Shaking her head Aliyah lifted her eyes and gave the other men a beseeching look, unsure of what to do with herself. Fortuitously, or perhaps regrettably, her decision was made for her. The faint jingle of harnesses and clamour of conversation reached their location. A loud shout arose from the marauders and Aliyah shortly found herself completely alone with a mound of bones and no idea what to do next.

“Are you alright?” a male voice called out gruffly in Rula, her naïve tongue, his strange intonation proclaiming a background from Cyure.

“Maybe,” Aliyah responded faintly. “Or then again, probably not.”

“I suppose it would be best to assume you are not alright and that we ought to get you looked at immediately. Most adolescents are often…unsure of themselves after their first magical working.”

Staring at the man, who was approaching slowly in a whirl of brightly colored robes, Aliyah shook her head and chuckled, the sound oddly satisfying after such a scare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kiir. I only shut my eyes when a dust devil came out of nowhere and killed these two men.”

At this he shook his head and waved his hand presumptuously. “Nonsense, girl! I know magic when I see it, and it most certainly came from you. Rare, though. The desert tribes usually don’t have the Bestowal in their bloodlines. Rare indeed.”

The man was beginning to sound sun-addled to Aliyah and she stood and shook her head firmly. “It’s not possible, Kiir.My tribe took part of the cleansing. We’ve no more got magic than these bones.” Though her tone was respectful Aliyah couldn’t help but add a note of incredulity, fairly certain that this stranger was going absolutely mad.

“So they did. So they did,” he murmured. Stroking his chin the man shook his head and extended a hand. “Seeing as you were taking part in the company of raiders I would say you have nowhere to go, or rather, you are lost and do not knowwhere to go. Would you mind joining our caravan? I wish to ask you about the events that took place and if needed we can drop you off at the nearest village.”

Shrugging Aliyah got up and padded forwards and grabbed his hand, shaking it awkwardly. Greetings such as this were not used in her country and she felt silly using it. “If you want.”

Nodding enthusiastically the man trotted back towards a group of painted wagons surrounded by a mounted envoy. Dazzled by the brightness of their vestments and adornments Aliyah almost forgot to be scared. Almost, but not quite. Like all desert children she had learned to sleep with one eye closed and with a weapon at hand.

In the confined space of the man’s wagon Aliyah felt almost stifled, hating the feeling of four solid walls blocking out the sun, wind and rain. Though her people dwelled in tents more often than not she had chosen to sleep under the open air with her numerous cousins. Shifting on a plump cushion Aliyah watched guardedly as the man pour two cups of tea, the wooden beakers rattling as the wagon started moving.

Regarding the aging man in front of her Aliyah scrutinized his clothing, utterly fascinated. Though the style was reminiscent of traditional desert garb there were a few exotic additions to his clothes. Underneath a long indigo robe he wore a dark crimson tunic made out of light fabric and dark brown trousers that were tucked into tall leather boots. He must be awfully tolerant of the heat, Aliyah thought, fascinated. On top of all that he had on a matching navy cap made out of cotton that was embroidered with silver thread. On closer inspection Aliyah saw similar patterns on his robe. Overall this man was very flash and bright, something utterly outlandish to Aliyah.

“It appears I have neglected to announce myself. I am Samuel Harding, a professor at the Cyure Institute of Mathematics. Have you heard of it? No? Well, hardly surprising. The Hajib keep to their deserts and typically only come to Cyure to trade.”

“H-Hajib?” Aliyah inquired, utterly confused. The word sounded familiar, as if it had originated from her native language but had been twisted or altered in some way.

“What we foreigners call your people,” Samuel said kindly. “You obviously go by your own tribal and family monikers, but for simplicity’s sake those residing in the Hibiji desert are called the Hajib. Short, simple and easy for those not of your nation to understand.”

Slightly affronted that someone had decided to name her people without asking them Aliyah kept her mouth shut, opting to stare at her teacup rather than at this excitable ‘professor’.

