Kitara: A Tale of Leinyere

His volley was less subtle. Lightning, which she deflected with a shield of air. The speed and power of her shield made the crowd gasp. No native-born woman had the skill to accomplish such feats. He circled her, wary, and threw another spell, which she again deflected. While she had practiced this magic, she had not used it on another human being, and she hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed her Ifrit being pummeled by the more powerful Marid. She had to end this. She summoned a pillar of fire, bringing it down on Jafar. His reaction was too slow, as she had hoped, and he screamed as flesh and robes burned. He extinguished the flame, and launched lightning at her, which she deflected to strike his Marid, buying the Ifrit some time. She again brought flame upon him, searing his flesh. He screamed as he died and the assembled audience gasped. This was not possible, and yet they were seeing it.

She released her Ifrit as his Marid took flight, letting the two battle in the skies, or flee as they were content to. She turned, amplifying her voice for the crowd "Zahra, once I was, now Zahalldor." She floated on a draft of air "crown princess. heir to my father the Sultan. I have merged male and female. I am all things, and you will know my benevolent rule upon the passing of the great man" she nodded at her father "may he live another hundred years. For in me all things are possible and my reign shall be eternal"

Some fell to their knees. A few among the powerful stormed out. The crowd was abuzz, frantic discussion, cries of her new name, cries of the Sultan's name. A few shouts for her cousin Darius, all mingled in the great hall. She floated down, next to her father who stared at her in wonder "So... you are one with the Elf?"

"I think it is more accurate to say I stole his cock and his magic, that's about it father" she leaned in and kissed his cheek "I am still your daughter. That will never change"

The old man looked shocked, uncomfortable, but he nodded "strange times we live in. Jafar would have been a good Sultan though. This is not a life you want, daughter. You cannot believe how sheltered you were from how terrible it is to rule." He sighed "I never wanted this for you. I wanted you to be happy."

"Power will make me happy. Happier than being married off to some regional governor, wishing I had what it took to march on the capital." She sighed and rested her hand on her father's shoulder "Happiness is a choice, and I have choices now."

"no. you shall soon find that you have fewer choices than you possibly could imagine, my poor sweet child." He shook his head "power is an illusion; The Sultan is a cog in society's machine. An actor on a stage mouthing his part."

"Life as a woman has prepared me adequately for that, I should imagine."

***

For a few days, after Mahmoud left, things were awkward. The pair of women settled into a comfortable routine soon enough, however. Tending to the animals and Noreah and Mahmoud's wild sons, or sitting in companionable silence after a meal. Jahane had dressed for bed, after that night, but as weeks passed and the summer heat reached even the mountains, she finally lay naked on the pillows. Noreah, for her part, tried to not look over long or linger.

Still, in the fading light she couldn't help but notice how the girl's eyes were so large and lovely, and her lips so soft and inviting. She pushed those thoughts from her head when the soft low whisper of the girl reached her ears "Was it really you that chose me? Why?"

Noreah sighed and decided honesty was the best policy "Because if I was a man, I'd have stolen you for myself. If I was a man, my lips would be right now in concert with my fingers, singing the secret songs of your heart, that even you do not know. My every touch would be a poem written on your skin, an ode to your beauty, your purity." She lay on her side, looking down at the girl, risking a touch along her jaw. Her fingers trembled, nervous. The girl had been given the right to leave them, and she felt like in her place she'd have chosen to go but she wanted her to stay more badly for having spent these months getting to know her.

Jahane nodded "show me" and it took a long moment for it to register. Noreah stopped short of kissing her, looking down at her, threading her fingers through her hair "are you sure?"

***

"Are you sure?" Noreah asked, and Jahane stared up into her hawkish face, her dark eyes. She regarded her, the fall of ebony hair around her striking but more handsome than beautiful face. She felt the gentle caress of fingers in her own hair, and the whispered repeat of the question. She laughed softly "no. when am I ever sure of anything? But I want it all the same. I want you to show me." She swallowed, nervous, chest tight. She closed her eyes and parted her lips to invite a kiss, and for a moment it did not come. Then she felt Noreah's mouth at the corner of hers, then the other. She felt the ghostly brush of lips over her lips, a tease, soft as the breath that followed. She sighed, relaxing slightly, her hand sliding up into Noreah's thick hair, feeling the heat trapped in the tresses. Finally, she felt the softness of Noreah's mouth on hers, then tender tug at her lower lip, the trace of the other woman's tongue along her flesh.

