*
Medina always held its beauty, Aliyu thought as his carriage tumbled through the market square. He’d been to the city thrice in his lifetime, and at a point in time he’d thought about taking up residence in the city. But leaving Sana’a was easier said than done.
The market smelled like spices. The many traders were moving about in a mixture of bright colors and groaning carts. Everywhere Aliyu turned, people were haggling or screaming or laughing. The chaos didn’t concern him however.
At the far end of the market, clustered between an old antique shop and a carpenter’s shop was a small, somewhat unnoticeable door tucked in the shadows. Aliyu’s carriage pulled up here, and he stepped out with a groan.
The man standing by the door glared down at him, eyes aglow with suppressed irrit
