Chapter 3: New responsibilities

“Rachael?!?” croaks my father when he sees me. “I didn’t think I’d see you again on this side of the afterlife.”

“Alderman Samvel’s scheming meant that I was unavoidably detained,” I reply. “But I’m here now. I would say it is good to see you, but you look like shit.”

“That’s my Rachael,” says my father in a half-hearted attempt at a laugh. “Never one to mince your words. You’re right. I’m dying. Your family needs you. Wadi Halaf needs you. There’s no one else capable of managing the place until Efrem is old enough to inherit his birthright. There’s no one else I can trust to keep Wadi Halaf going until Efrem is old enough to take control.”

Calling on family loyalty is a desperate act that I would be entitled to reject. For all but the last few years, my father has steadfastly refused to recognise any of the five children he sired on his slave concubines as part of his family. We were just beasts of burden to be used as necessary. Even now, I’m the only one of his concubines’ offspring that he begrudgingly acknowledges as part of his family. Hugo, Prot, Jacinta and Mia are treated no better than the other slaves at Wadi Halaf. My elevation to being part of his family was only granted after Efrem was born, and my father had a freeborn son who could claim Wadi Halaf as his inheritance. However, despite him being an arrogant misogynist, he is my father, and I have grown into who I am today because of him.

Mia locates a robe for me. My travelling robe is still too wet to wear. I’ve few clothes of my own, and what I have are at the Halls of Valhalla. The robe Mia provides is one of Lady Gülnihal’s. Consequently it’s a bit small for me, but it will have to do. Thankfully Gülinhal won’t know I’ve borrowed it. She went to stay with her sister as soon as Wadi Halaf started getting busy. While I would be more comfortable staying dressed little better than a slave, I’m mindful that at the moment I need to dress and behave as someone in authority.

“Your father had all the documentation prepared shortly after he became warlord,” says Aren later when I leave my father sleeping. “Being warlord isn’t the safest occupation. Of course he couldn’t predict your abduction and delayed return, but fortunately that’s no longer an issue. You are here now. If you accept the terms of the agreement, then you will become the mistress of Wadi Halaf on your father’s death until Efrem reaches his sixteenth birthday.”

I don’t particularly want the responsibility of running Wadi Halaf. However, the likely consequences of my rejecting the role present even greater problems; not just for me but for all those working at Wadi Halaf. Aren hands me an official looking scroll to read. I quickly skim through the scroll, which at first glance confirms what Aren has told me. However, I will need to read it carefully before agreeing to accept its terms.

“What about the shambles outside in the forecourt?” I ask Aren.

“Caravans have been arriving from the north and west as usual, but for the last two days, most caravans are unable to continue their journey because of the blocked roads. We now have five caravans in our yards. The caravan masters all want the needs of their caravan attending to first. We are doing our best to provide what they want, but there are only so many of us. The aldermen have commandeered all the male slaves in the city to clear the landslip and remove the debris from the broken bridge. We’ve had to send all of Wadi Halaf’s male slaves, including Hugo and Prot. It leaves us very short-handed.”

“What about the other caravanserai in the city?” I ask.

“They are both in the same position as Wadi Halaf, and they have closed their gates to new caravan arrivals,” replies Aren. “We should do the same, but Lord Rahim won’t allow it.”