٢٠.

"I WON'T ENTER PARADISE AT ALL IF YOU aren't already there."

"Allah will have to put you there as well if He wants me there, because I will follow you everywhere, Burhan."

Dilruba Badawi of Hegra's eyes saw nothing through the blur of the tears in her eyes and the shocking pain of the build up of vicious emotion in her throat.

"I promise you will be my first and last, Burhan. I promise."

She fought angrily with herself, wiping at her tears in order to see clearly—in order to get through the task she was presently doing, her hands shaking terribly and her heart pounding in her ears as her breaths came shallow and rushed, her heart suffocating in its attempt to pump blood throughout her body.

A dark night had descended, and a sickle moon gleamed treacherously in the sky above the desert outside—like a sharp sword of the enemy, a solitary star nestled close to the milk of the moon-a star that oddly seemed to glow.. blue? Had this been her flat in Hegra, had Ahya been busy by her side—sorting through Dilruba's wardrobe with nimble fingers, had there been nothing on Dilruba's mind but her appointments to come, she would've sat on the ground on the carpet, her knees tucked underneath her, her face lifted to the window of her flat, eyes fixed on this moon and the strange blue glowing star, and sought for explanations in all of the poets she knew and their verses.

But this was not Hegra, she was not in her home flat, Ahya was presumed dead, and there was no space in her mind to contemplate a mere star.

Dilruba finished fastening Burhan's cloak onto her form, and as she covered her head with the black hood, her knees almost buckled with the scent of him infused in the material. She had to hold herself, keeping breathing and push adverse thoughts out of her head.

If she did not leave, she would lose herself. She would stay with Burhan and lose everything that she used to be and stood for in life—all for love of a man who spilled blood and did the bidding of warlocks and whoever who could buy him, whenever he deemed it necessary.

She gripped the sack—now a mere light weight thing containing only food and her jewelry that she had bought and worn for her cousin's wedding, Allah, that night seemed like it had been yesterday and a thousand years ago at the same time.

Dilruba hooked the sack to her elbow, and casting one last glance at Burhan's room—she shut her mind out to all opposing thoughts and pivoted to walk over towards the downfacing staircase, taking a soft breath and steeling herself as she began her ascent downwards, being careful to as lightly as she could.

Yunis and Ahud—twins of Yemeni descent with golden brown hair, the darkest skin Arabia had to offer in men, and thin brown eyes—had come upstairs with her breakfast earlier in the day after Burhan had left. Dilruba had met the men—part of Burhan Abelhamid's gang of swordfighters, killers and bandits—and they had been as respectful with her as Ghazi was. Their gazes had not left the ground at her feet when they had addressed her, as though they feared even looking at her would offend their Rayis and have them shirk their given orders.

They had been civil, and the food they had made had been so good—though Dilruba had lost taste for it and had eaten only some of it, wrapping the left over food into her tattered peacock ensemble dress which she washed and dried quickly for just the feat.

On her journey, she would need food, and she had no money for it. Her jewelry would only manage a little bit of her way, but there was no possibility of food unless she brought some along.

Both Yunis and Ahud had brought her lunch too, and then dinner which she had received four hours ago now. She had eaten what she could manage and then packed everything else into the sack that she carried, hoping that it would be enough to sustain her—to have her make it through the desert to the city of Hegra.

On her thigh, Dilruba had strapped a knife she had found in Burhan's makeshift cupboard. It was a rusty knife, looking as though it hadn't been used for years, but there was nothing else as sharp that she could use for protection, so she had grabbed it willingly.

Her plan was to sneak away, and she had long stopped hearing the voices of Ahud and Yunis in the guild downstairs. There was a certain belief in the men that their guild—and Burhan's place consequently—cannot be found in the desert, even though they were always prepared to defend it. So might not that belief cause their vigilance to slightly slack a little? Might not she hope that they had drifted off to sleep in their positions and she could sneak away without having to use the knife on her thigh?

Allah, knives were an adequate protection against predators on the street—drunk fat men looking only to grope, thieves being teased along by the glint in a woman's earlobe or her neck—but against trained swordsmen and thugs? How would she defend herself if she had to fight to escape them?

