Authors: Troy Denning
Their eyes betrayed both interest and fear, but Lander could not guess why the women were frightened.
The Harper noticed that everything in the camp seemed new and fresh. The khreimas had been recently colored with henna juice and other dyes. They were in such excellent repair that Lander guessed all the tents were newly made, which would only make -sense if this was Sa’ar’s tribe. The Mahwa had lost all of their khreimas when they fled the Zhentarim at Colored Waters. He was surprised that they had recovered so quickly, however, and wondered if the other tribes had helped them. If so, that was a good sign, for it indicated that the Bedine were already working together.
The procession stopped in front of a large closed tent, around which were gathered dozens of mature warriors. Lander recognized Kabina and a few others from the Mahwa and Raz’hadi, but most of the faces were new to him. Their keffiyehs were decorated in the varying patterns popular in different tribes: red and white checks, solid browns or blacks, green stripes, and many more. Some even wore turbans.
Kabina waved the boys away, then regarded Lander and Ruha with a surly frown. No one said a word, and the gathering remained as silent as the Shoal of Thirst. From inside the tent came the scent of roasted meat and the quiet murmur of polite conversation. Lander’s mouth started watering, and he felt his knees grow weak. He took an absentminded step toward the open khreima, but Kabina held up a restraining hand. “No;” he said. “The sheikhs are feasting:’
“Tell them we are here,” Ruha demanded. “We have had a long journey.” Her gaze was fixed on the tent, and the Harper could tell that the smell was having the same effect on her.
Kabina did not lower his hand. “They know;’ he said.
They waited for several more minutes, straining in vain to hear the muffled words of the sheikhs. Lander had not expected Sa’ar to be overjoyed at seeing him and Ruha, but he had expected a more civil reception. He began to worry that the other sheikhs were resisting the agreement that Sa’ar and Utaiba had made regarding Ruha’s magic.
At last, Sa’ar stepped out of the tent, Utaiba and thirteen more sheikhs behind. “So, berrani, you dare set eyes on Elah’zad, the secret paradise of the Bedine?” He addressed Lander alone, ignoring the widow.
“I do,” Lander replied. He motioned to Ruha, who was still holding the djebiras containing the spellbook. “We have crossed the Shoal of Thirst and recovered the spellbook of Ruha’s mentor, and we have crossed it again to meet you here. Surely, the gods look well upon us:” Sa’ar grunted an acknowledgement.
Ruha interrupted the conversation by sniffing loudly at the air. “What’s that peculiar odor?”
Utaiba frowned and stepped to Sa’ar’s side. “What odor?”
The widow stepped toward the khreima’s entrance. “It’s coming from in there,” she said, pointing at Sa’ar’s tent. “It smells like cooked meat. Perhaps we should go and eat it before something happens to it-though after ten days on the trail, I’d rather drink a bowl of warm camel’s blood:’
A chorus of laughter rustled through the warriors, and Lander could tell that every one of them had endured similar experiences.
Utaiba grinned sheepishly and laid a hand on Sa’ar’s shoulder. “We’ve forgotten your manners, my friend. Our guests must be fed:”
Sa’ar scowled in embarrassment. “Accept my apologies;” he said. “All I have is a big buck that my arrow downed yesterday. My wives have spent the morning basting it with honey and spices, but I’m sure it cannot com
pare to camel’s blood:’
Lander smiled, relieved that Ruha’s joke had lightened the atmosphere: He hoped the change of mood indicated that the cold reception did not mean the other sheikhs were opposing the agreement.
Sa’ar stepped aside, waving Lander and Ruha toward his tent. “Save some for Kadumi. I’m sure his palate is less demanding than yours:’ .
Lander stopped in his tracks, his hopeful mood deflated. “Kadumi won’t be coming:’
Sa’ar’s face fell. “i was hoping you had decided to leave him with the camels for some reason:’
“No,” Ruha said, stepping to Lander’s side. “He’s dead:’
“What happened?” demanded Utaiba.
“A Zhentarim assassin killed him,” Lander explained. “He died defending me:”
Sa’ar frowned, as did Utaiba and several other sheikhs. “An assassin?” he demanded. “How could he follow you across the Shoal of Thirst?”
“The Zhentarim can go wherever we can go;” Lander answered. “Don’t underestimate them:’
“You would have seen him from miles away,” Sa’ar protested.
