The Parched Sea (4 page)

Only the lead camel, an indistinctive brown gelding, carried a proper saddle or hatter. Upon this beast sat a lone tribesman, his bow strung and his lance resting across his thighs. He wore a tawny aba similar to Ajaman’s, and a white keffiyeh covered his hair. Though Ruha could not see his face at this distance, his head seemed turned toward her. Ruha guessed by his dress that the driver belonged to the Qahtan tribe, perhaps even her dead husband’s clan.

Continuing her slide down the dune, she croaked, “Worthy Ajaman, I should have known better than to doubt you, but I am a frail woman and thirst affects my judgment. Please forgive my nagging and don’t send any blights to punish me:’

When her feet touched the rocky desert floor, she checked to see that her veil was still in place, then staggered toward the man.

Upon seeing her condition, the rider unfastened his waterskin and slid off his saddle. He thrust his lance into the closest dune, then wrapped his lead camel’s reins around the shaft. Without actually running, for a wise man never ran in the heat of the day, he rushed toward Ruha.

The widow’s first impression was that he was a herdboy, for his face lacked even the hint of whiskers: His features were proud and strong, like Ajaman’s, but his skin looked as soft as a pup’s fur, and he did not stand even as tall as she did: He could have been no more than thirteen or fourteen. Still, Ruha stopped short of asking him to fetch his master. If the Qahtani customs bore any similarity to those of most Bedine, a herdboy would not carry a lance. That privilege belonged only to a warrior.

Instead, as the boy approached, she managed to gasp a question. “Whose fine camels are those?”

The youth showed a smile of pearly teeth. “They once belonged to a sheikh of the Bordjias,” he answered, straightening his shoulders as if donning an aba.

The answer explained the lack of saddles and halters. What the youth had left unspoken was that now the camels belonged to him. He had stolen them on a raid. If, as he claimed, the animals had belonged to a sheikh, the pasture had undoubtedly been a well-guarded one. Ruha was glad she had not insulted the young man by asking after his master.

The youth stopped a pace away from Ruha and passed the waterskin to her. Observing that he self-consciously kept one hand close to the hilt of his jambiya, Ruha said, “A The boy nodded, then answered, “My father says it is honorable to help a stranger, but to remember that no friend is ever a stranger.”

“Your father is right;” Ruha answered, lifting the skin to her mouth.

Though the water was hot and tasted of several days in the skin, to her it seemed as if it had just come from a cool spring. Still, she stopped herself after three swallows, for drinking too much too quickly would make her feel worse than she did now. Besides, when a stranger shared his water, one never knew how much he had to spare. She offered the skin back to the youth.

The boy shook his head. “Drink. I have another.” He spoke with an exaggerated tone of authority.

Ruha allowed herself two more swallows. “Your water is sweeter than honeyed milk;” she said. Though she meant what she said, the words were weighted with exhaustion. They sounded insincere even to the young widow.

The youth smiled and shook his head. “That water’s been in the skin for five days. You’ve been out here watching my khowwan too long:’

“It’s my khowwan, too;’ Ruha answered. “Or at least it was:’

The boy’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

Ruha pointed at the vultures hanging over the oasis. “Surely you’ve seen N’asr’s children?”

The young warrior nodded. “That’s why I hid my approach behind the dunes, but I meant to ask why you claim to be Qahtani. If you were a member of the tribe, I would know you. There aren’t that many of us:’

“I’m Ruha, Ajaman’s wife,” she answered.

The youth’s hand drifted back toward his dagger. “Ajaman has no wife,” he said suspiciously.

Shrugging aside his skeptical tone, Ruha lifted the waterskin to her lips again. She still felt weak and dizzy, but with an ample supply of water at hand, she would soon be better. After a few swallows, she lowered the skin and said, “I came to the Qahtan three days ago:’

“Forgive me;’ the boy said, flustered. As an afterthought, the boy offered, “I was on el a’sarad.”

Ah, Ruha thought, that explains the warrior’s age. The el a’sarad was a solitary camel raid undertaken as a rite of passage-after a boy killed his first man.

The youth continued, “I had not heard that my brother had taken a wife:’

“Brother!” Ruha gasped.

The youth nodded. “Sons of the same .mother.”

