Authors: Troy Denning
The sheikh paused, then pointed at the campsite. “They’re about finished:”
Lander looked toward the camp and saw that all of the khreimas were engulfed in flames. In the center of the camp stood Yhekal, dressed as always in his purple robe. A hundred asabis had gathered around him, and he was gesturing at them wildly, waving his sword at both sides of the volcano. Lander suspected he was ordering the reptiles to sweep around the cone and destroy any living thing they encountered.
On the far side of the camp stood a line of blackrobed Zhentarim and their camels, the eerie orange light of the fires reflecting off them, making them appear ghostly. The camels were frantically ripping at the lush grass, but the drivers had made no move to remove the baggage from their backs.
Now that he was finally ahead of the Zhentarim, Lander realized, he would have to ride hard to stay there. Without taking his eyes from the camp, Lander asked, “What happened to the rest of you?”
`,`We kept riding;’ the sheikh said. “About two hours after dawn, the asabis stopped and burrowed into the sand. That was the last I ever saw of them-until tonight:’
“So that’s why they always attack at night!” Lander exclaimed, rising.
“What?” Sa’ar asked. He made no move to follow the Harper.
“All of the Zhentarim’s attacks have come at night. Until now, I thought they were just trying to take their enemies by surprise:’
Sa’ar smiled. “But it’s really because the asabis are creatures of the night;’ he said. “During the day, they’re worthless:’
Lander nodded.
In the camp below, the asabis scattered, gesturing wildly at each other. The acrid smell of burning camelhair began to waft up the slope. Realizing that he and the sheikh would
be trapped on the cinder cone if they did not leave soon, the Harper climbed out of the ravine.
When Lander reached the lip of the gulch, he perceived a curious silence behind him. Alarmed that something had happened to Sa’ar, he turned and saw the sheikh still sitting in the ravine, sipping his tea.
“Are you coming?” Lander asked.
Sa’ar looked up with a roguish grin on his lined face. “You want to leave so soon?” he asked, rising to his feet and slowly stretching his arms. He sauntered to the steam vent and picked up his battered tea pot. “Mustn’t forget this. I paid two camels for it:’
Carefully working their way from one ravine to the next, they hurried across the cinder cone’s gritty slope and returned to their camels. By the time they untethered the beasts and mounted, they could hear the asabis barking orders to each other in a sharp, chattery language.
The two men reached their rendezvous point with the Mahwa at dawn. Without dismounting, the sheikh gave the order to ride for the Well of the Chasm: It was, he explained, the next waterhole in the Zhentarim’s path. The tribe camped there was allied with Mahwa, so he was obligated to warn them of the approaching hazard.
Sa’ar flattered Kadumi by asking him to scout ahead with the Mahwa’s best warriors. Lander and Ruha were assigned to ride with the sheikh’s party.
To Lander’s amazement, after Sa’ar issued all of his riding orders and the tribe began to move, the sheikh closed his eyes and fell asleep in the saddle. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Harper found it increasingly difficult to keep his own eyes open, but did not dare imitate the dozing sheikh. Unlike Sa’ar, Lander was not so accustomed to camels that he could ride them in his sleep, and he did not fancy the idea of falling onto the hard desert floor from the height of a camel’s back.
Lander tried to keep alert by studying the Mahwa caravan. At first glance, it seemed a disorganized herd, but the Harper quickly realized that there was an order to the jumble. Riding far ahead and far behind the tribe, mounted on the fastest camels and well beyond sight, were the youngest and most daring warriors. Like Kadumi, they were scouts who would alert the khowwan to any dangers lurking ahead-or- approaching from behind, Lander added silently, remembering the Zhentarim.
Ringing the tribe at a thousand yards were the rest of the warriors, accompanied by their eldest sons, sleek saluki hunting hounds, and falcons. As they traveled, they periodically unleashed a dog or bird, or broke into a spirited gallop themselves. At first Lander thought they were pointlessly wasting energy on high-spirited displays of riding and animal mastery, then he noticed that after these bursts of activity the sons returned to the center of the caravan with a hare, lizard, or some other meat for the evening’s pot. Once he even saw a proud boy riding with a small gazelle slung over his camel’s back.
The boys delivered the game to their mothers and sisters, who were riding in the security of the caravan center. The women of the wealthiest warriors rode in elaborately decorated haouadjejs, but most of the families could not afford the extra camel’s wool needed to make one of the boxshaped litters.
