'The only one I have,' he said. 'More water?'
'Please,' said Will and that wonderful water was back in his mouth again.
And then, wonder of wonders, another face pushed its way into his field of vision, nudging the bearded man aside, nearly causing him to spill the water. For a moment, Will's face was unshaded and the glaring sun caused him to wince away and blink. Then shadow fell across him again and he opened his eyes.
'Tug?' he said, not daring to believe it. And this time, as the horse whinnied in recognition, there was no doubt about it. It was Tug, standing over him, nuzzling him, nibbling him with his big soft lips and trying to be as close to him as was possible.
He butted against Will's shoulder in the old familiar way. The big eyes looked deep into Will's half-closed ones.
See what trouble you get into when I'm not around? they said.
The bearded man looked from the horse to the blistered, burnt face of the foreigner.
'I take it you two know each other,' he said.
He was half conscious but he was aware of someone spreading a soothing, cooling balm onto the burnt skin of his face and arms. And there was more water, all he could drink – so long as he drank it slowly. He had learned by now. If he tried to drink too quickly, the water was taken away. Drink slowly and it kept flowing. As several people tended to him, he was aware of Tug, always there, always close by. Will drifted in and out of consciousness and each time he awoke, he had a momentary fear that he had been dreaming and that Tug was still missing. Then he would see that familiar, worried face and breathe more easily.
Vaguely, he registered the fact that he had been placed on a litter that was tilted at about thirty degrees from the horizontal. Perhaps, it was strapped behind a horse, he thought. Then, as he began to, move and he felt the strange slow rhythm of the animal dragging him behind it, he revised his estimate. It must be a camel, he thought. The unusual, long-legged swaying gait transmitted itself through the wood poles and webbing base of the litter to his body.
Someone thoughtfully placed a shade cloth to protect his face and eyes from the glare and he dozed as they proceeded across the desert. He had no idea which direction they were taking. He didn't care. He was alive and Tug was a few metres away, walking slowly beside him, alert to any sign that he might be in danger again.
They could have travelled for half an hour or half a day as far as he knew. Later, he found out that he had ridden on the litter for just over an hour and a half before they reached. his rescuers' camp. He was lifted from the litter and placed on a bedroll in the shade under a stand of palm trees. The light filtered gently down through the fronds and he thought he had never been so comfortable in his life. The skin was sore on his face and arms, but more of the soothing balm eased the pain.
Tug stood nearby, watching him attentively.
'I'm fine, Tug,' he told the horse. He was relieved that his voice seemed to be getting back to normal. He was still a little hoarse but at least now he could form words properly. He smiled ruefully at the thought of the words 'a little hoarse'. He remembered making that joke with Arrow – it seemed like months ago.
He wondered where Arrow had got to. He hadn't seen the Arridi horse since he had woken again. He hoped he wasn't lost.
'Got to stop losing horses,' he said drowsily. 'Bad habit.' Then he slept.
Will woke from a deep, refreshing sleep. He was lying on his back, looking up at palm fronds.
He was in a large oasis. He could heard the sound of trickling water close by and the movement and voices of many people. As he swept his gaze around, he saw a camp of low tents had been set up. The oasis, and the camp, sprawled for several hundred metres in either direction. There was a large central pool of water, and other outlying pools and wells surrounding it. People moved about, carrying urns of water from the wells, preparing cooking fires or tending to the herds of goats, camels and horses that he could see. From the size of the camp, he estimated that there must be several hundred people, all dressed in long, flowing robes. The men wore kheffiyehs and the women had long scarves draped over their heads, leaving the face uncovered but protecting the head and neck.
'You're awake.'
The voice came from behind him and he twisted round to see the speaker. A small, slender woman, aged perhaps forty, was smiling down at him. She carried a flat basket of fruit and bread and meat, and a flask of water as well. She dropped gracefully to her knees beside him and set the basket down, gesturing for him to help himself.
'You should eat,' she said. 'I'm sure you haven't eaten in some time.'
He studied her for a moment or two. Her oval face was evenly featured and friendly. Her eyes were dark and there was an unmistakable light of humour in them. When she smiled, which she did now, the face seemed to be transformed into one of great beauty. Her skin was a light coffee colour. Her headscarf and robe were a bright yellow. There was something motherly and welcoming about her, he thought.
'Thank you,' he said. He took a piece of fruit and bit into it, feeling the juice spurt inside his mouth, bringing his own saliva alive. He revelled in the feeling, remembering how, just a short while ago, his tongue and throat had been swollen and dry. He had a vague memory of someone repeatedly placing the neck of a water skin to his mouth and admonishing him to drink, but slowly now while he had been sleeping. There was a dreamlike quality to it but he realised it had been real. His rescuers must have thoroughly rehydrated him without actually waking him.
He took another sip of water. He wanted to ask where he was but the question seemed so banal. Instead, he indicated the people moving through the camp.
'What people are these?' he asked. She smiled at him.
'We are the Khoresh Bedullin,' she told him. 'We are desert people. My name is Cielema.' She made the lips-brow-lips hand gesture he had seen Selethen use. He didn't feel up to carrying it off in response. Instead, he made an awkward half bow from his sitting position.
'How do you do, Cielema. My name is Will.'
'Be welcome to our camp, Will,' she said. As they were speaking, he had suddenly realised how hungry he was and he helped himself to some of the delicious flat bread in the basket. There were also slices of cold roast meat and he took one, wrapping it in the bread and taking a large bite. The meat was delicious, perfectly grilled so that it was still flowing with juices, with a slightly smoky taste from the fire and lightly flavoured with delicious spices. He chewed and swallowed, then tore off another huge piece of bread and a second slice of meat, filling his mouth and chewing rapturously. Cielema smiled gently.
'There can't be too much wrong with any young man with such an appetite,' she said and he hesitated, thinking that perhaps he had shown bad manners in wolfing his food this way. She laughed and made a gesture for him to continue.
'You're hungry,' she said. 'And such enthusiasm is a compliment to my cooking.'
Gratefully, he ate more of the food. When the pangs of hunger were stilled, he brushed crumbs off his lap and looked around again.
'The man who found me,' he asked. 'Where is he?'
She gestured to the middle of the camp site. He realised that he had been placed on the fringe of the camp, probably to assure his uninterrupted rest.
'That was Umar ib'n Talud,' she told him. 'He's surely involved in very weighty affairs right now. He is our Aseikh.'