Cielema looked away angrily, and her tense stance and folded arms spoke volumes about the fury inside her. Will felt a mounting sense of hopelessness.
'Could I speak to Hassan?' he asked, controlling the anger in his own voice, forcing himself to speak calmly. Umar considered the suggestion for a few seconds, then shrugged.
'There's no reason why not,' he said. 'But I warn you, it will do no good.'
Hassan was a young man. He couldn't have been much more than twenty years old. He had a pleasant face and a rather wispy beard that he was obviously trying to grow. His eyes were dark and humorous and in other circumstances, Will would probably have liked him.
Right now, he hated him with every fibre of his body.
The young Bedullin was grooming Tug when they found him in the horse lines. Umar and Cielema had escorted Will and as they passed through the camp, word had spread as to what was happening. Now a small crowd of onlookers followed behind them. It was noticeable that Will was now fully armed, with his saxe and throwing knife, and the massive longbow slung over his shoulder once more.
He heard one whispered comment from the people following behind him as he strode through the camp. 'I've heard the foreigner wants to fight Hassan for the horse!' someone said. And the more he thought about it, the more Will found he wasn't opposed to the idea.
Tug nickered happily when he saw Will approaching. He had recognised the sound of his master's stride. Hassan looked up from his work and smiled a welcome. He made the Arridi greeting gesture to Umar.
'Good morning, Aseikh Umar.' He looked at Will, saw the anger in the young man's face and wondered what was troubling him. 'I see the stranger has recovered. That's good.'
Tug tried to move towards his master but Hassan restrained him with a firm hand on his bridle. The little horse baulked and looked puzzled. He whinnied shrilly. The sound tore at Will's heart.
'Hassan,' Umar was saying, 'this is Will. Will, meet Hassan ib'n Talouk.'
Hassan made the polite greeting gesture again. Will responded with a stiff little bow. Once again, Hassan saw the anger and frowned, wondering what had caused it.
'You seem to have recovered, Will,' he said. 'I'm glad to see it.' He wondered what the foreigner was doing here. Hassan, after all, had not been responsible for finding him in the desert. He had only tagged along because the shaggy little horse that he had found some days previously had bolted after the Aseikh when he had ridden out to investigate the vultures. The horse must have caught some scent of his former owner, Hassan thought.
It was obvious that the little horse had formerly belonged to the young man they found close to death in the desert. But Hassan had no compunction about keeping Tug. Of course, he had no idea that was the horse's name. He had renamed him Last Light of Day, in memory of the time of day when he had found him. Finders owners was the law of the desert and Hassan and all the Bedullin had seen it exercised many times in the past. He had no reason to think that Will would dispute the fact.
He waited patiently now while the stranger worked to get control of his anger. Finally, Will said in a calm voice: 'Hassan, I would like my horse back, please.'
Hassan frowned. He looked to Umar for guidance but the Aseikh avoided his gaze. He smiled pleasantly at the stranger.
'But he's no longer your horse. He's mine.' He looked to Umar again. 'Have you not explained the law, Aseikh?'
Umar shifted uncomfortably. 'I have. But the stranger is a foreigner. In his land, the law is different.'
Hassan considered this information, then shrugged. 'Then I'm glad we're not in his land. Because I like this little horse.' He hesitated, seeing the unhappy expression on Umar's face. Cielema was beside him, he noticed. She was very stiff-backed and angry looking too.
'Aseikh Umar,' he said, 'do you wish me to return my horse to the stranger?'
Umar hesitated for a long moment. He knew that the young man held him in the highest regard. He idolised him, in fact. If Umar were to say that he did wish him to return the horse, Hassan would do so, out of respect for his Aseikh. And that was what stopped Umar from asking him to do so. He knew it would be using his influence unfairly. The horse was Hassan's, and Hassan was not from a wealthy family. It could be years before he could afford another horse.
'I won't ask you to do that,' he said finally, folding his arms across his chest. Cielema looked angrily at him but said nothing.
Hassan looked back to Will. 'I'm sorry,' he said. He turned away to continue with his grooming.
'I'll pay you for him!' Will said abruptly.
Hassan stopped grooming and looked back at him, 'You have gold?' he asked.
Will shook his head. 'I'll get it. I give you my word.'
Hassan smiled again. He was a polite young man and had no wish to be discourteous but the stranger simply didn't understand how things were done.
'I can't buy anything with words,' he said. He wished the stranger would stop being so pushy. But now that he was here, Hassan thought he might well find out something that had been bothering him about Last Light of Day.
'Can this horse be ridden?' he asked curiously. Every time he had tried to gain the saddle, the little grey had bucked him off. He was a mass of bruises.
Will nodded. 'I can ride him.'
Hassan led Tug forward and handed the bridle to Will. He wanted to see if it were possible.
'Show me,' he said. He watched as Will put a foot in the stirrup and swung easily into the saddle. Hassan waited a few seconds. Usually, about now, the little horse would explode into a leaping, twisting, bucking devil. But he stood calmly, ears pricked.
Sitting astride Tug, Will had a momentary urge to set him to a gallop and simply ride off. As if sensing it, the Bedullin tribesmen tightened the circle around him and the moment was lost. Besides, he thought, he had no idea where he was, no chart and his Northseeker was back by Umar's tent. Umar made an unmistakable gesture with his thumb and Will reluctantly dismounted. He put the bridle back into Hassan's waiting hand.
'So there is a secret to riding him,' Hassan said. 'You will have to tell me.'
He smiled, wishing the stranger would simply accept the inevitable. But he saw the refusal in the younger man's angry expression.
'You'll never ride him,' Will said.
Hassan shrugged. He looked inquiringly to Umar, wishing he would step in and end this unpleasantness. 'I'll find a way,' he said confidently. He was an excellent rider and horse handler, after all. He sensed that Will had come to a decision.
'If you won't let me pay you for him, I'll fight you for him,' Will said tersely. Hassan actually stepped back a pace, appalled at the lack of courtesy and basic good manners. This time Umar did step in, as a buzz ran round the watching crowd.
'There'll be no fighting!' he snapped. He glared at Will. 'What did you have in mind – to stand off fifty paces and kill him with that bow of yours before he comes in reach? That's not fighting. That's murder!'
Will dropped his eyes. Umar was right. But he was torn with anxiety over the loss of his horse. To find him again and then lose him like this was unbearable. Something Cielema had said was moving round in his mind, just out of reach of conscious thought. There was a way, he thought, if he could only…
'Besides, if I can't ride him, I'll use him as a pack pony. He's sturdy enough,' Hassan was saying.
That was the final straw. The idea that Tug, his intelligent, affectionate, wonderful Tug, would see out his days as a beast of burden was too much for Will to bear. Then Cielema's earlier statement came into clear focus and he knew there was one desperate way out of this.