Zikka Sandwhisper's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

The pleasure tent swallowed them in silk. Lamps hung from carved poles. Cushions covered the floor in deep reds and greens. Sultan Zahir pulled Zikka inside and let the heavy curtain fall. She knew the idol slept one wagon away. She also knew she could not reach it while his eyes stayed open. So she smiled and let him lead. He sank onto the cushions and drew her down. "Stay," he said. His gold rings pressed cold against her skin. "Not as a guest. As mine. Prove your devotion. Swear you will stay in my tent, and want for nothing." Zikka's breath caught. A clear no would end everything. He would see the hunter under the smile. His guards would seize her, and the idol would stay his forever. She needed his trust and his sleep, not his suspicion. So she did not refuse. She leaned into his chest and breathed a yes against his neck. "Then show me I will never want to leave," she whispered. She worked him the way she worked the desert. Slow. Patient. She traced the gold at his throat and the muscle beneath it. She let him chase her, let him spend his strength on her, again and again. Each time his breath slowed, she stirred him back. She poured him wine from the low table and watched him drink. She danced her fingers across his thick arms until his eyes grew heavy and his words turned to mumbles. Hours passed. The lamps burned low. The sultan sprawled across the cushions, spent and sweating. His chest rose in slow, deep waves. A snore rolled from him. Zikka held still and counted ten breaths. He did not wake. She slid from under his heavy arm. Her bare feet found the carpet without a sound. She lifted the curtain and looked out. The oasis lay dark. Palms stood black against the stars. Near the treasure wagon, the lone guard slumped against a wheel, head drooping. Asleep, like his master. Zikka's heart kicked. This was the moment she had bought with her body. The idol waited behind that curtain, among the coins and cups. She need only cross the open ground, lift the latch, and take back what was hers. She stepped out into the cool night. Then torches flared to her left. Boots struck the sand. Three of the sultan's caravan guards came around the tent, spears up, robes swaying. The lead guard's eyes went wide at the sight of her. "The sultan ordered a dawn watch doubled," he said. "No one leaves his tent alone." He planted his spear between her and the wagon. The other two spread wide. Behind her, the sultan's snore rumbled on. Before her stood a wall of steel she had not planned for. She had tired one man and freed herself for a heartbeat. In that heartbeat, the guard changed, and the easy theft was gone.