Forbearance

by Brianna M. Hoyle

Chapter 9

My throat felt dry and I looked around for something to drink. Oddly enough, there were no drinks whatsoever. What kind of dinner did not serve a beverage?

Just as that thought crossed my mind, I saw three men enter the room. One held a pitcher, the second held a tray of goblets, and the third brought a bowl full of more fruit. I looked on the table and saw that the fruit bowl on the table had yet to be emptied, nor was it close to it. Why was he bringing more fruit?

“You know something?”

The man who sat across from Hakim, the man who was currently being smothered in physical affection by the bangled woman across from me, spoke for the first time during the meal. “Emir, I believe that you are quite a lucky man.”

The Emir raised an eyebrow and stared down the table at the man who spoke. “And why do you say that, Abdul-Fazl?”

All eyes shifted to Abdul-Fazl and the woman who was currently draped on his side. “You are head of the largest province in the country, and not only that, your oldest son is preparing to be married to the most beautiful of the Sultan’s daughters! You are, I say, a lucky man!”

Nadir snorted at his words and shoved a slice of apple into his mouth. The older woman beside him placed a firm hand on his arm and whispered something sharply to him.

The Emir smiled coldly. “Luck? I doubt it was that,” he said, picking up a piece of meat and placing it in his mouth.

“Oh?” Abdul-Fazl looked innocently surprised. “Not luck? Well, surely you did not arrange for it.”

Nadir snorted again, this time giving vent to a laugh. The Emir stared hard at his son before returning his gaze to Abdul-Fazl. “The Sultan seemed to believe my son was the most worthy for his daughter. There was no set up.”

“Most worthy to inherit the country, no doubt,” Abdul-Fazl said offhandedly.

There were many reactions to this, those which ranged from shock at his words and worry that was directed at the Emir, fearing his response. Only the young boy, who was intent upon eating and consuming the many dishes set before him, paid no mind to the conversation happening around him. I sat still, desiring to glance at Hakim and wonder what could be happening, but I was too busy discreetly watching the three servants who were approaching the table with the beverages, goblets, and fruit. Something seemed off about them.

The Emir, who had been slouched to the side, head propped up in his hand, sat up straight and stared down the length of the table at Abdul-Fazl. “Do you imply something?” he asked.

The woman draped across Abdul-Fazl giggled quietly.

“Imply something? Such as what, you grace?” His tone was innocent. Far too innocent. The servants brought the pitcher and the goblets to the table.

“That I have pulled strings to make this happen,” the Emir said.

“Of course not, your grace!” Abdul-Fazl looked greatly offended. The woman draped on him mirrored his expression. “I was simply congratulating your success! Is it so wrong to do so?”

The goblets were placed in front of each person, filled to their brim with a kind of juice. It smelled of pomegranates. Mine was placed before me and I looked to Hakim. He gave me that reassuring smile, only this time it did not calm my nerves. Something was not right.

The third servant with the bowl of fruit was leaving, having not placed the bowl on the table. Why did he bring it if he was not to set it before those eating?

“Let us only hope that nothing shall come along which may ruin your streak of luck. We all know that the El-Ghazzawy tribe does not care much for you,” Abdul-Fazl said. “They raided a section of the city on the very same evening your son happened to be spending time there. Sounds incredibly coincidental. After all, were your son to die… there goes your connection to the Sultan.” The man shrugged and lifted his goblet.

Tension was growing and with it came a great feeling of anticipation that set all of my nerves on fire. My throat became dry and I longed for water. I knew something was about to happen. I felt that the man, Abdul-Fazl, had built up to something. This all seemed familiar. I felt I knew what was to happen next, yet at the same time I did not. I knew that disaster was preparing to strike, but I could not have said what. My hands were shaking beneath the table. I knew… I knew this moment. I knew this feeling of suspense. Something was going to happen, but what?

I was sweating now as I looked around the table. Abdul-Fazl appeared smug as he tipped his goblet and allowed the liquid to pour into his mouth. I looked at all of the others around the table who were giving him peculiar expressions, finding his words to be rather odd. The Emir raised an eyebrow. Nadir shrugged and lifted his goblet to his lips.

I knew in that moment what was meant to happen and I reacted before I could sort out the things that flashed in my mind. Everything exploded inside of me as though a timed eruption had been ticking off for the passed few minutes.

“No!” I cried, standing to my feet and reaching out toward the Amirzade. “Don’t!”

Nadir froze and everyone else at the table jumped. Abdul-Fazl, however, was a little slow in his reaction of surprise.

Hakim stood up and took my arm. “Sabriyya, Sabriyya, what is it?” he asked.

