Lander tried to keep alert by studying the Mahwa caravan. At first glance, it seemed a disorganized herd, but the Harper quickly realized that there was an order to the jumble. Riding far ahead and far behind the tribe, mounted on the fastest camels and well beyond sight, were the youngest and most daring warriors. Like Kadumi, they were scouts who would alert the khowwan to any dangers lurking ahead—or approaching from behind, Lander added silently, remembering the Zhentarim.
Ringing the tribe at a thousand yards were the rest of the warriors, accompanied by their eldest sons, sleek saluki hunting hounds, and falcons. As they traveled, they periodically unleashed a dog or bird, or broke into a spirited gallop themselves. At first Lander thought they were pointlessly wasting energy on high-spirited displays of riding and animal mastery, then he noticed that after these bursts of activity the sons returned to the center of the caravan with a hare, lizard, or some other meat for the evening’s pot. Once he even saw a proud boy riding with a small gazelle slung over his camel’s back.
The boys delivered the game to their mothers and sisters, who were riding in the security of the caravan center. The women of the wealthiest warriors rode in elaborately decorated haouadjejs, but most of the families could not afford the extra camel’s wool needed to make one of the box-shaped litters.
As Lander studied this part of the caravan, he realized that the Mahwa were moving at what must have been an extraordinary pace for the khowwan. Every camel was carrying at least one person, sometimes two. Even the baggage camels had small children perched atop their bundles, their little hands tightly gripping the leather thongs that held the cargo in place.
Lander turned to Ruha, who had been riding at his side all morning. “Do Bedine children usually ride the baggage camels?”
Ruha laughed. “No. The women and children usually walk to avoid tiring the camels. Sheikh Sa’ar is anxious to stay ahead of the Zhentarim, though, so everybody must ride. With luck, we will cover forty miles today.”
Lander glanced back over his shoulder. The ebony basin holding Colored Waters had already disappeared. For dozens of miles, all he could see was dun-colored barrenness. In the far distance, perhaps a hundred miles or more away, a low range of mountains rose out of the glassy heat waves drifting off the desert floor.
“I hope it will be enough,” he said.
“What makes you think it won’t be?” Ruha asked.
“Have you ever heard of asabis?” Lander asked, turning his attention to his riding companion’s sultry eyes.
She furrowed her brow. “No. The name means ‘eaters-of-parents’.”
“Maybe you haven’t heard of them, but you’ve seen them,” Lander replied. He repeated Sa’ar’s story to her, then added, “I have no idea how the Zhentarim made contact with them, but it appears our enemies already have one group of allies here in the desert.”
“That explains why they’re so quick to destroy the tribes who won’t cooperate,” she concluded. “They’re more concerned about eliminating potential enemies than about making allies.”
Lander nodded, impressed by the young woman’s grasp of the situation. “Their intentions are worse than I thought,” he said. “With the asabis, they have the allies they need to take military control of Anauroch. They only need the Bedine to use as slaves—in the worst sense of the word.”
“Did you ever doubt that?” Ruha asked.
The young widow rode unusually close to the Harper’s side for the rest of the day. She remained quiet and thoughtful, but Lander had the vague sensation that she enjoyed being next to him. The feeling was pleasant enough, but it also gave the Harper a giddy sense of excitement that discomforted him.
Late in the afternoon, Lander looked down and noticed that the ground had changed from barren, dun-colored dirt to a flat, endless mosaic of coin-sized stones. The pebbles were mostly red in color, varying in hue from blond to dark brown. All had been polished glass smooth, which gave the desert floor a fiery, pebbled appearance that seemed more appropriate to the caldera they had left behind than the open flats through which they were passing.
Leaning over to study the burnished stones, Lander asked, “Was there a lake here once?”
Ruha laughed. “Don’t be foolish. This is At’ar’s Looking Glass,” she said, glancing toward the sun. “Kozah hopes to win his wife’s heart back by keeping it swept clean with his wind so that she can admire her reflection in the pebbles.”
Lander looked at the heavens above. Though the sun was white and the earth red, he could see why the Bedine associated the fiery ground with their cruel sun goddess. “Yes, I see it now,” he said, sitting upright again.
Ruha chuckled at his ignorance as they moved onward. They rode across At’ar’s Looking Glass for the rest of the afternoon, and Lander was soon convinced that burnished sea of stones continued forever. At first, it had seemed eerily beautiful. Now it seemed infuriatingly uniform.
Two hours before dusk, the entire tribe turned ninety degrees north. Lander searched the horizon for some landmark he had missed, but there was nothing but the fiery rock flats. Shadowed closely by Ruha, he urged his camel forward until he rode abreast of Sa’ar.
The sheikh still appeared to be asleep, but when the Harper approached Sa’ar opened one eye. He glanced first at Lander, then at Ruha, and raised an eyebrow at the pair’s close proximity. “Yes? Is there something I can do for you?”
“Why are we turning?” Lander asked. “Are we close to the Well of the Chasm?”
Sa’ar shook his head. “No. We are turning so we are not in the Zhentarim’s path when they overtake us tonight.”
“What?” Lander nearly shrieked the question. He could not help thinking of how hard he had been trying to get ahead of them for the last few weeks.
The sheikh shrugged. “We cannot move as fast as the invaders. The asabis, at least, could overtake us tonight. Our only choice is to be out of the way when they pass.”
“What about your allies at the Well of the Chasm?” Lander asked.
Sa’ar smiled. “Don’t worry about them. The Zhentarim will not arrive before the messenger I sent ahead,” the sheikh replied. “The Raz’hadi will stall the invaders until we arrive.”
“You’ll still be outnumbered. What will you do then?”
Sa’ar only shrugged. “I can’t speak for Utaiba and his people,” he said. “We’ll see what happens when we get there.”
“Sheikh Sa’ar is correct, Lander,” Ruha said. “The Bedine do not plan everything out in advance.”
The sheikh nodded, then pointed at Ruha. “You would do well to listen to this woman, my friend.” A moment later, he scowled thoughtfully, then eyed Ruha and added, “But from a discreet distance.”
Ruha’s eyes went wide, then she allowed her camel to fall behind. Confused by the exchange, Lander also allowed his mount to fall behind and brought it alongside the widow’s. When he came too close, she tactfully guided her camel away and opened the space between them.
“What was that all about?” the Harper asked, once again guiding his mount close to hers.
Ruha carefully moved her mount away. “Sa’ar thinks I’ve been brazen,” she replied.
“That’s ridiculous!”
The widow’s eyes sparkled with agreement, but she shook her head. “Not really. In his eyes, I’m still part of my husband’s family. Please don’t ride any closer.”
Sa’ar’s admonition irritated the Harper, for he saw nothing wrong with talking to a widow and did not think it was anyone’s business to tell a woman how close she could ride to a man. For the next hour, he tried to draw Ruha back into conversation, but she avoided his questions. The Harper felt hurt by the sudden distance between Ruha and himself, and he could not help silently cursing Sheikh Sa’ar for upsetting his friend.