The sheikh glanced at Lander's trembling hand, then chuckled and took the tea. "Very well," he said, his voice and manner now absolutely calm. "We'll stay until you are ready to go."
Sa'ar turned toward the campsite and squatted down on his haunches. "Once, after my brothers and cousins had raided too many other khowwans, my tribe was driven into the Quarter of Emptiness. Our enemies did not follow us, for they expected that our camels would starve and we would die of thirst."
The sheikh's eyes grew hard and his attention seemed focused on a distant land and time. "We would have perished, save that we stumbled across an ancient city. It was half-buried in a massive dune, but its walls were made of gray stone as thick as a camel is tall. Inside the walls, the buildings stood as they had stood a thousand years ago, and in the center of the city lay an abandoned fort as large as a mountain."
Sa'ar sipped his tea absently. "That fortress was both our salvation and our damnation. In its courtyard, there was an ancient well. When some of the warriors climbed down to clean it out, they claimed that it descended five hundred feet and that it opened into a great labyrinth of underground grottos filled with rivers of cool water.
"Of course, we thought they were exaggerating-at least until we began drawing water. It was sweet as honey and cool as the night, and the well's capacity seemed endless. We pulled hundreds of buckets of water, and the flow never slowed. Before dusk fell that day, the sheikh and the elders were already making plans to turn the fort into a secret oasis, to make it a stronghold from which to build our khowwan into the strongest tribe of Anauroch."
"What happened?" Lander asked, intrigued by the story of the lost city.
Sa'ar nodded toward the burning campsites below. "The asabis," he said. "They climbed from the well in the dead of the night, falling upon our warriors and our mothers in the tents. A few of us children, afraid of sleeping inside a city, had stayed outside with the herds. When we heard the screams of our parents, we went to investigate."
The sheikh paused. "You saw what the asabis did to the Mtair Dhafir, so I hardly need to describe what we found."
Recalling the sight of the corpse-filled wadi below Rahalat, Lander shook his head. "No. I can imagine."
"We went back to our camels and fled," Sa'ar began. "And that was when the horror truly began. The asabis heard our beasts roaring and came to the chase. We were already mounted and riding, but they ran across the sands on all fours. Though our mounts were strong and freshly watered, the asabis followed close behind, and our camels had to gallop to stay ahead.
"By dawn, there were only six of us left. Every time a camel stumbled or someone fell from the saddle, the asabis got him. Soon our tired camels could barely keep their footing. Three of the others gave up hope and drew their jambiyas, then turned to meet the beasts. They might as well have stopped and let the fiends take them."
The sheikh paused, then pointed at the campsite. "They're about finished."
Lander looked toward the camp and saw that all of the khreimas were engulfed in flames. In the center of the camp stood Yhekal, dressed as always in his purple robe. A hundred asabis had gathered around him, and he was gesturing at them wildly, waving his sword at both sides of the volcano. Lander suspected he was ordering the reptiles to sweep around the cone and destroy any living thing they encountered.
On the far side of the camp stood a line of black-robed Zhentarim and their camels, the eerie orange light of the fires reflecting off them, making them appear ghostly. The camels were frantically ripping at the lush grass, but the drivers had made no move to remove the baggage from their backs.
Now that he was finally ahead of the Zhentarim, Lander realized, he would have to ride hard to stay there. Without taking his eyes from the camp, Lander asked, "What happened to the rest of you?"
"We kept riding," the sheikh said. "About two hours after dawn, the asabis stopped and burrowed into the sand. That was the last I ever saw of them-until tonight."
"So that's why they always attack at night!" Lander exclaimed, rising.
"What?" Sa'ar asked. He made no move to follow the Harper.
"All of the Zhentarim's attacks have come at night. Until now, I thought they were just trying to take their enemies by surprise."
Sa'ar smiled. "But it's really because the asabis are creatures of the night," he said. "During the day, they're worthless."
Lander nodded.
In the camp below, the asabis scattered, gesturing wildly at each other. The acrid smell of burning camel-hair began to waft up the slope. Realizing that he and the sheikh would be trapped on the cinder cone if they did not leave soon, the Harper climbed out of the ravine.
When Lander reached the lip of the gulch, he perceived a curious silence behind him. Alarmed that something had happened to Sa'ar, he turned and saw the sheikh still sitting in the ravine, sipping his tea.
"Are you coming?" Lander asked.
Sa'ar looked up with a roguish grin on his lined face. "You want to leave so soon?" he asked, rising to his feet and slowly stretching his arms. He sauntered to the steam vent and picked up his battered tea pot. "Mustn't forget this. I paid two camels for it."
Carefully working their way from one ravine to the next, they hurried across the cinder cone's gritty slope and returned to their camels. By the time they untethered the beasts and mounted, they could hear the asabis barking orders to each other in a sharp, chattery language.
The two men reached their rendezvous point with the Mahwa at dawn. Without dismounting, the sheikh gave the order to ride for the Well of the Chasm. It was, he explained, the next waterhole in the Zhentarim's path. The tribe camped there was allied with Mahwa, so he was obligated to warn them of the approaching hazard.
Sa'ar flattered Kadumi by asking him to scout ahead with the Mahwa's best warriors. Lander and Ruha were assigned to ride with the sheikh's party.
To Lander's amazement, after Sa'ar issued all of his riding orders and the tribe began to move, the sheikh closed his eyes and fell asleep in the saddle. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Harper found it increasingly difficult to keep his own eyes open, but did not dare imitate the dozing sheikh. Unlike Sa'ar, Lander was not so accustomed to camels that he could ride them in his sleep, and he did not fancy the idea of falling onto the hard desert floor from the height of a camel's back.
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.