“A party followed us for two days, then disappeared;” Ruha supplied. “Kadumi and I thought they had all turned back, but Lander kept glimpsing one who hadn’t. We didn’t believe him, and the assassin caught us at the Sister of Rains:”
“surely you posted a watch?” asked a sheikh Lander did not know. The man had a heavy brow line and a sour expression.
“He used magic to make himself invisible;’ Ruha replied. The sour-faced sheikh rolled his eyes. “Invisible;” he scoffed. “Were you attacked by an assassin or a djinn?”
,,The zhentarim can do this, Sheikh Haushi;’ Utaiba said. “Both Sa’ar and myself have seen it:’
Haushi shook his head. “I don’t believe it:’
Lander took the assassin’s ring from his pocket and slipped it on. When he disappeared before their very eyes, both the warriors and the sheikhs gasped and stepped away, automatically reaching for their weapons.
The Harper removed the ring and held it up for the sheikhs to see. “Magic. With it, the Zhentarim can do many things you would think impossible:’ The Harper turned to Sa’ar. “Kadumi’s death grieves us all;” he said, hoping to change the subject. “But Ruha and I have survived to bring magic to the Bedine. You conceded that we could only do this with the favor of the gods. Here we are. Will you honor your agreement?”
Sa’ar avoided Lander’s gaze, looking toward Utaiba. “We didn’t think you’d make it:’
“That does not change our agreement;’ Ruha said. Lander was surprised at how hard the widow was pressing the issue. Before Kadumi’s death, she had seemed more interested in joining him in Sembia than in working to save her people. Now, she appeared positively determined to drive the Zhentarim out of Anauroch.
It was Utaiba who finally answered Ruha. “As far as the Raz’hadi and the Mahwa are concerned, you have proven that the gods favor your magic;’ the wiry sheikh said. “The other sheikhs are not yet convinced:’
“No doubt because you did not bother to tell them of our agreement;’ Ruha observed.
“True;’ Utaiba admitted.
“We have convinced all the sheikhs to take the matter before the Mother of the Waters;’ Sa’ar added defensively. “We will take you and your spellbook to the House of the Moon:”
“We agreed to take Ruha’s magic only;” Haushi inter
rupted, pointing at the ring in Lander’s hand. “We said nothing of Zhentarim magic:’
“The ring is not important. Do with it what you will;’ Lander said, holding it out to Haushi.
The sour-faced sheikh backed away as if the Harper were offering him the head of an asp. “I don’t want that thing!” he snapped, pointing at the lake. “Magic is for the gods! ť
“As you wish;’ Lander said, spinning toward the lake and throwing the ring as hard as he could. It landed two hundred yards from shore with a barely perceptible splash. “Now let us go to the House of the Moon!”
“You should eat first;’ suggested Utaiba. “This could take some time:’
“We will eat later;” Ruha said, casting a hungry look in the direction of the roasted gazelle.
Lander also cast a longing glance at Sa’ar’s tent. As hungry as he was, it seemed more important to resolve the issue of whether or not Ruha’s magic would be accepted by the Bedine. “My stomach will wait;’ he said. “The Zhentarim will not:’
“Then, by all means, let’s go to the House of the Moon;’ Sa’ar said, motioning toward the lakeshore.
The sheikh led the way down to the lake. Two round boats, made by stretching camel hides over a wooden frame, lay beached on the shore. Sa’ar, Utaiba, Lander, Ruha, and two more sheikhs piled into one of the boats, and six sheikhs climbed into the other.
Paddling toward the small island in the middle of the lake, Lander realized that the tribesmen were not very good boat-makers. Water poured through the stitches, and the awkward craft rode low and clumsy. The Bedine showed no sign of anxiety, but the Harper was glad when they reached the grassy shore of the small island. Had either of the boats foundered, he was sure he would have been the only one who could swim.
The island was a small, grass-covered hill no more than a hundred yards across. The alabaster palace stood on top of the hill. Its three-quarter circle trapped At’ar’s light and cast it back with a silvery radiance that immediately struck Lander as unimaginably soft and peaceful. He could easily see why the Bedine had concluded Eldath inhabited the structure. If they were right, Lander hoped the goddess would favor them with a sign.
While two sheikhs returned across the lake to fetch the five who had been left behind, Lander and Ruha followed the others to the palace. When they reached it, a warm shiver of exhilaration ran down the Harper’s spine. The building was made of a chalky, translucent desert rock cut so thin that he could see the shapes of a throne and chairs through it.
