Shahla couldn’t get a wink of sleep during the week-long voyage. It wasn’t as though she was accustomed to luxury. She’d lived most of her life out in the deserts with her Bedouin tribe. She could stand being on the water, but she didn’t have sea legs yet. It didn’t help that the roiling waves rocked the boat as if trying to constantly shake her awake.

She didn’t know how the others could do it. Najeem slept soundly, while his body twisted and morphed in unnatural ways to fit in one of the canoe’s two hulls. Shakti lounged on the boards between the hulls as if she was relaxing on the beach.

But Shahla was even more amazed at how Vai had spent every moment awake, with his eyes glued to the sky in silent concentration from the back of the canoe and didn’t seem the slightest bit tired.

Shahla’s eyelids felt as heavy as lead, but she could never keep them closed for more than a few seconds.

Just as she felt tired enough to maybe keep her eyes closed, Vai shouted through the night, “Land!”

Shahla jerked up from her position slumping against the mast, “What? Where?”

“We’re about to hit land, sand lovers,” Vai grinned.

Shahla looked behind her out into the darkness ahead of the boat. The dim moonlight revealed no land, “How can you tell?”

“The stars are in the correct positions,” Vai said.

“So you don’t even know?” Najeem groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

“Of course I know. I’m a wayfinder, not a shaman,” Vai scoffed.

Vai tied up his rope and clambered up the mast once again and shouted into the darkness in his native language.

“What the hell was that?” Najeem asked.

Vai shushed him, causing silence to fall on the boat, save for the creaking mast trying to support a man’s weight. His gaze was stuck to the ocean out in front of the boat.

“Nau mai ki te kainga, teina!” a distant voice cried.

Vai slid down the mast, “I called us a welcoming party.”

The echoes of rapid drum beats started as the soft orange glow of an island alight with torches and fires appeared out of the darkness.

The voice of men in concert with the percussion made them sound like war drums.

“This doesn’t sound very welcoming,” Shahla said, drawing into herself. A sword dance was welcoming. A good meal was welcoming. The sounds of a legion of angry men was very much so not welcoming.

Vai smiled, saying nothing in response. How was she supposed to take that?

The drums quickly died down for a bit as they drew closer to land. Close enough for Shahla to see the rows upon rows of men and women who stood on the beach.

Then the music started again. It started with heavy, slow drum beats that could be heard as the torches lit for them and trails of orange left by men spinning flaming sticks came into view.

Then, the quick, rhythmic beat of wooden clap drums joined them. And as the people on the shore could be made out in detail, the stomps of feet and slamming of chests matched the drums.

Najeem asked, “Are they attacking?”

“No!” Vai exclaimed, “They’re dancing!”

Two lines of men on the beach whooped and hissed as Hokule’a breached coastal waters. The dance’s leader started to chant, followed by the men’s reverberating voices.

“Are you sure?” Shakti asked, turning towards Vai. Hell, if even Shakti was confused, there was bound to be some merit to that assumption.

“Well, it’s a war dance, but it’s for more than just that,” Vai shrugged. “Just enjoy the performance!”

Shahla turned back to the island, her hand palming the pommel of her dagger. She glanced to see Najeem gripping the hilt of his scimitar.

The dancers went quiet, digging their fists in the sand as Hokule’a slid onto the shore. As the boat came to a stop, the clap drums started up a rapid and overwhelming rhythm, signaling a line of female dancers sitting on their knees in front of the men to start their dance.

Their motions were much faster, yet smoother than the men’s dance as they gyrated their hips and wrists above their heads.

With unwavering balance, they lifted themselves from their sitting position to standing, where the dancers started to slowly spin in time with the drums.

The men suddenly rose up with quick, rigid movements, their arms moving in time with the women’s feet.

As the tempo of the drums came to a slow, the women returned to their sitting positions and posed. The dance soon came to a close.

Then the men stepped forward, roaring and drawing weapons.

Najeem instantaneously drew his scimitar.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Vai exclaimed, “Back off! They mean no harm!”

Najeem looked at Vai, then to Shahla in complete confusion and outrage. Shahla signaled with her hand for him to stay his weapon, which elicited a scoff, but he obeyed.

One of the men stepped forward and set a single leaf on the ground before backing up and thrusting out a spear, proffering it in challenge to Vai.

Najeem glared at the warriors, undoubtedly spinning up a thousand different ways to get himself and Shahla out of this situation alive.

Shahla watched intently, her hand never moving from her weapon, as Vai stepped off the boat, maintaining eye contact with the warrior as he picked up the leaf.

A sand grain dropping on stone could break the reverent silence held by the dancers.

Shahla and the other two were paralyzed with a mix of confusion and fear, not sure of what to do when the oldest woman among the dancers began to sing with an unfamiliar cadence and haunting speech.

As the singing continued, an elderly...well, Shahla couldn’t tell if this person was a man or woman, but they made their way through the crowd and pressed their forehead and nose against Vai’s as if they were old friends.

As they exchanged words, Shahla looked to Najeem, who seemed just as bewildered as her.

“W-Who’s this?” Shahla asked, daring to whisper.

