'Best keep that in mind when we get within striking distance,' he said. 'We don't want them to know we're behind them.'
They pushed on through the late afternoon, until the sun was virtually on the western horizon and the light was too uncertain for tracking. Selethen had noticed that the Rangers had increased their pace, sometimes trotting and even cantering when the trail was easier to follow. The sturdy horses they rode showed no discomfort at travelling faster than the slow walk they had been reduced to formerly. His own mount was unbothered by the change in pace, but he was a thoroughbred, from a long line of some of the finest horses in Arridi. Selethen knew that some of the lesser horses ridden by his troopers would have baulked at the increased tempo and he looked more carefully at the Ranger's shaggy mounts. Alongside his beautifully formed and groomed Arridi horse they appeared nondescript and shabby. But they had enormous endurance and amazing speed, he thought. In the short term, he believed that his stallion, Lord of the Sun, would probably outpace them. But then their ability to maintain speed kilometre after kilometre would probably begin to tell.
Perhaps I should find out more about these horses, he thought, as he considered the advantages of having cavalry equipped with such uniformly fine mounts.
The main party was well out of sight by the time the three stopped for the night.
They unsaddled, tended to the horses and made camp. Selethen set about gathering firewood for a small signal fire. Halt and Gilan moved to help him but he waved them aside.
'You've been working all day,' he said. 'I've been a passenger.'
He saw the slightly surprised look that passed between them and felt secretly pleased that he had earned their gratitude and, perhaps, a little respect. They were not men to stand on ceremony, he thought, and they knew that true authority came from sharing the hard work, not attempting to place oneself above it. He soon had a fire going and it threw a bright circle of light around them. It would be visible in the darkness for quite a distance, he knew. The following party would have no trouble finding them in the dark.
'That's another thing we'll have to watch as we get closer,' Halt said. From five or six kilometres away, the fire would be a bright pinpoint. And before the moon rose, its glow might well be visible in the sky from much further away.
They ate when, the main party finally joined them, three hours after nightfall. As the troops relaxed after their meal, drinking coffee and talking quietly, Selethen moved among them, as a good commander should. He would stop by each small group, dropping to one knee and talking quietly, appraising them of the progress made during the day, checking to see if they or their mounts were having any problems.
Halt and Gilan had been joined by Svengal and the other Araluans. They watched Selethen approvingly as they enjoyed the rich Arridi coffee. They knew the Wakir must be tired and longing to sprawl comfortably on the still-warm ground with a cup of coffee. But he continued to move among his men, with a joke here for an old companion or a word of advice or concern there for a young recruit.
Finally, the tall, white-robed figure completed his rounds. Somewhat to their surprise, he walked towards the spot where they were sitting.
'May I join you?' he said.
Halt made a welcoming gesture. 'Please do.'
Horace began to scramble to his feet. 'I'll get you a cup of coffee,' he said, but Selethen waved him back down.
'Sidar will see to that,' he replied and they realised that one of the troopers, anticipating his leader's needs, was bringing a cup from the single small fire. As Selethen sat down, he sighed contentedly, then accepted the cup from his soldier.
He sipped deeply, then sighed again – the contented sigh that comes from sore, tired muscles that are finally allowed to rest.
'What would we do without kafay?' he asked them, using the Arridi name, and the original name, for the drink.
'If you're a Ranger, very little,' Horace replied and they all grinned. Selethen had already observed that the Rangers were as keen on the drink as any Arridi. The tall warrior seemed to share the same near-addiction, whereas the Skandian usually grumbled over his coffee in the evening, wishing instead for the dark ale of his homeland. As far as Svengal was concerned, that was the only beverage worth drinking after a long day.
'Don't know how you all keep going without a good drink of ale,' he said. 'Settles the mind in the evening, ale does.'
Evanlyn smiled at him.. 'Feeling homesick, Svengal?' she asked. The big pirate studied her for a moment, considering his reply.
'To tell the truth, your majesty,' he said, 'I'm not built for this climate.'
Svengal insisted on calling Evanlyn your majesty. This was in spite of the fact that she had asked him repeatedly to call her Evanlyn or Cassandra. She had even pointed out that as a princess, she should correctly be addressed as your highness, not your majesty. But Svengal persisted. She suspected that it was a not-too-subtle form of Skandian leg-pull and an assertion of the Skandian egalitarianism that rejected the idea of royal lineage and hereditary kings pre-destined to rule by the mere fact of their birth. Skandians elected their leaders for their ability and popularity, she knew. And, looking back on some of the kings that Araluen had put up with in its history, she wasn't altogether sure that the Skandians didn't have the better idea.
'You're not built for riding, either,' Horace added. 'I'd say more saddle sore than homesick.'
Svengal sighed ruefully, shifting his buttocks for the twentieth time to find a more comfortable spot.
'It's true,' he said. 'I've been discovering parts of my backside I never knew existed.'
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.