6

I Watched the Bani Salim pack up their camp. It didn't take them long. Each person in the tribe had his particular task, and he went about it quickly and efficiently. Even the sullen Ibrahim bin Musaid, who'd been restrained and persuaded not to murder me where I stood, was busy rounding up the pack camels.

He was a dark, brooding young man about twenty years old, with a long, narrow face. Like some of the younger Bani Salim, he didn't wear a keffiya, and his head was framed by his wild, stringy hair. His upper jaw thrust forward, giving him an unfortunate foolish expression, but his black eyes glared at the world beneath knotted brows.

The situation between him and Noora was more complicated than I'd thought. It wasn't just a matter of unrequited love, which in the closed community of a Bedu tribe would be bad enough. Hassanein told me that bin Musaid was the son of one of the shaykh's two brothers, and Noora was the daughter of the other. Among the Bani Salim, a girl is betrothed at birth to her first cousin, and cannot marry anyone else unless he releases her. Bin Musaid had no intention of doing that, even though Noora had made it clear that she wanted to marry another young man named Suleiman bin Sharif.

I'd made everything worse, because bin Musaid had focused all his jealousy on me. I guess I was an easier target than bin Sharif, because I was an outsider and a civilized weakling. Bin Musaid made it abundantly clear that he resented the hours Noora had spent with me, particularly those long nights while I was recuperating. It didn't make any difference to him that I'd been unconscious most of that time. He still hinted at all kinds of unseemly behavior.

This morning, though, there wasn't time for more accusations. The camels lay couched on the ground, while the men of the Bani Salim stacked the folded tents and packs of belongings and supplies nearby. The air was filled with the loud grunting and roaring of the camels, who were aware of what was going on and were unanimous in their displeasure. Some turned their heads and snapped at their owners, who were trying to adjust the loads, and the Bedu had to be quick to dance out of the way.

When everything was divided and properly stowed, we were ready to travel. Bin Sharif, Noora's boyfriend, brought a small female camel named Fatma to me. The tribe had a few dozen camels in its herd, but only two or three were bulls. Bin Sharif explained to me that they sold or ate the rest of the bulls, because they didn't believe in giving food and water to an animal that wouldn't return milk.

I saw one of the men mounting a camel that was already on the move. He did this by climbing up one of the animal's forelegs, gripping it above the knee with his toes, and then pulling himself up over the camel's neck and into the saddle. I wasn't ready to display that kind of nonchalance, and I waited until bin Sharif couched Fatma by tapping behind her front knees with a stick, and making the same "khirr, khirr!" noise I'd heard the Bayt Tahiti use. Then I dragged myself awkwardly into the sheepskin-covered wooden saddle. Bin Sharif got the animal to her feet and handed me the head rope and a riding stick. I saw that Friedlander Bey had been helped onto another small camel.

"In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful!" cried Shaykh Hassanein, leading the Bani Salim south from Bir Balagh.

"Allahu akbar! God is Most Great!" shouted his tribesmen. And then we were off on the three-day journey to Khaba, the next well.

Papa maneuvered his camel alongside me on the left, and Hilal, one of the two Bani Salim who'd found us in the desert, rode on my right. I was not enjoying the experience, and I couldn't imagine staying in that saddle for the three days to Khaba, let alone the two weeks it would take to reach Mughshin.

"How do you feel, my nephew?" asked Papa. 

I groaned. "I hate this," I said.

"These saddles aren't as comfortable as those of the northern Bedu. Our muscles will hurt tonight."

"Look," said Hilal, "we don't sit in our saddles like city people. We kneel." He was, in fact, kneeling on the back of the camel. I was having enough trouble maintaining my balance, wedged into the wooden saddle and hanging on for dear life. If I'd tried to kneel like Hilal, I would've rolled off and fallen the ten feet to the ground with the camel's next lurching step. Then I would've had a broken neck to go along with my aching back.

"Maybe I'll just get off and walk," I said.

Hilal grinned and showed me his strong white teeth. "Be cheerful, my brother!" he said. "You're alive, and you're with friends!"

Actually, I've never been among such horribly cheerful people as the Bedu. They chanted and sang the whole way from Bir Balagh to Khaba. I suppose there was little else to pass the time. Now and then, one of the young men would ride up to one of his cousins; they'd have a wrestling match atop their camels, each trying to topple the other to the ground. The possibility of broken bones didn't seem to daunt them.

