"Is paying the blood price with the life of your daughter or an innocent boy a braver solution?" demanded Al'Aif.
"What are you saying?" yelled the sheikh. When Al'Aif did not respond, the old man shoved the warrior, knocking him back into the crowd. "Do you call me a coward?"
As he regained his balance, the scarred Mtairi grabbed for his jambiya. In the same instant, Nata flashed past Ruha to stand before the sheikh, his hand on the hilt of his own weapon. As the two warriors glared at each other, the crowd backed away in tense silence, scarcely daring to breath lest they touch off a fight that would not stop short of death.
It was the sheikh who spoke next. Stepping between the two warriors, he said, "No matter what you said, that was wrong of me, Al'Aif. If we start fighting each other, the Zhentarim have taken us already. Nata, take Kadumi and Ruha to her tent. We shall consider this matter again in the morning."
When neither Al'Aif or Nata moved to obey, Ruha's father snapped, "I have spoken!"
Reluctantly the warriors relaxed, and the sheikh turned to go. As the crowd parted to let him pass, a strange man moved from the edge of the gathering. He wore a yellow aba with a ragged hole in its breast, and a wide strip had been cut off the hem to make the sling in which the man now carried his right arm. In contrast to his dusty clothes, his face and hands were freshly washed, and he appeared remarkably alert for someone who had so recently suffered a serious wound.
When none of the astonished Bedine said anything, the man nodded to Ruha. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
All the widow could reply was, "Where did you go? What are you doing here?"
"I thought it wiser to spend the night on the mountain," Lander replied, motioning at the craggy slope looming above the camp. "As for the second question, when I saw someone had done away with the Zhentarim, I thought it might be safe to speak with your sheikh."
"Who is this man?" asked Kadumi, the sheikh, and Al'Aif simultaneously.
Shaking her head, Ruha turned to her father. "He calls himself Lander, and he has come to warn us about the Zhentarim," she said. "He is their enemy."
The sheikh raised an eyebrow at her comment. "Is that so?"
Lander nodded. "As are all the Bedine, whether they know it or not."
"That shall be for us to decide," the sheikh responded curtly. He pointed at Lander's wound. "How did you come by that?"
"Zhentarim," Lander said, as if the word explained everything.
"That Zhentarim?" he asked, pointing at Zarud.
Lander studied the dead man for an instant, then said, "If that will save Ruha and the boy, then yes."
Ruha's mouth dropped open at Lander's reply. She didn't know whether to thank him for saving her life or point out that she had dressed his wound before Zarud had been killed.
Her relief was short-lived. Pointing at the blood crusted around the stranger's bandage, Nata asked, "If you killed the Zhentarim, why is the blood on your wound so old?"
"A good question, but one that should not be answered tonight," the sheikh said. "Put the stranger with Kadumi and my daughter. We will sort this out in the morning, after our heads have cleared and our tempers have settled."
As the rest of the tribe returned to their beds, Nata supervised the internment of the prisoners. While his son fetched some rope, the burly warrior took the trio to Ruha's tent. There, he bound their hands in front of their bodies, then tied their feet and carried each one into the tent. Finally he stationed his son at the door as a guard.
To Ruha's amazement, the berrani laid down on the carpet, as if he were going to sleep. "Don't say anything you don't want overheard," Lander said, closing his eyes. Soon, resting on his uninjured shoulder, he was snoring in great deep roars that would have harried a lion.
"How can he fall asleep like that?" Kadumi asked, seated with his bound feet stretched straight out in front of him.
"The berrani is injured," Ruha answered. "He might sleep until morning. We might do well to join him."
Kadumi shook his head and silently mouthed something about Al'Aif, but Ruha could not make out what he was saying. Shrugging to indicate that she did not understand, she stretched out on her side. "Try to get some sleep, Kadumi. You may not have a chance later."
The boy nodded, then rolled onto his own side and closed his eyes.
Through half-closed eyes, Ruha watched Nata's son. By the way he wearily shifted his weight from one foot to another, she could tell he was tired. That was good, for it would make him easier to catch off-guard.
The guard continued standing as the camp returned to normal. When, at last, the place fell completely quiet and he could be sure his father had gone to bed, the young man sat down at the tent entrance. Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder to check on his prisoners, but his main concern seemed to be watching the camp so he could be sure that his father would not catch him at less than full attention.
Eventually the glances grew less frequent. Nata's son began to doze fitfully. His head would sink slowly until his chin touched his chest, then bob up and stay upright for a few minutes before slowly descending again. The time soon came when the guard's head did not rise again.
On her elbows and knees, Ruha crawled to the kuerabiche that Nata's son had found earlier. Taking care not to make any noise, she pulled the contents from the sack and laid them on the floor beside her: her spare aba, her veils, and, finally, Ajaman's jambiya.
As Ruha unsheathed the dagger, Kadumi's eyes opened and she realized that the boy had not been able to sleep. An instant later, a great smile crossed his face and she feared he would cry out for joy. The widow looked meaningfully toward the door, and the youth nodded that he understood.
Ruha freed herself first, then crawled to her brother-in-law. As she cut his bonds, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Don't move yet."
Kadumi nodded, then looked toward Lander. "When you cut the berrani free, he may stop snoring."
Ruha saw the point of the youth's concern immediately. Though the guard had dozed off, it seemed unlikely that he had fallen into a deep sleep. If Lander's snoring suddenly changed rhythm or ceased altogether, the guard might wake suddenly. No doubt he would glance inside the tent and realize something was amiss.
The only way to keep him from sounding the alarm was for Kadumi to silence the guard before he could reach his amarat. Ruha did not doubt that Kadumi could catch the guard unawares and kill the young warrior, but she did not cherish the idea of Nata hunting her with a blood price in mind.
As she considered the problem, an alarm horn sounded on the far side of the camp. Several men began shouting. The guard woke immediately and jumped to his feet, crying, "What is it? What's wrong?" Fortunately he sensed the direction of the alarm, and his attention was turned toward the far side of camp.
Lander's eyes opened, but he continued to snore exactly as he had done since being interned in the tent. Ruha couldn't tell whether he had awakened instantly alert or had been pretending to sleep all the time.
Lander motioned toward his feet, still maintaining his snore. Taking the hint, Ruha cut the ropes with a quick slice. The berrani jumped to his feet and sprang toward the khreima's entrance as silently as a leopard stalking prey. In an instant, he slipped his bound hands over the guard's head. Pulling backward so that the rope caught the man across the throat, Lander dragged his victim back into the tent.
The berrani held his right arm pressed tightly against his side to avoid straining his injured shoulder, but the stranglehold still proved effective. Nata's son grasped at the arms looped around his neck and kicked at his attacker to no avail, and Lander controlled him easily.