Swords of Arabia: Betrayal (25 page)

Talal
shook
his
head
and
said
courteously.
“No,
as
our
guest,
Captain
Celik
must
be
allowed
to
unleash
his
bird
first.”

Kerim
nodded
in
response
to
the
courtesy
and,
seeing
that
the
slaves
working
ahead
had
flushed
out
the
prey,
he
unleashed
his
bird,
a
fierce,
beautiful,
strongly
marked
peregrine
,
with
a
word
of
encouragement.
Though
an
older
bird
than
his
host’s
it
was
also
on
its
first
outing
of
the
season,
only
just
coming
out
of
its
annual
moult
some
weeks
after
the
saker
.
Kerim
was
keen
to
see
if
its
hunting
skills
had
carried
over
from
the
previous
year,
when
it
had
been
one
of
his
most
prized
hunters.
He
knew
that,
unlike
the
larger
sakers
,
his
bird
was
very
unlikely
to
attack
on
the
ground;
a
bird
of
the
air,
it
preferred
to
attack
other
winged
creatures
whilst
still
in
flight.
Today
though,
she
would
play
her
part
in
harassing
the
hares
and
other
game
until
the
fleet-footed
Saluki
caught
up
with
them
and
killed
the
quarry.

They
all
watched
transfixed
as
Kerim’s
bird
soared
into
the sky,
its
strong
wings
making
little
of
the
effort
needed
to
rise
so
high
and
so
swiftly.
Then,
far
ahead
of
the
riders,
it
saw
its
prey,
as
the
hares,
now
flushed
out
and
hemmed
in
by
the
attendants,
scurried
in
increasingly
frightened,
zigzagging
spurts,
desperately
seeking
to
live.
Then
the
raptor
swooped
into
its
plunging
dive.

As
expected
it
didn’t
dive
onto
and
kill
any
of
the
frightened
quarry,
its
comparatively
small
size
precluded
it
doing
that
safely.
Instead
it
swooped
down
and
flew
just
above
the
heads
of
the
increasingly
frightened
and
disorientated
hares
until,
exhausted
they
fell
easy
prey
to
the
salukis
,
whose
strong
jaws
set
in
narrow,
long
nosed,
heads,
made
short
work
of
killing
their
prey.

Kerim’s
family
had
links
across
Europe
and
he
had
flown
his
hawks
in
many
of
the
European
countries,
but
he
loved
the
falconry
of
Arabia
most
of
all.
His
blood
raced
as
they
swept
across
the
flat
desert
floor,
the
sand
raising
in
spurts
under
the
hooves
of
their
horses,
his
heart
responding
to
the
savagery
and
the
stark
simplicity
of
the
Bedouin
sport,
stripped
of
all
unnecessary
trappings
and,
to
his
mind,
beautiful
in
that
savage
simplicity.

Game
was
plentiful
and
the
morning’s
kill
was
good
with
most
riders
bringing
down
game.
The
high-spot
came
just
before
they
broke
off
the
hunt
to
rest
during
the
blazingly
hot
midday
hours.
Houbara
,
or
bustard,
were
spotted
and
everyone
held
their
breath
in
anticipation
of
the
coming
spectacle.
Almost
twice
the
size
of
a
saker
they
made
formidable
prey, and
good
eating
if
caught.
A
small
family
group
were
observed
by
the
sharp-eyed
beaters,
scurrying
along
the
shallow
floor
of
a
dried
up
wadi
,
one
of
the
birds
favoured
ways
of
avoiding
being
spotted.
Startled,
two
rushed
across
the
sandy
river
bed
and
took
off.
Talal,
his
eyes
shining,
unleashed
his
falcon
with
a
whispered
word
of
encouragement
and
watched,
breathless
and
transfixed,
as
he
followed
her
effortless
climb
high
into
the
endless
sky.
She’d
already
spotted
the
larger
bird,
even
as
she
sat
on
Talal’s
wrist
and
her
soaring
flight
rapidly
closed
the
distance
between
them.
Positioning
herself
above
her
prey,
the
falcon
hovered
for
a
second
or
two
and
then
raced
down,
aiming
to
catch
the
larger
bird’s
neck
and
break
it
with
one
twist
of
her
powerful,
savagely
curved
beak.
The
wily
houbara
banked
sharply,
avoiding
the
smaller
bird
and
its
slashing,
death-dealing
beak.
Swiftly
pulling
out
of
its
swift
descent,
the
saker
herself
wheeled
sharply
and
swung
back
upwards
to
attack
again.
The
houbara
,
as
if
sensing
its
aim,
dived
sharply
and
landed
on
the
desert
floor.
The
watchers
drew
in
a
collective
breath.
They
knew
the
fight
was
far
from
over.
A
fierce
fighter,
the
larger
bird
often
out-fought
its
hunter,
emerging
the
victor
from
a
savage
conflict
it
hadn’t
sought.
The
riders
were
near
enough
to
watch
the
final
moments
of
the
bloody
battle.
The
young
saker
landed
at
the
side
of
the
houbara
and
lashed
out
with
its
beak.
Avoiding
the
bustard’s
attempt
to
turn
and
eject
its
bowels
onto
her
wings,
a
favourite
trick,
which
could
disable
her
instantly,
she
jumped
onto
the
bird’s
back.
Then
she
locked
in
her
claws
and
with
one
savage,
twisting,
wrench
of
her
beak,
broke
the
houbara’s
neck.
Ensuring
the
victorious
saker
got
a
small
portion
of
the
fresh
kill,
Talal
took
her
back
onto
his
wrist,
his
eyes
blazing
with
pride
and
excitement.