Danger in the Garden

Sometime during the cricket-sung night, Amaal felt a tug on the flute case tucked under her arm. She awoke with a jolt. A hulking figure hovered above her in the dying glow of the campfire. He jerked the flute away and ran toward the far end of the garden. Amaal uttered a groggy shout and, scrambling to her feet, started down the path after him, her heart pounding. She slowed, afraid of what he might do if she caught up with him, but as the thief reached the garden gate, Amaal saw a man step out of the shadows, grab him by the hair, and shake him violently until the flute dropped to the ground. The thief struggled to get away, but the man dragged him through the gate and out into the street. Amaal quickly retrieved the flute and staggered back up the path to the fire circle. The travelers, if they had awakened at all, had already turned over and gone back to sleep.

            Amaal sat at the base of the olive tree, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. Everything had happened so quickly. The thief, gone before she could catch a glimpse of his face, hadn’t said a word. And what of the man who had stepped in? She thought she’d seen the flash of a gold arm band, but she couldn’t be sure. During the day everyone had seemed so friendly; now she wondered what thieves might be lurking among the travelers—or the Tyrians, for that matter. She leaned hard against the tree trunk. Maybe if she stayed perfectly still no one would see or bother her. She hugged the flute case and resolved to stay awake all night and leave the garden as soon as it was light enough to go safely back to the market.

            Sometime later, in the cool hours before dawn, Amaal awoke to a low horn sounding softly across the city. The sleepers around the campfire stirred. Again, the horn sounded, long and low. “It’s the sky watchers,” someone said. “They’ve sighted the new moon. We have one day to prepare. Tomorrow will be the royal wedding day.”

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