Early morning sunlight crept in through the window and drowned out the shadows surrounding Yenna’s bedchamber. Alongside the light came a soft breeze from the sea which rustled her sheets and woke her from dreams of faraway lands. She sighed and stretched out over the bed, feeling her aging muscles tighten and then loosen once more. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that Reshan was lying beside her and that no distance could be found between them.

Yenna shook herself from the daydream and sat up in bed, stretching once more before standing and taking in the sunlight. She moved across the room to a bucket sitting on a wooden stool in the corner just below a clouded mirror and dipped her hands into its water. Her damp fingers combed through her hair, wetting down chaotic strands. Hair coiled around her fingers like serpents, and she couldn’t help but to notice that many of the serpents were turning grey. It had been years ago that she discovered her first grey hairs, but now they seemed to have multiplied. In her mind, they represented her ease with aging. Instead of battling with age as she had seen many within the court do, she chose to remain at peace.

Once she had readied herself, Yenna stepped out into the center room and found it empty. She pulled back the drapes to a side room and peered in, seeing Ramisa still asleep. Yenna released a small sigh and told herself to let the girl rest. She moved over toward a cupboard set into the wall behind the table. As she pulled open the cupboard, a knock sounded off from the entryway. Yenna rubbed her eyes and combed back her hair over her ears before opening the door.

Standing outside was a frail, elderly man in bright yellow and blue silken robes holding an ivory cane. Next to him stood a guard in scaled armor brandishing a spear and shield. The old man smiled without telling his eyes as he saw her.

“Yenna, my dear,” he said, taking one of her hands in his own.

She felt the wrinkles of his skin brush over her still-smooth hands. After many years in Ganeti, she still did not know his age. He had been old when she was young.

“Vazir Godarz,” she said as she bowed her head. “What a pleasure it is to see you. How may I serve you today?”

The Vazir looked to his guard for a moment and returned his gaze to Yenna. “If you wouldn’t mind, my old bones could use a rattling,” he said, nodding his head to the side.

“Of course.” Yenna stepped out of the house with a final glance back with thoughts of Ramisa.

She and the Vazir walked along the dirt path to the market in silence until he cleared his throat and waved his hand to the guard who slowed his pace until he was several lengths behind them.

“Tell me, sahira, how long have you lived away from your people?” he asked, though the tone of his voice told her that this question was merely a lead-up.

The warmth of the desert gradually made itself known as the cool morning air was soon replaced by stale heat. Yenna wiped sweat from the side of her face and shifted her eyes back and forth to merchant stalls on either side of the pathway.

“It has been more than half a lifetime.” Her gaze wandered over the dirt streets. “I had left my home many years before that and I was lost, but my husband,” she paused, bringing her hand to grasp the hashika on her chest with a smile, “found me and told me I could be home without ever returning.”

“He sounds like an interesting young man,” the Vazir said with a sideways glance.

“I do not believe young may be used to describe either one of us anymore, your grace,” she replied, returning her hands to her sides.

Vazir Godarz scoffed. “You are young. There are only a few in these lands who are not young anymore, and I am among them.”

Yenna gave a slow nod and pursed her lips. “My lord, what is it that you wish to speak with me about? I do not presume that you came to me in the faint hours of sunlight to discuss my people or my marriage.”

“You are as sharp as Mirzen Vagh claims,” the Vazir said with a breath of laughter. “But you are, in a way, incorrect, my dear. I have come to speak with you regarding your people.”

He held the silence for a moment, running his hands along a wispy white-grey beard. Yenna furrowed her brow and waited for his next words. Every few steps, she could hear a popping sound which she had surmised belonged to one of the Vazir’s knees.

“Let us sit for a moment, sahira,” he said in a thin voice as he motioned toward a small bench on the side of the pathway. “I apologize for my infirmity; the gods have afflicted me with gout. I can only walk so long before rest.”

The guard meandered off to the far side of the path but kept close watch on the Vazir.

Vazir Godarz sighed and turned to look Yenna in the eyes. “My wife was from Ulun, did you know that? Rather, Yerisim, as your people call it.”

