Chapter 3
Nahlah
”Nahlah, you”ve never made this much in one day before!” Ziyad exclaimed, peering eagerly into the overflying bag. As my arms were heavy with groceries Ummi had requested—the rest dispersed amongst the others—I”d entrusted it to him.
Ummi was the self-proclaimed matriarch of the Mirage. With no biological children of her own, she adopted everyone who passed through, embodying the quintessential Nephrian mother. As a loving disciplinarian, she supported Amu Sinbad in maintaining order through a gentle yet firm approach.
”Put that away!” Alauddeen snapped. ”Do you want us to get robbed?”
”Asif,” Ziyad blushed, quickly hiding the purse under his jellaba and hastening his pace to fall in step with the others.
”Ala, you don’t have to be so harsh.”
He glanced down at me, his expression unyielding. ”Coddling him won’t prepare him for reality.”
”You can prepare him just as easily by being kind.”
”Kindness?” he scoffed. ”In our world, it”s survival that counts.”
I couldn”t fault him for his cynicism; it was a reality many of us faced and a lesson he”d learned early on. Stories, rather than personal recollection, shaped my memories of him joining our family. As a hungry four-year-old orphan, he’d stolen an apple from a fruit cart, and the vendor had used the knife at his belt without hesitation.
Luckily, Amu Sinbad had been nearby, giving the man enough soltars to pay for his cart thrice over before taking Ala home. Though he gained a family that day, the gruesome scar on his face served as a visible reminder of the hardships those in poverty endured.
”I forgot to tell you, Amu Sinbad asked to speak with us when we returned.”
Frowning, I looked up at him. ”Did he say why?”
Ala shook his head. ”No, but he said it’s urgent.”
”Great,” I sighed, our steps slowing as we approached the dilapidated riad on the outskirts of the city. ”I hope it isn’t bad news.”
”Me too,” he agreed.
Rapping twice on the nondescript door before placing his palm flat against it, Ziyad whispered, ”Iftah.”
As the door opened, responding to his command, the five of us squeezed into the cramped room. Inside was a direct portal to the Mirage—a timesaving resource, given that our sanctuary was hidden deep within the Marasynth desert. Accessible only to permanent members, the wards ensured individuals like Marwane couldn’t gain entry.
By taking two steps forward, three steps to the left, and making a half turn, we materialized on the other side, the dusty, stagnant air of the riad giving way to a fresh breeze and the lively hum of an active community.
”Give me the flour,” Alauddeen ordered, effortlessly taking the heavy bag from me and hooking it around his wrist, unaffected by the added weight to his own burden. ”Ziyad, take the rest from her so she can deliver the money to the treasury. Amana, Shams, let’s get these to Ummi,” he instructed. ”Nahlah, I’ll join you in Amu Sinbad’s office soon.” Without waiting for a response, he set off toward the kitchens, the others scrambling to keep pace.
”Ignore him,” I advised, handing Ziyad the bags one by one, careful not to overburden his skinny frame. ”He must have a dune serpent living in his belgha; it’s the only way to explain his grumpy attitude.” I tousled his hair affectionately. ”Don’t tell him I said that!”
Ziyad laughed, shaking his head vehemently. ”I won’t!” he promised, hitching the last bag over his shoulder. As he scampered off, I turned, making my way to the treasury.
The central courtyard was the heart of our home, where you could always find laughter, love, and someone trying to feed you. Sturdy red sandstone walls—covered in cascading vines of multicolored honeybelle flowers—formed the foundation, with overhead slats casting keyhole-shaped shadows across the zellige tiled floors.
”Ya salaam! Did she really!?” Passing by the communal living area, I smiled at the delighted laughter coming from the chattering and atay-drinking Khaltus. Seated on comfortable sedaris under a large canopy, their hands moved swiftly as they repaired garments and created new ones.
Nearby, the Amus gathered around low tables drinking their freshly brewed qahwa, playing board games like dama and mancala and talking animatedly about the day”s events. Laughing children were affectionately underfoot, eagerly kicking the koora around, jumping rope, and playing with dolls, all while trying to evade Ummi’s watchful eye long enough to steal a cookie or three.
