The sultan was a beloved ruler who had brought Dariyabar great prosperity by encouraging a ship-building industry that built merchant vessels that traversed the known world buying and selling luxury goods of every kind. They traded in ivory, gold, silk, and slaves, among other things. Their ships carried fine oils, wines, olives and grains. There was no one in Dariyabar who did not have a home, or food in his mouth each day, or warm clothing and shoes in the rainy season. Children were schooled to their abilities so they might be of use to Dariyabar one day, no matter the circumstances of their birth, or their parents' path in life.

But the sultan had married his only wife late in life because of this deep devotion to his homeland. It had been ten years before his sultana had borne children. But she had then birthed four in the next eight years. Sultan Ibrahim was now in his eighth decade of life. He had watched proudly as his three sons, Cyrus, Asad, and Jahi, had each in their turn sallied forth from Dariyabar at the head of their troops to defend their homeland. But each in his turn was slain, and returned upon their shields. Now he was left to mourn with his surviving child, for the sultana had died giving birth to that last babe, his daughter, Zuleika. The sultan drew his wool shawl about his narrow shoulders, and sighed.

His only male heir was his much younger half-brother's son, Haroun. Sultan Ibrahim had raised this nephew almost from birth for both his half-brother and his wife had disappeared from the palace one night, and were never again seen. It was a great mystery. Sultan Ibrahim had always planned for Haroun to wed his daughter, Zuleika, but now Haroun said that was impossible. Zuleika must be given to Amir Khan as a peace offering. Surely his nephew had Dariyabar's best interests at heart. Hearing a footfall, the old man looked up to see his daughter entering the garden courtyard.