Her own slipped out, tentative, circling just the tip of the older woman's as her hand gathered tighter in her hair. She turned into Noreah a bit, pressing her bare skin against bare skin. Her free hand brushed along the lean body next to hers, and she took stock of her emotions even as the kiss deepened. The scent of Noreah didn't set her alight like Faisal, and the taste of her didn't set her body on fire, she missed the brush of his beard, the solidity of his chest against her... but at the same time, she never felt as cared for, as treasured. She never felt as seen as in the moment Noreah paused at the cusp of brushing a nipple, breaking the kiss to look down at her, to make sure she was ok. "I'll let you know if I need to stop" she whispered, drawing the other woman back down against her.

After that encouragement, she felt the light touches turn rougher, the hands expressing the pent-up urgency of the other woman. They roamed over Jahane's curves, here cupping an ample breast, there digging into her round ass. Jahane's legs tangled with the other woman, and she felt Noreah pushing her thigh against her core. The girl heard a low moan and it took a moment to realize it was her own. She turned and buried her face in Noreah's neck, kissing, biting. Her nails dragged hard along Noreah's back as she clung to the other woman, moving in time with her. She closed her eyes and moaned again; her parted lips crushed to Noreah's as the older woman took control.

Noreah's voice floated through the night, gently instructing, telling her where to touch, where to kiss, where and how hard to bite. The older woman's rough hands explored, touching, teasing, sussing out what pleased Jahane even as she helped the girl learn how to please her. Finally, they lay in the hot night in a corner of the room cooler than where they'd entangled during their lovemaking. Jahane listened to the sound of Noreah's heart beat in her chest as she lay against her, quiet, troubled and blissful all at once, trying to figure out what this meant if anything.

"Are you ok?" the older woman asked, her fingers gently tracing through Jahane's hair. The girl felt the brush of lips against her head, kissing the top of it. She nodded, then understanding Noreah likely couldn't see her at that angle, she found her voice "I'm good. I just have a lot to think about." The fingers in her hair continued their gentle combing, and Noreah's other arm curled around her, holding her close despite the sticky heat of the summer night.

"I think that's perfectly reasonable"

Jahane shifted a bit to get comfortable while still maintaining contact "thank you" she whispered. "Thank you for everything really. For understanding. For this..." she gestured around "For being so kind" she sighed and closed her eyes, letting herself take comfort in the gentle touches that the older woman still lavished on her body.

"Jahane" the older woman started, then paused and screwed up her lips. She had the look of someone trying to broach something awkward but important. "Don't.... you know don't... feel like... you have to do this again. I mean unless you want to. It's not a condition of you staying here. Or going. Or anything. It is not.... It is just..."

Jahane sat up and kissed the other woman, blushing as she tasted herself on Noreah's lips "Noreah, you were the first. You have to marry me now" she joked "or it will be a huge scandal among the priests" She grinned, but inside she was in turmoil. She had no idea what this meant for her, was she like Noreah? Had it been a passing fancy brought on by loneliness and the need for the comfort of another person? She'd felt amazing but now after there was just so much to consider about the implications that her head spun.

"Don't be a brat" the other woman scolded, though she sounded somewhat more confident and slightly mollified. "I... needed some time to figure myself out after the first time. It's probably twice as bad for you since... at least I'd been with Mahmoud first." She kept her fingers tracing along Jahane's back "You can talk to Miriam about it. If you need someone. Besides me. Obviously"

Jahane sat fully up and ran her fingers through Noreah's hair, looking down at her "I might. I can't... promise how I'll feel about any of this on any given day. I want you to know though, that I do feel grateful. You shared how you felt and... I don't know. It touched me." She tangled her fingers in Noreah's "and I know, that come what may, I'll always think about this moment and how you made me feel and it will be one of the best memories of my life."

