Mahmud

"Zahra, if my father decides to kill me, I want you to take the money I buried outside the gate and run back to Aura," I grumble under my breath from atop her saddle.

We've arrived at the race cloaked so none can recognize us. Yet.

It was Zahra's idea to make it dramatic and give us a plan B if things go wrong.

"You buried money outside the gate?" Zahra whispers up at me as if amuses by this.

"Uncle Amon gave me a coin purse as a Kantaran gift."

"What's that?"

"It's what they call our coming of age celebration in Kanan," I hiss. "Now, you should shush!"

Zahra conceals a giggle by whinnying and shaking her head. I confess, she's quite good at pretending she's a dumb beast.

A tall, skinny man with a full beard stalks toward us with a scroll in hand. He must be the king's bookkeeper in charge of taking records on which families' sons are successful in their rite of passage.

"Name?" He asks.

"Mahmud," I say.

"You trained this horse yourself, Mahmud?" The man peers up at me suspiciously, probably annoyed by how concealed I am in my cloak.

"Aye, sir," I answer, patting Zahra's neck. "I captured her just outside the Desert pass. In the Deadlands."

The man nods his head and grunts, scribbling something on his scroll. After a quick glance at Zahra's underbelly he looks back up at me. "What is this mare's name?"

"Zahra," I say, not sure why my face heats thinking about how the man was checking Zahra's nether bits out to gender her.

"Walk Zahra for me," the man says, writing down her name and nodding in the direction of the arena the other young men all await us with their mounts. We're the last entry at the race.

I press my heels lightly on her sides and Zahra nickers, bobbing her head as she takes her steps toward the arena.

"Good, now a trot," the man mutters absently.

Zahra picks up to her smooth trot. The man's eyebrows raise.

"This horse. Not only is it beautiful in form and feature," the man marvels, "But it also is the most graceful creature I've laid eyes upon. A creature you'd expect to find in the king's stable and not in the hands of a lowly merchant's son. Once in the arena, do a canter in a circle."

"C'mon, Zahra," I say, clicking my tongue at her, ignoring the snide remark about my family's social status.

Zahra takes off, we enter the arena and she runs a smooth circle around the other young men. I don't even have to direct her, the only thing I do is hold my posture. Our movement is fluid, as if together we are one.

I glance toward Jakkar, and can't help a smile tug the corners of my mouth. Zahra doesn't disappoint me, she does a perfect circle around them.

"The king may offer you and your family much gold for this mare," the bookkeeper says as he finishes writing his review of Zahra and my performance. "Especially if she shows everyone up in the race. Find your place with the other men and wait for our king to speak to you."

It's surreal, Zahra walks up to stand next to Jakkar in the line. Jakkar stares at me as if he's seeing me for the first time.

"Young men, you stand before us today as the next generation responsible for protecting the great country of Kanan," King Raman loudly shouts, walking to the grand stand facing the arena. Following King Raman in his processional is his daughter, Princess Lily, and his six sons whom I can't remember all the names of. They are all from different mothers. King Raman has an extensive haram. I know the oldest is Prince Timon as he is destined to rule someday, he stands next to his father in the grand stand.

My gaze rests on Princess Lily momentarily, she is a lovely girl, blossoming into womanhood. Wrapped in a modest white gown which contrasts enticingly with her richly tan skin. Her hair is the color of my father's bay stallion's coat. She's petite in form and feature, a little flower as her name describes.

"The man who wins the race shall be given a 1000 shekels, a place of honor in my cavalry and begin his training tomorrow," King Raman says with a huge grin. "Know this, my virgin daughter will look on that man with much favor, I guarantee it."

Zahra paws a hoof and swishes her tail so it whacks against my calf. I can tell she's upset about how Raman speaks of his daughter. I'm not surprised at her reaction. Zahra wouldn't understand being a proper woman of Kanan who keeps her mouth shut and head down. Part of me is in agreement with Zahra, I can't fathom why, but a twinge of anger runs through me for how Princess Lily has been treated her entire life. Destined to be a pretty possession her father will use to manipulate, trade, or pawn off.

Princess Lily's face flushes at the word "virgin", but she demurely sits down in her seat averting her eyes down respectfully. A proper woman of Kanan, through and through.

"Riders, approach the starting line!" King Raman exclaims, raising his hands up high. "May the sun god shine down on you! May the god of the winds grant you speed!"

Zahra snorts and shakes her mane, trotting with the rest of the riders to the line painted into the sand just outside the arena. I catch sight of my father standing with my mother at the sidelines. He notices Zahra with recognition and his bushy eyebrows raise, eyes narrowing as they watch me in shock.

A flutter of excitement courses through my veins. I know Zahra is faster than every horse here, but how far should we sell it?

"Zahra, outrun them, just don't be too obvious about it," I whisper.

"You are that confident, aye, Mahmud?" Jakkar has recognized me now. "My stallion has the stamina to outrun everyone and to rut that pretty mare of yours after he's done."

Zahra's ears pin back on her head and something inside me snaps.

How dare he say such a horrible thing in front of my Zahra?

I want to kill Jakkar. The anger burning in me ignites the unlit torches on either side of the starting line, but I don't care. No one knows it's me doing it. A whirlwind appears on the sand in front of us, spinning off to the side causing the horses in the line to nervously paw the ground and whinny. All of them except Zahra.

If only I could light a fire on Jakkar's tunic.

I glare at Jakkar and growl, "On second thought, Zahra, let's make them eat sand."

"Take your marks!" King Raman shouts. "My son, Prince Timon, will wave the starting flag as your signal to go."

Prince Timon strides toward the line. He notices with wide eyes at the torches heavy burn, yet he raises the flag and bring it down.

Zahra shoots us ahead of the rest as if it's nothing, leaving Jakkar's stallion and the rest far behind us.

"Yeah! That's my girl!" I exclaim, patting her neck and my heart bursts with happiness I've never known. How my father will love me now! How Kanan will honor me!

We reach the finish line well before everyone else and Zahra comes to a halt facing King Raman's grandstand. Her ears forward, legs straight, and eyes burning as if in challenge. She's not even winded.

"What is your name, my son?" King Raman asks with astonishment.

The other horses come in to a finish panting and sweaty. Jakkar beat his stallion with a riding crop so the poor animal is over-worked by the time he gallops across the finish line. The infuriated, defeated expression on Jakkar's face is perfection.

"Mahmud, of the house of Rosh," I say, pulling aside my cloak to reveal my face.