here in Nessarah, are you?’
‘Not yet. I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve to get into that diamond market without having to force my presence on his Royal Highness.’
Which was only a very little bit reassuring, but did at least mean she did not have to reveal her identity just yet. ‘I am astonished that you are not languishing in a dungeon somewhere,’ Tahira said, torn between awe and horror. ‘I knew that it meant a great deal to you to resolve the mystery of your amulet, but I had not quite appreciated you would risk your life to do so.’
‘You exaggerate.’
She bit her lip. For six months he had travelled southern Arabia, searching in vain. Six months, alone in foreign lands. There was a reason his scimitar looked well used. Why would a man risk life and limb to give away a priceless treasure? No, rid himself, those were his words. What would be so terrible about being forced to keep the amulet? He would not answer, save with a darkling look, and so she asked another question, almost as frightening. ‘If you do discover that your amulet belongs here in Nessarah, how do you plan to give it back? You can’t just stroll into the royal palace and give it to the King without some explanation and if you do, you’ll surely risk being accused of—of—you won’t do that, will you Christopher?’
‘You know, I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but you’re right, I need a plan. But that’s enough about me and my business tonight, you seem particularly on edge.’ He got to his feet, pulling her with him. ‘Has something happened? You mustn’t worry about our work here you know, we’re excavating too far from the mine entrance for anyone to notice.’
‘I know. I’m not really worried. Well, only a little bit, that in your haste to finish your quest, you will take unnecessary risks.’
‘I would never do anything to jeopardise the outcome.’
‘No, I should have realised that.’
‘Tahira, what is it? Won’t you tell me what’s on your mind?’
His voice had gentled. She found herself suddenly close to tears. He smoothed back her hair, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. It felt unbearably comforting. She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’
The wobble in her voice betrayed her. He raised his eyebrow and waited.
‘Nothing I care to talk about at any rate,’ she whispered, firmly stamping on the urge to tell him everything. ‘Things at home are—they are difficult, for the reasons I’ve already explained. I have known you less than a week, but already I find myself looking forward—you are my one escape from reality, Christopher. I don’t want to be reminded of it while I am here with you.’
‘Then I will do my best to refrain from questioning you further.’
She took his hand between hers. ‘Whatever will be, will be. Let us not waste any more time discussing it, and instead get on with something more productive. Isn’t it time we started digging?’
* * *
When Tahira left for home, Christopher decided not to return to his camp just yet. There were still a couple of hours left before dawn and the return of the miners, and though the waning moon was providing very little light, it would be worse tomorrow, and almost non-existent the day after that. Best to do something constructive with his time, he told himself, pulling out his sketches of the mine and its surroundings. But he was on edge. Twice, he lost track of his pacing out, and on the third count, realised he was measuring a part of the site which he had already surveyed. Irked, he resorted to simply walking around the perimeter of the outcrop in the hope that something unusual would catch his eye.
Why wouldn’t Tahira confide in him? He had no right to demand she did, but there was no reason for her not to, was there? A break in the striations of the rock gave him pause, but on investigation it proved only to be a very shallow cave, which had probably provided shelter in the heat of the day to allow the miners to eat and drink above ground. He sighed. He couldn’t prevent her brother from marrying her off, and curling his fists and cursing wasn’t exactly constructive. He couldn’t do anything, except to help her enjoy the little freedom she had, and tonight he’d messed that up. Had he even thanked her properly for her research into Nessarah’s mining history? If so, it hadn’t been effusive enough.
‘Dammit!’ He had come full circle, and he couldn’t recall very much of what he’d seen. He should get back to his camp, and if he couldn’t sleep—which he was sure he wouldn’t—then he would devise a strategy to gain access to the diamond market. He blew out the lantern and left it to cool before putting it in the saddle bag. He pulled on his cloak and tied his headdress over his face. He wondered if Tahira had reached home yet. He wondered if Sayeed, her sand cat, met her in the doorway, or at the window or however it was she regained entrance to her abode. He wondered if she too was regretting their discord. She had had to work hard to hold back her tears tonight.
He wanted to put a smile back on her face. Mentally reviewing her wishes as he mounted his camel, Christopher’s mood began to lift. By the time he arrived back at his bolthole, and after carrying out his routine checks for signs of unwanted visitors, he had hatched an outrageous plan. It was risky. If he was caught...
He paused in the act of hauling up fresh water for his camel. It was a completely unnecessary risk to take, all just to please a woman he’d known less than a week, and wasn’t likely to know much longer.
Completely unnecessary, yes, but now he’d thought of it, completely impossible not to execute. Imagining Tahira’s delight, he made up his mind. If all he could do to alleviate her unhappiness was make some of her wishes come true, then she deserved that he did his utmost to do so.
* * *
The Courtyard of the Healers was once, long ago, part of the harem infirmary. Tahira sat in the shade of an orange tree trying to read, but for once the book did not hold her attention. She had been at the mine on three of the last five nights, working steadily at Christopher’s side as they exposed what was undoubtedly an ancient miners’ settlement. The work was thrilling. She was learning so much from him too, it was a terrible pity she would never be able to put it into practice on her own. But she had resolved not to allow such thoughts into her head. It was the safest way. Christopher had kept his word and refrained from questioning her, but she knew he studied her when he thought her attention elsewhere.
She frowned, rearranging the cushions, placing a marker in her book. Juwan had warned her this morning to ‘expect a joyous announcement regarding her marriage’ from Ghutrif, before the birth of his son. In days gone by, Juwan’s lying-in would have been the responsibility of the Head Nurse, one of the most powerful positions in the harem, when the kings and princes of Nessarah had taken many wives as well as concubines. No royal male had taken more than one wife for over a century now. The birth of Juwan’s child would be overseen by Nessarah’s most senior accoucheuse, but the woman was no longer part of the harem.
The royal males of Nessarah still considered several concubines to be indispensable to their well-being. In the unofficial harem, the concubines could call on their own, less senior midwife, Juwan had informed her stiffly this morning, when Tahira had enquired.
‘A perfectly adequate woman. As mistress of the entire harem, I am responsible for their welfare,’ Juwan had unexpectedly volunteered. ‘I tell you, for you will be mistress of your own harem very shortly, and should understand the customs and practices.’
‘I am expected to be responsible for my husband’s concubines?’
Tahira
