Authors: Troy Denning
ringed the base of the cinder cone. Each take was a different color: emerald-green, turquoise, silver as the hilt of a jambiya sapphire blue, and red as a ruby. According to legend, the different colors resulted when the dried blood o! the immortals was washed or blown into the water. and dissolved.
Around each lake were dumped wild fig trees, tall golden grasses, and leafy green bushes. Over the entire floor of the basin, salt-brush and hardy lime-green qassis plants poked through the ebony ash, and the grayish yellow camel herds grazed in every part of the black bowl. The huge valley was as close to paradise as any place Ruha had ever seen.
“In the name of Mielikki;’ hander gasped. “What hell has that boy led us to?”
Ruha ignored the Harper’s question to ask one of her own. “Who is Mielikki?”
“You wouldn’t worship her here;’ Lander answered, unable to rip his gaze away from the ancient caldera before him. “Miehkki is the goddess of the forest. She’s my patron and protector, at least until I go down there. What is it?”
Amused by Lander’s reaction, Ruha smiled. “Colored Waters, of course:’
A few minutes later, they reached the edge of the basin. Ruha could feel heat rising in swells, and the air shimmered in liquid waves that made every distant line a serpent. Noting the caldera’s shape and dark color, she could only guess that it acted like a giant funnel for collecting Mar’s radiance. It was a good thing there was plenty of water at the bottom, for any living being staying down there for even a few minutes would grow very thirsty,
Kadumi was waiting with a thin Bedine dressed in sooty black robes. As Ruha and Lander approached, the sentry came forward with a waterskin.
“Stop and drink, berrani:” The sentry offered his skin to Lander, repeating a typical Bedine greeting- “You have had a long ride and must be thirsty. Are you hungry as well?”
Lander accepted the other waterskin. “Hungry, no,” the Sembian said, taking a long gulp.
The sentry did not mind the rudeness. He grinned and turned to Kadumi. “At least he shows more courtesy than the Black Robe and his short guide:’
Lander pulled the waterskin away from his mouth, spewing water all over his camel’s neck.
“Black Robe?” he gasped.
Kadumi nodded. “The Zhentarim arrived this morning;’ he said. “We’ll have to wait until he leaves to meet the sheikh:’
“No!” Lander protested, thrusting the skin back at the sentry. “We must meet the sheikh before the Zhentarim poisons his thoughts. Perhaps if I had reached the Mtair Dhafir’s sheikh earlier, they’d still be alive:’
Kadumi grimaced, but turned to the sentry. “At which lake is your sheikh camped?”
The sentry pointed at the emerald pool. “Sheikh Sa’ar makes his camp at the green waters. I’ll announce your arrival:’ The sentry lifted his amarat and blew three shrill notes, then lowered it again. “I’d take you into camp myself, but the Zhentarim are only five miles to the north. The sheikh has ordered the sentries to stay at their posts under all circumstances:’
“Sheikh Sa’ar is a wise man,” Kadumi responded, climbing onto his kneeling camel.
The first five hundred yards of descent were steep. The camels plunged down the slope, almost galloping to keep from tumbling head over heels, kicking up great billows of black ash that engulfed each rider in a tiny dust storm. With each jolting lunge, Ruha gritted her teeth and grasped her saddle more tightly, expecting to go sprawling through the
ebony cinders in a whirlwind of waterskins, kuerabiches, and roaring camels.
A few moments later, the beasts slowed into a jolting canter. With the ash clouds billowing no higher than the camels’ humps, the trio could carry on a quivering conversation.
“You didn’t tell the guard about my magic, did you Kadumi?” Ruha asked.
“Perhaps I will tell the sheikh;’ the boy responded, avoiding the widow’s gaze.
“A man must do what he thinks is right,” Lander agreed. The Harper’s statement stunned Ruha. She began to wonder if she had misjudged Lander’s character.
Before she could condemn him, the Harper continued, “Of course, a man’s duty to his brother’s wife counts for a lot:’
The youth glowered at Ruha. “My brother would not have knowingly married a witch:”
Lander nodded. “Probably not. Stiff, Ruha was his wife . . :’ The Harper let the statement drift off without adding anything further, and they continued in silence.
A short time later, Kadumi asked, “What Will you say to Sheikh Sa’ar, Harper?”
“I don’t know;’ Lander responded, grasping his makeshift saddle with both hands. “What do you think I should say? “
“The Zhentarim will no doubt promise him many great gifts for becoming his ally Kadumi began.