After about an hour and a half, my back, neck, and legs began to complain. I couldn't stretch adequately, and I realized it was only going to get worse. Then I remembered my daddies. At first, I hesitated to chip in the pain blocker again, but my argument was that it was only the abuse of drugs and daddies that was dangerous. I took out the daddy and chipped it in, promising myself that I wasn't going to leave it in any longer than necessary. From then on, the camel ride was less of a strain on my cramped muscles. It never got any less boring, though.

For the remainder of the day, I felt pretty good. As a matter of fact, I felt almost invincible. We'd survived being abandoned in the Rub al-Khali—with the help of the Bani Salim, of course—and we were on our way back to punish Reda Abu Adil and his tame imam. Once more, I'd shown Friedlander Bey that I was a man of honor and courage; I doubted that he'd ever again resort to blasting my brain's punishment center to get my cooperation. Even if at the moment all wasn't right with the world, I was confident that it soon would be.

I felt as if a strong current of dynamic force was flowing into me from some mystic source. As I sat uneasily astride Fatma, I imagined Allah inspiring our allies and creating confusion for our foes. Our goals were honest and praiseworthy, and I assumed God was on our side. Even before the abduction, I'd become more serious about my religious obligations. Now when the Bani Salim paused for prayer at each of the five prescribed times, I joined in with sincere devotion.

When we came into a valley between two parallel ridges of sand, Hassanein called a halt for the evening. The men couched the camels and unloaded them. Then the boys herded the beasts toward some low, dead-looking shrubs. "Do you see the haram, the salt-bush?" said Suleiman bin Sharif. He and Ibrahim bin Musaid had unloaded Fatma and Papa's camel.

"Yes," I said. The haram had dead-looking reddish-green leaves, and was as unhappy as any plant I'd ever seen.

"It's not dead, although it looks like dry sticks poking up out of the sand. No water has fallen in almost two years in this part of the Sands, but if it rained tomorrow, the haram would flower in a week, and then it could stay alive another two years."

"The Bani Salim are like the haram," said bin Musaid, looking at me with a contemptuous expression. "We aren't like the weak city-dwellers, who can't live without their Christian ornaments." "Christian" seemed to be the worst insult he could think of.

I had a response to that, something to the effect that bin Musaid did indeed remind me of the haram, but I couldn't imagine him all covered with flowers because he'd need to bathe first. I decided not to say it aloud, because I could just picture the headlines: BUDAYEEN CLUB OWNER DIES IN SALT-BUSH MASSACRE.

The women put up the goat-hair tents for the night, and Hassanein generously offered to let Papa and me use his. "Thank you, O Shaykh," I said, "but I'm well enough now to sleep by the fire."

"Are you sure?" asked Hassanein. "It reflects badly on my hospitality for you to sleep under God's sky tonight. I'd truly be honored—"

"I accept your most kind invitation, Shaykh Hassanein," said Friedlander Bey. "My grandson wants to experience the life of the Bedu. He still entertains romantic notions of the nomadic existence, no doubt put in his mind by Omar Khayyam. A night by the fire will be good for him."

Hassanein laughed, and went to tell his wife to make room in their tent for Papa. As for me, I hoped it wouldn't get too cold that night. At least I'd have my robe to help keep me warm.

We shared a simple supper of dried goat meat, rice porridge, bread, coffee, and dates. I'd gotten plenty hungry during the day, and this food was as satisfying as any meal I could remember. Some of the enjoyment came from the company. The Bani Salim had unanimously welcomed Papa and me, and it was as if we'd been born among them.

Well, the acceptance was almost unanimous. The lone dissenter, of course, was Ibrahim bin Musaid. Noora's cousin didn't have any problem with Friedlander Bey, but he still gave me the fishy eye and muttered under his breath whenever he caught me looking at him. I was under the protection of Shaykh Hassanein, however, and therefore completely safe from his nephew. And bin Musaid was bright enough to realize that if he just waited long enough, I'd go away again.

After I finished eating, I popped out the pain daddy. Except for some soreness in my neck and back, I felt pretty good. I watched some of the men get up to make sure the boys had hobbled the camels properly for the night. There were still five or six of us at the fire, and a good-humored story-telling session began, concerning the men who had wives to prepare their meals and tents to sleep in. One man told some gossip about bin Shahira who, like many of the Bani Salim, had been named after his mother rather than his father. "Bearing his mother's name has made him crazy all his life," said the narrator. "All the years we were boys together, he complained about what a strict tyrant his mother was. So who does he marry? Old Wadood Ali's daughter. Badia the Boss we used to call her. Now he's the most henpecked man who ever rode a camel. Tonight at prayers, I think I heard him ask Allah to let the Bayt Tahiti raid us and carry her off. Just her and nothing else!"

