Chapter 13
Nasteho came with her children the following morning. I took the dunij to retrieve them from the beach and granted the rest
of my crew the day off so Majed’s wife and children could explore the Marawati to their heart’s delight. Nasteho had brought more of her family’s excellent food, and we spread a picnic while Ahmad raced
around the ship, shrieking with glee and climbing everything he could.
“So this is the life he gave up for us,” she mused, watching as Ahmad tugged eagerly at the left rudder under Tinbu’s watchful
eye and shouted about going to India to search for snakes. “What a wondrous experience to go anywhere you wish with only the
wind.”
I laughed. “You’d be surprised how fickle a partner the wind can be. Sometimes it conspires with the current to take you in
an entirely different direction from which you intended. Majed and I once set out from Zanzibar for Muscat and ended up in
Madagascar.”
“Still, it must have been exciting.”
“Aye,” I said softly. “We had some times.”
Nasteho picked up a mango and began slicing it, handing the fleshy pit to the toddler to suck on.
My heart twisted at the sight. “Mangoes are my daughter’s favorite too. I used to let her gnaw on the pits like that when
her teeth were coming in. Made a terrible mess, but it was the only thing that helped.”
“Ahmad only ever wanted to gnaw on me when his teeth came.” Her gaze flickered to mine, and whatever she saw there gentled her expression. “How long has it been since you saw her?”
Salima’s threat hissed in my mind. You go out that door and I swear you will never see your daughter again .
I managed to speak past the lump that rose in my throat. “Two months.”
“You must miss her terribly.”
“I wish to God she were here.” My heart a mess, the answer slipped out before I could check myself in front of a woman who
was still a stranger to me. “Well, not necessarily here , sharing the... ah, job with which I’ve been tasked. But I would enjoy having her on my ship, playing with your Ahmad.”
Nasteho looked surprised. “Have you never brought her aboard? Majed says you grew up on the Marawati .”
I hesitated, uncertain how much Majed had told her about Marjana and the circumstance that had led to my “retirement.” “No,”
I confessed. “This is the first time I have been at sea since she was born.”
“Ah.” Nasteho glanced at Ahmad, who was now begging a visibly stressed Tinbu to let him climb the mast. When she spoke again,
her voice was contemplative. “After my first husband died, I used to go to my father’s office in town once a week to check
the books. I am better with numbers than my siblings, but it was boring, mindless work. And yet I loved it. The chance to
be alone for a few hours and accountable only to myself. To have lunch on the beach and watch the waves come in without anyone
needing me. It was a respite I did not realize until I married a second time and Ahmad was born. I love my children with my
whole heart, but...” She met my gaze, understanding there. “Part of you must be overjoyed to be a nakhudha again.”
Yes . However, it wasn’t until Nasteho said it that I really let myself accept that truth—guilt had kept me from making the same
connection. For how could I enjoy being on the Marawati if it kept me from Marjana? Especially on a mission so dangerous?
But I did. I loved it. I had always loved it.
I loved being on my ship, the wind in my face and the salty damp in my clothes.
I loved taking pride in running a tight vessel and a capable crew, jesting with my companions and rising each dawn to see a new expanse of water stretching toward the horizon.
Seafaring had been stamped into my soul long ago; there was no rooting it out.
“I’m not sure I ever stopped being a nakhudha,” I finally replied. “Our hearts may be spoken for by those with sweet eyes,
little smiles, and so very many needs, but that does not mean that which makes us us is gone. And I hope... part of me hopes anyway that in seeing me do this, Marjana knows more is possible. I would not
want her to believe that because she was born a girl, she cannot dream.”
But the last words rang slightly false. For what use was it giving Marjana an example of female independence if I rarely let
her leave the house and refused to send her to school out of fear? Yes, that fear was deeply justified... but I suspect
similar sentiments had led Sayyida Salima to sequester Dunya so thoroughly. And look how that worked out.
Nasteho’s eyes danced with mischief. “What if Marjana dreams of being a pirate?”
“God forbid.” But I seized the opportunity to change the topic. “Has Majed ever admitted we were pirates? I must know.”
“Oh, never. He is far too talented at dancing with his words.” She hesitated. “I am terribly fond of him. There is no way
my parents knew his true past when they suggested the match, but discovering the seemingly staid cartographer I married was
actually Amina al-Sirafi’s navigator made for a very exciting surprise on my wedding night.” She met my gaze again, her expression
more serious. “This job you’re on, searching for your friend’s daughter: Is it dangerous?”