“Ah, continuing. I’ve introduced myself already, so it really is only fair if you share your name with me. If it makes you uncomfortable there is no need for you to tell me your family ties, but I really cannot keep calling you girl or child.”

“Aliyah,” she said shortly. Though after a moment she relented and recited all her titles. “Aliyah ai’Khralib-fula. Or daughter of Khralib.” Lips tightening at the reminder of her family Aliyah felt tears threatening to spill over, eyes growing bright with sorrow.

Tutting gently Samuel reached over and tapped her shoulder in a gauche attempt at comfort. “I am sure things are difficult right now, but you should always look towards a brighter future. There could be no hope for tomorrow if you did not begin hoping to begin with, as a great philosopher once said!”

“Phi-what?” Aliyah asked, grief forgotten by this new and perplexing word. Like professor she wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but knew that it had to do with being a teacher of some sort. Taking a small sip of her tea she looked at Samuel expectantly.

“Philosopher. I suppose it is someone who attempts to unravel the great questions of life itself. Very great thinkers and exceptional men and women. The one I mentioned before was named Acius, an exceptionally famous man! Alas, he died some years ago and I never got the chance to speak with him.”

“You seem to enjoy talking,” Aliyah said ruefully, brown eyes showing plain amusement. Setting down her mug she toyed with the frayed hem of her tunic, feeling terribly underdressed compared to this gathering of awfully stylish people. Though she had only been to Cyure once, and then when she was only five years of age, Aliyah had heard tales of their textiles and fashions that had spread across the entire world. Excluding her own land, of course. They were a people set in their customs and tradition. And besides, rarely did tribes have the coin or goods to barter for such cloth.

“Many have said that I prattle on like an old woman who has nothing better to do with her time. I prefer to think of it as constantly imparting wise words that change lives,” he replied, eyes crinkling somewhat as he smiled her brightly. Shaking her head in return Aliyah only laughed quietly, hoping that not all Cyurians were like him. An entire nation of people like that would be certainly exhausting for any ruler.

There was a clatter and the wagon’s door opened, admitting a fair-skinned servant bearing a loaded tray. Setting it down on the low table he bowed and exited the room, leaving the two alone in a comfortable silence.

Samuel Harding took this as a chance to appraise the young girl in front of him. She was fairly young, surely no older than fifteen, and had inherited the archetypal nut brown skin of the Hajib. Curly black hair was tied up in a haphazard braid, wisps of hair threatening to escape every which way. There was a smudge of blood on her cheek, though Samuel could not find any visible wounds on her. Shaking his head slightly Samuel noticed something odd about her. Generally the Hajib women had strong noses and deep-set eyes that had a brooding air about them. Other than her down-turned lips that wobbled every once in a while Aliyah’s features were utterly unfamiliar to her society. A petite nose and almond-shaped eyes were distinctly Cyurian, or at the very least Tyrian. Making a tsking noise under his breath Samuel was fairly sure he had found the source of her magic. Somewhere throughout her bloodline an ancestor had married a foreigner. That in itself was exceptional, as the desert people were a very closed community.

Eyes travelled over Aliyah once more and he noted that though her clothing was tattered they were of good quality. A light brown tunic belted by a knotted red sash and loose dark brown pants that tightened at the knee. Like most youngsters her feet were bare and dusty.

Aliyah felt disconcerted by Samuel’s eyes on her and tried to compensate by grabbing a small cake off the tray, nibbling on it until she felt her appetite return. After the professor had chosen his own food she began eating in earnest, stomach rumbling with protest. After the platter had been emptied Aliyah felt like she couldn’t eat any more, rubbing her belly with a gratified smile stretching across her face.

“I haven’t eaten since…since.” Aliyah faltered and felt her composure breaking again. She had tried hard to push the thoughts out of her mind but now there were no distractions it proved too difficult and now all of the day’s events were starting to catch up with her.