The small company waited for a few others to cross the lake and join them, then entered the palace through a gracefully curved foyer. The short corridor had been carved from a single stone and shaped without any visible joints. It opened into a circular room, on the far side of which sat a huge throne gilded with hammered copper.
To each side, the throne was flanked by a row of stout chairs of darkly colored wood. The marble floor was so black that, if the chairs and throne had not been sitting upon it, Lander would have sworn it was a bottomless pit. The ceiling was a single slab of translucent rock. Through it filtered a light that bathed the room in warm radiance.
A tangible feeling of tranquility came over Lander, and he found himself bowing his head to Eldath. Simply entering the palace, it seemed to him, was worth missing the feast now languishing back in Sa’ar’s tent.
“I’ve never seen anything so magnificent,” the Harper said. “Who built it?”
The sheikhs shrugged.
“The House, of Moon is as old as the gods. It was here before the Scattering:’
The words came from Ruha’s mouth, but the voice that spoke them did not belong to the widow. The sounds were almost a song, with a peaceful, soothing quality to them that Lander had never heard in any woman’s speech. The voice, which could only be described as higher than soprano, seemed to enter his head without passing through his ears.
“Eldath?” Lander gasped. He did not know whether he was hearing the goddess’s voice or the effects of one of Ruha’s spells.
“What magic is this?” demanded Haushi.
The widow glared at the astonished sheikh. “This is no magic,” she answered in the strange voice. She waved to the dark chairs, then sat in the copper-gilded throne herself. “There are sixteen chairs-fifteen for the sheikhs of the fifteen tribes that will fight the Zhentarun, one for the Harper who has risked his life to help you:’
When the stunned sheikhs did not move, Ruha-Eldath said, “You do not have much time, Sheikhs. The Zhentarim have made an alliance with the Ju’ur Dai, and even now the traitors are leading the Zhentarim into the hills guarding Elah’zad. Do you intend to make a battle plan or to let the invaders defile the Sacred Grove?”
The sharp words stunned the sheikhs and Lander into taking their seats, then Haushi asked, “What of Ruha’s magic?”
As the sheikh spoke, Ruha’s chin sank to her chest and she slumped down in the chair. Lander stood and rushed to the widow’s side and found her breathing in quick, shallow gasps. He tried to wake her, but she had fallen into a deep slumber that could not be disturbed.
“She seems to be sleeping;” Lander reported, though he could not say whether the sleep had been caused by the strain of serving as a goddess’s mouthpiece or by the effort required to cast some peculiar kind of magic he had never seen before.
Sa’ar said, “We have seen a sign from Eldath. Now we must do as the goddess asks and turn our thoughts to defeating our enemies:’
“How do we know the witch wasn’t using her magic to fool us?” demanded Haushi.
“Ruha couldn’t have known about the Ju’ur Dai and the Zhentarim’s location;’ Utaiba replied. “Then, too, there is the furniture in which we sit-sixteen chairs for sixteen men. I, for one, believe it was Eldath who spoke to us:’
There was a general murmur of agreement, then Sa’ar said, “Lander, you know the Zhentarim best. What strategy do you suggest?”
Returning to his chair, the Harper asked, “How many warriors do we have?”
Utaiba was the first to answer. “The Raz’hadi have two hundred and fifty men who will die to drive the Zhentarim from our desert,” he said, proudly thumping himself on the chest.
Sa’ar spoke next. “Over one hundred Bait Mahwa have already died fighting the Zhentarim, and two hundred more are ready to join their brothers:’
A toothless sheikh wearing a black turban said, “We have one hundred and fifty warriors, all thirsting for the blood of the invaders:’
Lander held up a hand. “I meant to ask, how many warriors do we have all together?”
Utaiba and Sa’ar frowned, then Sa’ar said, “We are telling you. I have two hundred men:’
“I have two hundred and fifty,” Utaiba added.
“And we have one hundred and fifty,” repeated the toothless sheikh.
“Go on;” Lander said, nodding to the next sheikh and
starting to add figures in his head. Before they could hope to match the coordination of the Zhentarim army, the Harper realized, the Bedine would have to adjust their way of thinking.
When the fifteen sheikhs had each listed the number of warriors in his tribe, Lander said, “We have a little less than three thousand warriors, about a thousand more than the Zhentarim. Is there any place we can get more?”
Utaiba answered. “We have sent riders to all the khowwans within a fortnight’s journey,” he said, waving his hand in all directions. “Their allies have not been attacked, so they can see no good in fighting the Zhentarim. The only tribes we can count on are those gathered at this oasis:’