She watched the older woman smile, and leaned in for another kiss. She pulled back, just enough that Noreah could still cup her face in both hands. The older woman brushed her cheekbones with her thumbs and leaned in to tug softly at her lips, one then the other. "You should sleep. We have a long day."

***

For days, the girl had been friendly with her, but not flirtatious. Inside, Noreah was tightly wound, worrying if she'd gone too far, if she'd pushed something on the girl she'd accepted out of politeness or obligation. The girl was at times too easily led. Too agreeable. The long stretch without acknowledging what had passed between them was increasingly making her feel wound tight, anxious. Now she was watching Jahane cull some ewes who had not given birth the past few seasons, and during the winter would be expensive to feed and water as the tribe made the circuit around the great desert from watering hole to watering hole. Watching was perhaps too strong a word. She was staring in that direction and replaying every interaction with the girl and trying to decipher any hidden meanings. As a result, when the question came, she barely registered Jahane had spoken, until the girl repeated it "Noreah! Why don't the Masalim kill?"

Noreah snapped back to the present, shaking her head and looking down at the younger woman. "Why? Because it is wrong"

"Plenty of people think it is wrong and still do it, out of necessity. You don't even do it out of necessity."

Noreah considered a moment "Our founder was a girl of about your age. You know the blood feud?" Most of the tribes of the desert ascribed to the notion of blood feud. If someone murdered or harmed a member of your tribe, you hunted and killed them. Unfortunately, in practice that tended to set off another blood feud, their relatives against yours. "Her tribe was rich and powerful, in control of a set of oases that stretched south from Qasin along the coast. They took tribute from the port towns there, and the fishermen. They also were engaged in a lengthy blood feud with their neighbors, proud but poor men of the desert who had nothing... and so they clung more than anything to pride. A man of her tribe slighted one of theirs, and so their man hunted and killed the man of her tribe. Her tribe, more powerful, hunted a dozen of his relatives, and killed them... for which the others burned a permanent oasis settlement...for which her people poisoned a number of wells, killing women and children."

At Jahane's sour expression she reached out and squeezes the girl's arm "It doesn't end there. After the loss of their eldest and children, the poorer tribe went to war openly, slaughtering caravans, disrupting trade. Much of the wealth of both tribes was squandered on hiring others to join the conflict. At one point, a full fifth of the men of the desert were in the war one way or another." She paused and looked out over the mountainside and the flowers that dotted it "then half. And as her tribe fell to ruin, the men of the mighty city of Qasin sallied forth and seized the land of her once powerful tribe. They killed the rest of the men of both of the first tribes, seized control over their water and trade, and sold the women into slavery."

Noreah sat and twisted a bit of grass in her hand "our founder, the saint Fatima, prayed to the gods to ask why her people had been laid so low. The gods revealed that a demon stalked the hearts of men. They called this demon Kitara, and Fatima was shocked for Kitara was a goddess. The gods were adamant, however, that she was no goddess but a demon perverting the hearts of men. The gods revealed to her that mankind would be cursed with vengeance forever unless there was a day of peace, where no man killed another. Only that would free us. Some think it means a genuine day of peace, some a metaphor. The latter believe that basically Kitara is a self-perpetuating aspect of human existence, that violence breeds nothing but more violence. The Masalim say that we have to abide by the rules of Adnan's wager"

"What is that?" The girl sat with her in the grass, listening, curling her legs against her chest and hugging them.

"Adnan's wager says that when you have to decide between two premises, that you should weigh the consequences of being wrong about each against each other, and adopt the one you'd less like to be wrong about giving up on. So, to apply it, she said that if the gods meant metaphorically, then trying to bring a day of no violence about didn't hurt anyone. If the gods literally meant a day without violence, however, and people weren't dedicated to that prospect it would never come. So... we don't ever kill. Or even do things to provoke the blood feud."

"And do you believe that?"