“Go on,” Samuel said gently. “You are among friends now. No one can get you here.”

Nodding Aliyah bit her lip and debated how to start her story. Palpably at the beginning, but Aliyah still felt unsure of how to go on about telling another about the destruction of her entire life. For the most part even she wasn’t sure.

“Well, I was watching my flock of Pikali deer, what we use for livestock here, and when it came time to go home I noticed there was smoke in the air. Only, there was far too much to be cooking fires. Even if there was going to be a feast, which was supposed to be tomorrow, it was still too much. I was acting like an idiot though and I just strode in like everything was perfectly right.” Taking a deep breath Aliyah hiccupped and let out a sniffle before she could calm herself.

“Well, I walked in and this man came out of my mother’s sister’s daughter’s husband’s tent. He was…he was dragging a young girl I knew. Her name was Haara. Only seven years old and he just…just slit her throat!” Aliyah slammed down her hand with anger and Samuel jumped, surprised by this sudden show of ire. Aliyah had seemed like the delicate type. One not prone to sudden fits of violence.

But her tale was already taking a grisly turn and Samuel tried to sympathize despite the fact he had never seen an act of such brutality before. Aside from the usual crime Cyure was a peaceful country and any wars had been fought before Samuel’s time.

Arching her back Aliyah grumbled under her breath before continuing, feeling more and more uneasy as she hurried towards the end of her narrative. “And, well, I got captured by those raiders. Filthy scum! One of them picked me up and when I kicked him in the chest he told me I was a fighter and that after he and his companions broke me they would sell me at the Trade.” Shivering at the memory Aliyah shot a glare at Samuel, as if it were his fault she was in such a predicament.

Raising his hands in a placating gesture Samuel sighed and wondered what he was supposed to say now. The garrulous scholar was absolutely at loss for words. Coughing into a square of silk Samuel shook his head and exhaled loudly.

“Well, I…cannot relate to you in any way when it comes to such barbarity, but I will let you know that you have my full support and if you require anything, anything at all, you simply have to ask. But this brings up another question. You have no family and you have yet to mention other relatives that would take you in. In that case I know a place for you to stay. But…only if you can come to terms with your Bestowal.”

“Bess-towel? What’ve I been given?” Aliyah asked, raising an eyebrow at the odd fellow.

“Bestowal,” Samuel corrected. “And you have been given a magical ability. I know you are full of disbelief, but there was no other person who could have summoned that wind other than you. And my limited abilities notwithstanding, I can sense if someone has the gift. And you, my child, are brimming with it.”

Aliyah’s mind was racing. If she refused she might as well be repudiating a new life. A whole new start. But it was impossible for her to have this Bestowal, as Samuel called it. The Children of the Goddess did not have magic or anything similar to. Four hundred years ago they had refused to accept those with it and that had begun a terrible war that had ended with every person who had this ‘gift’ dead. Accepting Samuel’s words also meant accepting the total hate of her people and being exiled, something Aliyah could hardly imagine.

But she had no family. No one to take care of her affairs until she was married into another tribe. And certainly no brideprice that would secure her a husband, for everything had been stolen by the raiders. Lips thinning with disapproval at the two difficult choices that lay in front of her Aliyah realized that one was definitely calling to her. Despite the certainty of being called infidel and demon by her people Aliyah did not want to stay in this arid country. Where nothing but lost hopes and dreams would grow for her.

Clasping her hands together Aliyah nodded solemnly. “I accept then. I don’t have confidence in your ‘abilities’, as you say, but I have no other choice. Could you tell me more about this place?”

“All in due time,” Samuel replied evasively. “We are moving slowly for the time being. Would you like to take a look outside and perhaps talk to the guards? They can offer you a much better insight on Cyure and what it is like.”

