Husam is not the only one to take note of the prince's tinkering.
Amina, filling her gourd from the water carried on one of the pack camels, notices the activity from a little ways away and steps closer to get a better look. Her hand goes to a small object she keeps in a pocket; a lump amidst the layers of cloth that enfold her.
You see how he dances, jewel? I have put my love for you into him, and all he can do now is dance.
The earth opens up beneath her feet and she falls... Down into a darkness deeper than any shadow or secret, beyond the reach of any god or goddess. There she cannot breathe or move or make a sound. The only feeling is the towering absence, like a devouring void inside her.
hakiya, i beg; shine a light on my path
There was no magic moment though, no cathartic epiphany. By inches she clawed her way to the surface of her grief, then on top of it. It had been a long time now since some little thing had reminded her of who she'd lost. Long enough she'd forgotten how it made her skin ache, and her hands shake a little. Finally though, she opened her eyes.
The little toy man was farther along now, and the differences were clearer. Her father had made his tiny figurines move with magic. This looked like a thing of springs and gears. That made it easier.
She drifted forward, noting Husam's question, but not adding any of her own. She was content to watch the work for now.