The earthquake tragedy in Arikara could not have come at a worse time. For years, Omra had drained Uraba’s resources and used the bulk of his experienced laborers to rebuild Ishalem. Now he would have to withdraw workmen, tools, building supplies, and food from the holy city, and send them down to Missinia Soldanate. He would dig deeper into his treasury and raise taxes for merchants across Uraba—in the name of Urec.
In the main church in Olabar, new Ur-Sikara Kuari emptied most of the coffers to provide aid for the stricken city. She called on her faithful to help in any way they could. Listening to her speak, Omra’s heart lifted. Perhaps there was hope in the aftermath of this tragedy, for healing the wound between himself and the church. As soon as possible, he would sail in the Golden Fern to deliver the ur-sikara to her new home in Ishalem; one of the two new churches was nearly completed and ready for her to take up residence.
But first he had to tend to the Arikara emergency.
Omra’s father dove into the problem with a furious determination, possibly strengthened by concern for his estranged wife Lithio. The soldan-shah had never seen Imir so energized. He visited merchants, food storehouses, stablemasters, and caravan offices, collecting supplies and volunteers. He even went to the docks to recruit any able-bodied men he could find.
Imir entered the soldan-shah’s private office, accompanied by Omra’s First Wife Istar and daughter Adreala, who was nearly thirteen years old. Omra could see by their expressions that they had made up their minds about something.
Without formalities, Imir said, “I want to ride out with the next group of physicians and supplies to Arikara. Even those who survived the destruction face terrible hardship.”
Istar spoke up. “Our daughter asks permission to accompany her grandfather on this errand of mercy.”
The girl looked determined and ready for an argument. “I’ve been there before, Father,” Adreala blurted. “Remember, you appointed me your special ambassador to the Nunghals. Now I am needed in Arikara—our primary trade center with the Nunghals. It was a beautiful city.”
Omra was surprised. “It will be very difficult there—little food or shelter, many dead bodies, and conditions will grow worse as the bodies begin to rot and disease sets in.”
“It is as you say, Father—so much work to do,” Adreala countered. “Both of my sisters want to go, too. When I made my trip before, Cithara and Istala were being trained by the sikaras—but they should see the world, too, and they want very much to help.”
He frowned. “It does not sound like a fitting place for the daughters of the soldan-shah.”
Istar was surprisingly stubborn. “The girls have been raised as princesses, Omra, but hard work will make them strong. It will not harm them to be without comforts for a while.” At times, he forgot that his First Wife had been raised in a Tierran fishing village. Over the years, he had given her love, protection, wealth, and shelter here in the palace, but Istar’s more humble upbringing had made her sensible, capable, and wise.
His father added his support. “Their presence will encourage the people of Arikara, and the work will do my granddaughters good. The princesses will bring honor to the soldan-shah.”
Omra laughed as he looked at their expressions. “I have faced Tierran armies, but how can I stand against the three of you when you’ve made a decision?” He did not admit, however, that he was relieved to send the three girls far from the sikaras, who had so recently tried to use them in their schemes. “Go with my blessing. Just be careful.”