His pearl and their golden coin came flying over the dunes in as spirited a fashion as he might expect, their calls exuberant, and Maslakhat allowed himself the delight of seeing them in their prime. There was nothing more perfect a picture, and he was proud to have had a hand in forming a few of the brush strokes that had painted it.
He only wished all of Salem could be so pretty.
Soon, he would need to revisit this idea. His priorities were askew since bringing both of his children into the world. They were a distraction initially, yes, but it was necessary, and as they grew, the matter of Salem as a whole was perhaps even more urgent now than it ever was.
Sarisi’s joyous greeting brought his mind away from his scheming and back to the present and he smiled softly at her—still rough around the edges and in need of smoothing. And there was no better refinement than that of Merwerit’s discipline. He nodded at her approvingly before his eyes met the cream-colored woman and her mischievous quip.
“I would sooner die than allow such a transgression,” he retorted, his words holding more truth than his tone might have indicated. Maslakhat had tolerated the Arabians’ presence initially, having found it beneficial to have others of like mind sharing the space of the dunes. At the same time, he had hoped that once they had settled, collected their wives and bore their brood that perhaps they might set their eyes to a neighboring territory. Perhaps he would need to meet with them again soon, if for no other reason than to determine their ultimate plans.
He looked once more over the dunes to see if he could spot Sidika and her dark son approaching, but they were absent from view. Maslakhat did not worry for them, as he knew they were likely attending to the needs of the herd—Sidika’s promise to work as a healer had kept her quite busy.
MASLAKHAT
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