The Parched Sea (24 page)

“In my land, magic is common;” the Harper continued. “So my question is this: if magic is so terrible, why do the gods permit it in one part of the world and not in the other? Could it be possible that in all the centuries since the Scattering, they have entrusted it to mankind again? Is it possible that Kozah did not help us last night because Ruha was there to work his will instead?”

Utaiba raised his brow thoughtfully, and Sa’ar pursed his lips and rubbed his chin. Even the warriors appeared to be considering the matter, and a flutter developed in the widow’s stomach as she realized the Harper actually had a chance to win over the Bedine. Ruha found herself wondering how it would feel to be a fully accepted member of a tribe.

Her contemplation was shortlived. A few moments later, Sa’ar found a weakness in the Harper’s argument. “Your people did not make a desert of their home, berrani, so the gods have no reason to punish them. You and the Zhentarim may use magic, but that does mean it is permitted for a Bedine. It may even be that the Zhentarim have been sent into Anauroch to test our resolve:’

Lander’s face reddened, and a vein began throbbing in his temple. “In the name of Mielikki, why are you so determined to be Zhentarim slaves?” he yelled. “Are you fools? Isn’t living in this desolate waste punishment enough for you?”

“Quiet!” Sa’ar roared, glowering at Lander. “We have

decided. You and the witch must leave!”

“As you wish;’ the Harper spat. “Other tribes may have wiser sheikhs. I will take Ruha to Elah’zad and see:’ “Then you will die;’ Sa’ar threatened.

Lander sneered. “Someday, but not by your blade:” The sturdy sheikh reached for his jambiya and Ruha realized that the matter was about to come to blood. The widow knew that this was not a battle she and the Harper could hope to win, so she rose and positioned herself between the two angry men.

“Hold your tongues and your blades;’ she said. “We will let the gods themselves resolve this argument:’

“That was what I intended;’ Sa’ar snarled. His hand remained on his dagger hilt, but he made no move to finish standing.

“Let us consider the widow’s suggestion;’ Utaiba said, laying a restraining hand on Sa’ar’s arm. “What do you have in mind, Ruha?”

The widow inclined her head to the sheikh. “I was raised at the Sister of Rains oasis with the witch Qoha’dar,” she said. “When my mistress died, I buried her book of magic spells in the ruins of the ancient fort that stands there:”

“What does this have to do with gods?” demanded Sa’ar. Ruha smiled and turned her attention to the stout sheikh. “With that book, my magic would be much improved;’ she said. “Lander and I will go to the Sister of Rains to recover it, then meet you at Elah’zad in ten days:’

“But, from here, that means crossing the Shoal of Thirst-twice!” Kadumi objected. “It can’t be done!” “That’s right;’ the widow said, fixing her gaze on Sa’ar. “If we reach Elah’zad with the spellbook, it will surely be a sign that the gods favor my magic. If we don’t, then … well, everyone knows what that will mean:”

Lander rose and smiled at Sa’ar. “Is that acceptable?” “You have no idea, what you’re riding into:” “Nevertheless, do you agree?”

Sa’ar looked to his counterpart, who nodded. “It is their bones At’ar will bleach,” Utaiba said. “And if they should survive, it will truly be a sign from the gods:’

“Then it is decided,” Sa’ar said, standing.

Utaiba also rose, indicating the meeting had come to an end. As the circle of warriors followed the lead of their sheikhs and began to break up, Kabina yelled in astonishment, then fell headfirst to the ground. The other warriors laughed at his clumsiness.

“Quiet, you fools!” snarled the Mahwai, scowling. “There’s something here:’

Kabina reached out and clutched at the empty air. A familiar voice uttered a shriek, then the sand near Kabina erupted as something hit the ground. A noise followed, as of something tearing, and the burly warrior was left holding the tattered hood of a white burnoose in his hand. “A djinn!” he cried.

“That’s no djinn, it’s Bhadla!” Lander corrected. He reached for his sword and stepped toward Kabina. “I recognize the man’s yelp. He must be spying on us for the Zhentarim!”

Utaiba intercepted the Harper. “The spy was intruding on our council;’ the sheikh said. “You must leave this to us:’ He turned to the warriors. “You men, find the intruder! “

The warriors drew their scimitars and began waving them through the air in tentative, uncertain slashes. Their brows were arched in skeptical, worried expressions.