Dilruba had thought nothing through, so clouded had she been with just her desperation. But there was no going back now, if Ahud and Yunis-civil and respectful as they were with her—wound up killing her for trying to escape, would that not still be a fitting end? Would not she leave the world having lived honestly? Would not Allah have mercy on her soul? Would not Fatima aapa and her mother forgive Dilruba for the life she was tempted into but died holding herself back from?

Because would it not have been a perfect dream, with Burhan by her side and all the wealth she could never have even dreamed of. She would truly want for nothing else in the world.. wouldn't she?

But she did not want wealth when it came with all the consequences of Burhan's actions attached. She did not want his dirty, blood soaked wealth. She did not want any of it. In fact, she was certain a single piece of gold from amongst Burhan Abelhamid's loot would burn her skin like acid, obliterating her flesh and touching bone.

Dilruba's quiet descent down the stairs without being spotted-save for the thunder of her heart pounding in her ears—was a small success as she found herself stepping off the wood of the sturdy staircase and onto solid sand covered ground.

The door to the guild—right behind where the staircase ended—was fully thrown open, but it was dark inside and no candle flame flickered, neither was any lantern lit. Dilruba Badawi was now standing beside the start of the staircase and right in front of the open entrance to the guild—an entire space Burhan's men inhabited for purposes of planning, strategizing and Allah knows what else.

At the opposite side—to her back, because she was facing the open door to the darkened guild—lay the open desert, a vast expanse of sand and dunes and land as far as her eyes would be able to see.

The small sightings of Agrabah and the city of Thāj that she had been privy too and had memorized in her heart like her own reflection in a mirror, were no longer in existence now that she was with her feet on the ground.

The desert was daunting, intimidating-a beast ready to envelope all those who sought to cross it, and Dilruba was to put herself at the beast's mercy—with no guide, no map, no direction and no sun to chart her course.

Horror struck at her heart, as a sudden wind blew northwards and a cry sounded in the air-like that of a woman wailing—as the force of the north wind caressed the sand dunes and Dilruba held onto her cloak and shut her eyes against the incoming shower of sand blowing into her face, feeling like her facial skin was being prickled with a thousand pin pricks—each bit of sand feeling as heavy as a stone the size of her fingernails.

Dilruba counted for a few beats, waiting for somebody—Ahud or Yunis—inside the darkened guild to spot her figure just standing there outside at the door and instantly approach, if they were at all awake inside the darkened place and watching her from somewhere.

She had excuses resting on the tip of her tongue. She could say that she had been thirsty, or needed food again, or wanted wax candles for some light because she couldn't sleep. She could say there was something in the room—a scorpion perhaps, or a snake. She could say anything at all if she was caught here outside, and then deduce her next steps while her lie was heard and adjusted to by the men. For Burhan's men—Ahud and Yunis, or even Ghazi—were the sort to instantly approach her if they felt something was amiss. And she wasn't supposed to leave Burhan's room, wasn't she? 

So if either Ahud or Yunis were awake inside the darkened rooms of the guild, they would not just be watching her right now without doing anything. They would instantly appear, ask her what she needed—their movements tinged with urgency, submission and determination, as though Burhan's orders to them were more than just orders and were the holy scripture itself.

Regardless of her intended escape, she was grateful for their protection. Allah, she was grateful for Burhan's protection-all the times he had saved her, and.. loved her—held her like she was the most precious thing he had ever held. She was grateful for it all, and she knew she would never have anything like that ever again—never have anyone like him, or anyone at all, ever again. And that fact alone felt like the gravest loss she could ever suffer. Bit was not life on earth a cacophony of losses?

Dilruba had glimpsed heaven itself and was now turning away from it, because heaven on earth could not exist. The address to heaven was divine, and any replication of it in the mortal world was surely sullied and a facade—as the poet Fakhri had once said. Dilruba understood that verse now like she hadn't understood it before.

Suddenly then, she heard a movement right beside her and her heart tightened in her chest with such force she feared it alone would kill her if no blade from a swordsman.

She stayed still for a single second, before grabbing the knife strapped at her thigh from inside the cloak in one anxious but swift motion and instantly spinning to hold it high and face the opposition.