As Lander studied this part of the caravan, he realized that the Mahwa were moving at what must have been an extraordinary pace for the khowwan. Every camel was carrying at least one person, sometimes two. Even the baggage camels had small children perched atop their bundles, their little hands tightly gripping the leather thongs that held the cargo in place.
Lander turned to Ruha, who had been riding at his side all morning. “Do Bedine children usually ride the baggage
camels?”
Ruha laughed. “No. The women and children usually walk to avoid tiring the camels. Sheikh Sa’ar is anxious to stay ahead of the Zhentarim, though, so everybody must ride. With hick, we will cover forty miles today:”
Lander glanced back over his shoulder. The ebony basin holding Colored Waters had already disappeared. For dozens of miles, aft he could see was dun-colored barrenness. In the far distance, perhaps a hundred miles or more away, a low range of mountains rose out of the glassy heat waves drifting off the desert floor.
“I hope it will be enough;’ he said.
”What makes you think it won’t be? Ruha asked. “Have you ever heard of asabis?” Lander asked, turning his attention to his riding companion’s sultry eyes.
She furrowed her brow. “No. The name means ‘eatersof-parents’:’
“Maybe you haven’t heard of them, but you’ve seen them;’ Lander replied. He repeated Sa’ar’s story to her, then added, “I have no idea how the Zhentarim made contact with them, but it appears our enemies already have one group of allies here in the desert:’
“That explains why they’re so quick to destroy the tribes who won’t cooperate;’ she concluded. “They’re more concerned about eliminating potential enemies than about making allies.”
Lander nodded, impressed by the young woman’s grasp of the situation. “Their intentions are worse than I thought;’ he said. “With the asabis, they have the allies they need to take military control of Anauroch. They only need the Bedine to use as slaves-in the worst sense of the word:”
“Did you ever doubt that?” Ruha asked.
The young widow rode unusually close to the Harper’s side for the rest of the day. She remained quiet and thoughtful, but Lander had the vague sensation that she enjoyed being next to him. The feeling was pleasant enough, but it also gave the Harper a giddy sense of excitement that discomforted him.
Late in the afternoon, Lander looked down and noticed that the ground had changed from barren, dun-colored dirt to a flat, endless mosaic of coin-sized stones. The pebbles were mostly red in color, varying in hue from blond to dark brown. All had been polished glass smooth, which gave the desert floor a fiery, pebbled appearance that seemed more appropriate to the caldera they had left behind than the open flats through which they were passing.
Leaning over to study the burnished stones, Lander asked, “Was there a lake here once?”
Ruha laughed. “Don’t be foolish. This is Mar’s Looking Glass;’ she said, glancing toward the sun. “Kozah hopes to win his wife’s heart back by keeping it swept clean with his wind so that she can admire her reflection in the pebbles:’
Lander looked at the heavens above. Though the sun was white and the earth red, he could see why the Bedine associated the fiery ground with their cruel sun goddess. “Yes, I see it now;’ he said, sitting upright again.
Ruha chuckled at his ignorance as they moved onward. They rode across Mar’s Looking Glass for the rest of the afternoon, and Lander was soon convinced that burnished sea of stones continued forever. At first, it had seemed eerily beautiful. Now it seemed infuriatingly uniform.
Two hours before dusk, the entire tribe turned ninety degrees north. Lander searched the horizon for some landmark he had missed, but there was nothing but the fiery rock flats. Shadowed closely by Ruha, he urged his camel forward until he rode abreast of Sa’ar.
The sheikh still appeared to be asleep, but when the Harper approached Sa’ar opened one eye. He glanced first at Lander, then at Ruha, and raised an eyebrow at the
pair’s close proximity. “Yes? Is there something I can do for you?”
“Why are we’ urning?” Lander asked. “Are we dose to the Well of the Chasm?”
Sa’ar shook his head: “No. We are turning so we are not in the Zhentarim’s path when they overtake us tonight:’ “What?” Lander nearly shrieked the question. He could not help thinking of how hard he had been trying to get ahead of them for the last few weeks.
The sheikh shrugged. “WE cannot move as fast as the invaders: The asabis, at least, could overtake us tonight. Our only choice is to be out of the way when they pass:’
“What about your allies at the Wen of the Chasm?” Lander asked.