"Min ghayr sharr," said one of the other men, who wasn't amused. That was a superstitious formula to avoid the evil bin Shahira had wished for.

No one was safe from the loose tongues of the Bani Salim, except of course the other men who sat by the campfire. Even Shaykh Hassanein came in for some sarcastic comments about how he was handling his hot-headed nephew, bin Musaid, and his beautiful niece, Noora. It was clear that bin Musaid and bin Sharif weren't the only men of the tribe who had their eyes on Noora, but because bin Musaid was her first cousin, he had an unshakable claim on her.

The talk drifted in one direction and then another. One of the older men began a recitation of some long-ago battle in which he'd distinguished himself. The younger men complained that they'd heard the story a hundred times before, but that didn't dismay the speaker. Hilal and bin Turki got up from their places and came to sit beside me.

"Do you remember us, O Shaykh?" asked Hilal, who'd ridden beside me most of the day.

"Yes, of course," I said. "You're the clever young men who found us in the desert."

Hilal and bin Turki grinned at each other. "My cousin would like to ask you a question," said Hilal. 

"Sure," I said.

Bin Turki was a handsome, shy youth. Even by the firelight I could see that he was blushing furiously. "O Shaykh," he said, "when you return to your city, will you be far from China?"

I wondered what he meant. "Very far, bin Turki," I said. "Why?"

"Ten days' march?" he asked. "Twenty?"

I stopped to do some quick calculation. The camels made a steady three miles an hour, and the Bani Salim put in about twelve hours of travel per day. Call it thirty-six miles, then. Now, the distance from the city to China . . . "Hundreds of days, O my friend, across deserts and seas and great mountains."

Bin Turki just blinked at me a few times. "O Shaykh," he said in a quavering voice, "even Allah's world is not so big."

He thought I was lying to him, but he couldn't bring himself to accuse a guest of his tribe. "Indeed it is so big. The Sands are only a portion of Arabia, and all of Arabia is to the world 

as . . . as one she-camel to the entire herd."

"Wallâhi!" murmured Hilal, which means "By Almighty God," and is one of the Bani Salim's strongest oaths. I rarely heard them resort to obscenity.

"What is your curiosity about China, bin Turki?" I asked. These were people who had never heard of England, Nuevo Tejas, or even the western lands of the Muslim world.

"Does not the Prophet—may the blessings of Allah be on him and peace—say, 'Seek knowledge even unto China'? I thought maybe I could return with you to your city, and then go from there to China."

Hilal laughed. "Bin Turki's hungry for knowledge," he said in a teasing voice. "He's already eaten all the knowledge there is to be had in the Sands."

"You don't have to go to China," I said. "If you're serious about learning, maybe you could travel with us after we reach Mughshin. Would you like that?"

I could see that bin Turki was trembling. "Yes, O Shaykh," he said softly.

"Is there any reason why you couldn't come with us? Do the Bani Salim need you? Might Shaykh Hassanein forbid you to go away for a few months?"

"I haven't yet discussed this with the shaykh," said bin Turki.

"The Bani Salim won't need you," said Hilal. "You never do anything useful anyway. It will be one less belly to fill with water from the wells of the Sands. Seriously, my brother, Shaykh Hassanein will let you go with his blessing."

There were a few moments of quiet while bin Turki thought over the consequences of what he wanted to do. We listened to dead limbs of the mimosa-like ghaf trees spit and crackle in the fire. Then the young man worked up his courage. "If Shaykh Hassanein gives his permission," he asked, "would I be welcome to join you?"

I smiled at the young man. "Do you know the way across the mountains from Mughshin to that coastal town?"

"To Salala?" said bin Turki. "Yes, I've been there many times. Two or three times, anyway."

"Well, then, we'd be glad of your company. Talk it over with Shaykh Hassanein and see what he has to say. It's a big, strange world out there, and you may wish you never left the Bani Salim."

"If that happens, I will come back to the Sands, inshallah." 