“I did not, my lord,” she said, her tone of voice growing more cautious. “Surely it was scandalous for a man of your stature to have married Rotakken?”

He smiled with tightened lips. “She lived in Ulun, or Yerisim, for most of her life before marrying me, but she was not of your people, merely an extended guest, a sojourner beneath the shadow of the mountains. However, she developed a deep love for your customs and beliefs.”

“What is it you are saying, my lord?”

“It is no secret I have often quarreled with our Mirzen regarding religious policy among other issues. I am not alone in my desire for change in this area,” Vazir Godarz continued. “My heart has never felt the pull of the Habi gods, but it may find solace in the God of my wife’s home. I would ask you to travel north for Rahnati with my entourage so that you may advise my court on the faith of your people and begin establishing a presence for your temple.”

Yenna sat, open-mouthed, for several moments attempting to process the request. She knew that Vazir Godarz was a powerful man, and that his influence may prove useful, but his often-heated relationship with Mirzen Vagh gave her pause.

“Of course, I am thrilled your lordship would be interested in the God of Rotakk, but I must say that our people have always asserted that God resides in the shadow of the mountains and with those carrying the sand with them. I do not know how accepting Shul Yalsifar or the Shikasa will be of this move.”

Vazir Godarz nodded and thought for a time before responding. “It is as you said your husband told you: That you may be home without ever returning. Is it not the same of your God? Cannot he find his home with my people without ever leaving yours?”

Yenna clenched her jaw and rubbed her hands together. “I will, of course, accompany you, my lord. It is a most welcome invitation, as I grow weary of the holy men in the palace and the mistreatment of my people on their tongues. I will write to the Shul at once to convey your wishes. He will need to speak with the Shikasa directly before I am able to proceed. As you may know, it would be highly unusual for me, a sahira, to do this work alone. Before I leave, I must also be released from my duties here in Ganeti.”

“This has been done already, sahira,” Vazir Godarz said, smiling at her with yellow teeth. He clasped her hands in his own once again. “I spoke with the Mirzen before coming to you, in hopes that you would agree. It means everything that you are coming. I believe, if your God is so willing, that once your time in Rahnati fulfilled, our Mirzen will be inclined to accept him above all others.”

Yenna looked down at his hands grasping hers and breathed in. “Thank you, my lord. I will make my preparations to accompany you back to Rahnati.”

The Vazir nodded and released her hands before standing, his weight resting on the ivory cane. He waved his hand to the guard across the pathway who stepped forward. Once he had gained his balance, Vazir Godarz looked down to Yenna, still sitting on the bench.

“We will be leaving in a week’s time. Ensure you are prepared, sahira. You will find that Rahnati is a very different place to this,” he said with his eyes motioning to the city all around them. “Perhaps you will find the air less stifling.”

Yenna watched the Vazir and his guard disappear into the market crowd and sat in silence, her mind cycling through his words.

The sun was already high in the sky when she returned home from the market. Her feet ached and her mind remained busy as she pushed open the door. It gave a familiar groan and she stepped inside, seeing Ramisa sitting with a cup at the table.

“You’ve returned,” Ramisa said with her eyes perking up. “I awoke and did not know where you had gone.”

“I apologize, my girl. There was a guest at the door who required my attention,” Yenna told her, sitting down opposite her at the table. “I fear I must leave you for a time.”

Ramisa cocked her head sideways and slid the cup away. “Where must you go? Who was it?”

“The Vazir of Rahnati has requested that I spread knowledge of God to his people,” Yenna said, her voice distant and distracted. “Perhaps this may aid our people, but whatever the consequences may be, it is not my place to refuse the invitation of a vazir.”

“Our God belongs to the mountains,” Ramisa said as she leaned forward, resting her bandaged arm on the table.

“That he does. But it does not mean he cannot move in the hearts of those beyond the shadows. The winds are changing in these lands,” Yenna said with intense eyes. She rubbed up and down her arms as though a chill had run through her. “I must write another letter now and send both off before we depart.”

Yenna stood and brought a roll of parchment and a quill back to the table. She pooled her thoughts into ink stains and did her best to imagine what the future would hold for herself and those on her mind.

Next Chapter: Chapter Five: Reshan