Daughter of Nomads (17 page)

She followed Rahul to the camp, Layla jumping around beside her. As she bent to enter the single women's tent, she glanced back at the forest; but she could see nothing, not even Yazan's eyes shining in the dark.

25

A Track toward Lalazar Kingdom of Kaghan

E
very morning before they packed up the camp, women prepared food: chapattis and eggs or boiled cracked wheat with yoghurt or white cheese, to break the night's fast. In the single women's tent, all chores were done under Yasmeen's watchful eye. And Neema's, Jahani quickly discovered. Jahani wished she were with the men, helping groom the horses, rather than with the women cooking or collecting wood and water.

The morning after she'd seen Azhar, Jahani was frying eggs on an iron plate outside the tent when Neema shouted at her. Jahani picked up the word ‘night' and the inflection of a question. Neema must want to know what she was doing away from the campsite the evening before. But didn't all the women relieve themselves away from the cooking fires? Jahani kept quiet, but Yasmeen raised her voice as she addressed Neema. Then a shouting match ensued. Jahani stepped back from their anger to find Anjuli just behind her.

‘I'm sorry they are fighting because of me,' Jahani said.

Anjuli nodded, but kept listening to the women.

Neema said the word for ‘daughter', pointing at Jahani and then spat on the ground.

Anjuli glanced quickly at Jahani, frowning.

‘What else did she say?' Jahani asked.

Anjuli hesitated. ‘That you're a danger. But don't worry, Neema's just being mean and nasty now. She's telling lies.' But Anjuli wouldn't say what the lies were.

After they were packed and Rahul gave the call to move out, Jahani walked with Yasmeen beside a flock of sheep, leaving Anjuli to ride Chandi. For a while, Layla walked with them, her tail brushing against Jahani's legs, until she bounded off to answer Rahul's call.

Walking was just as interesting as riding, Jahani soon found. Though they were gradually climbing, the nomads chose grassy slopes for the flocks to move across. The mountains rose above them, however, and a waterfall cascaded down a rocky cliff into a pool for the sheep and goats to drink from. The rains seemed to have stayed away and the sky shone blue. There were even wildflowers beside the track, which reminded Jahani of the flower fields of Shogrun and Naran she had seen with Azhar. For her safety, they kept away from towns, and only a few settlements dotted the hills like stairstep villages. They were drawing close to Lalazar. Kamilah said it was a beautiful high plateau with green meadows and flowers, though the flowers may not be so abundant now that it was autumn. In such a place it was strange to think she was in danger.

A few weeks passed without incident, though periodically armed men were seen asking questions. One day in the late afternoon, Jahani took a pot to the river to fetch water. She was bending over the rushing current when suddenly she heard a loud whoosh above her, like a giant hawk's wings soaring in the wind. She ducked, remembering one of Hafeezah's stories about the Simurgh, which was a gigantic bird like a peacock with the head of a dog and the claws of a lion. It was so huge it could carry away an elephant.

She looked to the sky. It was clear, but she could still hear the whoosh coming from behind a hill. She ran after the sound and found herself in a clearing in the forest. And there, in front of her, was Azhar sitting cross-legged on his carpet. She frowned at him. ‘How did you get here?'

He didn't speak, but there was a glint in his eyes.

‘Did you see a huge bird fly over here? I heard a strange sound.'

‘Bey ya, no,' he said with a smile.

‘But where's your horse, Rakhsh?'

‘Resting in a nearby bazaar.' Then Azhar said, ‘Please, sit here.' He indicated the carpet.

She hesitated. Would it be seemly?

He tilted his head up and a mysterious smile played on his lips.

She drew closer, remembering when she'd sat on his carpet at Lake Saiful Maluk and the flower fields. Both times she'd felt a hum, almost a vibration, coming from the carpet. Gingerly she lowered herself to sit opposite Azhar. Again, she felt the hum through her body as a corner of the carpet rolled toward her. She glanced at Azhar to find him watching her with an intriguing expression on his face.