To keep the little ones safe, we”d designated a heavily warded area for ingenuity and industry. Wooden booths shaded by market-style awnings provided a space for artisans to work on their creations and crafts. Amu Sinbad fostered an environment of support and equal opportunity by ensuring everyone had the supplies they needed for their livelihoods—regardless of their circumstances. Though contributing to the Mirage wasn’t obligatory, the residents wholeheartedly gave back, ensuring that the next weary soul would have the best chance at success.
The clamor of a full house faded as I made my way past the bathing chambers, the healers’ clinic, the schoolroom, and the permanent residences—where I shared a room with Kenzie. Across from these homes, temporary lodgings offered a welcoming refuge for visitors or those seeking a brief respite.
Next was the pantry. This room, above all others, captured the Mirage’s spirit—generosity without expectation and aid without judgment. Besides dried meats, fruits and vegetables, spices, preserves, flour, and other food items, its cupboards overflowed with clothing, shoes, blankets, hygiene products, and medical supplies, all freely available to those in need.
Amu Sinbad”s office stood at the end of the Mirage, tucked away with the treasury. Surrounded by wards to prevent thievery, only select members were permitted inside when the goods were being documented and divided. The room was brimming with jewelry, weapons, soltars, and the other precious items we acquired, destined for sale or redistribution.
The original forty thieves’ legacy had grown into a beautiful, tight-knit community, bound by a firm belief in equality for all. It was a place where every soul could find shelter, sustenance, and a chance to begin anew; and was a reminder of what we were fighting for: a realm where kindness was our greatest strength.
Entering Amu Sinbad”s study was like stepping into a living chronicle, a sanctuary of history and heroism. The room was proof of a lifetime of incredible experiences that most could only dream of—one that he”d willingly given up to raise me. Towering bookshelves packed with books, scrolls, and maps lined the perimeter of the wood-paneled room, the walls decorated with weapons that had seen countless battles and flags from known and mysterious lands.
Artifacts, relics, and tokens from his adventures filled shelves, cupboards, and glass display cases—each piece narrating a chapter of his storied life. I”d spent many childhood days requesting to hear the tales that went along with each one, something he was more than happy to share with me.
Here, amidst the tangible echoes of his victories, Amu Sinbad stood beside Alauddeen at the massive desk, his presence as commanding as the tales whispered about him. Tall and svelte, his silver hair—loosely tied back with a leather string—framed a face that seemed untouched by the sands of time. His blue jellaba contrasted perfectly with his tanned complexion, the short sleeves revealing the extensive artwork covering his arms, each piece dedicated to one of his adventures.
“Habibah!” he greeted affectionately, gesturing for me to come closer.
“Marhaba Amu,” I responded with a smile, moving in for a quick hug. “What’s happening?” I asked, my curiosity piqued by the map covering the desktop.
“We have a mission,” he replied. “A client has sought our expertise to reclaim something wrongfully taken by the Sultan.”
“Have they attempted to retrieve it themselves?” Alauddeen asked.
“On multiple occasions, but to no avail. They believe we are their only hope.”
“So, our reputation as justice bringers precedes us, then?” I stated proudly. Despite doing most of our work behind the scenes, acting as mirages—there one second, gone the next—it was hard to remain completely anonymous considering we filled the void left behind by the Sultan”s neglect.
Amu Sinbad laughed. “Indeed!”
Pragmatic as ever, Alauddeen asked, “Who is this client?”
“That, I cannot say.” Amu smiled apologetically. “I’ve taken an oath of secrecy. However, I know them personally, and their need is genuine.”
“The item, then?” Ala pressed. “What are we seeking?”
“A pocket watch,” Amu revealed, causing a moment of stunned silence to fall over us, the kind that begged for laughter to break it. But none came.
“A pocket watch?” I echoed incredulously. “We’re risking death for a trinket?”
”It isn”t just any trinket, habibah! It”s a key to the Land of Wonder.”
I gasped, disbelief washing over me. Only gatekeepers could unlock other lands, and the keys themselves were often rarer than their keepers. While I knew that Sultan Ghazi collected treasures of all kinds, it made little sense for him to take a key he couldn’t use.
Alauddeen narrowed his eyes, obviously not impressed by the revelation. “And our compensation?”
“For the risk alone, five hundred thousand soltars per month for six months. That amount doubles and extends for another year upon successful retrieval of the watch.”
His answer left me speechless. It was a fortune that could transform the Mirage and drastically extend our reach. “With that amount, we could expand the sanctuary wing!”
”Not to mention the wards,” Alauddeen pointed out. ”We can finally afford the extra protection for our growing community.”