Shakti cleared her throat. She seemed far more relaxed now as she whispered, “We’re okay. I think. That is Mahu Kaeo, the one who taught Vai wayfinding. I think we need to go greet them and their entourage.”

Shahla didn’t move until Najeem followed Shakti off the boat.

Three islanders, two warriors and one dancer woman, approached them. One of the warriors abruptly cupped Shahla’s cheek and took her hand, paralyzing her in fear as he pressed his forehead and nose to her in the same greeting Vai had used.

Shahla didn’t dare move until the warrior let go of her and backed away. Najeem had a similar look of bewilderment on his face, including some color on his cheeks as he let go of his grip on his scimitar’s hilt and allowed the dancer to greet him.

The islanders then began cheering and started to make their way up the beach towards where Shahla presumed this festival was being held.

Then Vai’s eyes widened as he exclaimed something, generating a few chuckles from the dancers.

Shahla looked to Shakti again, expecting a translation.

“Someone called ‘the Lady of Fire’ is here. Vai appears to be a well-known fan of hers,” Shakti said. “I say we leave him to his own devices.”

“What in God’s name just happened?” Najeem muttered, picking up his blade and sheathing it.

“I, uh...I honestly have no idea,” Shakti said. “I’ve had Aotearoan welcoming parties before, but none as...aggressive as this one. You two hungry?”

“Tired,” Shahla let herself relax slightly, understanding just how much of a chore it was to carry herself upright without adrenaline. “I’m so, so tired.”

“Hey, no one said you couldn’t celebrate a festival by sleeping in,” Shakti shrugged. “They’ll find you a mat. But then, so long as we’re here amicably, you need to try whatever they’ve thrown into the Hangi. The cooks on this island always nail it.”

Shahla nodded as Shakti hopped off the canoe as though she hadn’t been scared for her life just a few minutes ago.

How was it that just a year ago she’d been wracked with fear about travelling into something as meager as an urbanized city to marry Ahmed and now she had travelled halfway across the world to lands barely any of her countrymen had visited?

If nothing else, this would be one hell of a story to tell at the dinner table once this was all over.

___________________________________________________________________________

Shahla found herself in for a good time on the island, once she’d forgotten her initial fear and had two hours of rest. It wasn’t much to make up for the lost sleep, but it was better than nothing.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves with song, dance, and laughter. Shahla couldn’t help but let the contagious celebratory mood take her. The dancers were especially incredible to watch.

The woman Shakti had said was named the Lady of Fire was the most talented of them all. She was a young woman of about twenty with the brown skin and thick black hair most Aotearoans seemed to share. She had soft and inviting features. Her warm, brown eyes seemed intrigued by Shahla whenever she was given a passing glance. She had the nimble, but strong body of a dancer and wore a traditional performer’s costume that showed off the tattoos that adorned her torso.

To his credit, Vai managed to hold his own with her while involved in a dance they called ‘the Challenge’.

Najeem sat down at one of the many tables they’d claimed, handing her a husked coconut cut in half.

“What’s this?” Shahla asked.

“Coconut water is apparently a common refreshment here,” Najeem said, sipping from his half of the coconut. “Not bad.”

“Everything’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?” Shahla smiled.

“Don’t get too attached. We still have our mission.” Najeem’s statement put a bit of a dampener on Shahla’s mood. He seemed to notice. “Sorry. There’s a full moon tonight. Feel anything?”

Shahla shook her head, “No. I haven’t felt a thing.”

She pulled up her headscarf slightly to allow herself to drink the coconut water. It was sweet, but tasted a bit diluted.

“Would it be rude of me to go asking around about their songs?” Najeem asked, “I don’t want to pry, but I’m fascinated by their structure especially. It has much in common with Qahtanad music in a way.”

“Najeem. You’re doing that thing again where you start thinking about stuff you’re fascinated by too much, then become obsessed with that thing and finally burn out after a week,” Shahla said.

While he didn’t have much time to do it in recent weeks, Najeem had a habit of taking his curiosity a little far. During her first week at the palace, he wouldn’t stop asking her about the Bedouins and paganism. She actually was convinced he was a heretic after all those inquiries.

“I-” Najeem grimaced, “I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. Maybe after Qahtan is reunited, Ahmed and I will let the Order tag along with us to a vacation here,” Shahla smiled.

Najeem chuckled nervously, “That would be rather splendid, wouldn’t it?” His words felt forced. Shahla was put off by the unusual air he had about him.

Shahla frowned, “What are you thinking, Najeem?”

The Asasiyun raised an eyebrow, “What am I thinking?”

She nodded, “You seemed disturbed by my last sentence. Why?”

“I, er...I’m sorry to have concerned you, Shahla,” Najeem said, looking away and drinking from his coconut.

“Najeem, please? Just be honest with me,” Shahla tilted her head, her brows drawing together. She examined his face to see what she could gather of his thoughts from his expression.

Najeem let out a heavy breath, “Have you, Shahla, ever considered the possibility that Prince Ahmed might be dead? I appreciate your positivity, but what if he doesn’t survive his captivity?”