Nodding quickly, as the wagon was beginning to feel like a tomb buried under the shifting sands of the desert, Aliyah stood and bowed deeply. “Thank you,” she said with a small smile, and quickly exited the carriage. Gulping in a soothing breath of hot desert air Aliyah took a moment to get a sense of her situation. There seemed to be eight or so guards, each dressed up in gaudy Cyure fashion yet carrying the traditional curved scimitar of the desert. When a young woman smiled at her Aliyah found herself grinning shyly in return, walking up to the sentry.

She had golden hair that was cut short on her head to accommodate for the desert’s heat. Bright blue eyes were set in a sensual face with plump lips and a strong nose. Aliyah felt self-conscious around such a worldly woman. She carried herself proudly, dressed in a dark robe that served only to accentuate sensuous curves.

“I’m Aliyah,” she said bashfully, playing around with the ragged edge of her tunic. Ducking her head when the woman nodded she waited for a reply, feeling a bit foolish. The woman might not even speak Rula!

“Call me Gayle,” the woman replied pleasantly. “The full name’s Cagayle, but I honestly hate it. My mother had an unfortunate sense of humor.”

“Gayle it is then. But what do you mean she had an unfortunate sense of humor? Cagayle is a pretty name,” Aliyah said, bemused. Though the Cyurian language, Cyr, wasn’t a harsh one it was certainly strange to her ears. But Cagayle had a certain ring to it that appealed to Aliyah.

“Oh, I forgot! You don’t know much about Cyurian culture, do you,” Gayle said kindly. “Before the Cyurian republic arose there was the old Tharan empire. We still use terms and names from that time. Thing is, back then they gave their children names that meant something. These days most people are named randomly, but my parents are scholars so they wanted to give me a ‘profound’ name. Only, they’re bad with children and since I was born with dark hair they named me Cagayle. Ca means dark, or black, in Tharan. Gayle is the female term for hair. Cagayle. Black-hair.”

Aliyah blinked slowly and dipped her head as if she totally understood what Gayle was talking about. “Right. Black-hair. I’ll…uh remember that.” Casting around for a new topic she understood Aliyah finally burst the question she’d been thinking about for a while.

“How do you know Rula? I know it’s spoken all over the desert kingdom, but…why? And how? You’re from Cyure.”

“I was wondering when you’d ask. Master Harding is a well-known linguist in Cyure. He speaks anything from Tharan to the Piya clicking dialect of the wood-men. So of course when he decided to travel to Hajib to learn of the culture here, he taught himself Rula. Took several years to prepare this journey though, since he taught all of us the language as well. But that’s just as well. I enjoyed learning Rula and the pay is great.”

Gayle patted the neck of her mare when the horse tossed her head, letting out an anxious neigh. Looking at the girl trotting down below in an attempt to keep up Gayle laughed and motioned with one hand, pulling her mare to a halt.

“Come on up. You’re ready to fall over, girl.”

Extending a hand Aliyah found herself perched on the front of the saddle, clinging to the saddle horn awkwardly as the horse lurched forwards. Though not entirely uncomfortable Aliyah had never ridden a horse before and the large beast scared her. Shutting her eyes Aliyah felt a hand rest on her shoulder and started.

“Stop your worrying, Aliyah,” Gayle murmured. “If you want you can ride up here with me. We’ll be increasing the pace in a few moments anyways, and you didn’t seem to like Master Harding’s wagon very much.”

“Thank you,” Aliyah exclaimed, looking down at her new steed. The mare snorted, as if she felt Aliyah’s eyes upon her, then bobbed her head up and down complacently. Feeling a bit more at ease now that she could see that the horse had a good temperament Aliyah settled into the saddle and watched the desert pass by, a lazy smile curling on her lips.

The entire trip had taken two weeks, in which Aliyah had slowly become good friends with Gayle and the rest of her comrades. She often spoke to Samuel as well, who soaked up stories about her tribe like a sponge did water. They had hoped from oasis to oasis, despite this being the slower mode of travel. When she had asked Samuel this he had replied that by watering the horses regularly and ensuring their health they would not be caught unawares, be it sickness, sandstorm or robbers. Aliyah mulled over this thought as they approached the Merchant’s Road, the fabled path that carried trade all over the kingdom. In her opinion, and past experience, if you travelled quickly you were less likely to be caught by bandits. But seeing as Samuel’s word was law in the caravan she had kept her opinions quiet.