Hilal looked from bin Turki to me, realizing that his friend might soon be leaving their community for the unimaginable life beyond the desert. "La illah ill'Allah," he said in astonishment. "There is no god but God."

Bin Musaid came to the fire and stared down at me for a few seconds. "You don't have to sleep here on the sand tonight," he said. "You're welcome to share my tent."

His sour expression belied the generosity of his offer. I wondered why he was making this overture. Maybe Hassanein had had a little talk with him. "May Allah reward you, bin Musaid," I said, "but tonight I wish to sleep under the stars."

"Good," he said. He wasn't going to try to talk me out of it. One of the others passed him a goatskin of camel's milk, and he squatted down to drink. It's considered shameful for a Bedu to drink standing up. Don't ask me why.

Noora joined us, but she didn't even glance at bin Musaid. "My uncle wishes to know if there's anything you need," she said.

There was a time not long ago when I would have weakened and asked the shaykh for some medication. "Tell Hassanein that I feel very well," I said.

"Noora," said Hilal, "tell us about the time Abu Zayd was rescued by the Bayt Tahiti!"

"There is no story about Abu Zayd and the Bayt Tahiti," said one of the other men.

"Give Noora a minute or two and there will be," said bin Turki.

Bin Musaid grunted in disgust, got up, and stalked away into the deepening darkness.

"He better be hung like a bull camel," said Hilal, "because his wife won't get any happiness from him any other way." There was an uncomfortable silence, while we all tried hard not to look at Noora.

"Well, does anybody want to hear about Abu Zayd?" she said at last.

"Yes!" came several voices. Abu Zayd is a popular hero of Arabian folklore. His mythical tribe is responsible for everything from the Roman ruins in North Africa to the mysterious petroglyphs in the Rub al-Khali.

"All you who love the Prophet," Noora began, "say, 'May Allah be pleased with him and grant him salvation.' Now, one day Abu Zayd found himself lost in a part of the Sands he had never traveled before. There were no familiar landmarks, and he did not know that he was on the edge of the terrible gypsum flat called Abu Khawf, or Father of Fear. He led his faithful camel, Wafaa, down onto the flat, which stretched ahead of him for eight days' journey. After three days, Abu Zayd had drunk all of his water. By the end of the next day, when he'd reached the very middle of Abu Khawf, he was suffering from thirst, and even Wafaa, his camel, was beginning to stumble.

"Another day passed, and Abu Zayd was afraid for his life. He prayed to God, saying that if it was the will of Allah, he'd much prefer getting out of Abu Khawf alive. Just then, he heard a loud voice. Coming toward him, leading two camels loaded with bulging goatskin bags, was a man of the Bayt Tahiti. 'Salaam alaykum, my brother!' cried the stranger. 'I am Abduh bin Abduh, and I will give you water!'

" 'Alaykum as-salaamf said Abu Zayd, overcome with relief. He watched as the Bayt Tahiti took several bags of water and slung them on Wafaa. Then Abduh bin Abduh gave him a bag of camel's milk, from which Abu Zayd drank greedily. 'You've done me a great service,' he said. 'You've kept me from dying in this miserable gypsum flat. No man has ever shown me greater hospitality and generosity. I insist that you turn your camels around and return with me to the nearest oasis. There I will give you a suitable reward.'

" 'Of course,' said Abduh bin Abduh, 'I had no thought at all of reward. Still, if you insist.' And he did turn his camels around, and together the two men made their away across the remainder of Abu Khawf, the Father of Fear. Two days later, they arrived at Bir Shaghir, a settlement around a well of the sweetest water in all the Sands. Abu Zayd made good on his promise, buying a huge load of flour, butter, dates, coffee, rice, and dried meat, and giving it all to Abduh bin Abduh. Afterward, the two men expressed gratitude and good wishes to each other, and then they parted, going their separate ways.

"A year later to the very day, Abu Zayd again found himself lost in the Sands, and this time he stumbled into Abu Khawf from a different direction. After three days passed, he realized that fate had led him into the very same situation he'd endured the year before. He prayed for God, saying, 'Yaa Allah, how like a woven web of spider silk is Your will. All glory be to God!'

"And on the fifth day, when Abu Zayd and his camel, Wafaa, were growing weak without water, who should come toward them across the gypsum flat but the very same Bayt Tahiti! 'God bless you!' cried Abduh bin Abduh. 'All year, I've told my friends of your generosity. I hoped we'd meet again, so you could know that your name is legendary for gratitude among my people.'

