“Come over here, child. Don’t be frightened, I’ll not harm you,” the Sheikha added, as Zahirah instinctively shrank away. Obediently the young girl moved nearer, marvelling as she always did when near the princess, how sweetly she smelt. “You seem curious about something. Is it this?” Firyal asked, quietly indicating the square object in her hands.
Zahirah nodded, her heart slowing as she realised she wasn’t to receive a beating for the impudence of staring at one so much above her.
“This, child, is a window to the world. A magic carpet which takes me beyond the sands,” she added, seeing that the young desert dweller hadn’t followed her reference to windows. “It is called a book.”
Zahirah gazed at it, bewildered but entranced also by the evocative words of the Sheikha.
“Here, hold it,” Firyal closed the book and held it out to Zahirah who took it gingerly. Rising, the older woman stood next to the girl and opened the book.
Zahirah gazed in incomprehension at the lines of black signs on the creamy white sheets inside the gold embossed covers.
“It is a way of telling stories. As the Sulubba tell tales by their mouths,” she added, referring to the travelling storytellers of the region, “so this tells by the symbols written here.” Looking at the girl, she saw only partial understanding, but total interest and she resolved to show her more.
Given that they all had the time left to them, she thought suddenly. She made the sign to avert the evil eye as her thoughts turned to the extreme danger they were all in. Hopefully, the gathering they were preparing to travel to would ease that danger, but she knew it would need a miracle from Allah to save her house from ruin.
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Rosemary Sutcliff, Blood and Sand
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