placing a slip of paper with the refigured food stores in front of the sheikh. “These are the latest numbers by my calculations and Karam’s observations, my lord.”
With a raised eyebrow, the sheikh picked up the paper, nodding to Noori. He read through the numbers and then cast a level look through narrowed eyes at the visitor. After a long, nervous minute for the visitor, the sheikh took up his stylus and signed the paper, agreeing to the trade. The visitor sighed in relief and visibly relaxed, bowing.
Noori dared send a small smile in the sheikh’s direction before moving to usher the dignitary from the tent. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”
The visitor glanced to the sheikh, who was already perusing more papers, then back to Noori. “What put him in such a good mood? Heavens be praised.” The dignitary rushed off, waving the paper at his waiting people, who cheered.
Noori walked back into the dim and silent tent, contemplating the past six months of his new life. It was days like today that he really felt his worth. “’Twas a good thing you did this day, my lord.”
“Hmm?” The sheikh made an inquisitive sound though he was already reading the next supplication, making little notes in the margin of the paper. His spectacles sat on the end of his nose, and his turban was slightly askew.
“His tribe would likely not have made it through this arid spell if you had not bartered with him.” Noori spoke softly and reached to straighten the lopsided turban.
The sheikh grunted in acknowledgment, stilling as Noori straightened his head scarves. Once Noori pulled away, the sheikh’s eyes sought out his face and paused for a moment. He looked back to the next paper with the slightest of smiles.
“What smile crosses your face, my lord? The thought of the ladies the dignitary brought with him as bribes?” Noori teased.
The smile widened, curving the sheikh’s lips as he rolled his eyes. “Next time I ought to see if Numair or Rami would have use for them,” he murmured, glancing up again. “Or perhaps you or Karam?”
Noori grinned, fingers tracing the intricate swirls carved in the edge of the table. “I have no use for females,” he answered. “And methinks Karam would be too frightened of them.”
A snort of laughter escaped the sheikh, who shook his head, smiling openly. “Karam would not appreciate such comments. He hopes to marry and sire many children.” The sheikh did not comment on Noori’s words about himself, although he filed them away to think about later.
“Actually, my lord, Karam has a lady friend. He is trying to work up enough courage to ask your permission to pursue her,” Noori confided. “But do not tell him you heard it from me. If you must mention it, blame Rami!”
The sheikh frowned and sighed, obviously befuddled by Karam’s reticence. “Who is this lady friend?” he asked, voice returning to his normal low growl. He reached for his water goblet.
“The serving maid in the east dining pavilion,” Noori leaned close and whispered as if conspiring. “She has been making eyes at him for months now, since I first came here.”
Fingering the whiskers covering his chin, the sheikh hummed slightly. “Is that not the milliner’s youngest daughter?” he asked. “It would be a fine match.”
“’Twould.” Noori nodded. “I have encouraged him in every way, but he claims he has been waiting until I am fully trained before he attempts marriage.”
The sheikh narrowed his eyes, studying Noori, and he grunted, going back to his papers just as a tap came at the tent flap. He waved a hand, sending Noori to meet the visitor. Noori walked gracefully to the door, pulled back the flap, and led the stranger to the opposite side of the sheikh’s table.
Looking up, the sheikh blinked and pulled off his spectacles, letting them hang from the chain. He smiled widely—very much unlike him—stood fluidly from the pillows, and approached the stranger, his arms
With a raised eyebrow, the sheikh picked up the paper, nodding to Noori. He read through the numbers and then cast a level look through narrowed eyes at the visitor. After a long, nervous minute for the visitor, the sheikh took up his stylus and signed the paper, agreeing to the trade. The visitor sighed in relief and visibly relaxed, bowing.
Noori dared send a small smile in the sheikh’s direction before moving to usher the dignitary from the tent. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”
The visitor glanced to the sheikh, who was already perusing more papers, then back to Noori. “What put him in such a good mood? Heavens be praised.” The dignitary rushed off, waving the paper at his waiting people, who cheered.
Noori walked back into the dim and silent tent, contemplating the past six months of his new life. It was days like today that he really felt his worth. “’Twas a good thing you did this day, my lord.”
“Hmm?” The sheikh made an inquisitive sound though he was already reading the next supplication, making little notes in the margin of the paper. His spectacles sat on the end of his nose, and his turban was slightly askew.
“His tribe would likely not have made it through this arid spell if you had not bartered with him.” Noori spoke softly and reached to straighten the lopsided turban.
The sheikh grunted in acknowledgment, stilling as Noori straightened his head scarves. Once Noori pulled away, the sheikh’s eyes sought out his face and paused for a moment. He looked back to the next paper with the slightest of smiles.
“What smile crosses your face, my lord? The thought of the ladies the dignitary brought with him as bribes?” Noori teased.
The smile widened, curving the sheikh’s lips as he rolled his eyes. “Next time I ought to see if Numair or Rami would have use for them,” he murmured, glancing up again. “Or perhaps you or Karam?”
Noori grinned, fingers tracing the intricate swirls carved in the edge of the table. “I have no use for females,” he answered. “And methinks Karam would be too frightened of them.”
A snort of laughter escaped the sheikh, who shook his head, smiling openly. “Karam would not appreciate such comments. He hopes to marry and sire many children.” The sheikh did not comment on Noori’s words about himself, although he filed them away to think about later.
“Actually, my lord, Karam has a lady friend. He is trying to work up enough courage to ask your permission to pursue her,” Noori confided. “But do not tell him you heard it from me. If you must mention it, blame Rami!”
The sheikh frowned and sighed, obviously befuddled by Karam’s reticence. “Who is this lady friend?” he asked, voice returning to his normal low growl. He reached for his water goblet.
“The serving maid in the east dining pavilion,” Noori leaned close and whispered as if conspiring. “She has been making eyes at him for months now, since I first came here.”
Fingering the whiskers covering his chin, the sheikh hummed slightly. “Is that not the milliner’s youngest daughter?” he asked. “It would be a fine match.”
“’Twould.” Noori nodded. “I have encouraged him in every way, but he claims he has been waiting until I am fully trained before he attempts marriage.”
The sheikh narrowed his eyes, studying Noori, and he grunted, going back to his papers just as a tap came at the tent flap. He waved a hand, sending Noori to meet the visitor. Noori walked gracefully to the door, pulled back the flap, and led the stranger to the opposite side of the sheikh’s table.
Looking up, the sheikh blinked and pulled off his spectacles, letting them hang from the chain. He smiled widely—very much unlike him—stood fluidly from the pillows, and approached the stranger, his arms
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