It took more time to do it that way. But he knew it might save his life in the end.
It was an hour later when he reached the Tualaghi camp. As before, he dropped to the ground before the crest of the final ridge, and inched forward, the cowl of his cloak pulled up to shade the white oval of his face.
As his eyes rose above the ridge line, he whistled silently to himself. The camp was much bigger than he had expected. They had been following a party of around eighty men. There must have been more than two hundred in this camp, and twice as many fires as he might have expected – another reason why the firelight had been so obvious.
Either they've rejoined a main party, he thought, or met up with another one.
It didn't really matter which, he realised. The fact was, there were nearly four times as many men as they had with them. That meant a direct attack was virtually out of the question.
While he digested this fact, his eyes searched the camp for some sign of Erak. It didn't take long to find him. The Oberjarl's burly figure stood out among the slightly built desert nomads. As might be expected, he was virtually in the centre of the camp, where he would be hardest for a potential rescuer to reach. The Tualaghi had left their prisoner in the open air, while they spent the night in small, low tents, similar to the ones Selethen's Arridi troops used. Erak was left to make himself as comfortable as possible in the cold night air, with only a blanket for warmth. As Gilan watched, the big Skandian re-arranged himself on the stony ground and the chains securing him became more obvious. Gilan frowned, trying to see what Erak was attached to, then realised that he was chained to not one, but two camels that were lying nearby. He shook his head in frustration. Even after a brief time in Arrida, he had learned how stubborn the hump-backed beasts could be. Chaining Erak between two of them would make it virtually impossible for him to escape. And the bad-tempered animals would provide a noisy warning if anyone tried to tamper with his chains.
So, no direct assault and no way to creep in and release him, Gilan thought. This was getting trickier by the minute.
He had no idea what alerted him to the slight movement. He sensed it more than saw it – right out at the periphery of his vision. Something, or someone, had moved on the long ridge he was occupying. But whoever or whatever it might be was four or five hundred metres to the left of his position, where the ridge curved back to the right. He looked directly at the spot now and saw nothing in the uncertain night light. Then he looked to one side ofthe position, to allow his peripheral vision a chance to see if anything were there. This was an old trick for seeing movement in the dark. The peripheral vision was more reliable.
Now he was sure of it. Something moved. The movement was an abrupt one and that was what alerted him to it. A small shape had slipped back below the level of the ridge. He looked directly at the spot again but there was nothing to be seen. A sentry? He didn't think so. There was no reason for a sentry to behave in such a clandestine manner. And there was no sign of any other sentries this far out from the perimeter. That had been the first thing Gilan had checked when he made his approach. It made no sense for one sentry to be placed where he had seen the movement. Perhaps it had been a small nocturnal animal? It was possible, but he doubted it. Rangers were trained to listen to their instincts.
Gilan's told him that someone else had been observing the Tualaghi camp.
Chapter 31
Will felt the blood rushing to his face. 'Your horse?' he said, his voice a little shriller than he intended. 'What are you talking about? You know he's mine.'
Cielema was frowning at her husband. But the Aseikh made a helpless gesture with both hands. He was not happy about the situation but there was nothing he could do about it.
'He was yours,' he admitted. 'But now he's ours. That's the way we do things.'
'You steal horses?' Will accused him and he saw the embarrassment on the other man's face change to anger at the words.
'I will ignore that insult because you're ignorant of the way we do things in the desert,' he said. 'Don't make the mistake of repeating it.'
Cielema stepped towards her husband. 'Surely, Umar, you could make an exception… ' she began but Umar stopped her with an upraised hand. He turned back to Will, seeing the anger seething in every inch of the slightly built youth's body.
'It's not up to me to make that exception.' He turned to Will and continued. 'You must understand our ways. You did own that horse originally. No one contests that.'
'How could you?' Will said. 'There was a spare arrow case on the saddle, carrying arrows identical to that one.' He gestured to the arrow that had transfixed the sand cobra, still lying on the ground at their feet. It was a calculated move. He wanted Umar to be reminded that Will had just saved his grandson's life.
'Yes. We agree. And it was obvious when we found you that the horse knew you. But that's beside the point. You must have allowed him to escape.'
Will was taken aback by the statement. He still blamed himself for letting go of Tug's bridle during the storm. 'Well, yes… in a way, I suppose. But there was a storm, and I couldn't… '
He got no further as Umar seized the advantage. 'And in our law, if you release a horse and it runs off, it is no longer your horse. Whoever finds it owns it. And Hassan ib'n Talouk found it. It was wandering, nearly dead of thirst. He rescued it and cared for it and now it is his horse.'
Will shook his head. His voice was bitter. 'I don't believe this. I nearly killed myself looking for Tug and you tell me this… Hassan Ib'n Talouk… owns him now because he found him?'
'That's exactly what I'm telling you,' Umar said.
'Umar, we owe this young man,' Cielema said, a pleading note in her voice. 'Surely there is something you can do?'
Umar shook his head. 'Yes, we owe him. And he owes us his life, if you recall. We are even on that score. He has said as much himself.' Unhappy as he might be with the situation, Umar felt obliged to respect his own tribal law. 'Look, if I had found the horse, I would happily return him to you. But it's not up to me. Hassan has taken a fancy to him. He's fascinated by him and he wants to keep him.'
'He'll never be able to ride him!' Will shouted. Ranger horses were trained so that they could never be stolen by another rider. Before mounting for the first time, a rider had to speak a secret code phrase to the horse.
'Yes. We've noticed that. There is obviously some secret to riding that horse. Unfortunately that has intrigued Hassan even more. I doubt he will give him up.'
'Then I'll buy him!' Will said.
Umar raised an eyebrow. 'With what? You had no money on you when we found you. Have you somehow obtained some in the last few hours?'
'I'll owe it to you. You have my word. I'll pay it. Name a price!' He knew he could get Evanlyn to back his promise. But again, Umar was shaking his head.
'How will you pay us? How will you ever find us again? We're nomads, Will. We don't deal in future promises. We deal in gold and silver and we deal in right now when we trade. Do you have gold or silver? No, you don't.' He answered his own question with an air of finality. Then, his tone softened a little.
'Look, our laws say that when we find a man dying of thirst in the desert, we must do everything in our power to save him. We could have just ridden by and left you to die. But our law says otherwise. By the same token, another law says that a horse found wandering becomes the finder's property. You can't take advantage of one law and deny the other.'
'This is ridiculous and embarrassing, Umar,' Cielema said angrily. 'You will speak to Hassan. You will tell him that he must return the horse to Will. You are the Aseikh. You can do this.'