The Wrath and the Dawn(88)

“About the White Falcon. The savior of Khorasan.”

“What are you talking about?” Tariq heaved a weary sigh.

“Have you not heard of him? They say he rides under a banner emblazoned by the standard of a white falcon. That he intends to storm the city of Rey and overthrow its evil king.” Omar’s eyes twinkled. “As it turns out, I believe you’re quite familiar with the White Falcon. His friends call him Tariq.”

“I’m sorry,” Tariq said brusquely, knocking back the hood of his dusty white rida’. “But I’m in no mood for your games.”

“Games? War is not a game, my friend. Games are for small children and old men like me. War is a young man’s blighted delight.”

“Cease with the word games, Omar! I can’t stomach—”

“Would you like to see your banner, instead?” Omar winked. “It’s quite—”

“Please!” The single word cracked against the desert sky, filling it with frustration and the lasting hint of pain.

Omar’s keen eyes took in Tariq’s aggrieved face. “What happened while you were in Rey, my friend?”

Tariq released Zoraya into the clouds and leaned back against the trough.

“Tell me what troubles you so,” Omar pressed in a gentle voice.

“I—I have to get Shazi out of there. Away from that place. Away from that monster.”

“You are worried for her safety.” Omar nodded slowly. “Then why have you returned?” His concern eclipsed his bluntness.

Tariq cringed, unable to respond.

“Can you not tell me what happened, my friend?”

Tariq gazed into the settling dusk on the horizon. A trace of the sun’s warmth lingered along the edge, fading into blues that bled their way to black.

“I suspected he might care for her. After all, he let her live when so many others . . .” Tariq’s silver eyes chilled in thought. “But I did not expect this.”

Omar scratched at his beard. “I see.”

“What? What do you see?” Tariq turned toward the Badawi sheikh.

“You believe the young caliph . . .” Omar lifted a gnarled hand to Tariq’s shoulder. “Is in love with your Shahrzad.”

Tariq fixed his gaze on the coarse linen of Omar’s sleeve.

“And what led you to believe this?” Omar continued in the same kind tone.

“The—it’s the way he looks at her,” Tariq whispered. “It’s the only time I even begin to understand him.”

Omar squeezed his shoulder. “Perhaps . . . it is for the best. I’ve heard the young caliph has lived a life of profound loss. If Shahrzad can—”

“I will not leave Shazi in the arms of a murdering madman!”

Omar blinked hard. The heavy creases of his eyelids rose and fell with a purposeful weight. “Tariq, why are you doing this? Why are you fighting this battle?”

“Because I love her,” Tariq said without hesitation.

“But . . . why do you love her?”

“What kind of a ridiculous question—”

“It is not a ridiculous question. It is a very simple one. The difficulty lies in the answer. Why do you love her?”

“Because—” Tariq rubbed at the back of his neck. “All of my most cherished memories are of her. I’ve suffered alongside her. And . . . we’ve laughed at nothing together.”

Omar’s hand fell from Tariq’s shoulder. “A shared history does not entitle you to a future, my friend.”

“How could I expect you to understand?” Tariq said. “No one ever tried to take Aisha from you. No one—”

“I do not have to lose my wife to understand the meaning of loss, Tariq. A child with a broken toy understands such things.”

Anger coiled through Tariq’s chest. “Are you likening my suffering to that of a child?”

Omar shook his head with a bemused smile. “Loss is loss. And the lesson is always the same.”

“I am not in the mood for a lesson.”

“Nor am I.” Omar laughed. “So I will share a story instead.”

“Please don’t—”

“On a clear night, many years ago, I watched a thousand stars fall from the sky. I was only a small boy, but I possessed a very curious heart, so I decided to chase them into the desert, far beyond the horizon. You see, I wanted to know where stars went when they fell. I ran and ran until I could run no more. And still I could not see where the stars went.”