* Safihah, commonly known as an astrolabe. At this time, there were two forms of astrolabe used, one was a slendar piece
of wood, which held a silver ball that gave the location readings. This astrolabe could be used during the day. The second
form of astrolabe is the one most commonly known of today, which is made of metal and was used for night navigation. The
primary wooden astrolabe, and the metal compass were invented by Abu Ishaq Ibrahim ibn Yahya al-Zarqali (1028-1087 B.
C.E), a Spanish Arab.
* Chermoulah is a Moroccan leek.
* Harees, an Arab dish, consisting of small pieces of meat, wheat, and water. The dish is prepared by putting meat in the pot
and adding wheat on top of it and then cooking it in boiling water until the meat is tender. These ingredients are then mixed
together and thoroughly beaten until it is like porridge. In the final stage, the pot is surrounded by charcoal and is left to cook
overnight. This dish is eaten at any time but particularly during the Holy month of Ramadan.
* Balaleet, a sweet Arab pasta dish usually eaten for breakfast with a side of dates, sweet bread and tea.
Chapter 2
Zara was not a superstitious person, instead she considered herself a woman of science. Everything that was considered
unusual or supernatural had a logical explanation. The old tales told to scare children, or influence weaker minds were not
things that the captain subscribed to. A superstitious person would have listened to their feelings. The moment that the
coldness surrounded her, when the hair stood on the back of her neck and the feeling of suffocation enveloped her, the dusky
captain should have known that the evening with Gabrielle was not meant to be. If she had listened to the ill omens, she
would have stopped the dinner plans before they got underway, but the Moroccan captain was not a superstitious person.
Since Zara would not fall victim to fears, she ignored the feelings, pushing them to the back of her mind. The dark haired
woman assumed that these feelings had been with her for a long time. What she did not want to remember was that they had
been with her ever since Higuchi. Rather than ponder these thoughts, she continued in her plans and readied her cabin for her
guest. The tall captain found herself excitedly stressed to the point where she barked orders to the scullery crew, only to offer
an apology moments later for her harshness. Had the dark woman taken the time to listen to the omens around her, she
would have cancelled the entire evening.
There had been clues which showed the fate of Zara’s plans for her passenger. The candles that would not light, the wine that
mysteriously fell to the ground, its glass decanter shattering just when her passions were rising, and then there was the
coldness. Sometimes she could not help but shiver from the bitter cold that seemed to be only around her. All these clues
foreshadowed the fruitless evening that was in store for her.
Rather than honor the omens, the seafarer continued her plans. Once dinner was over, and the chill had finally left the room,
she was able to truly enjoy her time alone with Gabrielle. After they moved to the bed, they were able to relax and openly
explore each other’s touch. Zara began to feel as if everything was going to be all right. Just as the memories of the ill omens
were wiped away by the feel of the smaller woman’s soft lips, they embraced, their hands exploring each other’s curves
through the cloth of their clothes, the ill omens returned as a painful reminder of their continual presence.
One moment the Moroccan was swept up in her desires, the next she felt a sharp pain in the palm of her left hand. Pulling
away from the smaller woman, she glanced down at her left palm as a thin bead of blood began to form across the open
gash. Zara pulled away from her guest, and rose from the bed as she clutched her wrist. She glanced up in time to see the
look of shock on the smaller woman’s features as she rose to join the captain, her lips forming a wordless “O” as her teary
eyes were captivated by the wound.
“Oh….” The blonde’s voice was soft as she reached out toward the captain. “I-I’m… sorry,” her voice was barely a
whisper.
Without saying a word, the Moroccan turned to a nearby cabinet, reached in, and removed a thin strip of bandage. As she
tried to stanch the flow of blood from the wound, she watched Gabrielle remove the weapon and place it on the nearby
table. Then, turning she moved toward the captain and took her bleeding hand.
“I-I’m…” the Greek woman’s voice trembled as she looked at the tall woman’s bloody hand. The captain noticed how
Gabrielle’s smaller hands, usually so confident, were now shaking as she attempted to hold the cloth against the wound.
“It’s all right, no harm is done,” Zara tried to calm the blonde. While she was wrapping the Moroccan’s wound tighter,
Gabrielle began to shake her head as her eyes were frozen on the blood soaked cloth.
“I can’t do anything right,” Gabrielle whispered to no one in particular.
Misunderstanding her, the dusky woman smiled as she reached out with her right hand and lightly touched the smaller woman’
s cheek. “No, it wasn’t your fault,” the captain attempted to say, but didn’t quite finish.
“It’s all my fault. I can’t do anything right,” Gabrielle’s green eyes filled with tears as her features frowned. Quickly, the
gentle woman began to pace the length of the cabin, her body trembling slightly as she continued to shake her head
negatively. As if in a trance her eyes never wavered from the floor.
Zara tried to approach her, to hold her tight and assure her that it was merely an accident, a cut that would heal. However,
the moment the Moroccan touched her, Gabrielle pushed her away, the look of revulsion etched in her features as her green
eyes were moist with tears. Her body began to shake uncontrollably as she cornered herself against the wall. Like a trapped
stag, the Greek woman frantically looked around the cabin for an escape, then gave up and sank to the floor.
“It’s all my fault!” Gabrielle cried out as she curled into a tight ball. “I-I shouldn’t have let it happen… I could have stopped
it! I-It should have been me…” She wept as her body shook uncontrollably.
The tall captain knelt by her and pulled Gabrielle into an embrace. She held firmly around the Greek warrior’s arms as she
lowered her head away from the smaller woman’s lowered head. When it seemed that she would not recoil from her touch,
the captain moved away enough to reach below the blonde. The tall Moroccan easily scooped the smaller woman into her
arms and carried her to the bed. Any earlier thoughts that Zara held, any desires that she hoped would be fulfilled were
quelled in Gabrielle’s sorrow. Rather than dwelling on her own needs, the captain gently lay the woman down, then joined
her, pulling the weeping woman into her arms and holding her close.
Zara allowed the smaller woman’s emotions to flow out. The captain held Gabrielle close as uncontrollable tears spilled forth,
then her tears turned to rage, and she fought against the Moroccan. The Greek traveler pounded her fist into the bigger
woman’s chest. Her words were a diatribe of hate, anger, and rage.
“I hate you! I hate you!” Gabrielle’s words flowed out like a crashing wave as she struck out at the captain. “Why? Why
did you do it? Why did you leave me? I hate you!” she screamed incoherently as her balled fists slammed against Zara’s
chest. Never once wavering, the taller woman held on to her using all of her strength to keep the blonde in her embrace until
finally, mercifully, Gabrielle’s movements stopped.
With only tears left, the Greek traveler clung to the captain as she wept into her shoulder. The pain in her palm momentarily
forgotten, Zara held the smaller body close and brushed her fingers through the blonde’s short hair as she cooed softly to her.
When it seemed that she had calmed down, the mariner looked down at her. She noticed that her guest’s green eyes had
become puffy and swollen from the tears that now streaked down her cheeks. The look of anger, hatred, and panic was
replaced with sadness.
“It’s not your fault, Gabrielle,” Zara’s voice was a soft whisper.
“Y-You don’t understand… I-I knew what she was going to do. I knew it and I didn’t stop her,” the smaller woman buried
her face in the Moroccan’s shoulder as if ashamed to be seen. Never releasing her hold, the captain continued to stroke the
blonde’s hair as she listened to the gentle woman’s words.
“You knew?” She asked Gabrielle, probing for more answers.
