Chapter 3: The revenant

More weeks passed. Salim was distraught, as if a piece of his heart had been taken out. Two pieces of his heart, in fact. His thoughts kept turning back to Horsetail and how she fared under master Bahir’s heavy hand. Saadeh retired from service, leaving Salim alone in the house. Salim could barely focus on his work, and had no strength left to look for new servants. And asking his parents to help with it would feel like admitting dependency.

One day, he heard news that there was a massive slave revolt in the quarry, with overseers slain and slaves escaping. His heart, already heavy with regret and grief for the late Radi, felt broken with the news. Why did he send his Horsetail away? Now he would never see her again, never feel her exhilarating embrace; never wonder at her mysterious smile. Well, at least she was free now and would probably reunite with her people.

The next day, Irem was abuzz with more news. The rebellious slaves had been pursued and cut down by the city’s noble cavalry. Salim was simultaneously alarmed for the fate of Horsetail and insulted that he had not been invited to ride along with the other worthies. It was cavalry vice-commander Mehmed’s petty vengeance, no doubt about it. Furious and distressed, Salim mounted his horse and went to survey the stakes the rebel slaves were being impaled on – both corpses and those taken alive. If she were alive, perhaps he could still buy her out.

With growing anxiety mixed with hope, he rode back and forth through air thick with the stench of blood and voided bowels. He found no female among the staked slaves. Well, some rebels must have slipped away, Horsetail among them. A small hope to get her back was snuffed out, but at least she was alive.

That night, he dreamed of going into a cave. The next night, the dream repeated, even more vividly. This time, he recognized the place – the rocky outcrop located not far from the quarry where he had so unfortunately lost his concubine. Salim never put much faith in dreams, but two dreams in a row must be a message from the gods. He had to investigate.

In the morning, he packed his saddlebags, sharpened his blade, mounted his steed, and rode out. After some hours, he found the outcrop. Dismounting, he unsheathed his sword, muttered a prayer to Nuha, and searched for the cave. At last, he found the entrance, looking just as it did in the dream.

He lit a torch and entered carefully. Salim’s heart thudded in the silence of the cave as he went down the narrow tunnel. Tense and alert he was – but also hopeful; the gods themselves guided him to this place, after all. After following the tunnel deeper, he came into an irregular, natural cave room.

The first thing illuminated by the light of his torch was a striking wall painting. It was a crude thing, more like a hasty sketch than a piece of art. Shaky strokes, made in dark-red pigment, represented two chimeric monsters. Despite the poor lighting and quality of the picture, Salim instantly recognized the things tattooed on Horsetail’s inner thighs.