“If this is a D’tarig and not a djinn, why can’t we see him?” Sa’ar asked, echoing the concerns in the hearts of all his men.

Lander looked into the sheikh’s eyes and said one word, “Magic:’

Within a few moments, it became apparent that the war

riors were not going to locate the invisible spy by slashing randomly through the air. Lander turned to Ruha. “Bhadla’s probably gone by now, but do you have any spells that will reveal his location?”

Utaiba did not allow the widow to reply. “No magic,” he ordered. “You have not crossed the Shoal of Thirst yet:” The search continued for a few minutes more before Kabina located the spy’s tracks and led the warriors off to stalk him. Ruha did not think they had much chance for success, for the D’tarig had a good headstart and it would be difficult to trail him when he reached a patch of rocky ground.

“Do you think he heard our plans?” she asked Lander. The Harper nodded. “We have to assume he did:’

“I would not worry,” Sa’ar said. “The Zhentarim will find it no easier to cross the Shoal of Thirst than you. If they try to follow, they will meet a slow and terrible death:” He paused and gave Ruha a mocking grin. “Unless, of course, it is the gods’ will that they catch you:’

“And what of your council?” Lander asked. “If Bhadla heard where it is to be held, the Zhentarim will be sure to go there:’

“I doubt anyone who is not Bedine knows of Elah’zad;’ Utaiba answered. “The oasis is well hidden, and that is why we picked it. Even if the spy knows Elah’zad, there is little we can do. The messengers have already been sent. Trying to change the site would only result in hopeless confusion:’

Sa’ar nodded his agreement. “The best thing that we can do is leave this place quickly. Once the spy reports to his masters, they will realize how few we are and may try to attack:’ The stout sheikh turned to Kadumi and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You may ride with my tribe. We always have use for a sharp sword:’

The youth shook his head, saying, “I will go with my sister-in-law and the berrani:’

Ruha turned to the boy. “You have been wounded, and I am not what your brother thought I was when he married me;” she said. “Under the circumstances, I do not think that family honor dictates you protect me any longer.”

“This has nothing to do with family honor;” Kadumi answered. “You and Lander saved my life last night, and you will need me and my camels in the shoal:’

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” the widow said. “An extra person will only-“

“Let the boy come if he likes. It’s his choice,” Lander said, grinning at the young warrior. “Besides, he’s right. Somebody’s going to have to take care of me:’

Kadumi smiled at the Harper’s joke, then turned to Ruha and asked, “Do you really think we can cross the Shoal of Thirst?”

“I’ve already crossed it;” Ruha said. “After leaving the Sister of Rains two years ago, this is the first oasis I came to:’

The widow did not add that her camels had been freshly watered and grazed before she had ventured into the Shoal of Thirst the first time, or that they had all died, leaving her to walk the last ten miles on foot.

Thirteen

Ruha could not stop thinking about the extra waterskins. Perhaps the mouths weren’t tied properly, she worried. Perhaps one has developed a friction hole. Despite her anxiety, the witch resisted the temptation to stop the small caravan and inspect the skins. She had already done so twice that day and knew her fears to be unwarranted. Her preoccupation was caused more by her thirst than by valid concerns.

Though five days had passed since parting from the Mahwa and Raz’hadi, it had only been four days since she and her companions had descended into the Shoal of Thirst. The great basin stretched for miles in all directions, as flat as a pan and as endless as the sky. Gleaming salts covered the entire valley, making it seem as though the trio was riding across a cloud. Ruha’s eyes ached from the constant sting of salt, and her throat was clogged with mordant-tasting grit.

Ruha tried not to think about the two days of travel remaining before she and her companions reached the Sister of Rains. She also tried to forget that as soon as they arrived, they would have to turn around and spend another three days in the northern tip of the Shoal of Thirst in order to reach Elah’zad in time to help the tribes gathered there.

Instead Ruha focused her thoughts a few hours ahead. At’ar hung only three spans above the horizon, an orange disc without heat or brilliance. Dusk was slowly approaching, and after it fell, the trio would ride for perhaps two more hours. When the camels began to snort and groan with exhaustion, the trio would stop and wash the salt from their parched throats with warm milk. No one would drink any water, for they were saving it for their mounts. During the crossing, the camel’s milk would serve as both food and water.

