He said, "I have heard over the months that you visit the ports speaking with foreigners. You have run off three times to the nearest cities with rarely anything but a guard's acknowledgment. One of these times your mother has had to drag you back."
"But I--"
He raised his hand to stop her and continued on, "We did not punish you harshly because we have been living on borrowed time for these years but now--now we no longer have to. And you, my precious daughter, like the first fruit of a well-watered tree, will be used against us as soon as they are able."
"That's not fair!" She said and kicked back the chair with the heels of her feet. "I traveled with scribes and scholars. And I never went as far as I should have. There's so much out there while I'm stuck here in a desert! with nothing but papyrus and fish"
"Which is why you will get to go as far you wanted," he said. "You will get to ride those large boats you admire. Meet people you've never seen. Eat food you've never tasted. And wear clothes you've never touched."
In the room, all you could hear was breathing.
He could no longer hear his wife's distant crying.
"Sokkari sent word that there's a cousin around your age well-versed in both our languages who is unmarried. You will be sent off immediately to be married to him in the east where you will be with your elder sister. Unnatti agrees with me that it's best you leave as soon as possible. We've already sent word to the port that--"
"When will I get to come back?" his daughter's voice trembled. "I won't, will I?"
"I don't know."
He heard his wife's footsteps slide out from their bedroom, and she spoke, "I will help you prepare your clothing and makeup. Any food you'll need is already handled."
"Sokkari will set up your wedding clothes when you arrive," he finished.
His daughter scoffed and then glared at them both. "I guess you have everything handled then."
He stood up and waved his hand out the window. Heavy footsteps sounded outside, like soldiers' footsteps. He informed her, "These guards will be with you the entire trip. Captain Akuhetenan and Soldier Wuhayb will be your protectors. They'll keep contact as well."
Captain Akuhetenan was a tall, muscular man who wore his beard in the style of drawn royals. More than handsome, he didn't stare them down in any other way but lightly polite with a kind smile. Soldier Wuhayb was paler and with straighter hair wore it short. Although they both wore the garb of the army, they were clearly foreigners and of mixed ancestry like the Sarakhs.
"When did we get access to the military?" Kaara said carefully, as if afraid to look into their eyes. "I thought they were a part of the rebels pushing into our borders."
He said, with one hand on her shoulder, "Then you understand the gravity of the situation."
As if hell and demons licked flames at her back, Kaara fled into her mother's arms and the two together left the room. He reached down and lifted up the knocked chair as the soldiers stared him down.
"Soldiers from the West will be on the boat on your return trip," he added. "Be sure not to trip into any pitfalls. They will test you."
Captain Akuhetenan stiffly nodded, and Wuhayb punched his hand into his fist.
"If they want a fight, they'll get a fight," Wuhayb challenged.
"Good," he said. "Good."
With only a grazing dust of his robes, he retired to his room, awaiting news that he hoped his brother was able to accomplish with his wayward son.