“And threaten him with swift destruction if he does not;’ Ruha added.
“I can promise neither.”
“What about your Harpers?” Kadumi asked, motioning at the pin still hidden over Lander’s heart. “What will they give Sa’ar for joining them?”
Lander shook his head. “They don’t work that way,” he said. “Even if I were in contact with them, they would promise him little. We prefer more subtle methods:’ “Subtlety will not drive the Zhentarim from Anauroch;” Ruha said. “That will require warriors:’
“Bedine warriors;’ Lander replied. “Not Harper warriors. If the Bedine will not fight for their freedom, the Harpers have no interest in doing it for them:’
“Then why did they send you here?” Kadumi demanded, precariously twisting about on his camel’s back. “I lost three good mounts getting you here, and you brought nothing to offer Sa’ar?”
“I can offer him liberty;” Lander replied.
His voice was so calm that Ruha knew the Harper was missing the point. “We do not know Sheikh Sa’ar;” she said. “And he does not know us. The destruction of the Qahtan and the Mtair Dhafir mean nothing to him. You cannot expect him to turn the Black Robes away just because they destroyed two khowwans to which he had no ties:’
They reached the bottom of the basin. As the terrain leveled, their camels slowed to a jolting walk.
“The Zhentarim are strong;’ Kadumi said, still taking care to avoid speaking directly with Ruha. “Sa’ar will want to ally with them:’
“I thought the Bedine loved freedom;’ Lander countered, relaxing his grip on his saddle harness.
Ruha guided her camel closer to the Harper’s. “They do, but the desert has always been here. No Bedine can conceive of the chains that will stop him from escaping into it:”
Lander shook his head sadly. “The Zhentarim don’t hold their slaves with chains-“
“They hold them with hostages, blackmail, fear, and worse;’ Ruha responded. “But Sa’ar will not know this. He will think only of what the Zhentarim can give him, not what they can take away:”
“If we cannot promise gifts from the Harpers;’ Kadumi
said, driving his mount to Lander’s opposite side, “perhaps we should concentrate on what we could steal from the Zhentarim: With such a big army, they must have a lot of camels and a fortune in steel blades. Raiding is something Sa’ar will understand:’
Kadumi’s idea was the best they had come up with so far, but Ruha did not think it would work. “Why raid when you can simply ask? Will the Zhentarim not promise all these things in return for an alliance?”
“Being paid is not the same as taking;’ Kadumi countered hotly, finally addressing Ruha directly:
The widow was not listening. A sudden flash of insight had just occurred to her. “We can never promise more than the Zhentarim;’ she said. “So what we need to do is get rid of the Zhentarim agent before the sheikh makes an agreement:’
Both Kadumi and Lander frowned.
“Correct me if I’m wrong;’ the Harper said, craning his neck to look at her, “but wouldn’t the sheikh take a dim view of assassinating his guests?”
“We’re not going to kill the Zhentarim;’ Ruha laughed, pointing at Lander. “He’s going to try to kill you:’
The Harper frowned, then leaned close to Ruha so Kadumi could not hear what he whispered, “I’m beginning to understand why your visions always come true:’
“Don’t worry;” Ruha replied, speaking aloud to prevent Kadumi from thinking any secrets were being kept from him. “You’ll just make the Zhentarim so mad that he’ll try to kill you:’
Kadumi smiled. “Honor will dictate that the sheikh save you and banish or execute the man who assaulted his guest. You’ll have the sheikh’s ear to yourself:”
“Just in time to warn him about the Zhentarim’s impending attack,” Ruha finished. She leaned close to Lander and added, “Do not worry about the attack I saw on Rahalat’s
shoulder, for in the vision you had clearly been surprised by the assault from behind:’
When Kadumi scowled at the widow, she straightened and said, “If the plan works, Lander, you will be expecting the Zhentarim to attack. Kadumi will be there to protect your back, so you will have nothing to fear.” Her brotherin-law stiffened at the compliment.
After a moment’s consideration, Lander nodded. “I can do it:’
They rode the rest of the way to the camp in silence. When they reached the golden grass surrounding the emerald lake, urging the camels onward became more effort than it was worth. They tethered the beasts and walked the rest of the way on foot.
Sa’ar’s camp was typical. Each family had pitched its khreima with the entrance facing the center of the circle. The women were spinning camel’s wool, repairing carpets, and tending to the dozens of other tasks required to maintain a household. The older girls were helping their mothers or watching the youngest children, who were running about between the tents or wrestling in the circle.