“It is poisoned!” I said, holding out my hand as though that alone would keep the liquid from touching Nadir’s lips. When I said that, he held the goblet away from him and looked at me, confused.

I looked to Hakim. “I do not know how I know this, Hakim, but trust me. It is poisoned.”

“Who are you to speak up at my table, disrupting my dinner with your accusations!” the Emir stated.

The guards outside of the room entered, having heard my yelling. They approached the Amirzade and looked into his goblet. Nadir handed it to them and looked down the table to Abdul-Fazl. “Your choice of words and timing are strange,” he said, an accusative tone lacing his words.

Hakim pulled me farther away from the table and looked me in the eyes. “Sabriyya, what is it? How do you know this?”

“I do not know!” I told him, shaking my head. “I feel as though I have been here before! I remember this feeling!” I was falling apart, my lack of memories beginning to frustrate me and the sensations that were coming back only further complicating my mind. The uncomfortable atmosphere and the condescending tone of the Emir, I did not take in gracious reception.

“Your grace! This goblet was poisoned!” one of the guards announced.

Nadir’s face went white and the woman beside him covered her mouth.

The woman across from me gave me a stare. “How did you know there was poison in that goblet?” she asked me.

“I do not know…” I said, looking at the guard and hoping he spoke the truth.

The Emir snatched the goblet from his guard and brought it to his nose, taking a whiff. He glared at the cup and handed it back. “Poisoned,” he reported. His eyes fell on me. “Who are you, foreigner?”

“She is my—”

“Enough of your lies, Hakim!” the Emir shouted and Nadir looked to his father in confusion. “She is no cousin of yours and the only nomadic tribe to the west, the only place she could have come from, is the El-Ghazzawy Tribe!”

“What?!” Nadir exclaimed.

“Ugh!” The woman across from me exclaimed, backing away to put as much distance between me and her as possible. “Those disgusting raiders? She’s one of them? Well, it explains why she is so ridiculously tall!”

I stared at the woman, almost recoiling at how everyone seemed to respond to the tribe I may have possibly come from. A tribe of raiders… The same raiders who disliked the Emir as Abdul-Fazl had just said?

“You assume, your grace,” Hakim said calmly.

“But what if I am, Hakim?” I said quietly. “What if I am? What if I was meant to be with those raiders, yet somehow was left behind? What if I was meant to kill Nadir, not save him as I did?”

Hakim turned me to face him. “Sabriyya…”

“I am not Sabriyya!” I shouted at him, hating the words as soon as they came out of my mouth for the grief that showed on Hakim’s face. But I could not take them back. They were truth. “I don’t know who I am!”

I tore my arms from his grip to run from the room. I did not desire to remain here where I felt memories were poking at me and I was being informed of who I could possibly be. But the Emir would not have it.

“Do not let her leave!”

The guards were before me in a moment, their spears in hand. I felt instinct take over when they threatened me and my hands dropped to my saber.

“Sabriyya, no!” Hakim cried. He ran to me, grabbing me once more and pulling me back. “Do not do this, Sabriyya! Look at me!”

I could not face him. He had been kind to someone who may have not deserved such kindness. I was hollow, empty on the inside, not knowing of who I was. Incomplete. Unfinished. Abandoned. I shook my head as tears sprung to my eyes. Hakim brushed the curls away from my eyes, cupping my face with his hand.

“Sabriyya… you may not know who you are, but to me you are Sabriyya. Do you know what Sabriyya means?”

I shook my head.

“Forbearance, child. It means forbearance. You press on. You press forward. You traveled across a blazing desert simply so that your horse may have water. You did not care for yourself, only him. You charged into a raid to protect people you did not know, simply because you believed they did not deserve to die. You must stand up to those things that are hard for you to accept. You cannot run away from that which is difficult to face. Look at me.”

I opened my eyes, seeing the compassion, the true compassion that swam in his eyes. His face was etched with concern as he looked at me, as he held me. He spoke the truth. He had chosen to trust me and had yet to show even a hint of suspicion as to who I might be. I did not deserve this compassion.

“You tell an interesting story, Hakim.” The Emir was now standing to his feet. “Perhaps you shall tell us the whole of it.”

Hakim smiled at me. “Sabriyya shall tell you. I need not speak for her.”

His smile gave me strength. I turned to the Emir and straightened myself. “I awoke on the morn of yesterday in the middle of a desert…” And from there I told my story to those listening. I told of stumbling into Idris, of seeing Hakim, of going to the house of Jalil, of the confusion as to my gender identity, of the raid that took place, of saving the life of Nadir, of meeting him outside Jalil’s home, of coming here. I told of the feelings I remembered, of knowing this had happened before. I knew the cup held poison, yet I did not know how it came to be there nor why I knew it. All the while Hakim held my hand and transferred his wisdom and strength to me as I spoke.

