X
When she wanted something badly Narriman got her yay. Mowfik surrendered in the end. Once he gave in, Al J^ihez grudgingly endorsed her training.
Narriman pursued it with a dogged determination that, in time, compelled the respect of Al Jahez's men. She arrived early and left late, and worked harder than any boy.
She was hard. She ignored bruises and aches. Her instructors called her Vixen and backed away when the deadly fire ros(e in her eyes.
One day she browbeat Mowfik into taking her to the captain. She told Al Jahez, "I'm ready. I leave tomorrow."
Al Jahez addressed her father. "Will you permit this, Mowfik? A woman under arms. It's against nature."
Mowfik shrugged.
Narriman said, "Don't stall me. Father's done that for weeks. I'll go with or without your blessing."
"Mowfik, forbid this madness."
"Captain, you heard her. Shall I put her in irons?"
Al Jahez looked at her as if he would cage her for her own protection. "Then marry her to me, Mowfik."
Though struck speechless, Narriman understood. Al Jahez wanted the legal rights of marriage. So he could forbid, she could call upon the law if she persisted. If she rebelled they could hunt her like a runaway slave.
Pure terror gripped her. She stared at her father, saw him tempted.
"Captain, heart and soul cry for me to accept. But I can't. A stronger voice bids me let her go. No matter how it hurts me."
Al Jahez sighed, defeated. "As you will. Child. Bring your father no sorrow or shame." He scowled at her expression. No sorrow or shame of your own doing. That which is done b,y a shaghun isn't of your doing. They're like the great storms in the erg. A man—or woman—can but bow his head till they pass. Come. The priests will bless your quest."
They waited in their fine ceremonial raiment. Al Jahez's eyes twinkled. "You see? Even the old captain begins to krow you."
"Perhaps." She wondered if she was too predictable.
The ceremony was less important to her than to Mowfik and Al Jahez. She endured it for their sakes. She would ride with Karkur.
"Now then," Al Jahez said. "One more thing and I'll harass you no more. Gamel. The box."
A priest presented a sandalwood box. Al Jahez opened it. Within, on white silk, lay a pendant. It was a small, pale green stone not unlike many she had seen on the ground. Al Jahez said, "Perhaps this will be gift enough to repay you, Mowfik." And to Narriman, "Child, the Disciple teaches that even the acquiescence to sorcery is a sin, but men have to be practical. The Disciple himself has shaghun advisers.
"The stone is an amulet. It will warn you if you are near one with the Power. It will begin to grow cooler when you're a mile away. When you're very near it will shed a green light. It's the best weapon I can give you."
Narriman tried to control the shakes. She failed. Tears broke loose. She hugged the captain. He was so startled he jumped away, but his face betrayed his pleasure.
"Go with the Lord, Little Fox. And Karkur if it pleases you."
"Thank you," she said. "For everything. Especially for being Father's friend."
Al Jahez snorted. "Ah, child. What are we without friends? Just severed heads rolling across the sands."
XI
Narriman looked back just before Al Jahez's fortress passed out of sight. "That's yesterday." She looked southward, toward the great erg. "There lies tomorrow. Eight hundred miles." She gripped her reins, touched the amulet between her breasts, her weapons, the bag that Mowfik had filled with war booty when he thought she was not looking. He had done everything to dissuade her, and everything to help her.
She looked back again, wondering if their concepts of manhood and womanhood would compel them to send guardians.
"Go, Faithful," she told her mare. The fortress disappeared. Her heart fluttered. She was going. Alone. A severed head, rolling across the sand, cut off from her body—with a little help from the rider.
She pictured him as he had been the day he had taken Misr. She got that warm, moist feeling, but not as powerfully. Hatred had begun to quench that fire.
She wished there was a way a woman could do to a man what he had done to her.
The wilderness was all that she had been warned. It was bitter, unforgiving, and those who dwelt there reflected its harshness. Twice she encountered men who thought her a gift from heaven.
The first time she outrode them. The second, cornered, she fought. And was surprised to find herself the victor.
Though she had told herself she was the equal of any man, she'd never believed it in her heart. Could the wisdom of centuries be wrong? She rode away more mature, more confident.
The great erg was more vast than she remembered. It was hotter and more harrowing. She had no one and nothing to distract her.
"The severed head has to roll without its body." She put her thoughts into words often. Who was to hear?
She had no choice but to enter Wadi el Kuf. They were shocked to see her, a woman in man's wear, hung about with weapons, talking as tough as any wandering freesword. Even the whores were scandalized. Nobody knew what to make of her. She bought water, asked questions, and rode on before they regained their balance.
Someone came after her, but one arrow altered his ambitions.
She rode with dust devils as companions. The al Muburak believed dust devils were ifrits dancing. She called out, but they did not respond. After a few days she began to think oddly, to suspect them of being spies for the Masters. She mocked and taunted them. They ignored her.
Finally, she checked the amulet. Not only did it not shed light, it was not cool. "So much for old stories."
She rode out of the erg and paused at the oasis she had visited coming north. There, as at Wadi el Kuf, she asked about a man in black traveling with a child. There, too, no one had seen such a traveler.
"Of course," she muttered. "And maybe they're telling the truth. But he's human. He had to stop at Wadi el Kuf." But he need not have appeared as a shaghun out of the Jebal, need he?
No matter. She knew his destination.
Fourteen days passed. She rode into Wadi al Hamamah.
The al Muburak were not there. It was the wrong time of year. They were farther west, stalking wild camels in hopes of adding to their herd.
She camped in the usual place, and when night fell she went to Karkur.
After the proper greetings and obeisances, she told her story in case Mowfik was wrong about his being able to follow an al Muburak anywhere. Karkur sat and listened, firelight sending shadows dancing across his ugly face.
She said, "Father says you aren't as great as I thought. That
others are more powerful so sometimes you don't dare help. But if there's a way you can, help do what I have to do."
She stared at the image. The image stared back. Time passed. The fire died. The moon rose, filled the Circle with shifting shadows.