Post by Sabriyah bint Qasim al-Khalid on Jul 24, 2016 20:22:54 GMT -5
Sayyida, you must wake.
The voice belonged to the handmaid who served the Caliph's daughters, intruding upon her sleep as a hand hesitantly touched her shoulder to rouse her into wakefulness.
Sayyida, it is the Caliph. He has need of you. Please, wake and come.
Need of her? That bore ominous overtones as Sabriyah rolled over to see the handmaid standing over her with a small lamp, the flame flickering to throw long shadows into the corners. Despite the differences that kept a distance between them, Qasim was still her father. Her loyalty and obedience was still his. If he had need of her, then she would come.
"I will come," her voice was sleep-blurred as she threw back the blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Reaching for her robe, she hastily donned it and slid her feet into slippers, glancing at the anxious handmaid. "What is the trouble, Hafsa?"
The girl's eyes were wide and dark in her face as she managed to reply. He is ill, Sayyida. His man does not know from what but he will tell you more. Shall I fetch your box and bring it to you?
She thought for a moment; Qasim had appeared well enough at the noon meal if a little fatigued and harried, but Sabriyah opted to beg off the evening meal, preferring a tray of tea and a hot bath in her room to ward off the headache looming over her. Now to hear that the Caliph was ill was troubling indeed. "Yes, please. And wake Bashir, as well. Tell him to come to the Caliph's chambers."
The girl nodded and bowed as Sabriyah hurried out of the chamber in the women's section of the house and down the corridors until she reached her father's chambers. A pair of guards stood on duty as ever, members of the Caliph's household guards, bowing to her before one rapped and then opened the door to admit her.
When she entered the room, she noticed the bright glow of lamps flanking the bed, revealing the prone, immobile form with its ashen pallor. The contrast to how he'd looked earlier that day was considerable, prompting a thoughtful frown from her as his body servant hovered nearby. Sparing the man a glance, Sabriyah seated herself on the edge of the bed, reaching to feel Qasim's forehead and hands. "How long has he been like this?"
As she waited for her brother to join her, questions were posed rapidly to the man, the better to discern what was amiss.