“How convenient,” Abdul-Fazl said at the close of my tale. “To have conveniently appeared in the city on the day of a raid. Perhaps you are from the tribe of El-Ghazzawy, here to finish a job they could not.”

“You speak of coincidences, Abdul.” It was the young boy who spoke. “Your wish of good luck to the Emir seemed to coincide with Nadir’s attempted poisoning.”

Abdul-Fazl’s face turned red. “Anyone would wish the Emir good luck at his table! It is only fitting!”

“Why would she stop Nadir from drinking if she was trying to kill him?” the boy pushed on. “And your reaction was a little slow when she did so.”

So the boy had been paying attention, not simply stuffing his face.

Abdul-Fazl blustered to answer. “Don’t be stupid, boy! I had no idea what was going on! Forgive my reaction for not being perfect!”

“Are you calling my son stupid?” the Emir asked.

Abdul-Fazl now paled. “N-no… no, your grace. Of course not…”

Nadir crossed his arms. “I don’t see why we must be suspicious of her,” he said. “She did save my life once. Why would she poison me?”

Hakim turned on Abdul-Fazl. “I could not help but notice that you seemed startled by her appearance when we walked in,” he said. “Your reaction was spot on, then.”

I looked to Hakim, wondering what he meant. I too had noticed he appeared to have gone pale, yet I believed it was from shock at my physical attributes, as it was for everyone.

Abdul-Fazl stood to his feet. “I do not know what you are going on about, old man, but do not attempt to muddy my name. I will hear nothing like that from the likes of you!”

Hakim remained calm as always. “Perhaps you recognized her?”

“Be silent!” Abdul-Fazl hissed.

His blundering was only further ruining his image. “Do continue, Hakim,” the Emir said thoughtfully.

I was confused. “Why would he know me?” I asked of Hakim.

“Perhaps because you are with the tribe, as he suggests.” Hakim was answering me but still staring at Abdul-Fazl. “But perhaps he is as well. Oh, he may be a man of Idris, but perhaps he made a deal with the Sheikh of El-Ghazzawy. Perhaps the raid was his idea. Perhaps you were with this tribe. Perhaps you were left behind, lost wandering in the desert. He attempted to lose you, to kill you for one reason or another.”

I looked to Abdul-Fazl and knew what I saw. It was the face of a man who was close to being caught. He was frightened and searching for a way to escape. His eyes darted to the left and to the right.

“Is this true?” I asked him. “Did you know me? Did you leave me behind in the desert?”

“Your grace, surely now you believe this is another of Hakim’s games!” he said, turning to the Emir. “How could I possibly know this monstrous child? She is a defective mutant, the height of a man and lacking brains.”

The Emir did not answer immediately, stroking his beard as he watched Abdul-Fazl. “Another of Hakim’s games, you say. Yet your brow is damp and your palms sweaty,” he said.

“Did you leave me and my horse in the desert?” I asked again, wanting to know. I desired not to believe I had been abandoned, yet it seemed this was the truth. I wanted to know how he could dare to abandon my horse as he did. The woman who had been throwing herself upon Abdul-Fazl during the meal looked torn as to what to believe. Nadir was glaring harshly at the man, his younger brother waiting patiently to hear his answer. The older woman looked faint, the others at the table all appeared confused, and the guards were unsure as to who they ought to be watching, me or Abdul-Fazl.

Abdul-Fazl turned to me and looked me in the eye. “I did not,” he said shortly, hissing the answer through his teeth. “I did not leave you in the desert. I haven’t seen you or your horse before in my life. Do not drag me into your attempt at murder. You shouldn’t have tried so hard to get water, you and that foul grey beast could both die in the desert for all I care or know of you!”

Anger flashed in my chest. I felt as though a hot iron had been placed directly on top of my heart. “How dare you speak of Darioush like that!” I shouted. His tone, the way he called him a beast… I could have killed him for that. “You may say what you like of me, but do not speak of my horse that way, you pathetic excuse for a human!”

“Sabriyya…” Hakim said quietly, but I did not heed his tone.

“I would skewer you in an instant, had I the mind, and leave your body out for the rats! You have less honor than that of an heifer. Keep your wicked tongue behind your teeth!”

“Sabriyya, please!” Hakim grabbed my arm firmly and pulled me back away from a smirking Abdul.

I looked to Hakim, wondering what was wrong. “Hakim?”

“Sabriyya… that language…” he said, eyes glistening with pain.

“…Language…?” I realized too late that in my anger, I had begun to speak the language I knew in my head, not the one I was hearing from those around me.

“It is the dialect of the El-Ghazzawy tribe,” he said quietly.