“Yes, it is my father. His name is Abd el Jelíl ben Séf e’Nasr, Sultan of Abea.”
“The Sultan?” he cried in amazement. “Then thou art Kheira!” he added, for the extraordinary beauty of the only daughter of the Sultan of Abea was proverbial throughout the Great Desert, from Lake Tsâd to the Atlas.
“Yes,” she replied. “And from thy speech and dress I know thou art of the Kanouri, our deadliest enemies.”
“True,” answered the desert pirate. “To-morrow my tribe, to the number of ten thousand, now lying concealed in the valley called Deforou, will swarm upon thine impregnable city and—”
“Ten thousand?” she gasped, pale and agitated. “And thou wilt kill my father and reduce our people to slavery. Ah, no!” she added imploringly. “Save us, O stranger! Our fighting men went south one moon ago to collect the taxes at Dchagada, therefore we are unprotected. What can I do—how can I act to save my father?”
“Dost thou desire to save him, even though he would force upon thee this odious marriage?”
“I do,” she cried. “I—I will save the City in the Sky at cost of mine own life.”
“To whom art thou betrothed?” Hatita asked, tenderly taking her hand.
“To the Agha Hassan è Rawi, who dwelleth at Zougra, beyond the Nanagamma. He is three score years and ten, and ’tis said he treateth his wives with inhuman cruelty. One of his slaves told me so.”
Hatita stood silent and thoughtful. Though he was a member of a tribe who existed wholly upon loot obtained from caravans and towns they attacked, yet so earnestly did the Sheikh’s daughter appeal, that all thought of preserving the secret of the intended attack by murdering her disappeared, and he found himself deeply in love. His was a poor chance, however, he told himself. The proud Sultan of Abea would never consent to a brigand as a son-in-law, even if Kheira, known popularly as “the light of the eyes of the discerning,” looked upon him with favour.