Weight Of Knowledge

The air inside the caravanserai thickened with silence. The riders scanned the room like wolves sniffing out prey, their hands resting on the hilts of their scimitars. Sayid kept his breathing steady, though his pulse pounded like a war drum.

"Stand," the scar-faced leader commanded, his gaze sweeping over the travelers. "All of you."

Sayid remained still. He knew that moving too quickly or hesitating too long could draw attention. Mehri, still seated beside him, tapped a single finger on the wooden table—a silent signal.

Wait.

One of the guards kicked over a merchant's crates, spilling bolts of silk onto the floor. The merchant protested, but a backhanded strike silenced him. Sayid clenched his fists beneath the table. The Empire's men ruled through fear, and fear was spreading fast.

"Search them," the leader ordered.

The guards moved through the crowd, pulling aside cloaks, emptying satchels, and inspecting every parchment they found. Sayid's grip tightened around the manuscript beneath his robe. If they found it, he wouldn't live to see another sunrise.

Then, Mehri moved.

With the grace of a shadow, she slid from her seat and stepped between Sayid and the approaching guards. "This is a place of trade," she said coolly. "Not an imperial courtroom."

The leader turned to her, eyes narrowing. "Who are you to speak?"

"A merchant," she replied smoothly. "One who pays well to ensure safe travels. And I don't recall paying to have my night disturbed."

The leader studied her, then laughed—a short, sharp sound. "Merchants don't wear daggers at their hips."

Mehri smirked. "And soldiers don't waste time chasing ghosts."

Sayid barely dared to breathe. She was buying time, but how much?

The leader stepped closer to Mehri. "If you know something, you'll speak now."

For a heartbeat, Sayid thought she might sell him out. After all, he knew nothing of her motives. But instead, she tilted her head toward the far end of the caravanserai.

"I saw a man leave through the back entrance," she said. "Alone. Looked nervous. Maybe he's the one you want."

The leader considered her words. Then, with a grunt, he motioned for two of his men. "Search the perimeter. If he's lying, we burn this place down."

The guards stormed toward the back. The leader lingered a moment longer, his eyes locked on Mehri as if trying to read a hidden truth beneath her words. Finally, he turned and followed his men outside.

As soon as they were gone, Mehri exhaled and leaned back against the table.

"You owe me," she murmured.

Sayid let out the breath he'd been holding. "I didn't ask for help."

"You're alive, aren't you?" She smirked. "And that book of yours is still safe."

Sayid frowned. "Why?"

Mehri shrugged. "Because I know what it's like to be hunted."

The weight of her words lingered between them. Outside, the sound of hoofbeats faded into the night, but Sayid knew the danger wasn't gone. It was only beginning.

And the manuscript in his hands would decide the course of his fate.

The night outside the caravanserai was thick with silence, but Sayid knew it was the kind of silence that came before a storm. He stole a glance at Mehri, who had gone back to sipping her tea as if she hadn't just saved his life.

"We need to leave," he said, keeping his voice low.

Mehri didn't look at him. "We?"

Sayid adjusted the folds of his robe, ensuring the manuscript was secured. "You made yourself part of this the moment you spoke for me."

She let out a dry laugh. "You assume I care about what happens to you."

Sayid leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You didn't lie to them to save me. You have your own reasons. Whatever they are, you'll want to keep moving, just like me."

Mehri exhaled sharply but didn't argue.

A merchant near them, the same one who had been struck earlier, rubbed his bruised face and muttered, "The Empire's hounds are growing bold. No one is safe anymore."

"Then staying in one place is a death wish," Sayid replied.

The merchant gave him a wary look. "And you? They were looking for a man with a manuscript." His eyes drifted toward Sayid's robe, his suspicion clear. "Seems like a dangerous thing to carry."

Sayid held his gaze. "All knowledge is dangerous."

The merchant studied him for a long moment before sighing. "The roads ahead aren't kind, scholar. If you're running, you'll need more than quick feet." He turned toward the door, pulling his cloak tightly around himself. "If you value your life, don't follow the main routes. The Empire is watching every road to the west."

Sayid nodded. "Thank you."

The merchant scoffed. "Don't thank me. Just don't get caught."

The moment the man left, Sayid turned back to Mehri. "We leave now. Before they come back."

Mehri stretched lazily before standing. "And where do you suggest we go, scholar?"

"Not west," Sayid said, tightening the strap of his satchel. "We go south. To the ruins of Al-Qasr."

Mehri raised an eyebrow. "Al-Qasr? That city was abandoned after the Mongols passed through. There's nothing left but sand and ghosts."

"Then it's the perfect place to disappear."

Mehri studied him for a moment before nodding. "Fine. But if you slow me down, I'll leave you behind."

Sayid smirked. "I was about to say the same to you."

Without another word, they slipped out of the caravanserai into the night, the desert stretching before them like an endless sea.

And somewhere in the distance, the Empire's hounds were still hunting.