Lander suddenly stopped and turned around, inspecting the salt-crusted ground behind him with one bloodshot, redrimmed eye. Although the day was still hot, he wore his jellaba over his shoulders. The heavy cloak trapped a layer of clammy air next to the body, keeping the wearer from dehydrating so quickly. Unlike Ruha and Kadumi, though, Lander did not wear his jellaba wrapped tightly around himself. It hung loose and open at the throat, allowing precious body moisture to escape:

Ruha dutifully stopped the haggard string of camels. Although there had been no sign of Zhentarim pursuers for two days, the Harper continued to search the horizon at irregular intervals.

“There! Look!” Lander said, pointing. His lips were so dry and chapped that they cracked and bled when he spoke.

The witch obediently turned her mount around and stared to the east. She saw nothing but the darkening horizon. “What?”

“Something’s following us;’ he insisted.

Kadumi joined the pair, stopping on the other side of Lander. The youth’s eyes were bloodshot, but rimmed with far less red than the Harper’s. “Where?” the boy asked.

Lander adjusted the direction in which his finger was pointing. “Right there. It’s just a shadow:”

Kadumi peered at the horizon for a minute, then glanced at Ruha and shook his head.

The young widow took a few moments to search the horizon herself. “There’s nothing there, Lander,” she said at last.

He nodded. “It’s gone now, but we’ll have to be careful:” The widow shook her head sadly. Lander had been saying the same thing all day, apparently fearing the Zhentarim were still following. Ruha and Kadumi did not discount the possibility entirety, but they both thought it more likely that the invaders had turned back two days ago. The Shoal of Thirst was so scorching that most Bedine could not survive a journey across it, so it seemed impossible that the waterloving Zhentarim could endure such a punishing journey.

To Ruha it appeared more likely that Lander was suffering from a delirium. The combination of heat and thirst were making him imagme things. The widow forced her camel to kneel, then removed a waterskin from one of the milk-camels. She opened the skin’s mouth and walked to Lander’s side.

“Drink;” she said. “You’re seeing phantoms:’

“I’m not seeing things. Somebody is following us;” the Harper insisted. Nevertheless he accepted the waterskin, then looked from Ruha to Kadumi. “Are you and Ruha drinking?”

The youth shook his head. “We’re not thirsty,” he said. Despite what he told Lander, he could not take his eyes off the waterskin. “There is plenty of water, though. Drink:’ “If we have plenty of water, there’s no harm in you and Ruha drinking with me;’ Lander countered, holding the waterskin toward the boy.

“We’ll have milk tonight;” Kadumi said. “Bedine prefer camel’s milk to water.”

The Harper snorted. “Nobody prefers camel’s milk to water.” He turned to Ruha and leaned down to offer her the water. A spoonful of the contents spilled out of the mouth and trickled down the side.

“Be careful!” Ruha said.

The Harper smiled. “I think Kadumi is not telling the truth:’ He tied the waterskin’s mouth, then held it toward Ruha.

“You must drink;” she said, not accepting the skin. “You’re growing delirious:’

The Harper shook his head, then licked the blood from his chapped lips. “I may be thirsty;” he said, “but I’m not imagining things.” When she did not take the water, Lander said, “This skin is heavy. I’m about to drop it:’

“You are a stubborn fool;’ Ruha said, accepting the waterskin. Nodding at the open throat of Lander’s cloak, she added, “Are you trying to kill yourself? Close your jellaba:’

The widow returned the waterskin to the back of the haggard milk-camel, then mounted her beast again. The trio turned their camels into the setting sun and resumed their trek. This time, they rode three abreast, Lander between Ruha and Kadumi, where they could keep a watchful eye on him.

As they rode, the Harper periodically twisted around in his saddle and stared at their backtrail. Ruha did likewise, just in case Lander was not imagining things and they really were being followed. She did not see any Zhentarim, but the widow did notice that the milk-camels were beginning to stumble, a sure sign that they were dehydrated. This came as no surprise to her. Under good summer conditions, a camel could go for two weeks without drinking.

Crossing the Shoal of Thirst could hardly be considered good conditions, and the trio was pressing their beasts hard. The white glare of the endless flat made At’ar’s heat even more unbearable. To make matters worse, the salt prevented plants from growing in the basin, and when camels could not eat, they had to drink.

Finally Kadumi could stand the twisting and squirming no longer. As Lander pivoted to stare at the backtrail for perhaps the twentieth time, the youth asked, “Have you seen anything yet?„