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“We seek safe passage,” the chief said. “And we offer alliance.”
Anna studied his weathered face, then gestured to the shade of the date palms.
“Let us speak as kin, not as strangers,” she said.
> Trade is a dance between trust and betrayal. May my steps remain light and sure.
Under the blistering midday sun, dust rose in swirling veils as a caravan approached their oasis. Traders from Fez and Timbuktu led camels heavy with salt, saffron, and indigo cloth.
Anna greeted the caravan chief, a tall Berber man with eyes like obsidian. Amastan stood at her side, silent as a carved idol.
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