In her weakened state, the shock was too much for Ruha. She began to wail.. uncontrollably, half sobbing and half laughing at her fate. A man was obligated to care for a dead brother’s wife for two years, after which time he had the choice of sending her away or marrying her himself. Ruha found it pathetically ironic that her new protector and potential husband was a thirteen-year-old boy. Dropping the skin, the widow collapsed to her knees and buried her face in her palms.

The youth quickly picked up the waterskin, then took Ruha’s arm and helped her to his camels. He sat her in the shade beneath one of the beast’s musky udders, then said, “I am called Kadumi:’

As the camel stamped its fleshy feet on the ground, he poured water on the only exposed parts of Ruha’s face, her cheeks and her brow. The water evaporated as soon as it touched her skin, without cooling her at all.

Regaining control of her spent emotions, Ruha put her hand over the spout. “Save the water. I’ll be fine:’ Kadumi closed the skin and placed it beside her. Turning in the direction of the unseen oasis, he asked, “Where are the other women? How badly is the tribe hurt?”

The young widow touched the ground in front of her. “Sit.”

Kadumi shook his head. “I’ll stand;’ he declared, as if hearing the report on his feet made him more of a man. “Kadumi, this was no camel raid;” Ruha began.

“Tell me what happened,” he replied, still refusing the seat she offered.

Ruha shrugged, then began. “It was after dark. Ajaman had the night watch, and he wanted me to bring him some apricots and milk:’

“Ajaman wouldn’t ask his wife to leave their tent during the purdah:’ Kadumi interrupted, frowning.

“He did ask it,” Ruha snapped, irritated that the youth had noticed her misrepresentation. “Do you question the honor of your brother’s wife?”

Startled at the terse reply, Kadumi turned his gaze aside. “Let’s say he asked you to come to him. Then what?” Trying not to sound defensive, she continued, “Before I reached him, a caravan of men and fork-tongued monsters came out of the sands:’

“Fork-tongued monsters?”

“Yes; Ruha replied. “With a lizard’s skin and a snake’s eyes. Where there should have been nose and ears, the beasts had only gashes. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. Behind them came caravan drivers in black burnooses:’

Ruha paused, smelling once again the scent of singed camelhair and scorched flesh as the strange caravan attacked. Over the dunes rolled the mournful howls of anguished mothers, the terrified screams of dying children. Peering over a dune crest, Ruha saw a thousand silhouettes marching through the oasis, setting fire to anything that stood, cutting down anything that walked.

“What do they want?” she asked. “How can I stop them?”

“Drink;’ Kadumi said, offering her the open waterskin as his face replaced the dark images from the previous night: “You’re seeing mirages:’

Ruha pushed the skin aside. “There were too many strangers;” she replied. “I couldn’t save anyone:’

“I understand;’ Kadumi answered, sealing the skin. “What of the others who escaped? Where are they?” “Others?” Ruha yelled. The camel beneath which she sat brayed and stepped forward, brushing Ruha’s head with its udders. She ignored the beast. “Haven’t you been listening? There are no others!”

Kadumi’s face went pale and the waterskiir slipped from his hand. An expression of disbelief and bewilderment overcame the boy, and Ruha immediately regretted her sharp tone.

Before she could comfort the boy, he set his smoothskinned jaw. “Who did this to my tribe?” he hissed. “Who were these men and fork-tongued monsters?”

Ruha shook her head. “I don’t know;’ she whispered. “What color were their keffiyehs?” Kadumi pressed. “Did they ride the long-wooled camels of a northern tribe? If they are a Qahtani enemy, I will know them from your description:’

Ruha looked straight into Kadumi’s eyes. “They weren’t Bedine;’ she said. “I don’t even think they were from Anauroch:’

The youth sneered doubtfully and declared, “That cannot be:’ He studied her for a moment with accusatory eyes, then demanded, “If everybody else is dead, how did you survive?”

Ruha pushed herself from beneath the camel. “What do you suggest?” she snapped, standing. “Do you insult the woman whom you are duty-bound to honor?”

Cowed by her sharp tone, the boy retreated two full steps, shaking his head. At the same time, the camels echoed Ruha’s indignation and roared with impatience. They could no doubt smell the oasis and were anxious to quench their thirst in its pool.

Remembering the oneeyed man and his two guides, Ruha quickly turned to calm the camels. Until now, she had not worried about being overheard by the three strangers, for she and Kadumi were far enough away from the oasis that their voices would be muffled by sand dunes. A camel’s bellow was a different matter. A roar like the ones the creatures had just voiced could be heard miles away.