‘What is it?' she asked.

‘I have something to show you. It is time.'

‘Time for what?' But she didn't wait for his answer; she watched the carpet rolling away again as if being moved by an unseen hand. ‘The carpet!' she said in awe. ‘It's like the wind is moving it.'

‘Do not be afraid. It is quite safe.' Azhar whispered a few words she didn't catch because the carpet was rising! Then it hovered a hand's breadth above the ground.

She gasped and clutched the carpet to her side. ‘What dream is this? What sorcery?'

Azhar's eyes shone. ‘No sorcery, I promise. It is an ancient art.'

‘How? I thought no one knew how to do this – it's just a myth!'

‘There is one artisan left who knows and he taught me the skill.'

‘It came from your family?'

Azhar paused. ‘You could say that.'

‘Surely only kings could afford such a treasure.' She regarded him intently. ‘So, you have artisan blood.'

Azhar stared back as if deciding what to say next.

Before he could reply, she said, ‘How does it work? Is it magic?'

This he seemed happy to answer. ‘Less magic than you'd think. The carpet is an ancient one dyed with clay and water found in a mountain spring. When it's heated hotter than the seventh ring of hell in a cauldron of boiling oil, it repels the earth. It's the opposite of magnetism.' He smiled.

‘You are jesting.'

‘Truly. The earth is a magnet with many such lines crossing it from north to south. When the wool is dyed in this special clay it creates an opposite force that repels the earth below and so the carpet rises. Though I believe it has more to do with the way it ripples. At times it ripples so fast when it's flying in the air that the ripples aren't noticeable apart from the thrum.'

‘But we are on it now and it is not rising any higher.'

He grinned. ‘Perhaps there is a little magic.' He stood and held out his hand to her.

Jahani hesitated, but Azhar captured her gaze and, almost without her volition, she allowed him to pull her up toward him. His hand felt warm and she imagined it tingled in hers.

‘Ooper, jao, rise up.' The words were spoken respectfully. Suddenly the carpet's corners curled, there was a noise of rushing air and the carpet rippled as it rose higher and moved faster the higher it went. Azhar put his arm around Jahani, steadying her. If he hadn't been holding her, she would surely have fallen far to the ground whirring past them below. She gasped as the horizon stretched out before them and she saw the beauty of the majestic mountains, already covered in snow as they folded back in on each other. The nomad camp was like a nest of ants far below.

She pointed to green mountain fields and forests of yellow, red and orange leafed trees. ‘Where is that?'

‘The fields of Lalazar.'

‘But we will be seen!'

Azhar threw back his head and laughed. ‘From up here we look like an eagle in the sky – no one ever suspects.'

‘What if you are attacked by a hunter?'

He indicated his bow and quiver. ‘An arrow can silence from afar. Fortunately, I haven't had the need to do so. Carpet flying has been forbidden for one thousand summers. If the carpet is captured, no one can fly it unless they have a gift and are taught to use it. It is not just the words used, it takes much concentration. The carpet is almost alive.'

Jahani's fear fell away and she was sure her eyes were shining. Azhar's joy in flying was infectious. ‘How did you learn?'

‘When I grew up in the port of Jask in Persia. Not all carpets fly, of course – only a few special ones made in the ancient way, which survived the cull of Ghengis Khan centuries ago.'

‘But who—'

‘A few artisans survived and kept the carpets safe in vaults and told only their sons the secret. My tutor was a descendant of an artisan and realised I could fly.'

‘He taught you.'

Azhar inclined his head. ‘But since carpet flying was outlawed, he gave me secret lessons.'

‘Could you teach me?'

Azhar's smile curved across his mouth. ‘Perhaps. One day.'

She became aware of his arm around her back, but she pretended not to notice. It warmed her against the cool breeze whooshing in their faces.

