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again without saying anything.
    “ I need to leave the camp
in good hands,” Jalil continued. “What will the others do when the
windmill needs repairing, or the caravaneers need servicing? I
can’t think of any better hands than yours.”
    “ Mazhar’s taking over
soon,” Tiera muttered. “He’ll see to all that.”
    “ But Tiera, Mother
needs you. ”
    She bit her lip and looked up at him
with pleading eyes. To his surprise, she seemed as if she would
almost cry.
    “ There’s nothing left for
me here,” she said. “Nothing.”
    “ Don’t worry,” he said,
putting a hand on her arm. “You won’t be here forever. I’m sure
Sathi will find you a—”
    “ A husband? Not if Shira has anything to do with it. She probably wants me
to die an old maid. And even if he did, what makes you think I want
to marry?”
    Jalil didn’t know what to say. Tiera
rubbed her eyes and looked out over the rocky desert plain, the
wind toying with the hair that had spilled out of her loosely tied
headscarf.
    “ I’m sorry, Tiera.
I—”
    “ No,” she said, rising to
her feet. “You do what you have to do. One way or another, I’ll get
free of this place.”
    “ But not just yet,” Jalil
said, rising hastily. “Please—not until things have settled down a
bit. Promise me that.”
    She turned toward him and narrowed her
eyes, hands placed squarely on her hips. For a moment, Jalil
worried she was upset with him, but a grin spread across her face,
setting him at ease.
    “ Fair enough,” she said,
“but just because I’m giving you a head start, don’t think you’ll
be rid of me so easily. Wherever you go, I’m sure our paths will
cross again someday.”
    “ God-willing,” said Jalil,
clapping his hand on her shoulder. “God-willing.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    Mira’s mother led her through the
darkened corridors of the camp, moving so quickly that she nearly
had to run to keep up. The smell of roasting meat and vegetables
mingled with the thick, stuffy humidity of the kitchen huts, making
her clothes feel sticky.
    “ W-where are we going?”
she asked.
    “ Somewhere
private,” Shira answered, tightening the
grip on her hand.
    Please don’t let me be in
trouble, Mira prayed. Please don’t let her be angry with me.
    “ Here,” said Shira , finally stopping in the
back of an old brick storage cellar. “Now, my dear, let’s have a
little chat.”
    Mira swallowed. “What did I do?” she
asked timidly.
    Shira bellowed with laughter. “Oh
honey,” she said, “you look as frightened as a mouse! There there,
don’t be so upset—you’re not in trouble, dear.”
    “ I-I’m not?”
    “ No,” Shira chuckled. “Far from it.”
    It’s about Jalil, Mira told herself, her heart pounding twice as
hard as before. It’s got to be.
    “ What do you think of
Jalil?” her mother asked, as if on cue.
    “ He’s nice,” Mira
answered, blushing in the dark. “I-I like him a lot.” Oh Lord, I sound like an idiot.
    “ Good, good. Do you have
any feelings for him?”
    Yes!
    “ I, uh, I
guess—”
    “ You guess, girl? Don’t
play games with me. Do you or don’t you?”
    Mira wished she could sink through the
ground and disappear. Even if she could, though, her mother would
just lift her back up again and scold her the more for
it.
    “ Yes,” she whispered,
staring down at her feet.
    “ Good! That’s very good.”
    “ Why?” Mira asked. The
earnestness in her voice surprised her.
    “ Because your father and I
want to marry you off to him as soon as we can.”
    Mira’s stomach leaped into her mouth
as a wave of adrenaline surged through her trembling body. For a
moment, she couldn’t speak.
    “ Unfortunately,” her
mother continued, “there seems to be something of a
complication.”
    “ Complication?”
    “ Yes, dear. A
complication. You see, rumor has it that Jalil wants to leave the
camp, most likely on pilgrimage—and after that, well, who knows if
he’ll ever come back.”
    Mira’s stomach