Instead of Ahud or Yunis' similar faces however, Dilruba Badawi was faced with the face of a man—a being—she had been convinced had completely abandoned her. Allah, had not she just made peace with the abandonment?

Her knife wielding hand wavered, shaking as she tried to hold it up and failed, the knife slipping from her grip and falling into the sand on the ground. Her face crumpled as her resolve broke.

"Tahararat min alkhatiya," She managed softly, her voice barely above a whisper as it broke and shook.

"Dilruba," The being spoke her name, his dark skin glinting silver in the moonlight, but the gold jewelry at his neck, wrists, and ears sparkling like they were reflecting a sun that did not exist in the sky at present.

His long hair was pulled tightly back into a high ponytail, the length of his sleek hair tied off at equal distances, making his entire ponytail a bold show of big circular beads following each other to the end—a braided bubble hairstyle that Jasmine often wore.

The similarity made Dilruba's heart break slightly. Why was the former genie here? Why did he always appear when she was in trouble—or at the most crucial moments, if he owed his allegiance only to Jasmine, Aladdin and The Sultan of Agrabah?

The tahararat min alkhatiya was theirs. Yes, he was a freed being now, but still, was not he theirs? Their freed genie? Their friend? Their confidante?

"Please," Dilruba spoke softly, pleading. "Why are you here?"

"I see that you are leaving," The being spoke, folding his muscled arms across his chest, as he looked at her with a raised brow. "Have I caught you at a bad time? Though I do think I should be given some grace, for bad times are upon all of us, are they not? It is hard to weave our paths against time."

"I'm—," Dilruba shut her eyes, scared that at any moment Ahud or Yunis might wake up, come outside and spot them both.

"Yes, I'm leaving. I'm going back to Hegra. I can't—I can't stay."

She swallowed thickly, trying to hold her composure in front of the freed genie. How long had it been since she'd last spoke to him? It felt so long ago. They had talked about Burhan, hadn't they? Dilruba hadn't known his last name then, but the genie had. He had spoken to her about him, all the while knowing that the man she called her savior was bringing forth Agrabah's doom. The tahararat min alkhatiya had known all that, but he hadn't said a thing to her, and she had found out about Abelhamid's identity the hard way.

Afterwards, Burhan had used a name that he had given the freed genie long ago when they had met and the tahararat min alkhatiya was still a genie—when Burhan had gotten three wishes granted. The freed genie had weakened somewhat faced with use of his name. That was the last time Dilruba had seen him, and now, he was here.

"Why can't you stay?" He asked her then, his tone calm.

Dilruba's brows furrowed in anguished frustration. "Because—because I don't—I can't. I can't stay! How could you have just left me here? In Burhan's den? My uncle and cousin branded me a traitor and you saw to solidify that, didn't you?"

"Abelhamid saved you from those cells, Dilruba. I couldn't do it on my own, I tried as much as I could. I kept you alive."

Dilruba's eyes stung with tears, anger gripping her heart at his relaxed voice.

"Yes, you did. And I—I would've thanked you for it on my knees had you kept me away. They—they said that you asked for me to be fed at a certain time. You gave them a time of when I would gain consciousness after Burhan took me from that cell. You came here did you not? You came here to see me and you talked to Burhan. Still you left me here. You made me a traitor and I can never defend myself in front of The Sultan of Agrabah now. My uncle will have me killed if he ever sees me again."

"You made yourself a traitor," The tahararat min alkhatiya uttered then, something akin to sympathy blinking in his marble eyes, even though the words he spoke were harsh.

Dilruba blanched, shock and hurt reverberating inside her.

"Dilruba," The freed genie spoke, sympathy transforming into consideration in his gaze. "You love Abelhamid. You were falling in love with him even before you knew who he truly was. You lay with him after you found out the truth. You gave him your heart either way. You made a traitor of yourself—that is, if you think merely loving someone guilty alone counts for complicity in their crimes."

The Hegran girl dropped her gaze, emotion building up in her throat. "I—"

"You made a traitor of yourself. You committed treason. All because you think you did—you believe you did. Me, on the other hand?" The being turned his head upwards at an angle to glimpse the sickle moon hanging in the sky, and at that moment, Dilruba was struck with the mere image of him standing there.