Sa’ar smiled. “Don’t worry about them. The Zhentarim will not arrive before the messenger I sent ahead;’ the sheikh replied. “The Raz’hadi will stall the invaders until we arrive.”
“You’ll still be outnumbered. What will you do then?” Sa’ar only shrugged. “I can’t speak for Utaiba and his people;’ he said. “We’ll see what happens when we get there:’
“Sheikh Sa’ar is correct, Lander;” Ruha said. “The Bedine do not plan everything out in advance:’
The sheikh nodded, then pointed at Ruha. “You would do well to listen to this woman, my friend.” A moment later, he scowled thoughtfully, then eyed Ruha and added, “But from a discreet distance.”
Ruha’s eyes went wide, then she allowed her camel to fall behind. Confused by the exchange, Lander also allowed his mount to fall behind and brought it alongside the widow’s. When he came too close, she tactfully guided her camel away and opened the space between them.
“What was that all about?” the Harper asked, once again guiding his mount dose to hers.
Ruha carefully moved her mount away. “Sa’ar thinks I’ve been brazen;’ she replied.
“That’s ridiculous!”
The widow’s eyes sparkled with agreement, but she shook her head. “Not really. In his eyes, I’m still part of my husband’s family. Please don’t ride any closer.”
Sa’ar’s admonition irritated the Harper, for he saw nothing wrong with talking to a widow and did not think it was anyone’s business to tell a woman how close she could ride to a man. For the next hour, he tried to draw Ruha back into conversation, but she avoided his questions. The Harper felt hurt by the sudden distance between Ruha and himself, and he could not help silently cursing Sheikh Sa’ar for upsetting his friend.
When less than an hour of light remained in the day, Sa’ar called a halt to the caravan. Immediately the women began to unpack supplies and arrange them on the flat, rocky ground in tentless semblances of their normal camp.
Lander attempted to help Ruha unpack the supplies for herself, him, and Kadumi, but she curtly instructed him to go and sit with the sheikh. More confused than ever, the Harper went over to the area of ground that Sa’ar’s first wife had staked out as his tent, then sat on a kuerabiche and sipped the cold tea that a servant provided. Fortunately, the sheikh was occupied with the details of posting sentries and arranging the camp, so Lander felt no obligation to make small talk.
When Ruha had laid out the camp, he returned to the area that would serve as the trio’s khreima. Someone had provided her with a hare for the cooking pot. As she skinned the hare, the widow did not acknowledge Lander’s presence. That only made him want to talk with her that much more.
If he was going to succeed, Lander knew he would have to say something to overshadow the warning that had
passed between Ruha and the sheikh. Remembering her inquiry about Sembia, the Harper decided to lure her into a discussion about his home.
“In Sembia, the rabbits are as juicy as sheep,” he began, eyeing the stringy hare she was skinning.
His tactic worked immediately. “What are sheep?” Ruha asked, nervously glancing in the direction of the sheikh’s family.
The question caught him by surprise, for he had never before had to describe one of the beasts. He held his hand two and a half feet off the ground. “They’re about this tall, they come in herds, and they’re covered with wool-” “Like tiny camels?”
Lander shook his head. “Not even close. Their fleece is soft and white:”
“How much milk do they give?”
“They don’t give milk;” Lander corrected. “At least not that Sembians drink:’
“Then what good are these sheep?” Ruha demanded. Lander laughed at her desert pragmatism. “They give wool. VVe make clothes from it:’
“That’s all?” The widow pulled the hide off the rabbit and threw it to a sahild lurking on the edge of their camp. “They can be eaten, too,” he said. “My father and I used to eat mutton-sheep-every year when we went to Archendale:’
“Archendale? Tell me about that;” the widow demanded. “It’s a beautiful place;” Lander said, closing his eyes. “The River Arkhen flows through a rocky gorge. The whole valley is filled with lilies and moss:’
“It sounds wonderful:’
Ruha’s eyes were fixed on the Harper’s face, and he could tell from their dreamy expression that she was trying to imagine the paradise he described.
“Archendale is a wonderful place,” Lander confirmed.
“But it was almost destroyed. The Zhentarim tried to take it over, too:’
“How did you stop them?” Ruha asked.
“It wasn’t me. My father did it,” Lander replied, growing melancholy at this turn of the conversation.