'Then guess.'
'It seems to me that some animals have a natural resistance to the sting. A very few, say, five in a hundred, will show no ill-effects.
Others, perhaps thirty or forty in a hundred, will sicken but recover.
The rest die. Any animal that is infected but recovers is immune to any subsequent infection.'
'How do you know this?'
'The natives know it well.'
'How many of the horses in your care have been infected but have recovered?'
'Most were too far gone before we could dose them. However, eighteen are salted,' Tolas answered promptly, then clarified, 'They are immune.'
'So, Tolas, I will need a goodly supply of this native potion. Can you
[procure it for me?'
'I can do better. I have had almost nine years to study the matter.
Although the tribesmen are secretive and will not divulge the recipe, I ihave discovered for myself the plant that they use. I have spied upon them while their women are gathering it.'
,'You will show it to me?'
'Of course, Magus,' Tolas agreed readily. 'But, again, I caution you 'that even when treated many horses will still die. Your grey mare is too fine an animal to expose to such risk.'
Taita smiled. It was apparent that Tolas had fallen in love with Windsmoke and was angling for a way to keep her with him. “I will take into careful consideration all you have told me. But now my main concern is to learn the secret of the cure.'
'With the permission of Captain Rabat, I will take you into the forest tomorrow to gather the berries. It is a ride of several hours to reach the area where they grow.'
'Excellent.' Taita was pleased. 'Now describe for me the road to the south that you travelled with Colonel That.' Tolas told them all he could remember, while Fenn made notes on a clay tablet. When he had finished Taita said, 'What you have told me, Tolas, is invaluable, but now you must describe how we will recognize the boundary of the fly territory.'
Tolas placed his forefinger on the sketch map that Fenn had drawn on the tablet. 'On about the twentieth day of the journey southwards you will come upon a pair of hills shaped like a virgin's breasts. They will be visible from several leagues off. Those hills mark the boundary. I counsel you not to take the grey mare further. You will lose her in the sad country that lies beyond.'
The next morning Captain Rabat went with them, riding beside Taita, when they set out in search of the berries. The pace was easy, and they had much opportunity to talk.
After several hours, Tolas led them into a grove of enormous wild fig trees strung out along the bank of the river, deep in the gorge. Most of the branches were draped with serpentine vines, upon which grew clusters of small purple-black berries. Fenn, Tolas and three other men, whom Tolas had brought from the fort, climbed into the trees. Each had a leather harvesting bag slung round their neck into which they packed the fruit. When they clambered down from the trees their hands were stained purple and the berries emitted a sickly, putrid odour. Fenn offered a handful to Whirlwind, but the colt refused it. Windsmoke was equally disdainful.
'It is not to their natural taste, I grant, but if you mix the berries into dhurra meal and bake it into cakes they will eat them readily enough,'
Tolas said. He lit a fire and placed flat river stones in the flames. While they heated he demonstrated how to pound the fruit into a paste and mix it with the dhurra meal. 'The proportions are important. One of fruit to five of the meal. Any larger amount of the berries and the horse will refuse it, or if they eat it they will purge excessively,' he explained. When the stones were crackling hot he put handfuls of the mixture on to them and let it bake into hard cakes. He laid them aside to cool and began another batch. 'The cakes will keep without spoiling for many months, even in the worst conditions. The horses will eat them even when they are covered with green mould.'
Fenn picked one up and burnt her fingers. She passed it from hand to hand and blew on it until it cooled, then took it to Windsmoke. The mare sniffed it, fluttering her nostrils. Then she took it between her lips and rolled her eyes at Taita.
'Go on, you silly thing,' he told her sternly. 'Eat. It is good for you.'
Windsmoke crunched the cake. A few scraps fell out of her mouth,
but she swallowed the rest. Then she lowered her head to pick up the pieces from the grass. Whirlwind was watching her with interest. When Fenn brought him a cake he followed her example and ate it with gusto.
Then he pushed Fenn with his muzzle, demanding more.
'What dose do you give them?' Taita asked Tolas.
'It was a matter of experiment,' Tolas replied. 'As soon as they show any symptoms of being fly-struck I give them four or five cakes each day until the symptoms disappear, then continue the dose until long after they seem fully recovered.'
'What do you call the fruit?' Fenn demanded.
Tolas shrugged. 'The Ootasa have some outlandish name for it, but I have never thought to give it an Egyptian one.'
“Then I shall name it the Tolas fruit,' Fenn announced, and Tolas smiled, gratified.
The following day Taita and Fenn returned to the grove with Shofar, four troopers and the equipment they needed to bake a large quantity of Tolas cakes. They set up camp in the midst of the grove, in a clearing that overlooked the dry bed of the Nile. They stayed there for ten days, and filled twenty large leather sacks with the cakes. When they returned with purple-stained hands and ten baggage-loaded mules, they found Meren and his