"Abu Zayd was amazed, but once again he persuaded Abduh bin Abduh to turn his camels and go back with him to Bir Shaghir. This time he bought the Bayt Tahiti so much flour, butter, dates, coffee, rice, and dried meat that he also needed to buy the man a third camel to help carry it all. Then they swore undying friendship to each other and went off in opposite directions.

"Before Abduh bin Abduh disappeared from view, however, Abu Zayd turned and shouted after him. 'Go with safety, my brother,' he called, 'and enjoy my gifts to you, because for a second time you saved my life. I will never forget what you've done, and as long as my sons and my sons' sons draw breath, they will sing your praises. But listen, O fortunate one: I am not a rich man. If you come upon me next year in Abu Khawf, pass me by and let me die of thirst! I can't afford to thank you one more time!'"

All the men at the campfire laughed loudly, and Noora stood up, smiling and looking pleased. "Good night, my brothers," she said. "May you arise in the morning in health."

"And you are the daughter of well-being," said bin Sharif. That's a Bedu idiom, possibly even an exclusively Bani Salim idiom. Noora raised a hand, and then crossed the open area of the camp to her father's tent.

Morning would come early, and the unmarried men soon settled in for the night. I wrapped myself in my cloak and tried to relax, knowing that there would be another long day of travel tomorrow. Before I fell asleep, I entertained myself with stories of what would happen when I got back to the city. I imagined that Indihar and Chiri and Yasmin ran to me, tears of joy streaming down their faces, praising Allah that I was alive and well. Imagined that Reda Abu Adil sat in his lonely palace, gnashing his teeth in fear of the retribution that would soon come. I imagined that Friedlander Bey rewarded me with tons of money, and told me that he was hiring an outside contractor to deal with Dr. Sadiq Abd ar-Razzaq, and that I needn't concern myself with him.

Breakfast in the morning was rice porridge, dates, and coffee. It wasn't very appetizing, and there wasn't enough of it. There was still plenty of water from Bir Balagh; but it had started out brackish, and after a day in the goatskin bags, it had begun to taste like, well, goatskin. I was already looking forward to getting to Khaba well, which the Bani Salim all talked about as the last sweet well before the long haul to Mughshin.

Friedlander Bey rode beside me again on the second day. "I've been thinking of the future, my nephew," he said, yawning. I'm sure it had been years since he'd had to sleep on the ground and share such meager rations, yet I hadn't heard him complain.

"The future," I said. "Imam ar-Razzaq first, and then Abu Adil? Or maybe the other way around?"

Papa didn't say anything for a little while. "Haven't I made it clear that you are not to harm Shaykh Reda under any circumstances?" he said. "Neither him nor his sons, if he has sons."

I nodded. "Yes, I know all that. How do you mean 'harm'? Do you mean physically? Then we won't raise a hand against him. Surely you won't mind if we destroy his business and influence in the city. He deserves that much at least."

"He deserves that much, Allah knows it. We can't destroy his influence. We don't have the means."

I laughed without humor. "Do I have your permission to try?"

Papa waved a hand, dismissing the entire subject. "When I spoke of the future, I meant our pilgrimage."

This wasn't the first time he'd brought up the trip to Mecca. I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about. "Pilgrimage, O Shaykh?" I said.

"You're a young man, and you have decades yet to fulfill that duty. I do not. The Apostle of God, may the blessings of Allah be on him and peace, laid upon us all the obligation to travel to Mecca at least once during our lifetime. I've put off that holy journey year after year, until now I'm afraid that I have very few years left. I'd planned to go this year, but when the month of the pilgrimage came, I was too ill. I strongly desire that we make definite plans to do it next year."

"Yes, O Shaykh, of course." My immediate concern was returning to the city and reestablishing ourselves; Friedlander Bey had thought past all that, and was already making plans for when life got back to normal. That was an outlook I wished I could learn from him.

The second day's march was much like the first. We pressed on over the high dune walls, stopping only to pray at the required times. The Bani Salim took no lunch breaks. The rocking gait of Fatma, my camel, had a lulling effect, and sometimes I dozed off into uneasy sleep. Every now and then, out of the blue, one of the men would shout "There is no god but God!" Others would join in, and then they'd all fall silent again, absorbed in their own thoughts.