As the trio passed through the tent circle, the women welcomed them by whistling from beneath their veils, and the young children paused long enough to stare in openmouthed amazement at Lander’s fair, sunburned skin. Ruha suddenly felt lonely and sad, for the scene reminded her of the life she had enjoyed for only three days, a life she knew she would never have again.
Her sudden melancholy was a stark contrast to the last few days. Since leaving the desolated camps of the Mtair Dhafir, she had been too busy trying to reach Colored Waters, daydreaming about Lander’s homeland, and worrying about the Zhentarim to dwell on her own status. Even Kadumi’s reaction when he discovered her to be a witch had not been very painful. Part of the reason, she knew, was
that Lander’s attitude gave her hope of finding someplace she would not be an outcast.
When the trio reached the sheikh’s audience tent, they found a large pavilion made from blond camel’s wool. It was open on all sides, and Ruha could see Sa’ar sitting beneath it next to two guests. The sheikh was a powerfully built man of forty or fifty, his face lined with furrows, his eyes hard with confidence and cunning.
Ruha recognized both of the sheikh’s guests immediately. One of them had flashing blue eyes with skin and hair as pale as white sand. He wore a purple robe and silver bracers, and had been posing as Zarud’s servant in the camp of the Mtair Dhafir. The widow was dismayed to see the pale stranger, for he did not strike her as the type of man who would be easy to provoke into an attack on Lander.
The other guest’s presence surprised Ruha as much as the first one’s presence dismayed her. He stood no more than four-feet tall, was swaddled head to toe in a white burnoose and turban, and looked like one of Lander’s companions at El Ma’ra. If it was the same individual, she could not imagine what he was doing with the Zhentarim.
The trio paused outside the pavilion and waited several seconds. When no one inside seemed to notice their presence, Lander impatiently cleared his throat, bringing the quiet conversation inside to an abrupt halt.
“Has somebody come to my khreima in need of help?” called the sheikh. His voice was deep, confident, and held mild irritation.
“Not in need of help, but bringing it;’ the Harper said. “I have come to warn you of treachery.”
Before the sheikh could respond, the short guest called, “And why should the sheikh believe a liar who works fraud upon those he contracts?” He spoke in stilted, accented Bedine.
To Ruha’s surprise, the question drew a smile from Lander. “Bhadla, you’re alive!”
“Musalim did not fare so well;’ Bhadla responded, his tone accusatory.
“That is the Zhentarim’s fault, not mine:’
This business has no place in the tents of the Mahwa;’ the sheikh interrupted. “Berrani, won’t you come into my khreima and drink some hot tea?”
“Your hospitality is legendary Sheikh Sa’ar;’ Lander replied, leading the way into the tent and motioning at his two companions. “I am Lander. My friends are Kadumi and Ruha of the Qahtan:’
“APParently you know Bhadla;’ Sa’ar replied, indicating. that the trio should sit opposite Bhadla and the Zhentarim. “The D’tarig’s master is Yhekal, sheikh of the Zhentarim:’
Sa’ar’s servant brought a pair of tiny cups and a pot filled with hot salted tea. Sa’ar filled each tiny cup with black, rich-smelling liquid, then handed one to both Lander and Kadumi.
When he saw that the sheikh had ignored Ruha, Lander held his cup out to the young widow. Though the tea smelled delicious, she quickly shook her head to indicate that she did not want the drink. The Mahwa did not permit men and women to eat together, or the sheikh would have offered her a cup himself. Ruha suspected that allowing her to sit in his tent was the extent of the courtesy the sheikh would normally show a strange woman.
Realizing his mistake, Lander withdrew the cup and sipped from it himself.
“Tell me about your journey,” Sa’ar said, inviting Lander into conversation. “Where did you come from? What brings you into the Mother Desert?”
The Harper did not waste any time with pleasantries. Staring at Yhekal with a sneer so offensive that it could only be intentional, he said, “The treachery of the Zhentarim. I
have come to warn the Bedine of their plans:’ Sa’ar lifted a brow. “Is that so?”
As Bhadla translated Lander’s statement, Ruha realized that the Zhentarim had learned from his failure with the Mtair Dhafir and was apparently foregoing the use of magic with Sa’ar.
After listening to the translation of Lander’s charge, Yhekal replied to Bhadla calmly, and the D’tarig gave the reply to the Bedine. “My master says he has presented the Zhentarim’s offer to Sheikh Sa’ar. He suggests the Harper do the same for his people:’