Sultan Yasir patted his daughter on the shoulder.  “You must carry this knowledge safe within your heart now, child. My subjects must learn to believe in these impossible things at a young age, or they will not seek the assistance offered by the magic of sahar when it is needed.”

Shahzad found the performance endearing, remembering the moment when his twelfth Eid al-Milad was shattered by his father’s confession that their unseen holiday guest was a falsehood. The land of Jannah’s history was full of heroes, from a group of mystical warriors who appeared every 300 years, to a vigilante who had defeated several crime lords in his province decades. To a child, there was no reason to question the tale of an immortal sahir coming the night before the festival to leave gifts and treats for those who gave alms to the commoners during the day. Fariha was clever, and Shahzad joyfully recalled how his twelve-year-old cousin had confided her knowledge of the secret years before to the one older person who would pay attention to her.

“She clearly knows the secret already. Why in the name of god are they going on with the performance?” Shahzad’s cousin Saul was characteristically dour, and he knew why he chose to wallow in bitterness on the most wonderful day of the year.

“I know you wanted to play Baba Nuyl for the peasants in our county this year, but you know it’s not feasible.” Shahzad tried to dispel his dissatisfaction with Saul’s bitterness by focusing on Fariha and Yasir pantomiming a sequence of questions and answers dispelling the myth of Baba Nuyl.

Saul barely kept his frantic pleading below a whisper. “You’ve seen my calculations, cousin! The Elders don’t like my proposal for loans to increase farm wages, but as Agha of Altawam, you can overrule them. I don’t care about the glory, Shahzad. You can play Baba Nuyl, just as long as we make our community better. It’s why we were born nobles in the first place.”

“It’s never going to work.” Shahzad’s father Uzair scowled. “The commoners are poor because they don’t work as hard as us. It’s in their blood. That’s why we bear the burden of providing them with alms every year.”

Saul frowned at Shahzad’s father. “A tin of lokum there, a basket of baklawa there, maybe a new kufiya if a child is lucky. We nobles are very, very generous, aren’t we, uncle?” 

“Maybe there’s a reason my son was born before you. That’s not exactly a… noble sentiment.” Uzair continued watching the performance without paying attention to Saul's glare.

Shahzad hoped that the next part of the performance would improve the mood. “Ah, yes, the dabkeh. My mother spent a month teaching me and the other noble children in Salkhad how to dance! It was the last thing I was in the mood for after learning that Baba Nuyl was a fiction.” He looked over at his father and cringed as Uzair wiped a tear at the memory of his late wife.

Saul laughed. “I just hated dancing. I was there for the food, and the ceremony was an unwelcome barrier. All that fuss to secure one’s place joining the adults for dinner? None of it seemed worth my while.”

Shahzad nodded. “True, anything that got in my way of drinking coffee liqueur was destined to be painful. But these traditions have to offer something to the girls, don’t they?” He smiled at the way Fariha artfully performed what was supposed to be a children’s dance, taking care to perform with excellence.

Saul jealously watched the rotund monarch stick his hand into a bowl of dates. “They could at least have provided us with some food while we watched.”

Shahzad had eaten a small breakfast, but his soul was filled by the delight of watching children make memories celebrating tradition. “All we have to do is be patient. The things we want will come to us, just as Ilah plans. Your proposal intrigued me, but if it was meant to be, the Elders would support it - and the county treasury would have the funds. If Ilah wants your initiative to succeed, he will put you in a place where it can be enacted.”

Saul crossed his arms and sat back, looking at the ceiling as Fariha and her young friends brought their dance to an end. Fariha joined hands with her fellow dancers, and they turned from the crowd to bow before her father, who stood up and clapped.

“Fariha, my daughter, today you pass from the table of the young to the table of the old. In years to come, you will join me and your fellow nobles passing through the streets at night, leaving gifts in the shoes left outside. Someday those children you gladden will grow and learn that Baba Nuyl is just a myth, but nobility is true, and they can look to their governors to provide for them.” Yasir clapped his hands once more. “Let ghada be served!”

“Alhamdulillah!” Saul rolled his eyes as the celebrants sat back on their cushions and looked on as servants brought forth a traditional feast. Large bowls of chicken and rice were placed in the center of each circular table to be dished onto plates, and Saul helped himself generally before his more senior cousin and uncle partook.

“I see the Tribe of Khalid will be making a tradition to break traditions for their Festivals.” Uzair’s barbs bounced off his nephew as Saul engorged himself on the afternoon holiday meal.

“Uncle, care to switch seats? I’m sure my father would love to talk to you about… taxes, and roads, or… other things.” An expectant Fariha smiled expectantly at Uzair, who bowed his head and left his cushion to join Yasir.

“This is the best Eid al-Milad of my life!” Fariha smiled warmly. “What did you think of my dancing? Was I any good, Shah?”

“My own mother couldn’t have trained you better.” Shahzad smiled warmly at his cousin, embracing her. “You have a natural talent for dancing.”