When the tribe stopped for the second evening, the valley between the dunes looked identical to our camp of the previous night. I wondered how these people actually found their way from place to place in this huge desert. I felt a quick thrill of fear: what if they really couldn't? What if they only pretended they knew where they were going? What would happen when the water in the goatskins gave out?

I forgot my foolishness as I waited for Suleiman bin Sharif to couch Fatma. I slipped down her bulging side and stretched my aching muscles. I'd ridden the whole day without the aid of my daddy, and I was proud of myself. I went to Papa and helped him off his mount. Then the two of us pitched in to help the Bani Salim set up the camp.

It was another peaceful, lovely night in the desert. The first disturbing moment came when Ibrahim bin Musaid came up to me and put his nose about an inch from mine. "I watch you, city man!" he shouted. "I see you looking at Noora. I see her looking shamelessly at you. I swear by the life of my honor and by Almighty God that I'll kill her, rather than let you mock the Bani Salim!"

I'd had just about all I could take from bin Musaid. What I really wanted to do was knock the son of a bitch down, but I'd learned that the Bedu take physical violence very seriously. A crummy punch in the nose would be enough of a provocation for bin Musaid to kill me, and he'd have the sympathy of all the other Bani Salim. I grabbed my beard, which is how the Bedu swear their oaths, and said, "I haven't dishonored Noora, and I haven't dishonored the Bani Salim. I doubt anyone could dishonor you, because you have no honor to speak of."

There was a loud murmur on all sides, and I wondered if I'd gone a little too far. I have a tendency to do that sometimes. Anyway, bin Musaid's face darkened, but he said nothing more. As he stormed away, I knew I had a lifelong enemy in him. He paused and turned to face me again, raising his thin arm and pointing a finger at me, shaking in rage. "I'll kill her!" he cried.

I turned to Hilal and bin Turki, but they just shrugged. Bin Musaid was my problem, not theirs.

It wasn't long before another loud altercation broke out. I looked across the fire to the far side of the camp. There were five people involved in a shouting match that was getting louder and more violent by the moment. I saw bin Musaid and Noora waving their arms wildly at each other. Then bin Sharif, the young man Noora wished to marry, came to her defense, and I thought the two young men would begin strangling each other right there. An older woman joined them, and she began firing accusations at Noora, too.

"That's Umm Rashid," said Hilal. "She has a temper like a fennec fox."

"I can't make out what she's saying," I said.

Bin Turki laughed. "She's accusing Noora of sleeping with her husband. Her husband is too old to sleep with anybody, and all the Bani Salim know it, but Umm Rashid is blaming her husband's inattention on Noora."

"I don't understand. Noora is a good, sweet child. She's done nothing to deserve all this."

"Being good and sweet in this life is enough to attract evil," said Hilal, frowning. "I seek refuge with the Lord of the Worlds."

Umm Rashid screeched at Noora and flapped her arms like a crazed chicken. Bin Musaid joined in, practically accusing Noora of seducing the old woman's husband. Bin Sharif tried to defend her, but he could barely get a word in edgewise.

Then Noora's father, Nasheeb, was finally stirred to action. He came out of his tent, yawning and scratching his belly. "What's this all about?" he said.

That got Umm Rashid yelling in one of his ears, and bin Musaid in the other. Noora's father smiled lazily and waved his hands back and forth. "No, no," he said, "it can't be. My Noora is a good girl."

"Your Noora is a slut and a whore!" cried Umm Rashid. That's when Noora felt she'd had enough. She ran—not into her father's tent, but into her uncle Hassanein's.

"I won't let you call her that," said bin Sharif angrily.

"Ah, and here's her pimp!" said the old woman, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head sideways. "I warn you, if you don't keep that bitch away from my husband, you'll wish you had. The Qur'an allows me that. The Straight Path permits me to kill her if she threatens to break up my household."

"It does not," said bin Sharif. "It doesn't say that anywhere."

Umm Rashid paid him no attention. "If you know what's good for her," she said, turning back to Nasheeb, "you'll keep her away from my husband."

Noora's father just smiled. "She's a good girl," he said. "She's pure, a virgin."

"I hold you responsible, my uncle," said bin Musaid. "I'd rather see her dead than spoiled by the likes of that infidel from the city."

"What infidel from the city?" asked Nasheeb in confusion. 

"You know," said Hilal thoughtfully, "for someone as good and kind as Noora, there sure are an awful lot of people ready to hurt her."

I nodded. The next morning, I remembered what he said when I discovered Noora's lifeless body.