“Now that we know she was traveling with more than just Suha this time”—she ignored the eyebrow he raised when she used the word “know”—“I think she’s collecting orphans and outcasts from all over and trading them in for money.”
A frown creased As’ad’s face. “That brings up two questions. First, outcasts?”
“One of the couples that I talked to at the crossroads mentioned that their nephew had run off. They said he wasn’t a bad kid but had trouble fitting in. Well, the aunt said that. Her husband seemed to think the kid just needed a couple more months of ‘physical’ discipline. And she agreed.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah. Anyway, he disappeared shortly after Hadia came through town.”
“Or the woman youthinkis Hadia.”
“Close enough.”
“Second question: How could she be trading them in? Indentured servitude isn’t really a thing anymore. Plus, any money earned that way was strictly for paying off debts.”
A deeply uncomfortable expression sat on her face.
“You don’t think—slavery has been outlawed since the sultan’s grandfather reigned!” The very idea curdled his stomach.
“Well, I initially considered more of a black market adoption sort of thing because the first children she made disappear were pretty young. But people desperate for children probably don’t want the older ones who are about to move out and get married or start apprenticeships.”
As’ad opened his mouth, but she jumped in first.
“I also thought of some weird ‘buy a bride’ service when Suha left. But that falls apart with the nephew.”
“It also seems unlikely that one woman would have a hand in that manydifferentways to get rid of people,” he pondered aloud.
“All I know is that something is very wrong with the whole situation.”
With the approach of evening, the lights of Marj twinkled brightly. As it was a rest day, the community was still fairly lively. Rahma wanted a chance to interview more people, and As’ad couldn’t stifle his curiosity, either, so they decided they could make camp a little later than usual. He preemptively appeased the rats by slipping a couple of treats into their cages before any of them woke.
To Rahma’s delight and As’ad’s dismay, they arrived to discover that a dance was being held in the square. Rahma asked where they should stash the cart, but he didn’t want to leave it, so she slipped into the dance without him.
As’ad set up the cart at the edge of the lantern light and leaned against it to glare into the crowd. When a hunched crone hobbled past him, her return glare was so unimpressed, he made an effort to be more pleasant. None of these strangers deserved his baseless wrath.
As he watched Rahma swirl across the dance floor with partner after partner, As’ad finally recognized the pinch in his gut as jealousy. He had become accustomed to being the only recipient of her smiles and attention. But he didn’t have any claim on her. In fact, he had less than no claim, and she would be leaving as soon as Suha was recovered.
Almost before he recognized that he had decided to move, his feet led him to where the dark-eyed beauty was catching her breath next to the refreshment table. He didn’t say anything, simply held out his hand in invitation. His own breath caught in his chest as he watched her eye his offering with a playful smirk.
One hundred years (or seconds) later, she slid her small brown hand into his. He folded his fingers over hers, then laughed when she impatiently tugged him onto the dance floor as a new song began. The notes were quick and light. Their feet fairly flew, and As’ad saw no one but her. More of Rahma’s curls had pulled free to frame her face charmingly. Her eyes glowed and he felt like the only man in the world.
All too soon, the song ended and the pair reluctantly stopped. Like the dancers around them, their breaths came fast. When the musicians began a new tune, Rahma quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t wait for his response, though, and had him twirling around the square before he could say yes.
This song was a touch slower, and As’ad’s breathing returned to normal. His heart rate, on the other hand, refused to settle down.
“What’s going on, my Tongue-tied Piper?” Rahma teased in a low voice that wasn’t likely to be overheard.
Suddenly, As’ad realized he would do anything to be hers. But what did a criminal lowlife have to offer this virtuous, exciting young woman?
He tried to fob her off with a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not much of a dancer?”
“You’re doing just fine.” She beamed at him.
Several times, other men attempted to steal Rahma away from him. She turned them all down kindly, somehow managing the feat without creating hard feelings. Eventually, their travel-weary feet demanded a break. Rahma took advantage of the opportunity to chat with the older folks sitting on the side. Naturally, she mentioned that they were in the company of the renowned Pied Piper.
As’ad reluctantly settled into the role (after pausing to collect his notebook), disappointed to lose her exclusive company but knowing that he would have her all to himself again tomorrow. As he made the rounds, he occasionally overheard his beautiful companion asking her questions about orphans and outcasts. He missed most of the answers, as the residents were all-too-eager to discuss their theories about why the rats weren’t plaguing Marj.
Though he hadn’t planned on revealing his identity, again, it worked in their favor. He was invited to make camp in the square with the other visitors, who he learned were traveling merchants. In the morning, while stalls were set up for the monthly market, some of the regular residents added to As’ad’s food stock. If this kept up, he might not need to pull another con until he left the country.
