Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Interlude

This job really makes me invisible, Ruqayya mused as she shifted from one foot to the other, parchment in one hand, ink bottle and quill in the other.

She studied Muhammad ibn Abu Hudhayfa sighing, pacing the floor of the governor's chamber.

"Ibn Abu Sarh's tardiness is to be a blight upon me once more, it seems," ibn Abu Hudhayfa whispered to himself.

It's amazing how he thought he was alone in the chamber. Ruqayya didn't want to lurk in a corner, but what was she to do?

"What part of 'I require audience at dusk' did he not comprehend?" ibn Abu Hudhayfa, the governor's right-hand man, continued to vent.

He surmised that ibn Abu Sarh understood very well the complexities of governing an ancient land such as Egypt, a prized province of the Caliphate. He was a shrewd man, ibn Abu Hudhayfa surmised, but only cared to fill his own belly and burst his own coffers with the gold of the natives of this land of wonder. To ibn Abu Hudhayfa's despair, he supposed the words of his informant, the Copt who called himself Marcus, that the governor cared for naught but furthering his own means. It was a rampant reputation among the Coptic populace, and even some of the Arabs were stirring in al-Fustat in their disgruntlement.

"Doubtless he is otherwise occupied by the touch of a maiden or the kiss of forbidden wine," ibn Abu Hudhayfa burst out ruefully.

Ruqayya could barely contain her laughter. The man shook his head as though clearing it of such thoughts.

"No, the Khalifa's wisdom was beyond question," he paced again. Ruqayya wondered why the man was speaking to himself so often. She did have to admit the governor was a handful. He could turn anyone mad. "I should know that more than anyone. If he deems ibn Abu Sarh fit to be governor of Egypt, then he must be so."

This man who called himself Muhammad, but commonly referred to as the son of Abu Hudhayfa, was relatively new to the antics of the governor ibn Abu Sarh, Ruqayya knew. The Khalifa himself who resided far away in the Arabian homeland selected him to become the governor's second in command.

Word was that ibn Abu Hudhayfa was actually Khalifa 'Uthman's son by adoption. Or rather, his foster son. Muhammad's father and closest male kin had fallen fighting for their religion against some false prophet. Taking pity upon the boy, 'Uthman who had been but a wealthy merchant then rather than a ruler, took him under his wing and raised him to become the man he was today.

Ibn Abu Hudhayfa a foster son, the governor himself a milk brother, Ruqayya noted. Both the governor and his second in command were of close familial connection to the Khalifa. She wondered if that had anything to do with their appointment to high places.

Just as ibn Abu Hudhayfa wandered about the chamber, Ruqayya's own mind did the same. How does it feel to be close kin to those with influence? What was it like to not want for something? To not despair?

She bit back a tear, remembering Andronicus' state that morning. His condition was worsening by the day, and there was naught she could do. The concoctions the wisemen that examined her adoptive father prescribed to her were beyond her financial means. Not to mention the wisemen's fees as well.

It was what forced her into this damned job. Who would have thought it possible? Merchant by day, servant by night.

She was forced to take over the business from Father after he had taken ill. But work in this newly constructed city – if you could call it that – was scant and not as rewarding as Father had once expected. Customers were scarce, competition plentiful, and the prices low. Not to mention the lifestyle of these Arabs. They cared for nothing and sought nothing in the way of excess – no matter how wealthy.