A few minutes later, Naila returns, all finished with her setup of the tents. She smiles at her sisters. "Everyone doing alright?"

"Mhm," Fayruz replies. "Here, have two bowls for the people on watch." She hands them over.

"Thanks." Naila takes the bowls and goes off to the edge of camp, where Batul and Kamil are still scanning the landscape.

Munir settles down into the camp circle next to Yasmin and accepts his own bowl. 

"So," he says. "We didn't get the tents up before the food. No thanks to Yasmin here. Are you still going to storytell?" 

"Hey, I helped as much as I could!" 

Yasmin blushes and looks over at Layla. "Please?"

"Oh, alright. But just a short story."

Layla clears her throat and stretches her arms.

Everyone quiets. There's a story in the offing.

Rana smiles and swirls her mug of wine.

Layla spreads her hands out and pats her lap, setting down her mug between her crossed legs. 

"So! Many years ago I was in the company of an old woman who once served a great pharaoh, Kemet I. It is a secret what I share with you today, so keep it close to your breast and do not tell a soul of it. I came to her in a small garden of a great estate where I had some business, and when she spoke to me this tale came tumbling out of her lips and let me know the truth. 

She said to me, "Did you know that the Pharaoh once almost wed his own daughter?" 

I opened my lips to speak, but she spoke on, like a woman possessed, desperate to rid herself of the tale. "When the Pharaoh's wife died," she said, "He mourned the proper year, as is the custom. He was not a man of many concubines. But his wife had only given him a daughter of little repute, and so he was forced to marry. He brought a gold bangle from his wife that was precious to him to a matchmaker, and said, "I will make you rich if you find me a queen who can wear this bangle." 

The matchmaker searched and searched, but after almost his allotted year, he could find only one woman who the bangle would fit; the pharaoh's own daughter. Still, he thought to himself, the pharaoh does not know his brides well. Thinking himself a clever man, he arranged the marriage in secret, saying only that the woman that the pharaoh would marry fit the bangle. 

And so the marriage was arranged; but of course, the secret could not stay secret. When the princess learned that her own father intended to wed her, she was terrified. She thought there was no way that Kemet I, Pharaoh of all Osirion, could marry his own daughter unawares. So she bribed her guards with the gold bangle the matchmaker had given her, and she escaped. She fled into the markets, and told a cobbler that she would give him a handful of gold if he would make a suit for her all of leather as a disguise. He agreed, and soon she was clad in the shabbiest outfit a princess could wish for. 

The guards asked her at the gate what her name was; and this she said to them: 

"My name is Juleidah for my coat of skins.
My eyes are weak, my sight is dim.
My ears are deaf, I cannot hear.
I care for no-one, far or near." 

The guards asked her again; again she repeated her words. Eventually, they let her go, thinking her a common beggar. 

She ran and ran and ran, all the way to Katapesh. She collapsed in the street there, and a woman took her in, who worked the pesh plantations by day and spent her coin in the markets by night. She was a freedwoman, and beautiful besides; and she nursed Juleidah back to health. 

When she awoke again, she said to the woman nursing her those same words: 

"My name is Juleidah for my coat of skins.
My eyes are weak, my sight is dim.
My ears are deaf, I cannot hear.
I care for no-one, far or near." 

But the woman, whose name was Ghufran, told her that she had no reason to hide. She took her for an escaped slave, though she bore no brands. And for some time they dwelt together, and even fell in love. 

Eventually, the Risen Guard came and found Juleidah; but Ghufran, by now, had learnt the story, and told the guards that she would defend Juleidah to the death to keep her from marrying her father. 

Her father, however, had learnt of the matchmaker's duplicity; the matchmaker was fed to a Hetkoshu, black with scales and vaster than any mortal crocodile, and his screams were frightful to behold. The pharaoh bid Ghufran to return with his daughter to Osirion, where she would become part of his daughter's estate as thanks for her care in nursing her back to health. 

Juleidah accepted her father's gift, but rather than taking Ghufran as a household servant, took her as her concubine. The pharaoh remarried another woman, and the affair was quietly forgotten, but for a few members of the Pharaoh's household who still recall." 

And that was all the old woman said to me. It seemed to lighten her burden to have said it. I thanked her for her tale, and I kept it close to my heart, of how a princess escaped her father and found joy with another woman." 

Layla spreads her hands out to her sides and smiles. "And that is all."

Every pair of eyes around the fire remains fixed on her throughout her story, and when she concludes it everyone applauds. 

Yasmin looks over at Munir in the aftermath, then her gaze darts back to Layla. "That was a wonderful story," she says. "I had no idea that something like that happened to the old Pharaoh..."

"You can never tell, these days." The corner of Hayat's lips curve up, and she takes a gulp of her wine. Then she looks over at Rana. "Well," she says. "Your sister's told her story, so are you going to dance for us? Let's make this a night to celebrate."

Rana looks over at Yasmin. "Certainly. I've been teaching Yasmin a few things, so perhaps we could dance together?" 

"I - don't really know if I'm ready -" 

Yasmin ducks her head and blushes hard.

Rana tips back the last of her mug of wine and gets up from the sand. 

"Nonsense. It is only dancing. What happens at worst? You stumble? You step on my foot? I think I can deal with that. We will dance together."

Yasmin blushes even deeper, but nods. She gulps down the rest of her own mug of wine for courage, and goes and ducks into one of the tents further into camp.

Rana's taught her a lot, so she should probably be fine. Right? Right. Hopefully she doesn't make a complete fool out of herself in front of Munir.

Rana refills everyone's mugs of wine from her pewter pitcher, and then makes a low bow. "I'll be back to perform in a few minutes," she says. "Unless Layla decides she wants to jump in the tent while I change."

Layla laughs. "Not tonight, sister." She winks. 

She knows that look. That is the "convince me" look. 

Well, she'll just have to put on a real show.

She goes and ducks into the caravan leaders' large tent.

Layla watches her sister go with a small smile, then digs into her koshari. She's been speaking and not had a chance to eat.

Naila claps her on the shoulder and grins. "A good story," she says. "I liked the poem Juleidah speaks."

Fayruz hefts her mug of wine to that. "What Naila said! A toast to our fine storyteller."

Fahim hefts his mug and clacks it against Fayruz's own. "May we all have such a gift with our tongues."

Hayat laughs, and adds her mug to the toast. "Well said!"

"To many more stories in the future!" Munir volunteers, hefting his mug as well. "And may our journey be a swift one."