It was a day that would be remembered all her life by Jehane bet Ishak, the physician, for reasons over and above those of her fellow citizens in that proud, notoriously rebellious town: she lost her urine flask in the afternoon, and a part of her heart forever before the moons had set. The flask, for reasons of family history, was not a trivial matter.
That is a dense book.
You have a land in turmoil, warring city states, religious fervor, and the potential (perhaps a bit more than that) of a looming holy war.
Time and steady governance would bring Jad back into Al-Rassan, the king had declared, not burnings and destruction. Ibero wasn’t entirely sure how that meshed with holy doctrine, but he kept silent in the N presence of his betters.
You have a half dozen points of view, from a warrior poet to a general to a physician to a young boy and more.
I am increasingly unlikely to be best remembered, ibn Khairan decided ruefully, entering his home, for my poetry.
All tangled together in one glorious tangle of a plot.
