As one who had lived with such knowledge, I found this line of reasoning unconvincing. Certainty, in my experience, only made the thing more difficult, not less.

I was still contemplating what Sadiq had said, when he rose abruptly. "Ya'Allah!" he said softly.

Glancing up, I saw that he was gazing down into the valley, his eyes fixed on the place where the trail began its long torturous climb up to the promontory on which we now sat. "What do you see?" I asked, following his gaze.

But Sadiq was already hastening away. From over his shoulder he called, "We are being followed!"

Still staring at the place Sadiq had indicated, I perceived a minute movement along the valley floor: a solitary figure, desert pale, picking its lone way slowly along the trail in the dusk. I strained my eyes to see more, and could, with difficulty, make out the form of a horse ambling behind the figure. Very soon the shadows would steal both from view.

"Get back!" Sadiq ordered, and I edged away from the overlook wondering how Sadiq could have seen the follower. Even after being shown where to look, the lone figure was all but impossible to see. The answer came to me then that the Amir had seen the figure because he knew it was there, was looking for it, and likely had been searching for some time.

Concealing ourselves among the tumbled rocks on either side of the trail, we settled down to wait-and waited long, but the follower did not appear. After a suitable period had elapsed, Sadiq left his hiding place and crept once more to the promontory where he lay on his stomach and gazed down into the valley for a moment before returning to call us from our places.

"Our friend has made camp for the night," he said. "It is a poor thing to travel alone; I think we must persuade him to join the companionship of our fire." The amir chose four of the rafiq to accomplish this task. "Go quietly," he warned, "for we do not wish to inspire unholy fear in our guest."

The four proceeded into the valley on foot, leaving the rest to make camp. As Faysal and the others went about their chores, the blue-black twilight stain deepened in the sky and the stars began to shine. It was full dark by the time the welcome party returned with our solitary pursuer.

They came abruptly out of the night, emerging into the circle of light provided by our campfire-two warriors, leading their charge, the third coming behind, and the fourth leading a horse and donkey. We fell silent as they appeared; Sadiq stood. "I am pleased you could be persuaded to join us," he said, speaking to the figure still in darkness.

I peered into the gloom beyond the firelight and saw a slender form swathed head to foot in a pale robe.

"Come forward, friend," Sadiq invited. "Sit with us; warm yourself by our fire, and share our meat."

The figure stood silently, but made no move to accept Sadiq's invitation. Neither did the warriors move, but held themselves stiffly, as if afraid or embarrassed to stand too near the stranger.

"Please," the amir insisted, his tone growing firm. "My next appeal may be less to your liking."

Lowering the hood, the stranger stepped into the circle of light.

"Kazimain!" I cried, leaping to my feet.

"Ah, Kazimain," sighed Sadiq, shaking his head wearily.

I went to her and made to embrace her, but among the Children of Allah, it is held a sinful thing for a man and woman to be seen touching one another, so I stood uncertainly before her, aware of the eyes on us, and Lord Sadiq's inevitable displeasure. "Kazimain?" I whispered, pleading for an explanation.

She glanced at me, her dark eyes defiant; she seemed on the point of speaking, but thought better of it, stepped past me and settled herself at the fire. Sadiq stared at his kinswoman, an expression of exasperated pride and annoyance warring on his swarthy face. Annoyance won. "You should not have come," he said at last.

Kazimain, without taking the slightest regard, extended her hands towards the fire. No doubt she had foreseen this meeting and had prepared what she would do. "One would almost think you were not happy to see me, Uncle," she observed, her voice sweet and soft.

"It was a foolish thing to do." The amir frowned. He dismissed his men to their chores, and sat down, folding his legs beneath him. He placed his hands on his knees. "There are wicked men in the hills. You might have been killed," he paused, "or worse."

Kazimain raised her head and regarded him with regal disdain. "I was ever within sight of the amir," she replied coolly. "Is his arm so short that he could not protect me?"

"You have been hiding all this time?" I wondered.

"The fire is warm," she said, holding her hands before the flames. "It is a luxury I did not allow myself." She glanced at me, the merest hint of a superior smile touching her lips. "If the amir had known, he would have sent me home."

"The amir will send you home!" declared Sadiq firmly.

Kazimain inclined her head nicely. "If that is your decision, my kinsman, I will not disagree."

"You should not have come," Sadiq said again. "No daughter of mine would ever do such a thing."

"No doubt your unborn daughters are better behaved than I," Kazimain replied.

"Your disobedience is shameful and unbecoming." The amir's voice was growing tight with frustration.

"Forgive me, uncle," Kazimain replied, "but I do not believe you forbade me to travel. How have I disobeyed you?"

"Must I foresee every possibility?" Sadiq charged. Snatching up a small stick, he snapped it, and threw it into the fire. "This insolence is intolerable. You will return to Ja'fariya at once."

Kazimain rose. "If that is your command." She turned as if she meant to go right then.

"Ya'Allah!" muttered Sadiq. "Camels are less contentious." He looked at me, frowned, and said, "Stay, Kazimain. No one is riding anywhere tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough."

"As you will, lord." Kazimain returned to her place by the fire, the very image of meekness and compliance.

"At dawn tomorrow," Sadiq declared, "you will be escorted back to Samarra where you belong."

"I understand," she said.

We three sat together in uneasy silence for a moment. The matter was settled, and there was nothing more to say. Sadiq looked at me, and then at Kazimain, and back again; abruptly, he stood and walked away, commanding one of the men to take care of Kazimain's horse and donkey.

It was as much privacy as we were likely to get, so I wasted not a moment of it. I leaned nearer and whispered, "Kazimain, why did you come?"

"Need you ask, my love?" she stared into the fire, lest anyone see her talking to me and take offence.

"Lord Sadiq is right, it was very dangerous. You could have been hurt."

"Are you to be angry with me, too?" she asked, her brow creasing slightly.

"Not in the least, my love, I-"

"I thought you would be pleased to see me."

"I am-more than I can say-but you took a terrible risk."

Shaking her head, she said, "Perhaps, but I think it worthwhile to see you again."

She turned her face towards me at last; the firelight shimmering on her skin made my heart melt with longing. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her forever, but I could not so much as touch her hand. I almost squirmed with desire.

"I knew," she continued, "that if you left Samarra I would never see you again. I decided to come with you."

"And now you must go back."

"That is what Lord Sadiq has said," she agreed, but the way she said it made me wonder.

Four days later, we arrived at the enormous timber gate of the slave camp that was the caliph's silver mine. Yes, and Kazimain remained with us still, for on the morning that the amir had decreed for her return, she had respectfully pointed out that if her uncle truly cared about her safety, he would allow her to continue her journey since remaining with him and his bodyguard would undoubtedly be safer than returning alone, or with an escort of only two or three. The amir countered by saying he would send half his men, and received the reply that this proposal seemed needlessly foolhardy since it would compromise the amir's enterprise.