The bloody memory of Layth choking on silver rose to my mind. “It could very well be,” I admitted. “But I am attempting to mitigate the risk as much as possible. I have someone very important waiting back home and I intend to return to her.”
Nasteho seemed to consider that. “A fair answer, nakhudha.” She wiped the baby’s mango-covered mouth. “I should like to meet
your Marjana someday, God willing.”
Dalila joined us, Payasam purring in her arms.
“Do not tell me the useless cat has won you over as well?” I complained. “I woke up to its tail in my mouth .”
“I remain entranced by its utter inability to provide for itself,” Dalila marveled. “Tinbu must hand-feed it so that it does
not starve. The only thing it does seek to consume on its own initiative is my black powder. It is such a failure of a cat
that I cannot help but be impressed.”
“Cat!” The little girl dropped the mango pit and lunged for Payasam with sticky fingers. The feline let out a wheezy rumble,
giving Majed’s daughter a happy look of blissful incomprehension.
“What about you, Lady Dalila?” Nasteho asked. “Is there anyone back home you are eager to return to?”
Dalila picked at her teeth. “I had to abandon a time-sensitive experiment with extremely promising indications as a new knockout
gas.”
“For pain relief,” I amended quickly. “Dalila is our... healer.”
Nasteho’s brows rose slightly. “Ah, yes. Majed speaks frequently of how you ‘healed’ him when you first met.”
Dalila rolled her eyes. “It was hardly the worst of my poisons. There are some physicians who believe it beneficial to vomit
blood every now and then. It balances the humors.”
Nasteho blanched, and I pulled Dalila down next to me.
“Eat,” I ordered, shoving a sweet roll in my companion’s hands. “It will prevent you from talking.”
Majed’s family ended up spending much of the day on my ship.
We ate and chatted while the baby crawled after the cat and Tinbu taught Ahmad how to catch crabs off the boat’s side.
I felt a little bad picnicking with Majed’s family while he worked on our clues, but my old navigator knew where the Marawati was.
If he wanted to come by, nothing was stopping him.
Even so, when Nasteho began packing up, I could not help but inquire, “How is your husband today?”
“He has barely left his office since you departed. The man loves a good nautical mystery. Indeed, we should get back. He is
liable not to eat unless I remind him.”
I picked up the little girl from where she had been climbing a stack of crates, briefly cuddling her to my chest and wondering
how my nephew, just as small and snuggly, was doing back home. “Please visit anytime; I’ve greatly enjoyed your company. And
bring Majed. It would be good to see him aboard the Marawati again.”
A mysterious smile flitted over her lips. “Have no fear, nakhudha. I do not think my husband will be able to keep away much
longer.”
Nasteho turned out to be correct. We had been in Mogadishu less than a week when my old navigator showed up on the beach unannounced,
and as my crew rowed him over in the dunij, I watched Majed’s gaze trace the Marawati from stern to bow, a thousand emotions warring across his weathered face. It took a bit longer than it used to for him to
climb aboard, and as he approached my bench, he ran his hands over the rudder with open nostalgia. Majed looked so much older,
a far cry from the man who’d once been the strongest swimmer I’d ever known and would climb the mast to spy new lands at the
drop of a cap. A saddlebag hung from one shoulder, and he wore a finely made robe with wide blue stripes and tiraz armbands
picked out in silver embroidery. Underneath was a crisp red thawb that might have been new, an equally pristine turban wrapping
his head.
“Nakhudha.” Majed touched his heart. “Peace be upon you.”
“And upon you peace, Father of Maps,” I returned.
Tinbu grinned and pulled Majed into a hug, kissing his cheeks. “Hello, old friend.”
Dalila emerged from the galley and frowned, her gaze narrowing on his midsection. “You got fat.”
“Says the woman squinting like her eyesight is going,” Majed replied tartly. He turned to me. “I have what you requested,
Amina.”
My heart stuttered. For some reason, I did not think Majed would come back, much less with an answer. “You know where Falco
took Dunya?”
“I know where the markings on that piece of parchment lead to. And if that is where Dunya told the Frank to go search for
the Moon of Saba...” Majed motioned to the bench. “You should sit down.”
***
“Socotra?” I repeated. “You are certain?”
“As certain as God allows.” Majed gestured to the documents spread before us. Alongside the burned parchment I’d found in