“Irfan also wants to start a shelter for abandoned familiars,” Amu Sinbad shared proudly.
At the mention of his name, Amu”s familiar materialized from the room’s darkest corner, the shadow panther prowling forward lazily. His form was a void against the light, his sleek, dark fur composed of swirling shadows. While he could be entirely corporeal or nothing more than complete darkness, a majority of the time, he preferred somewhere in between.
“Irfan,” Amu Sinbad greeted. “I was just telling the children about the plans you have.”
“It’s a great idea!” I exclaimed as he strolled closer. Lowering his giant head, he nudged my chest, his wispy purr rumbling through me. After a leisurely stretch and yawn, he ambled toward his bed, his claws clicking softly against the wooden floor.
Quickly getting back to the task at hand, Amu Sinbad motioned to the map. “This is the palace’s layout. Our members on the inside have provided us with intel on the locations of the two treasure rooms.”
“Two?” Ala asked in confusion.
“I thought there was only one that houses the sultanate’s wealth, potions, and weapons?” I added, recalling the information from my lessons.
“Only a select few are aware of its existence, but the second,” he traced a path up to the fifth floor, “is in Sultan Ghazi’s private chambers. He keeps his treasures close by, and the pocket watch is most likely there.”
“Hmm,” Alauddeen rubbed a hand over his chin. “Those on the inside cannot access it?”
“No. They’re settled into their respective roles so deeply that any deviation would automatically give them away.” He motioned between us. “That’s why I’m sending you two in.”
“Can we do this after Princess Yasmeena’s birthday?” I asked. “The guests from the other sultanates are already arriving for the celebration.”
Amu shook his head, the lines on his face deepening. “Our client’s absence from his lands has stretched too long already. He can feel the tether breaking and needs to hurry before he’s too late.”
Alauddeen leaned in, his gaze darting across the map. “The celebrations could offer the perfect cover, but the increase in security will be our biggest challenge.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Amu Sinbad nodded, running a hand through his silver locks. ”What do you suggest?”
“Could the others at least grant us entrance?” Ala asked.
“Theoretically,” Amu agreed, “but I worry about exposing them. They are a greater asset in the palace.”
While they deliberated, an unfamiliar sensation unfurled within me, beginning as a mere tingle at the base of my skull. It felt like an invisible force was pulling at the fabric of my being, weaving through my thoughts and emotions with an undeniable presence. It tangled around me like a siren”s song, whispering that I must attend the celebration for Princess Yasmeena.
This was my opportunity to be inside the palace, to be with the royals and nobility. To be somebody. A wave of exhilaration surged against my heart, before its crest broke against a shore of trepidation. But what if I didn”t belong? I was a nobody, after all. Suddenly, a different fear gripped my heart—the thought of missing out, of being the sole absentee, was unbearable. The others faded to a blur as a whisper of excitement fluttered through my chest, my feet rooted to the spot, heavy with a sudden dread that was as confusing as it was compelling.
“I’m not sure.” Ala’s voice floated to me, garbled and distant. “Nahlah, what do you...” he trailed off. “Nahlah?”
“Habibah, can you hear me?” Amu Sinbad asked, touching my arm.
Each emotion was a vivid hue, painting my insides with a spectrum that ranged from the brightest joy to the darkest apprehension, never settling, never quieting. It was a carousel of feelings—eagerness spun into worry, desire twisted with the ache of missing out, all underscored by an inexplicable urgency that thrummed through my veins.
“Nahlah!” Amu Sinbad roughly shook my shoulders, the roaring in my ears quieting as his face came into focus. “What’s going on?”
I hesitated. “I feel... strange.”
“Strange, how?”
“There’s this feeling, like a... a pull urging me toward the palace for the celebration. There’s excitement and a deep longing to be there.” I shook my head, rubbing my chest. “It’s almost suffocating, as if I need to prepare for my departure immediately. It feels like something—or someone—is waiting for me, and I cannot miss out.”
“Could it be a summons?” Alauddeen asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
”My thoughts exactly!” Amu Sinbad nodded.
“For me?” Confusion swirled within me. ”Why?”
“I”m not sure. But it appears you’re being requested to join the festivities,” Amu elaborated, smiling widely. “Someone or something—perhaps the palace itself—is calling you.”
Alauddeen raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “That’s one way to get us inside.”