I did achieve one minor victory early on. Our kidnappers had dragged me out of my tent in my nightgown, and I was exceedingly aware of this fact at every turn. I soon hit upon the tactic of huddling under one of the carpets, demanding in a loud voice to be provided with suitable covering against the eyes of all these strange men. Before long Wife took up my cause; it was the one point upon which we were united. I do not think back on the woman with any fondness, and I doubt it was my well-being which motivated her to speak; but I am grateful to her for that small measure of support, whatever the reasoning behind it.
So I was given a proper robe and headscarf, and even a belt—which Wife threw at me with a comment whose words I could not understand, but whose tone implied that a woman who went unbelted might engage in any sort of impropriety. The items were tattered and less than clean, but I counted them as a trophy nonetheless.
We gained another minor respite from the steps they took to secure us. The Banu Safr moved camp the very next day, to a different area with fresh pasturage, and Tom and I were loaded into a howdah on the back of one of the camels. With the sides tied shut around us, we could neither see where we were going, nor be observed by any scouts; but we were also sheltered from the sun. As stuffy as it became in there, I preferred it to the alternative, which might have killed Tom outright.
We were two days in transit to the next site, and Tom predicted that the Banu Safr would attempt to hide their trail, making it difficult for our companions to find us. By then I was fairly certain we had been taken in a different direction from the stolen camels, increasing my suspicion that the raid had been a diversion from this, their true mission. But who were the Banu Safr waiting for?
If I could not escape, then I might at least hope to answer that question.
Escaping would not be easy, and I hesitated to rush into a poorly planned attempt, for fear that doing so would only make matters worse. No one ever left sharp objects within our reach, with which Tom and I might cut our tethers. Even once we were free of those bonds, we would have to leave the tent without anyone noticing, or else overpower our guards without a disturbance. We ought to steal two camels: we could ride double, as we had on the way here, but that would tire our mount and make it easier for pursuers to catch us. I had grand visions of sending the entire herd of camels stampeding off into the wilderness, forcing the Banu Safr to choose between their captives and their livelihoods; but I did not know if camels were prone to stampeding, and even if they were, it would be impossible to drive off enough of them at once.
Hunting for openings we might exploit, I found myself noticing other things. The rugs that carpeted the floor of the tent, for example, were clearly new: their nap was still thick, their colours unstained and undimmed. When Wife cooked meals, she used brass pots that lacked the scrapes and small dents of older tools. She wore quite a bit of gold jewelry as well—cheap stuff, as even I could tell, but she seemed very proud of it, and during our move to the new campsite I saw her displaying it to another woman, in the manner of one showing off a new acquisition.
All of it pointed toward wealth recently obtained. It might have been a reward to Husband and Brother for their valour; I rather thought most of it predated the kidnapping, but the Banu Safr had been causing trouble for a while, and sheikhs are supposed to be generous with their followers. But where had the sheikh gotten that wealth? This tribe lacked the city connections that helped enrich their brethren. They might have been extorting “brotherhood” from villages in settled areas; that is the term given to the protection money that was once common, before the current political arrangements came into being. (Indeed, one could argue that the tax money the city sheikhs now receive and distribute to their tribes is still “brotherhood,” just given a different name. But that is neither here nor there.) Their rebellious status meant the Banu Safr scraped by in marginal territory, however, and I could not imagine the villages within their reach had any great wealth to offer. Where, then, was the money coming from?
“Perhaps,” I muttered to Tom when I had the chance to share this with him, “it is coming from whoever is coming for us. Whoever has put them to the task of interfering with our work.” There was no longer any question in my mind as to whether the raids had been solely a product of tribal enmity, or spurred by the attempt to capture and breed dragons. If the Banu Safr only hated the Aritat, they would not have bothered kidnapping Scirling naturalists.
“I’ve seen a surprising number of guns, too,” Tom murmured back. “All throughout the camp. They don’t look very new… but where are these people getting them?”
He and I did not have many opportunities to talk. Our captors became angry when we conversed in Scirling—or, for that matter, in any language they did not understand—and in Akhian, of course, they could supervise everything we said. But there were times each day when Wife stepped out to fetch water or handle some other domestic matter, and then we could whisper briefly. We debated trying to leave during one of those absences, if we could break our cords. Even with clothing, however, I would not long be mistaken for an Akhian woman; and Tom, of course, was still clad in only the trousers he had worn to sleep. (They gave him a robe and a headscarf when he went out; but with his burns, this was not a mercy.) At night, we might stand a better chance outside the tent… but inside the tent, night meant three enemies sleeping at our elbows.
Unfortunately, we could not afford to wait for a good opportunity to escape. Several days after our arrival in the new campsite, Tom overheard a snatch of alarming conversation.
“We’re to be handed off,” he whispered to me when he came back to the tent, the words harsh and quick. “I don’t know who’s coming for us, but—”
But whoever it was, we almost certainly did not want to be in their clutches. I bit my lip, thinking. “Tonight—”
Tom shook his head. “Sooner. Make them take you out, and run.”
They never allowed us both to leave the tent at the same time. Tom had already made that calculation, though, and put a finger on my lips when I would have refused to leave him behind. “I’ll distract them,” he said, and then we could say no more; Brother was coming back into the tent, and he already looked at us with suspicion.
I wanted to argue with Tom. Even with a distraction, I stood very little chance of escaping. But I recognized the set of his jaw all too well. Even if I had the freedom to say everything on my mind, I would not persuade him. All I would do was squander this opportunity, slim as it was.
To allay Brother’s suspicions, I waited a short time, quelling the urge to fidget. I could not delay long, though, for fear Wife would return; if she did, my semblance of a plan would fall to dust. Ordinarily she accompanied either Brother or Kidnapper when they took me out to attend to biological necessities, which I then performed under her watchful eye. I had no desire, and likely insufficient skill, to subdue her. Seeing opportunity in her absence, I spoke up, indicating an urgent need to leave the tent.
Brother did not want to take me without her supervision. But I insisted, until finally he spat what sounded like a curse and unknotted my tether, leading me out into the morning sunlight.
He took me out past the edge of camp, to the area used for such matters. I gave him a freezing glare when it seemed he might stay by my side; he looked disgusted and turned his back. It was not enough. If I tried to send him out of sight, though, over the low rise that separated us from the camp, he would become suspicious. I found myself eyeing a rock on the ground a little distance away, and thinking very unpleasant thoughts.