He looked otherworldly, and it was dizzying to dwell on the fact that he had once wielded so much power, and had been granting wishes for centuries. More than perhaps a hundred had been lucky enough to come across his lamp, and perhaps even less than a quarter of those had actually managed to summon him and get their wishes granted.

"I don't believe you are a traitor. I don't believe you committed any sort of treason. You are without blame in my eyes."

"In your eyes?" Dilruba managed, tears streaking down her cheeks. "You see things as no one else sees them. How am I to live on the assurance of your gaze alone?"

"Which is why you are leaving," The freed genie nodded his head once in thought, as though he already understood her but was making a considerate show of understanding. "Which is why you escape to your previous life, with a hope that perhaps everything would be as you left it, and you could assert yourself into the place you left behind like a puzzle piece while things resume as they were before."

"Let me tell you something, Dilruba, the world moves in circles, but life and time do not."

"Stop," The Hegran girl asserted. "Please. I just—I can't be with Burhan, and I have to leave. Don't you understand?"

"He tells me nothing," She shook her head, tears continuing to fall. "I would've honestly committed treason had he opened up to me, I was ready to give up everything for him. I would've become exactly what my uncle and cousin think I am. But he held back from me—his past, his reasons, everything. He held himself away while I bore myself raw and open, and that is why I have the courage to leave right now. Had he opened up to me, I would—I wouldn't be leaving. I would've let him pull me into complicity. I would let him make me just as guilty. Do you see? I—I'm so broken, and I'm so ashamed of it. I thought my morals were stringer than this, I thought my sense of self was firmer, but I'm just—I'm just like an animal easily swayed with the promise of food."

"I wish—," She shook her head, swallowing.

"You wish?" The former genie asked gently, his tone softer.

"I wish you wouldn't have left me with Burhan," Dilruba looked into the tahararat min alkhatiya's eyes with hurt. "I didn't know who he truly was. You saw me find that out, you saw me taken to the dungeons for it. You saw me battered for it, lying in a cell and unable to move an inch. Still you didn't think that leaving me with him would brand me a traitor even if it hadn't before."

"Allah," Dilruba placed her palm on her forehead, cupping it. "I wish I would've died in that cell and that you hadn't kept me alive. I wish I had had control over myself so you or Burhan would not have made my decisions for me. I wish I wouldn't have ever come to Agrabah at all. Now, I'm holding onto my heart and desperately hoping to be free of my inner turmoil. Now, my heart won't listen to me—now, I'm struggling with myself because my chest feels at odds with my sense of self. Now, I'm fighting against myself to leave."

"And it's all because of you and Burhan!" She turned away, holding her elbows as she wiped at her tears.

She heard the tahararat min alkhatiya sigh behind her.

"That's right," He uttered, his tone grieved. "You thought you would get cursed if you called me genie when we first met. You believed—believe—that I am going to hell for living as frivolously indulged as I live, instead of becoming pious like all the rest of my kind. You fear at every single step of breaking religious rules and being cursed. You are a person so grounded in the rules of life and religion, Dilruba, that you refuse anything contrary. I forgot that."

Dilruba's brows furrowed as she spun to face him.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, my friend," The man continued gently. "That everything is broader than you believe it to be. Curses and condemnation are not just immediate consequences dealt out by Allah like an old woman dealing out futures reading nothing but a tedious blend of tea leaves. There are reasons and there is depth to everything." 

"Yes, I came to see you at Abelhamid's.. den, as you call it," The former genie waved a hand dismissively. "Of course I did, You are my friend and regardless of me keeping you alive in that cell, I had to come to see how you were faring." 

"I did not bring you away because I believed that Burhan Abelhamid could protect you. I had to be with The Sultan of Agrabah, Al and Jasmine, you understand that. And their feelings towards you are not warm anymore, you understand that too. So why would I risk bringing you away? With Abelhamid you were the safest for the time being, because I knew he wouldn't hurt you—well, at least not physically, for now I understand you have been through much emotional turmoil with him." 

