the milky light of the moon was just bright enough to illuminate the needle.
As the night darkened, Lander worried more about the Zhentarim. Trusting his camel to find its own footing, he spent the minutes between compass checks anxiously peering into the torrent of blowing sand, searching for the faintest silhouette or the barest hint of motion. He saw nothing but an endless cataract of sand sweeping over the dunes and across the path ahead.
The wind picked up speed and raised the height of the sandstream, stinging Lander's one good eye and rubbing his face raw. Unable to see anyway, the Harper covered his face with his hands, placing his complete faith in his camel to follow Bhadla and Musalim. Every now and then, he would pass close to the lee side of a great dune. Sheltered from the wind and blowing sand, he would quickly read the compass and check to make sure that the dark silhouettes of his guides were still ahead. A few minutes later, he would pass the dune and the driving sand would force him to close his eye again.
The trio followed the troughs northward for what seemed an endless time, and the sandstorm grew worse. Lander finished the last of his water, and then waged a constant battle with himself not to think about drinking. Grit and silt clogged his throat and nose. He could not keep his mind off the oasis ahead.
The storm grew worse. Even when sheltered by a great dune's leeward side, the sand blew so hard that Lander could only keep his eye open for periods of five and ten seconds. He began to worry about losing sight of his companions and wondered if, even with its protective eyelids, his camel could see well enough to follow its fellows. He urged his mount to move faster, but no matter how hard he prodded the beast, it would do no better than the steady stride into which it had fallen.
Sensing that his mount was too frightened of losing its footing to trot, Lander tried yelling to his companions. 'Bhadla! Musalim!' No reply followed. He tried again, but the wind drowned out his screams. He finally gave up when his voice grew hoarse, hoping that the D'tarig would wait for him. Bhadla's probably noticed how much visibility had decreased already, Lander decided. He's probably just ahead, trying to catch Musalim.
The hope that his companions were nearby was shortlived. Lander entered the shelter of a dune and peered into the night. In the darkness ahead, there was no sign of Bhadla or Musalim. Turning his back to the blowing sand, he quickly checked his compass and saw that he was still on course.
Lander cursed his guides for leaving their charge behind, then urged his camel forward. As he passed out of the little shelter that the great dune had afforded, he tried to shield his face with his hand and forced himself to keep his eye open.
Blowing sand and darkness was all he saw.
At last Lander closed his eye and stopped to consider his options. At the most, he knew, his companions could only be a hundred yards away. In the dark and the storm, the distance might as well have been a hundred miles. Trying to track them would be as useless as trying to out-scream the blustering wind.
With his compass, he could easily continue toward the oasis, but that would not help him locate his companions. They might have lost their bearings and be riding in a completely different direction. In that case, his own movement would simply put more distance between them.
The best thing I can do, Lander realized, is wait as close as possible to the point where we separated. Perhaps Bhadla will be able to retrace his steps when he realizes that I've disappeared.
As the Harper turned his camel toward the shelter of the great dune behind him, he heard a camel's bellow to his right. Though the roar was faint and muted by the wind, Lander cringed. There was a note of urgency and terror to the bray that no storm could muffle.
He started forward in what he guessed to be the general direction of the sound. In the howling wind, one roar alone would hardly be enough to lead him to his companions, but it was all Lander had to follow. Besides, it occurred to him that his guides might be tormenting the beast so that its cries would lead him to them.
Lander rode a hundred steps forward and stopped. No bellows sounded. He turned his head to and fro, trying catch a glimpse of a silhouette or the hint of some sound other than the interminable wind. There was nothing.
Finally the Sembian glimpsed a bulky shadow stumbling toward him. He urged his mount forward when he saw that it was a limping camel. When he came closer still, Lander recognized the beast as Musalim's and went forward to grasp its reins. The saddle was empty, and the camel seemed dazed and weak.
Lander inspected the beast from his own camel. There were no wounds, but a dark blotch stained the saddle. He touched the stain and found it warm and sticky. Musalim's blood, he guessed. Lander dropped the dazed beast's reins and drew his sword.
When he turned back toward the place from which Musalim's camel had come, the Harper glimpsed a shadow rising out of the sand. It was about the size of a man, but the legs and arms seemed to stick from the body at peculiar angles, like a reptile's.
Lander needed to see no more to know that Musalim, and probably Bhadla too, had ridden into an ambush. The Sembian slapped the flat of his sword against his camel's shoulder, but the sluggish beast refused to charge. The shadow raised a crossbow and a pair of yellow, egg-shaped eyes flashed in the dark night.
The bolt took Lander below the right collarbone, nearly knocking him from his saddle. His arm went numb, and the sword dropped from his hand. Grasping the reins with his left hand, the Sembian jerked his camel around. The beast reacted slowly, resentful of Lander's harsh manipulations. Two more shadows rose out of the blowing sand.
'Turn, you stubborn scion of Malar!'
A bolt struck the camel's flank, and Lander felt the beast quiver. It decided to obey and sprang away with the proper sense of urgency.
The wounded Harper dropped the reins and slumped forward, sprawling face-down over the beast's hump. Agony assaulted him in crashing waves, but Lander hardly realized it. He was only dimly aware of his knees squeezing his mount's hump and the fingers of his good hand clutching its coat. Lander could not tell how long the camel continued to gallop. He knew only the agony in his chest, the warm wetness trickling down his arm, and the black waves assaulting his mind.
Eventually, the camel slowed to a trot. It could have been hours after the ambush or just minutes. Lander could not tell. He tried to sit upright and realized the effort would leave him unconscious. He settled for holding on.
At last the camel collapsed. It did not lie down or even stop moving. The beast just belched forth a plaintive moan, stumbled once on its buckling legs, then, in midstride, it pitched Lander face-first into the sand.
They lay together in a twisted heap, the camel wheezing in shallow gasps and Lander moaning in disjointed pain. The sand worked its way into their wounds and welled up against their windward sides, but neither the man nor the beast showed any sign of caring. Soon, the camel stopped panting, and Lander was alone in the storm.
Four
By dawn the god of tempests, Kozah, had vented his wrath. The storm died, leaving a hot, dreary calm in its place. The heavy, wind-borne sand dropped back to the ground, but a pall of silt lingered high in the heavens, diffusing At'ar's morning radiance and setting the eastern horizon ablaze with crimson light. Ruha knew it would be many more days before the dust returned to the ground and Kozah's mark disappeared from the morning sky.
The widow went to the oasis pond and knelt at its edge, then rinsed the night's grit from her mouth. She and Kadumi had spent the night huddled under the remnants of her
Kadumi came and stood behind Ruha until she put her veil back in place, then kneeled beside her and splashed water over his grimy face. 'Kozah must be angry with At'ar again,' the boy said. 'Maybe he saw the faithless harlot entering N'asr's tent. I have not seen such a storm in a year.' He looked toward the camp.
The boy's camels were couched near where he and Ruha had slept, though so much sand had gathered against their windward sides that they looked more like a string of miniature dunes than a line of dromedaries. Beyond the half-buried beasts, the fallen tents of the Qahtani were covered by small knolls of sand. The only clue to
