Kirstie

Kirstie packed her things. She dressed Soren to travel, and Hilda said Hodur would cry and miss his friend. She hugged Erik and told him to stay out of trouble. She also told him to take care of his mother and brother while his father Thoren was away.

“And if you need anything, food or anything,” she told the boy. “You find Inga or Yrsa and let them know right away. They will help you with whatever you need.” Erik nodded, but Kirstie was not sure he exactly understood, so she asked Alm to have someone keep an eye on the situation. There was no telling how long Kare might stay away now that she divorced him. And that meant it might be a long time before Thoren came home.

“Don’t worry about the farm or the tenants,” Alm said. “You have good people in your tenancies, and Thomas and Gustavs are doing a good job running the farm. Gustavs is content. He says if he did not have the work to keep him busy, he might join a monastery. He is a true believer. As for Thomas, I may talk to Sten, Captain Harroldson’s man up by the Varnes River. He has a young thrall that cooks and cleans and all that sort of thing. Her name is Lyall, from the border of Strathclyde and Pictish lands. She is very unhappy where she is, so maybe Sten might sell her for a reasonable price.”

Kirstie smiled at the thought of Thomas and a girl being in love. “Whatever you think is best,” she said. She knew her little ones were very perceptive in the ways of love. It came from hanging out with Mother Freyja over so many centuries. Mother Freyja loved on the little ones even before she had her Nameless son.

Yrsa stepped up dressed in her leather, a knife at her side. “Ready to sail,” she reported.

“No. Wait.” Kirstie responded. “We are going to meet Wilam’s family. This is not a dangerous mission. No need for you to go.”

Yrsa looked at Alm, but Alm’s expression did not change. Yrsa spoke. “You have a four-year-old and a new husband. You can use the help. Besides, it is practice for when Alm and I have a son.” She looked at Alm again and he smiled at that suggestion.

“But we will be gone a whole year. We won’t be back until next spring.”

“I know, but Alm and I have hundreds of years to live together. We are not short livers like human mortals. Besides, I got my muscles ready for rowing.” She lifted her hand to show off her skinny little arm.

“This is a two-decker ship. I don’t know how much rowing they do.” Kirstie put her hands up in surrender. She really could use the help.

Yasmina

It took some honest effort on Yasmina’s part to drag al-Din out of the pit of depression he had fallen into, but finally, one evening over a campfire, al-Din opened up enough to explain what happened.

“It was my servant girl,” he said. “She is a very kind and good person, always trying to do good for others. She is what my Christian friend, Francesco would call a real saint. You remember Francesco?”

“Yes,” Yasmina said in a small voice. She had thought of him regularly over the last four years of her “captivity” as she now thought of her time in the palace of Mahdiya. She felt bad for al-Hakim. He had been a nice boy despite being a servant of the Masters. But, yes, she remembered Francesco. She remembered his kiss. She thought she might like to see him again. She thought she better pay attention.

“So, the merchant offered new lamps for old ones, and it never occurred to her how senseless that was.”

“Not senseless,” Yasmina objected. “The old lamps—many are solid copper. Most new lamps are cheap tin with a copper coating to make them look good, though they are cheap. Good copper is worth way more, so not entirely senseless.”

“Huh,” al-Din said. “I never considered that.”

“So anyway…” Aisha wanted on with the story.

“So, she traded the lamp of the Jinn for a new tin one. She did not know. All she knew was the dirty old lamp was impossible to clean.”

“That was Suffar,” Yasmina said.

“What?”

“According to the story a thousand years from now, the lamp dealer was Suffar, the Sultan’s Vizir disguised as a poor tradesman.”

“What’s a Sultan?” Aisha asked to the side, but Yasmina waved off the question.

“That makes sense,” al-Din said. “Because Suffar ended up with the lamp and he ordered the Jinn to get rid of me. You see, I asked twice if Badroul would marry me, and twice she said yes. The first time the governor said she was still too young. The second time, he said he would think about it. But I know Suffar asked on behalf of his son and I believe the governor told him the same thing, that he would think about it.”

Al-Rahim spoke up. “I have not had the pleasure, nor the headaches, but I believe it is a natural reaction for a father to dislike their daughter’s boyfriends. I suspect he will always say no until the daughter says she is going to marry the boy anyway, so he might as well say yes.”

“What about me?” Yasmina asked. “I’m like a daughter, or a granddaughter anyway. I give you headaches.”

Al-Rahim nodded. “You are right about that.”

“So anyway, I think Suffar had the idea that the Jinn would kill me by accident or by design. But what he did was whisper in the governor’s ear that I would be a good addition to the diplomatic group. Considering my interest in his daughter, I suspect he did not take much convincing.”

“What about the diplomatic mission? Did someone honestly believe the Mahdi would be interested in peace?” Al-Rahim asked since he did not get the straight story.

“As I understand it,” al-Din answered. “The Caliph sent a letter to the governor of Egypt that said make peace with the Fatimids. The governor of Egypt sent a letter to the governor of Alexandria saying, make peace. The governor of Alexandria told his advisor, go and make peace, and I got caught up in the mission.”

“And what will you do when you get home?” Yasmina asked, kindly changing the subject before al-Din once again turned morose.

Al-Din looked at her with blank, staring eyes before he made his pronouncement. “I will marry that girl no matter what.”

“Hope,” Yasmina said. “Hang on to that. As long as there is life, there is hope.”

Al-Din smiled briefly before he turned it on her. “But what about you? What will you do?”

“My needs are simple,” Yasmina said. “All I want is a safe place, a place I can call home. So far, every place I have been has failed to provide that.”

“Aren’t you afraid of running out of options?” Al-Din asked.

“No way,” she answered. “We have a whole world to explore, and I can’t imagine living long enough to explore it all, at least not in this lifetime.”