Erak's Ransom

Selethen smiled, enjoying the quiet good humour and friendship of these foreigners.

But he hadn't come to chat. He coughed gently and saw that Halt's attention was drawn immediately.

'Something on your mind, Selethen?' Halt asked. They had passed the time when he might address the Wakir by his title or by the honorific 'Excellence'. Selethen leaned forward, smoothing the sand in front of him.

'As a matter of fact, yes. One of my corporals raised an interesting point while I was talking to the men.'

He drew his curved dagger and scratched an x in the sand. 'Let's say this is our position at the moment,' he said. Then he drew a zigzagging, curving line back from that position for a metre or so. 'And to get here, we've followed the Tualaghi while they zigzagged and diverted and backtracked.' He looked up at Halt. 'As you pointed out, this gave us the chance to catch up on them.'

Halt nodded. He waited to see what the Arridi was leading up to.

'Yet with all this chopping and changing and to-ing and fro-ing, the Arridi have kept coming back to one base course.' He slashed a straight line through the middle of the zigzagging line. 'And if they continue, it will take them here.' He gouged a point in the sand further along the projected line that indicated the Arridi base course.

'And what might be there?' Evanlyn asked. Selethen glanced up at her to answer.

'The Khor-Abash Wells,' he said. 'The best water source within two hundred kilometres.'

Horace frowned at the scrape marks in the sand. D'you think they need water?' he asked. Selethen turned his gaze upon the young man. His face was deadly serious when he replied.

'In the desert, you always need water,' he told him. 'A wise traveller never goes past the chance to refill his water skins.'

'Is there nowhere else they could do this?' Halt asked. Selethen tapped another mark into the sand with his dagger.

'There are the Orr-San Wells,' he said. 'They're smaller and not as reliable. And they're forty kilometres further to the west. If the Tualaghi are headed where I think they are, they're too far from their course.'

'Where do you think they're headed?' Halt asked him. For the most part, the others were content to let him do the talking.

'Here.' The knife stabbed again. 'To the north. The northern massif lies here.' He scraped a line from east to west. 'There are mountains, hills, cliffs, blind canyons. And several towns they can use as a base.'

Halt frowned. 'I thought you said the Tualaghi were nomads?'

Selethen nodded. 'They are. The towns are Arridi towns but the Tualaghi take them over and occupy them for a month, six weeks at a time. Then they head back into the desert again, or further into the hills.'

Halt rubbed his chin reflectively, studying the marks Selethen had made.

'So if you're right and they're headed for these wells, we could simply stop following the Tualaghi and cut across straight towards them? With any luck, we could be waiting for them when they arrive.'

Selethen met his gaze, held it and nodded. 'It's a gamble, of course,' he said. 'But I can't think of anywhere else they could be heading.'

Halt hesitated. He looked around his companions' faces. After all, Erak was a friend to all of them and if he followed Selethen's plan they risked losing track of him altogether. Silently, one after the other, they all nodded. He looked back at Selethen.

'Let's do it,' he said.

Chapter 29

Cielema helped Will to stand as he cast off the blanket and rose from the bed that had been placed under the trees.

She steadied him with a hand under his arm. He swayed groggily for a few seconds, then his head steadied and he stood more firmly. She nodded at him, satisfied that he was well on the way to recovery.

'A strong healthy body restores itself quickly with a little rest,' she said. 'Come and meet the mighty Umar.'

Again, there was an amused undertone to her words. Will realised his feet were bare and he couldn't see his boots. His cloak was gone as well. She saw him glance around.

'Your belongings are safe,' she told him. She saw him looking for something else and guessed what it might be. The little horse had stayed by his side through the day and night he had slept.

'The horse is with the rest of the herd. They are being watered and fed,' she told him. 'It took a while to convince him to leave your side.'

Will smiled at the thought. He'd had a moment of panic when he had thought perhaps he had dreamed that Tug was here. Reassured, he looked at his bare feet.

'My boots,' he said. 'I need my boots.'

But Cielema merely smiled and began to lead him towards the centre of the camp. 'The sand is soft.'

She was right. He walked beside her as she held his arm lightly in case he stumbled. The sand, not yet heated by the burning rays of the sun, was cool and soft underfoot. He became aware of a slight burning sensation on his arms and face. He looked down and saw that the red, burnt skin of his arms was glistening with some kind of oil compound.

'It's a salve our people have used for years. In a day or two your burns will heal,' she told him. He nodded to her.

'Thank you,' he said, and once more she smiled at him. He felt a sense of warmth towards this kind, humorous woman. Aseikh Umar was a lucky man, he thought.

As they passed through the camp, he noticed that people stopped to watch him – particularly the children. Several times he heard the words the foreigner muttered behind him. Such curiosity was only natural, he thought. But there were also smiles and gestures of welcome – the by-now familiar mouth-brow-mouth gesture – and he returned the smiles and nodded his head in greeting.

'Your people are very friendly,' he said. Cielema frowned thoughtfully.

'Not always,' she told him. 'As a rule, we like to keep to ourselves. But everyone is happy when someone is saved from the savage Skylord.' She gestured upwards and he realised that she meant the sun. He guessed it was a constant enemy and threat to these people.

They were close to the centre of the camp now and he could see a group of half a dozen men sitting round in a circle. All of them wore yellow and white checked kheffiyehs – like the one he had noticed on his rescuer. Cielema stopped him with a gentle pressure on his arm.

'We must wait,' she said. 'They are involved in important business.'

Her tone was serious, almost reverential. The two of them stopped, some five metres from the group of men. They were all leaning forward, staring intently at an upright rock placed in the middle of the circle. Will thought they must be praying, although no words were being said.

Then, as one, they all slumped back with a roar of disappointment.

'It flew away!' said one figure and Will recognised the voice. It was the man who had rescued him. 'Almost to the top and it flew away!'

He looked questioningly to Cielema and she rolled her eyes at him. 'Can you believe it?' she said. 'Grown men gambling on two flies crawling up a stone!'

'Gambling?' he said. 'I thought they were praying.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'To them, it's much the same thing. The Bedullin will bet on just about anything. It's almost a religion.' She urged him closer as the circle began to break up and most of the men moved away. 'Aseikh Umar!' she called. 'Your visitor has woken.'

Her husband stood and turned to them with a wide smile. Will recognised the powerful face and the big, crooked nose. Umar stepped towards him, both hands out. He went to seize Will's forearms in greeting but his wife hissed warningly.

'Careful, buffoon! His arms are burnt!'

Realising his mistake, the Aseikh held both hands in the air in a kind of blessing gesture instead. 'Of course! Of course! Please, come and sit. Tell me your name. I am… '

'He knows who you are. You are the great fly-gambling Umar. His name is Will.'

Umar grinned easily at his wife. Will had the impression that this sort of byplay went on between the two of them all the time. Then he looked back at Will.