Daughter of Nomads by Rosanne Hawke Page B

Demon King searched for him and killed his father, but Feraydun’s mother saved the baby and secretly gave him to a cow herder to bring up safely. When he was in danger again his mother took him to the mountains where he played in fields of wildflowers.’
    Azhar paused, gazing at Jahani.
    She wondered at his intense look as if he expected a reaction from her. ‘And?’ She was enjoying Azhar’s retelling and didn’t want him to stop. Sameela’s tutor had not added the gory details.
    â€˜When Feraydun was sixteen he discovered who his father was: a descendent of Tahmures, the third king of Persia who was the binder of demons. Feraydun wanted to smite King Zahhak immediately, but his mother counselled him to wait until he had followers and support.’
    â€˜And he won?’ Hafeezah had an odd look on her face as she glanced at Jahani.
    â€˜Awa, yes. He had many adventures narrowly escaping death and he killed Zahhak with a huge ox-head mace. Qhuda and the angels helped him to free the world from treachery and tyranny.’
    Jahani thought of the burning village and drew Anjuli closer. It would be good to live in a world free from tyranny.

7
    En Route to Balakot Gateway to the Kingdom of Kaghan
    E arly the next morning, Jahani woke Anjuli and they washed in a nearby stream. Wafts of smoke drifted past them like mist. Anjuli watched them so forlornly that Jahani hugged her. Jahani was mourning, too, and could imagine Anjuli’s pain, but there was nothing she could say to ease it. In silence they sat embracing on the bank as the sun rose.
    Hafeezah found them. Taking Anjuli by the hand, she said, ‘I have made chapattis to eat, then we will set out to find your relatives.’
    After breakfast, they rode on a track Anjuli indicated until mud houses filled their view. The houses were even smaller than Hafeezah and Jahani’s in Sherwan. A few goats nibbled the grass and jumped away as Azhar led their horses into the village. Men were working on a small plot of earth behind the houses; one man pulled a wooden plough. They don’t even have a buffalo , Jahani thought.
    â€˜Which house?’ Azhar asked. Anjuli pointed the way.
    Jahani jumped off Chandi and helped Anjuli down. They walked to the courtyard gate.
    Azhar called out. ‘Aunty ji? Anyone there?’
    A weary looking woman appeared. ‘Anjuli? Why are you here?’ She glanced at Azhar. ‘Where is your mother? Your brother?’
    Anjuli kept silent as tears welled in her eyes.
    â€˜Their village was burned,’ Azhar said. ‘Anjuli is the only survivor.’
    The woman put her hand to her mouth and stared.
    â€˜We found Anjuli soon after the attack,’ Azhar said. ‘Can you send the dead on their way and take the child?’
    The woman began to weep. ‘We cannot take her.’
    Jahani cut in. ‘Couldn’t she help in the house?’
    The woman glanced toward the men in the fields. ‘Please understand. She will eat more than she will help, and we won’t be able to marry her. We’ll be burdened with her forever.’ She held out her hand in supplication.
    Azhar said nothing. Instead he gave the woman a gold coin.
    The woman stared at her palm, speechless. So was Jahani. A mohur, a gold coin? Where did he get that?
    They rode out of the village quietly, Anjuli with Hafeezah, Azhar abreast of Jahani.
    Jahani could not keep silent for long. ‘Anjuli is part of their family.’
    â€˜It is the way of poor families,’ Azhar said. ‘They are just trying to survive.’
    â€˜Why should some be so poor they can’t feed an extra child?’ Jahani said. ‘I would change that if I could.’
    â€˜Truly?’ Azhar slowed Rakhsh and studied her in earnest. ‘And what would you do – if you had the power?’
    â€˜I’d make a law that girls are to be treated equally with boys, that weddings needn’t have dowries. I would