Ghali's Story

Five days later, Ghali's blood had come and gone, the camp had moved three times, and Azim had disappeared for two days before returning to his tent. It was late afternoon, and Ghali, who had the privilege of only having his ankles tied now, was reading quietly when the sheikh reappeared for the day.
"Come. Get your things. We're going to bathe."
Ghali drew back immediately.
"We're going to bathe?"
"You're going to bathe." Azim corrected. "I'm going to stand guard."
Ghali must have looked taken aback, because Azim smiled ruefully and shrugged.
"I trust my men, but I do not trust them that much. You undress only for me. Come, we go."

~

The bathing place turned out to be a blessedly nearby watershed feeding a summer pond and stream. The cattle had been moved off for the day, and Azim led Ghali upstream to select a spot to bathe. When they had agreed on a place, Azim stepped back to allow Ghali a degree of privacy in the mott of shrubs by the bank.
"Go. Quickly. Shout if there's trouble. I'll guard from here."
Ghali tried to go without thinking much of it, but to have Azim so close, and himself in such a state...

Ghali shook his thoughts away and stripped down, taking his head scarf off last. With it gone, he felt truly naked and glanced nervously around, then rushed to the water's edge and stepped tentatively in.

It was cool, no doubt, far cooler than the air around them, but it had also been warmed by its own shallowness and the day's sun. Ghali picked up his soap and washing cloth from the water's edge and waded a little farther in. The bath was luxurious - since he'd been with Azim, he'd had only limited opportunities for cleansing, and mostly from the single basin of water they brought him once a day. Ghali quickly soaped himself, washed his chest and arms and between his legs, gently, like Mahir had taught him. He was bathing his legs when he felt eyes on him, and glanced up to seek out the face he knew he would see; truly, Azim was watching him from a small dune not far away. As soon as Ghali looked up, however, he gracefully turned away.

It was not unpleasant, exactly, Ghali decided, to have the sheikh regard him in that way. Azim was a handsome man, after all, and his wealth of dark hair and smooth, darkly bronzed skin were uncharacteristically beautiful for a man who spent so much time traveling hard in the hot sun. And then there was the strength of him - the seared, wiry strength that came along with the lives of his people. In another time, Ghali would have been a fool to turn a man like this one down.

But things were different now. Ghali washed his hair last, and thought. Azim was not an unkind master - over the week or so he had been with him, Ghali had seen him exert immeasurable patience with his soldiers, with his people, and now with his most recent charge, Ghali. Azim had listened, answered questions, played games, taught lessons, and shared stories all with the same quiet dignity and even temperament. He had made evident in his treatment of Ghali that whatever else he might be - kidnapped, artificially changed, an illegal ransom - Ghali was to be held in only the highest regard at all times. He had made clear his convictions, popular or not, and stood by them. He had not wavered in his promises. Even now, alone in the desert with an unclaimed carrier in his hands, Azim was making a rather significant effort to give Ghali his privacy. So much so that he could barely see him...

As quickly as the thought appeared, it fled. But then, emboldened by the lack of opposition to it, it rose again. What if?

They had traveled south. Ghali knew that much. South, many kilometers, and not east by much. How close was he to Wafra? Close enough to make it? Close enough to try.

Ghali glanced over his shoulder one last time, saw that Azim was conspicuously not looking at his bathing bride, redressed as quietly as he was able, filled the water canteen he'd brought along for the walk to the baths, then waded across the stream and started to run.

~:~