“We’ve got to keep the camels quiet,” she said, urgently grabbing the nose of the nearest one. “There are three strangers in the oasis:’

Kadumi did not move to help her. “Just three?” he scoffed, stepping toward his brown riding camel. “I have my bow and plenty of arrows. They shall pay the blood price:’

Ruha moved to the boy’s side and caught his arm. “No;” she said. “They weren’t with the fork-tongues:” She told him about how the oneeyed stranger had appeared in the caravan’s wake last night, then of spending the morning watching the man and his short companions in camp.

“It does not matter whether their hands bear the blood of battle or the blood of desecration;’ Kadumi insisted. “They deserve to die:’ He pulled his arm free of her grasp.

From his stubborn tone, Ruha realized that the boy was looking not so much for vengeance as an excuse to vent his anger. Unfortunately, remembering the sharp instincts of the oneeyed man, Ruha knew that allowing Kadumi to attack would mean his death. As the youth reached for his arrow quiver, the widow slipped between him and his camel. “They are three and you are one:’

Kadumi sidestepped her and snatched his quiver off the saddle.

Wondering if her husband had been as stubborn and foolish in his youth, Ruha grasped the boy by both shoulders. “It is foolish to attack;” she said. “Even Ajaman would not have tried such a thing:’

Kadumi ignored her and tried to pall free. When she did not release him, he drew his jambiya. The boy’s anger took Ruha by surprise, and she found the curve of his knife blade pressed against her throat.

His lower lip quivering in anger, Kadumi yelled, “Ajaman is not here!”

“But you are, and you are dishonoring your brother by threatening his wife;’ Ruha countered. “You must protect your brother’s widow for two years. If you get killed, who will take care of me?”

Tears of despair welled in the boy’s eyes. After a moment of self-conscious consideration, he rubbed the tears away and sheathed his jambiya. He turned from her and stared at his camels for several minutes. Finally he said, “I will take you to your father and return to kill the defilers later. Anyway, from what you have said, it appears that the fork-tongues are moving toward the Mtair Dhafir’s oasis, so we should try to warn them:’ The youth looked westward. “I have extra camels, and they are all strong. We can ride hard, and perhaps we will reach the Mtair Dhafir ahead of the fork-tongues:’

The widow shook her head. “I’ve made certain promises to Ajaman. We must wait here until we can take his body to the oasis,” she said. “Then we can warn the Mtair Dhafir.”

Ruha was not anxious to return to her father’s tribe, but Kadumi was right to alert them to the danger traveling in their direction. Besides, even though she knew it would be impossible for her to stay with the Mtair Dhafir, there was no reason for them to turn out the young warrior, and the widow suspected that it would be easier to find a new tribe for herself if she left her young brotherin-law with the Mtair.

Accepting Ruha’s plan with a respectful nod, Kadumi cast a wary eye toward the southern sky. “Let us hope the strangers leave soon;’ he said. “If that storm catches us in its path, we will have to wait it out:”

Three

From beneath a fallen tent, Lander heard his guides approaching. Pitched on the southern end of the oasis pond, about a hundred feet from the camp, this tent was the first in which he had found no bodies. It was also a stark contrast to the clutter of the other tents, for there was nothing inside except a ground-loom, three cooking pots, a dozen shoulder bags of woven camel hair, and a few other household items. Apparently the inhabitants of this household had escaped the massacre. Lander wondered how.

“Lord, there are camels out in the sands!” called Bhadla, the elder of his two guides.

“I’m not a lord;’ Lander responded wearily, correcting the solicitous servant for the thousandth time. He found a twelve-inch tube made of a dried lizard skin and sniffed the greasy substance inside. It was foul-smelling butter.

“Whatever it is you wish to be called;’ Bhadla said, “I

hope you have finished whatever you are doing with those dead people. We must go:’

“Go?” Lander asked, crawling toward the voice. “What for?”

Like his guides, he had heard the camels roaring outside the oasis, but he had no intention of leaving. He had come to this wretched desert to find the Bedine; not flee from them.

Lander reached the edge of the tent and pushed his head and shoulders out from beneath it. The blazing sunlight reflected off the golden sands and stabbed painfully at his one good eye. “What’s this about going?”