Dilruba exhaled, steeling herself. "Yes, thank you. I understand why you did what you did now. But I will decide what is the safest for me now. I'm going back home to Hegra." 

"And Burhan Abelhamid is not aware of that, yes?" The tahararat min alkhatiya raised a brow. 

"He isn't," Dilruba swallowed thickly, adjusting the dark hood on her head. "He wants me to come to Qaryat al-Fāw with him—to be with him as he—"

The Hegran girl broke off her sentence, watching intrigue twist into the former genie's features, the man's marble eyes blinking with a sudden interest that she did not recognize as genuine. 

"Qaryat al-Fāw? Why Al-Fāw? The Sultan is gathering his army there, does Abelhamid plan to.. You know of his plans," The man uttered perhaps the most disjointed stream of though he had ever voiced, unfolding his arms and straightening up, when she didn't respond. "You know of Abelhamid's plans." 

"No, I—I only know a little," Dilruba tried, her voice hesitant. "He told me what he thought I needed to know to come with him. That's all, he didn't—"

"What does he want you to do there? What does he plan to do there? Dilruba, you could barter this information off," The former genie interrupted her. "Tell this to your uncle and he will consider forgiving you." 

"Consider forgiving me?" The girl blinked, "But you said I hadn't committed any treason. You said—"

"In my eyes, Dilruba. In your uncle's eyes you're as guilty as Abelhamid is himself." 

Dilruba huffed, shaking her head. "So, I need to get myself forgiven. Is that what you are saying? Tell me, noble tahararat min alkhatiya, do I need my uncle's forgiveness to live? As I recall, once I leave for Hegra, I will cease to exist for him. Isn't that just the way he does things?" 

The former genie's lips twitched in a certain amusement, his marble eyes flashing something.

"Still, Dilruba," The man's look turned serious. "You must realize how valuable the information you have is. The Sultan's army is gathering at that city to take Agrabah back with the aid of the Sultan of Al-Fāw—"

Dilruba Badawi of Hegra's eyes narrowed. "Is that why you are here? To get information out of me about Burhan? Allah, was that why you came before as well? To see if I had awoken to offer you anything valuable?" 

The former genie shut his eyes. "Dilruba, that's not what—"

"I love Burhan, genie," She cried then, tears wetting her face again. "I love him despite everything he has done and everything he will do. I can never stop loving him, and you don't condemn people you love publicly. I can try to hate him in my heart for his cruelty, but I will never do anything that gets him hurt. I will never give him away for anything he chose to tell me. I'm not that kind of person, and you don't do that to people you love. I haven't had many people in my life to love, but still I understand this." 

"You don't think he deserves to be held accountable? You don't think he deserves to be condemned for all that blood on his hands?" 

"If he deserves those things then I won't come in fate's way, but I won't aid in his destruction, genie. I will hurt for him though, if you ever found me to tell me he was hurting, then I would hurt for him too." 

"Dilruba—" 

"Don't, please," The girl let out then, hurt escalating inside her. She had been wrong to consider him a friend, for there was no loyalty that she could share alongside that of a Sultan's—alongside those of her cousin's and uncle's. The former genie's loyalty belonged to them and them alone, not her. And Dilruba Badawi was stupid to believe even for a moment since she had stepped foot in Agrabah that her uncle and cousin would ever truly share anything with her at all. 

"It is alright, I understand what you are trying to say," She swallowed thickly, trying to counter the emotion building up in her throat. "But please, understand what I am trying to say as well. I don't want to part on bad terms with you, for you too have saved my life so many times. I would be dead were it not for you." 

The tahararat min alkhatiya exhaled a breath, his gaze flickering to the ground in some thought before he looked at her again. 

"Just please allow me to ask you for help one last time," Dilruba managed, pleading. "I need directions to a safe route to Hegra's borders. I will manage everything else myself. I can pay my way after I arrive in Hegra, I have money at home and surely the governor too can pay on my behalf and I can pay him back later. I just need a safe route for now." 

The former genie considered something, before he conceded. Then, reaching inside an inner pocket of the dark blue vest he wore, he pulled out a neatly rolled map and handed it to her. 

Dilruba's fingers wrapped around the parchment paper, and she took the map hesitantly, unrolling it as her eyes scoured the contents. 