‘Jao, jaldi jao, quickly go.' Azhar's arm pressed her closer to him as instantly the carpet shot toward the north. Jahani's plaits and shawl streamed behind her. After her initial shock, she squealed as if she were Anjuli. The world passed below – villages, the Indus River, fields and forests. Then they navigated the passes along the river and soared above the mountains.

She gasped as they rose. ‘The peaks, the snow. It's like pristine cream, beaten for giant genies to eat.'

Azhar sighed. ‘It is truly beautiful. No one else has seen the mountains like this. Those are the Qurraqorams, standing so silently to the north like peaceful sentinels.'

Wind whistled past their ears as Azhar gave another command and the carpet banked like a bird and wheeled in the sky. Then it flew toward the setting sun.

Azhar recited:

‘This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of life.'

Jahani added:

‘In the end, to take a step without feet …

Sami and I read Rumi with her tutor.' Jahani smiled. ‘This carpet is incredible!' She shouted it above the wind. ‘I wish I could show Ammi.'

Suddenly the carpet stopped flying and hovered in the air. The wind was gone and just a breeze remained.

Azhar sat and indicated for her to join him. ‘There are many stories about flying carpets,' he said. ‘Once, after flying carpets were outlawed, a young warrior called Mustafa fell in love with a shehzadi in Baghdad. He was caught holding her hand and was thrown out of the palace in disgrace.'

‘And the shehzadi?'

‘She was imprisoned in a tower. Mustafa flew on a carpet, glided up to the window and helped her climb out in full view of the city. All the people in the bazaar cheered. The cavalry pursued them, but Mustafa and the shehzadi dis­appeared into the clouds.'

‘A lovely story.' Then Jahani stared over Azhar's shoulder, her eyes wide. ‘What is all that blue? A huge lake?'

‘It is the gulf at the border of Hindustan and Persia.'

‘Persia? But how have we come so far? It would take moons of walking.' She took in the water with amazement. ‘Ammi would love to see this, though I doubt she'd approve of your method of transport.'

Azhar said just her name, ‘Jahani.'

She wondered at his tone and gave him her full attention.

‘I understand about your sadness over finding out Hafeezah isn't your true mother.' He took in a breath, then said, ‘I, too, have a foster father.'

She didn't comment at first. Then she said, ‘Where is he?'

‘In Jask.' He pointed to the land before them. ‘Persia. It's not so far away as you see.' He gave a wry grin.

‘So this is how you visit him?'

He nodded.

‘Why were you fostered? Did your parents die?'

His eyes watered at the mention of his parents, and she was sorry she asked.

But then he answered, ‘I was fostered before my parents died. It was something our family did, to keep the bloodline safe.'

Jahani nodded. She had heard of this custom: if a poor family couldn't feed their children they could give one to a relative to raise. The child was usually not told. It made her think of Hafeezah. Would she share the same relationship with Hafeezah today if she had been told earlier that Hafeezah was her foster mother only? ‘Did you like your foster parents?'

He nodded. ‘I only have my father now. My foster mother died when I was young.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘It hasn't been long since I was told—' he hesitated, ‘—about my family. Soon after, I came to find you in Sherwan.' He leaned toward her. ‘I feel I know you so well because I knew you when I was a child, but I realise this is not the same for you.' He took in a breath as if he were readying himself to reveal something difficult.

Jahani watched him intently. She felt lightheaded as if she were floating through one of her dreams.

Then he glanced away. ‘There are so many things I want to do.'

‘I feel like that, too. Things I don't understand, but I know I'm meant to … Like my yearning to go to the mountains. Do you know why I feel that way?'

He blew out a breath. ‘I don't want to influence you. You have to discover what you need to do yourself. Find your own calling.'

She gazed at him, wondering what he meant.

‘But I can take you further north now. And I can help you learn more that you need to know.'

‘Is that what you meant when you wanted to take me to a safe place the night we fled from Zarah and Baqir's?'