"I believe... Jahane. that I have seen the cries of children whose fathers do not come home from raids. I have heard the anguished wailing of their wives. I have also seen the look of relief on a wife's face when her violent husband doesn't come home. Violence abroad often stirs violence at home. I have seen too many bruised faces, heard too much weeping. Nothing is as vile as raising your hand to another. I am more practical than some of my compatriots. I know Mahmoud does violence, in order to try to avoid greater violence. For my own part though, I could never... I could never raise my hand to another. Not even to save myself. There's nothing worth the cost. Not even my own life."

Jahane nodded but didn't look so sure. She opened her mouth to ask, or perhaps to challenge Noreah's assertions. Noreah watched her, wondering as always what was going on in her head. The girl sat a moment and then shrugged "I do not agree with you." She announced with all the confidence and clarity of the young. "but, I respect that you believe it. I know it is important to you and it informs how you move through the world" The younger girl twisted a blade of grass in her hands "I think if there's a god of war, and a goddess of vengeance that we simply are as they made us, but...I think your aspirations are noble. I hope, for the sake of the world, that you are right and your people are right. It's a beautiful dream at the least. I respect it."

The two sat in companionable silence a while, watching the clouds, finding the shapes in them and letting the heavy moment slip away with the summer sun.

***

In the desert outside Qasin, Faisal sat in a circle of small stones. Arrayed before him was a collection of semi-precious stones. Chosen in the rocks nearby, uncomfortable in her perch but the boy had insisted that he sit alone. She was unsure what damn fool errand he was on, but he'd insisted that her quest needed allies. She had, in the past months, come to rely on him at her back. His swordsmanship was of the highest caliber, and his status as a Sha'ir had purchased them entry to parts of society she as a woman and a foreigner never could have dreamed of having access to. His brash personality endeared or enraged in equal measure, and even men that fought him seemed to be drinking with him by the end of the night. He was an infuriating ass, but an ass of his time and place.

At the moment, where no man had been, a man stood just outside the circle. Faisal moved a stone and the man stepped inside it. He was large, too large for a human though human in look and proportion. He was strangely colored, as if made of desert sand from head to toe and with eyes of turquoise. When he spoke, he spoke the tongue of the desert tribes, and his voice sounded like stones grinding against each other. "Speak to me, Sha'ir."

The Elf regarded the pair a moment, still unsure as to what was happening. Faisal opened his mouth, and in the tongue of the desert simply told a story. A long story, the story of the founding of the city of Qasin. It was one she had heard before, in the taverns and coffee houses of the city, though she couldn't recite it with as much confidence as Faisal. Still, he had a cadence, a rhythm that drew in the listener and highlighted key details of the tale. The man in front of him sat, stone still, absorbing the tale till it was done. "Masterfully told, but an old tale. One that doesn't stir the blood".

Faisal nodded "of course uncle." He launched into a tale of battle, the clash of mighty tribes, ending in death and glory and ruin, with the principal players immortalized as great heroes. It was a long tale, and one she recognized as being the true account of a war between the elves and the men of the desert, hundreds of years before. Faisal's accuracy and memory were astounding. She'd studied the period extensively as a hobby and would have been hard-pressed to extemporaneously summon up the names of all involved. It seemed in part the structure of the tale, told as a poem, helped with recall. The man ate the stones laid in front of him as Faisal spun the tale. At the end, the man shrugged "well told, and well-remembered as I was there. Tell another."

Faisal seemed to be prepared for this, and launched into a third tale, even as the moon rose high and midnight was upon them. It was a tale of orphans, two sisters who had nothing but each other. It was the tale of a wicked king and a wicked wizard. It was a story of profound loss and loneliness. A story of revenge. Her story. Her story heard once in passing. Embellished to be sure, but in a way that captured the emotional notes of each point in her past. It was an uncomfortable reminder of what she missed, what she had lost. It was infuriating, but the strange stone man seemed moved by the tale and the look on Faisal's face told her this was calculated.

"And how does the tale end?" the stone man asked, eating the last of the precious stones. "What happened to the girl?"

"The end has yet to be written, which is why I am here. I offer you a chance to be part of the writing. To have your name immortalized with hers. To be remembered long after you are sand and dust, returned to the earth."