"This is a map directly to Hegra's borders," She managed, astonished. "And it starts from.. here? Is this area Al Diwan? This whole time I've been on the land where once the divine beast Simurgh was spotted?" 

The former genie appeared contemplative, shrugging slightly. "Ironic, is it not? Abelhamid chose the site of his guild to be the land where a benevolent and wise creature was said to be seen. The man has a sense of humor if anything." 

"Regardless," Dilruba spoke, something tightening in her chest at the mere mention of Burhan's name. "Thank you so much for this. Did you know I was going to leave? How could you have such a specific map to Hegra?" 

"Let's just say that I came prepared," The man folded his arms across his chest. "I did not know, I suspected. Your route will take you past the Lion Tombs of Dadan and the desert plains of Jabal Ithlib. Be wary of the other travelers you meet, Dilruba, and though you can often ask for aid from some of them should you need it, do not talk to any traveler you see at Dadan, for they won't talk back." 

"Stop," Dilruba rolled up the map in her hold. "Don't scare me." 

 "I'm not trying to," He shrugged. "In the desert, mirages as well as ifrits play tricks. You either fall to mirages or you fall to the beings you mistake as other humans." 

"And besides," The man exhaled, "You aren't going entirely alone." 

"What do you mean?" Dilruba asked, confusion etched in her eyes as she peered up at him. 

It was then that the former genie unwrapped an embroidered covering he was wearing around his waist and over his billowing trousers. The covering—or what seemed like it—sprung away from the tahararat min alkhatiya's form and stood independently on the ground on two golden tasseled ends, while the other two tasseled ends waved cheerily in the air. Recognition flooded Dilruba like warm water encasing the turmoil in her insides. 

"Carpet!" She cried, laughing through the tears drying on her face, as the carpet sprung towards her and wrapped herself around Dilruba's torso, embracing the girl in excitement. 

"Allah," Dilruba spoke, looking up at the former genie. "Why have you brought her? I'm going back to Hegra, and the journey—I won't be coming back genie, I can't come back. Carpet belongs with you—" 

"Carpet has been miserable these past days, Dilruba," The man shook his head. "Ever since she met you, she has changed, and when you were taken away she lost herself entirely. There is a Qareen inside beings of her kind, my friend. Rarely, one or two of their kind find a human their Qareen latches onto. The human becomes their source of happiness and.. life. I believe carpet's Qareen has found you, and it would be cruel to separate her from you." 

"Oh Allah," Dilruba whispered, her voice breaking slightly with emotion as she gently caressed Carpet as she was still wrapped around her torso. 

"It's alright, I will care for you," The Hegran girl spoke gently to the being, before lifting her head to meet the former genie's eyes. "Thank you for bringing her to me." 

The tahararat min alkhatiya nodded. "Dilruba, I care for both of you. That is why I need you to be vigilant on this journey. Do not ignore my words about Dadan, surely you of all people cannot be so ignorant about the ways of the land there?" 

"No, I do know," Dilruba uttered. "I've heard.. stories. I'm not ignorant. But I will be careful, I promise. You have given me someone to be careful for, and that's all the motivation I need. Thank you." 

"Now, we must leave," The girl glanced at the edge of the guild building, wary of Ahud or Yunis trancing upon the three of them. "Or Burhan's men—"

"Oh," The former genie scoffed. "Those two won't wake even if we held a wedding procession out back here." 

Dilruba raised a quizzical brow, her hand still caressing Carpet at her torso. 

"Something in their food, don't ask," The man waved a hand dismissively. "I was to be paying a visit, I had to set a clear course did I not?" 

"Go, now," He glanced at the moon briefly.

"This night is perfect for the beginnings of travel. I sense the moon steeped in luck, and I sense the sands to be kinder. Go, Dilruba Badawi of Hegra. Take care of yourself and of Carpet, and I shall see you both soon enough. I am not one to let go of my friends so easily, even if my friends themselves don't consider me their friend. I'm loyal to my core, Hegran poetess, though my frivolous ways don't let you see that. Go, may the life you are choosing be more generous to you than the life you are leaving behind."