Shahla broke eye contact with Najeem, her heart feeling a sensation of whiplash now that dread weighed heavy on it. “I’m not stupid, Najeem,” she muttered.

“I wasn’t trying to say that,” Najeem assured her.

“I know,” she said, folding her hands together. “I’ve thought about that. But is it really so wrong to hope for the best?”

“I just worry that if the worst case scenario happens, your expectations may break you.”

Shahla nodded, “I’ll be fine, Najeem. Could we not speak of this right now?”

“As you wish,” Najeem said softly.

“Thank you.”

A sudden thump on their table caused Shahla to jerk back. The Lady of Fire had landed on their table from the meager dancer’s stage.

She jumped off and landed herself gracefully next to Najeem on his bench.

“Er...can we help you?” Najeem asked.

“Enjoying yourselves?” the Lady of Fire asked in flawed, but passable Qahtanad, wearing an infectious smile.

“Yes, we are. Thank you,” Shahla said, letting a smile take her expression as well.

“I heard from Vai that you two are looking to get to Jambudvipa.”

Najeem frowned, “You two seem awfully close for people who just met.”

“All Aotearoans are family in our eyes. And us two specifically have great mutual respect. He is a student under Mahu Kaeo, who I know very well and I am the boy’s favorite poet,” she shrugged. “It’s only natural that we get along.”

“You’re a poet?” Najeem asked. “What works have you done? I may have read some.”

“I guarantee you've never read my work. I’ve never allowed a scholar to transcribe it,” the Lady chuckled.

“Perhaps you could recite one for us, then?” Shahla asked.

“Of course!” she smiled. “This one is called Anger’s Flame. I modeled after a Nikan format. I believe they call them haikus.” She cleared her throat and put on a melancholy narrating voice for her poem, “Rage smolders within. An all-consuming wildfire. Burning fear to ash.”

“I know of haikus,” Najeem said. “They are not so hard to make. Be more impressive.”

“Najeem!” Shahla gasped.

The Lady of Fire chuckled, “You’ve a scholar’s wit, Qahtanad! My name is Lokapele. May I know yours?”

“What?” Shahla frowned.

“It’s less funny when you have to explain it. So...nothing,” Lokapele said, still smiling wide.

“Er...I see.” Shahla looked down at her hands in her lap. Her chest tightened with embarrassment.

“I am Najeem Al-Iqbal. A member of the deadly, but learned Asasiyun Order,” Najeem introduced himself.

“Well, Najeem, I know just how curious those of your order tend to be. You must be exceedingly interested in our artistic customs. If you want to observe my singing abilities, I have rather musical moans. The straw roof of a private hut makes the sound even better.” Lokapele smirked.

Shahla and Najeem both looked to her with surprise.

There was no way she just...

“I...did you just ask me to sleep with you?” Najeem raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but…”

“You’re correct. I wanna take you to bed,” Lokapele stated, without any shame.

Shahla’s horrified eyes moved to Najeem. Shahla didn’t want this to escalate, but...how was Najeem meant to respond?

Najeem sighed, “I understand that your laws of sexual promiscuity here are different, but understand that I am a man of God. As such, I could never accept such an offer.”

Shahla stared in disbelief at Najeem’s calmness towards the situation.

Lokapele shrugged, “Fine by me. You two enjoy each other’s company. There’s a particularly muscled dancer I kept in mind as a second option.”

As she left, Shahla shuddered, “How can she be so...upfront with that? Does she have no shame?”

Najeem tilted his head, “I mean, that’s not necessarily a bad thing…but consider how far we are from our home. One of my masters once told me that each land has a god that presides over it.”

“Wouldn’t that be heresy?” Shahla asked. “There is supposed to be only one God.”

“All avenues must be considered to arrive at truth,” Najeem shrugged. “Nevertheless, they still operate on the rules of a different god. I wouldn’t blame them too much. It could take another hundred years before the word of our Prophet even graces the ears of these folk.”

“Well, we could do that,” Shahla shrugged.

“The Imams always taught us to keep a humble spirit and an open mind,” Najeem said. “Wisdom is in many places and must be drawn from a variety of sources or else remain stagnant. Perhaps the Islander way of thinking has something to offer us.”

Shahla groaned, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound this pretentious before.”

“Equally, I have never known you to advocate for conversion expeditions into the Bedouin territories. So I don’t get why you’re so eager now,” Najeem said.

The sound of commotion caught her attention. Well...commotion was too broad. The dancers and party goers had all gathered around one man, who shouted at them with a panic-infused voice. Murmurs turned into shouts and shouts into widespread pandemonium.

The crowd scattered, shouting and yelling at each other while they pushed each other out of the way to get to their huts. Najeem stood, his hand on his blade once again.

“You two.” Shakti appeared from seemingly nowhere.

“What’s going on?” Shahla asked.

“There was a fleet of boats spotted coming to shore,” the Jambudvipi woman said.

“Were they Qahtanad?” Najeem asked.

Could Ali have followed them here? Shahla closed her sweating hands into fists.

Shakti shook her head, “Nikan Junks.”