Yasmina

Two women in full length, straight cut abayas made of black died Egyptian linen, and wearing full length niqabs so only their eyes were revealed came and knocked on the door to inquire about al-Din, the owner of the house. An old man, a retainer of some sort stood beside them, and a young man in traveling clothes complete with a veil of his own did most of the talking.

“We have come from Burqah in the west at the invitation of Ala al-Din to partake of his gracious hospitality as he offered in his many letters. My lord is in waiting to see the governor, and he sent his daughter and her maid ahead so that they might be refreshed. Is this not the house of al-Din?” Ali asked.

Al-Rahim determined that both Ali and Sulayman had both the brains and the courage that their leader Omar lacked. He ordered Omar to be in charge and told Sulayman privately to watch the horses and watch al-Din, and to keep al-Din’s face covered against being recognized and keep him out of trouble.

Ziri, the last Berber with them put on the appearance of a typical Bedouin guide. He was the one who went ahead through their long journey and spoke with the Berbers and Bedouin they encountered along the way to secure food for the people and fodder for the horses. They stopped at many farms and paid generously for what they received. Al-Rahim made sure he packed plenty of silver in the saddle bags for the journey. But often Ziri, or when he was still with them, Gwafa would do the talking. Now, in Alexandria, Ali got to do the talking. Ziri’s Arabic had a definite western accent. Al-Rahim’s was near enough perfect, but he and Yasmina had a slight accent and their being from the Hejaz might be noticed in certain word choices and phrases.

“Alas,” the man actually said the word as several other servant men and women came up behind him to listen. “Our young master al-Din went on a mission to the west, to the Fatimid fanatics. He has been declared dead by the governor and the property has been given to the governor’s vizir, al-Suffar. He is now the owner of this house, and his son now rules in al-Din’s place.”

“You do not sound happy about that,” Aisha spoke out of turn.

The man paused to look around at who was listening in. “No, no. We are all happy here,” he said without any conviction. “But Abu ibn Suffar does not like visitors. Please go away.” He sounded like he wanted to say, “Please run and save yourselves.”

“What happened to Princess Badroul, his true love?” Yasmina spoke before the man could close the door.

The man looked around again before he answered in a whisper. “Al-Suffar wishes her to marry his son, but she has resisted. She claims she will not marry until she hears for certain whether al-Din is dead or alive. The pressure to marry is great. I fear the governor may force his daughter. But that would be terrible for the girl. Abu is… sometimes…” He decided not to finish his sentence. “Good day,” he said and shut the door.

“So, we go to the palace and confront the governor,” al-Rahim suggested, but looked at Yasmina for confirmation.

“We will,” she agreed. “But first we need some inside information. Suffar is likely at that palace, and we want to get the governor alone and out of the influence of Suffar or the traitorous Jinn. She began to walk toward the docks on a whim, wondering if a friendly merchant might supply them with some information. She honestly thought of Francesco, but she hardly expected to find him.

Yasmina did not expect to get entirely accurate information, but she did find one of al-Din’s merchant captains, and he willingly shared what he knew. “The governor is hardly more than Suffar’s puppet. I heard rumors that a mighty Jinn is the power behind Suffar’s sudden rise to power, and I believe it has to be something like that. The man, Suffar, is as cruel and selfish as any I have ever seen. Now that young al-Din is gone, it is insufferable to work for the man, and his son is even worse. You were lucky to catch me in port. I have been considering sailing away and not coming back, but taking myself, my crew, and my ship to work for someone else.”

Yasmina remembered that Suffar was a sorcerer of a sort. But she concluded that the Jinn was the key to everything. “Well,” she said. “I can at least assure you of one thing.” she smiled for the captain as she called. “Aladdin.”

“Princess?” Al-Rahim questioned Yasmina’s decision s al-Din stumbled forward. The captain looked, fell to one knee, and praised Allah and the prophet for bringing the master home. Yasmina explained to al-Rahim.

“We need allies, back-up. Maybe an army of sailors and merchants who would rather work for al-Din. Captain Hazem al-Zahir is the first, and I bet he knows who to contact among al-Din’s people.”

The man stood at al-Din’s insistence, and al-Din hugged the man which both surprised the captain and put a look of determination on the man’s face. “I know exactly who to gather. Al-Suffar has elevated the three worst men to oversee the business. One runs the dock. One runs the house. And one, Mubarak, runs the stables and warehouse where the caravans gather.” He turned to call his nearby crew to come to him so he could send them to fetch the good men ready to rebel.

“The same Mubarak?” Yasmina asked Aisha. The elf had to pause and look at the sky before she produced an answer.

“I believe so.”

Yasmina smiled. “It’s a small world,” she said, and then looked at Aisha with a touch of fear in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Aisha said. “I won’t start singing.”

“Princess,” al-Rahim got her attention and pointed. “It appears the Amalfi are coming into the port.”

“Maybe they will help,” al-Din said. He had excellent trade relations with the Amalfitani through his friend Francesco d’Amalfi.

“Francesco?” Yasmina could not keep the desire from her voice.

“It may be,” Aisha said. There weren’t any imps, elves, dwarfs, or fee handy in the water to check for her. She grew up in the Hejaz, as did Yasmina. Aisha had some minimal contact with the sprites in the red sea, but she did not know any in the Mediterranean. She was a spirit of the earth and not automatically connected to the spirits in the water, air, or fire, so all she could do was shrug.

“Wait here,” Captain Hazem got her attention. He looked to the sky to judge the time. “Three hours and we will be back with plenty of men.”

Yasmina interrupted the man. “What I need is someone who has contacts inside the palace. We need to get al-Din alone with the governor where Suffar and the Jinn cannot interfere. It would be best to settle matters peacefully if we can.”

Hazem nodded as he stroked his beard. “I’ll see who I can find. Meanwhile, Ibrahim here will stay with you until we get back.” The man smiled and bowed to al-Din. Captain Hazem bellowed his orders and the crew split off in several direction to disappear in the crowd around the docks.

Yasmina’s eyes shot back to the Amalfi ship dropping anchor in the bay. She hoped it might be Francesco but she had no reason to suppose it was, or that the man ever even thought of her. He was Italian, hot-blooded, and probably had a girl in every port. She sighed and then caught sight of a ship pulled right up to the dock, and it was the last ship she ever expected to see. She stood from the chest she had been sitting on and walked straight to the ship. Of course, Aisha and all the men had to follow her.

“Princess?” Al-Rahim asked where she was going, but Yasmina did not answer. It was an actual Viking Longship, and she just had to know.

“Norsemen. Where are you from?” She asked in Kirstie’s Norwegian language.