Fariha shrugged as she scooped food onto her plate. “I just have a natural talent for following instructions. Father recruited the greatest dancers in the land, and I simply followed their lead.”

“Then perhaps you are the great al-Mara!” Saul smirked at Fariha’s scowl in response to the attribution of her talent to the power of a mystical hero with the power to replicate any skill or enchantment he observed.

“It doesn’t take sahar to be good at doing what you’re taught. We practiced that dance for a month!” She rocked her head from side to side.

“Careful, you’re about to be dethroned.” Saul looked up from his food for a moment and winked. “Tell us, cousin, what did Baba Nuyl - I mean, your father leave you in your shoes last night?”

Fariha frowned. “Nothing a child my age should want. A ring with our tribal seal, a golden chain to hang it from when I’m out among the people… Truly boring. I miss the days when I received dolls and books! I always knew growing up would be boring, but I hoped father would let it last a little longer.”

Shahzad was sympathetic, but he had to impart a lesson. “Perhaps we could wait longer if we weren’t so noble, but we have people to look out for. The longer they see your father spoiling his daughter, the more they will assume that he does not look out for them. It’s just the same for us as the sons of tribal chieftains.”

Fariha beamed with pride. “We do look after our people rather well. My father even spent the evening in the city delivering gifts.” 

“Yes, I’m sure he did…” Shahzad took a large swig of coffee liqueur and furtively glanced at Saul, both aware that most of Sultan’s subjects in the capital city of Tansiq received little care from their ruler. “Yes, I’m sure he did. Did he go to the neighborhoods around the Palace and leave treats?”

Fariha nodded vigorously. “He did! And this morning, he said that next year, I can help him prepare the gifts.”

Saul grimaced at his plate, suddenly appearing bitter. “I’m sure the real poor are left starving.”

“Not right now.” Shahzad gritted his teeth and elbowed Saul before Fariha attempted to defend her father’s honor.

“I mean, starving of poverty.” Saul nervously avoided eye contact. “Your father’s alms to the poor would likely make any king jealous, cousin.”

“Indeed! Why have all of this wealth when it won’t be used to make life better for all of your people?” Fariha glanced at her father in the distance, and they exchanged warm smiles before she returned to her meal.

“Shahzad and I have been talking about that.” Saul smirked as Fariha was distracted by her meal. “There’s a plan in Altawam to lend money to farmers so that their field hands work harder. It will make the field hands, the farmers, and the county treasury wealthier.”

“Oh, that will be a marvelous gift to the people! Inshilah.” Fariha’s joy was rapturous. “Shahzad, I always knew you would make a great Governor in your province. Every holiday meal you forced Saul to spend with me and the other children showed just how much you care for the less fortunate. This is going to prepare you to be the best Governor ever!” She dropped her spoon and clung tightly to her cousin.

“Well, it was Saul’s idea, really, and the Elders…” Shahzad tried to hide a cringe as he looked down at Fariha’s worried face. “I’m sorry, it was Saul’s idea. And… And the Elders will be made to enact it, of course. They are… Nervous, yes, nervous to try anything like this for the first time. It just takes someone strong enough to convince them.”

“And I could think of no one better than you, cousin.” Fariha’s faith in Shahzad seemed driven more by the memories she wished she had than the truth of their past.

Shahzad was truly fond of his cousin, but even after his twelfth Eid al-Milad, he had been forced to join Saul in entertaining the children at any holiday they celebrated in Tansiq. Now, at last, there would be no division, but he wished that Fariha’s estimation of his character had been accurate. He cared more about the people around him now, changed a year ago when he observed a family exhibit true love for one another as he rescued them from the clutches of a rogue sheikh. His treatment of Saul had often been worse than the secret antipathy he had harbored toward sitting with Fariha during holidays, but now Shahzad had a chance to show true kindness toward both of them.

“You know something, cousins?” Shahzad took a deep breath as Fariha smiled and Saul peered at him suspiciously. “I haven’t been a good man for much of my life. Saul can tell you every time I’ve done something wrong just to him. But you’ve reminded me tonight that Baba Nuyl is all about giving to those who are less fortunate. I was worried about convincing the Elders in my county to enact Saul’s plan, but as a gift to both of you, I will force them. Saul, I want you to have the chance to thrive, and Fariha… I want your faith in me to come true.”

Saul remained suspicious. “You know I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

Fariha winked at Saul. “I am, too.” She patted her hands on the shoulders adjacent to her before lifting up a glass of coffee liqueur. “Let’s drink to Eid al-Milad, and giving gifts in the spirit of Baba Nuyl!”

Shahzad anxiously pulled the glass from Fariha’s hand and waved for a servant. “You’re not quite old enough for that, young lady. But perhaps when you are, we'll toast several years of Saul's success!” Shahzad smiled at his Saul, and for the first time in their lives, Saul accepted his sincerity and smiled back.