The wheels began to clatter when they hit the cobbled road and Aliyah jumped in the saddle, the sound sharp and foreign to her ear. Patting her shoulder comfortingly as Gayle was wont to do the woman simply grinned and shook her head.

“You’re as twitchy as a mouse, girl,” Gayle said, chuckling.

“Well, I’ve never been to the city before,” Aliyah muttered defensively, hugging herself nervously when a large cart filled with people rattled by. Most of the individuals in the cart were dressed in dirty clothes that had definitely seen better days. Most of them yelled and spat at the ground when they passed by Samuel’s caravan.

“Why do the dislike him so much?” she asked, giving Gayle a worried look.

“It’s because they’re poor and he’s rich,” Gayle replied frankly, shaking her head when a pebble flew over her head and landed with a small rattle on the stone.

“Oh,” Aliyah murmured. Back at home no one went without clothing or food. But then, they were a small group of people who relied on each other to survive. Cyure was a giant kingdom who’s people lived in large cities that evidentially did not care for their inhabitants.

“What’s this city?” she asked, twisting her neck to look back at Gayle. Snickering at Aliyah’s uncomfortable position Gayle had to wait for a few moments before she could speak.

“It’s called Thadara. That’s a Tharan name because it’s built on top of some old ruins. Master Harding could tell you more about it than I ever could. But it’s a mostly bloody history, so far as I know. Lots of fighting and wars went on in that time.”

Biting her lips Aliyah nodded. Done with all her questions she turned her gaze ahead, frowning at the sight that she beheld. A young child with bright crimson ribbons in her hair skipped ahead of their convoy, one hand held in her father’s and the other wrapped around a small doll. Though the child had flaxen hair and fair skin a memory of Haara rose unbidden to Aliyah’s mind and she felt tears threatening to spill over. Wiping her eyes angrily Aliyah turned her eyes downwards onto her hands. She didn’t want to think about that anymore. She’d much rather forget about her old life. After all, there was nothing left.

Sniffing Aliyah almost missed the city’s gates as they passed under them. Truth be told it would be rather hard to overlook such a dazzling piece of art. Twin arches of white marble spotted with black flecks dominated the front wall. The two pillars that supported the arch had faint carvings that lined the outer façade, though the scenes were unfamiliar to Aliyah. They appeared to be twin women, one holding up a basket of grains, fruits and vegetables, a sun pedant hanging from her neck. The other carried a spear and shield and wore what seemed to be a breastplate engraved with a sun decal. Dismissing it for some sort of Cyurian symbol Aliyah concentrated on what she considered the most astonishing aspect of the entrance to the city, the gates themselves. Though she could see from the grainy texture they were made of wood Aliyah was aghast that they were covered with gold leaf.

“How…how much did that cost?” she queried, turning bister eyes on Gayle’s sapphire.

“A lot of money. But those gates have stood since Thadara first became the republic’s capital. Gold was far less rare then, so it would have been cheaper to coat these gates.”

The steady clip-clop of hooves resonated around Aliyah as they entered the city, soon to be drowned out by the chatter and conversation of the locals as they went about their business.

“Market day,” came a gruff voice from beside them and Aliyah glanced over to see a tall brown-haired guard urge his horse closer. Other than his name, Perrin, Aliyah knew next to nothing about him.

“Aye,” Gayle agreed with a grimace. “Means it’ll take all the longer ‘til we can rest.”

Bewildered Aliyah didn’t say anything, just made a motion with her head and tried to understand all this business. There were no markets in the desert. Just traders who went from tribe to tribe before returning home with their newly acquired goods and coin.