The Parched sea

Kadumi's brow furrowed. 'Are they searching for-'

'Me,' Lander said, assuming that his enemies learned of his presence from a captured Mtair. 'Perhaps we should separate. If they find me, the Zhentarim might stop looking.'

Ruha regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. Her dark eyes flashed with what Lander took to be irritation, then she said, 'Either you have a very low opinion of Kadumi and I, or an exaggerated sense of your own importance, berrani.'

'That's not what I mean,' Lander protested, feeling himself flush in embarrassment. 'But if the Zhentarim know I am here, they won't stop searching until they find me.'

'Why is that?' asked Kadumi suspiciously.

Lander considered the boy's question for a moment, then decided that he should reveal his identity to his companions so that they might understand the danger into which they were moving. He opened his robe and displayed the pin that he wore over his heart. 'I belong to an organization called the Harpers,' he said. 'We work to protect the freedom of people everywhere, and that often places us into opposition against the Zhentarim.'

'As in this case?' Ruha asked.

'Yes,' the Harper answered. 'If they catch you with me, it will mean a slow and agonizing death.'

'If they catch us without you, it will mean a slow and agonizing death,' Ruha countered. 'The Zhentarim whom Al'Aif killed had a companion. That man knows that Kadumi and I came here to warn my father about the Black Robes, and he may even suspect that we had something to do with the murder. So we lose nothing by staying together, unless you feel you would be safer without a boy and a woman to defend. Of course, I don't know how long a berrani can expect to survive in Anauroch with no guides…'

The irony in Ruha's tone did not escape Lander. He raised his hand to quiet her. 'Your point is well taken,' he said. 'Together, we all stand a better chance of surviving.'

When Ruha nodded, the Sembian started to crawl back down the ridge toward the camels.

The widow caught his arm before he gone two steps. 'Where are you going?'

'We'd better leave,' he said. 'If the Zhentarim find us up here, we'll be trapped.'

Ruha shook her head. 'Rahalat will not allow the Zhentarim on her slopes.'

'How can you be sure?' Lander asked. The phantom goats had convinced him of Rahalat's existence, though he suspected she was a ghost and not a goddess. In either case, he saw no reason to believe she would protect them.

Ruha glanced toward the mountain's summit. 'If Rahalat did not favor us, we would be dead. I doubt that she will favor the Zhentarim.'

Lander glanced at Kadumi. 'What do you think?'

The youth looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. 'What my sister-in-law says makes sense,' he said. 'Besides, we would only draw attention to ourselves by moving. We should wait.'

'I hope you're right,' he said, crouching behind the ridge crest. 'If I know the Zhentarim, they won't stop searching until they've scoured every inch of the oasis. Let's take care not to let them see us up here.'

Lander motioned for the other two to conceal themselves in the rocks, and they did as asked. Their hiding places overlooked not only the camp, but the approach up the ridge as well. Even if Rahalat did not keep the Zhentarim off the mountain, the Sembian felt confident that they would see the enemy in plenty of time to flee.

The trio crouched on the ridge for most of the morning, watching the specks below scurry about their business. Soon, the Zhentarim began butchering the Mtair Dhafir's camels, and the breeze carried the smell of roasting meat up to them. Lander's mouth began to water, bringing back the memory of the special feasts he and his father had once shared.

As a merchant, Lander's father often ventured up the Arkhen River to purchase fruits, farm produce, and freshwater crabs. The people of the valley were haughty and arrogant, so Lander had often gone along on these trips to keep his father company. He and his father would sit in country taverns until late at night, eating roasted mutton and discussing the highest price they would pay for the next day's goods. Even then, Lander had never believed his advice was truly needed, but he had looked forward to the trips eagerly. For the son of a traveling merchant, any opportunity to spend time with his father had been precious.

Unfortunately, the meat making Lander's mouth water was camel instead of sheep, and Rahalat's barren shoulder was a poor substitute for the humid valley of ferns and lilies. Now Archendale's abundant orchards and sweet waters seemed a distant and fantastic mirage, much as Anauroch's empty wastes and scorched mountains would have seemed a bad dream to him then.

The Sembian opened his waterskin and took a long drink, trying to wash the recollection away before it became distressing. It didn't help. He was hungry and the smell of roasting meat automatically triggered memories of every feast he had ever eaten, especially memories he had thought long forgotten.

Trying to keep his mind focused on stopping the enemy's plans in Anauroch, Lander began to count the specks in the camp below. Sooner or later, he knew, the Bedine would fight the Zhentarim. When they did, it would be useful for them to know just what they were up against.

It was not an easy task, for invaders kept moving from fire to fire. Occasionally, one patrol returned to camp and scattered to a dozen different fires to eat, while another group left to take its place. Lander found that he had to keep track of the Zhentarim by scratching a grid in the ground and moving pebbles from one place to another to represent every ten specks that moved.

As Lander was finishing his count, Kadumi crawled to his side and peered over the Sembian's shoulder. 'What are you doing?'

'Counting the Zhentarim,' Lander replied.

'And how many are there?' asked Ruha, turning to face the pair.

Lander looked at the grid, then added the figures in his head. 'I would guess about fifteen hundred.'

'Impossible!' Kadumi objected.

'At least we know why they're so hungry,' Ruha said, studying the cooking fires down in the camp. 'The largest khowwan I've ever heard of numbers only three hundred. The invaders will never find enough grazing to keep all their camels in milk.'

'Or enough game to fill their stewpots,' Kadumi added.

'They don't need to,' Lander replied. 'The Zhentarim don't intend to be in the desert long. They're carrying all the food they need on their camels.'

'You mean they'll go away in a few months?' Ruha asked, her voice growing hopeful.

Lander shook his head. 'No. A few months are all the Zhentarim need to complete their task. They'll subdue a dozen khowwans, then use hostages, bribery, and violence to enslave the tribesmen. Once their powerbase is secure, they'll take their army away and use the tribes they control to overpower the others. Before the Bedine realize what's happened, the entire desert will belong to the Black Robes. The only way to stop them is to drive the Zhentarim from the desert.'

'Then the Bedine are doomed,' Kadumi said, pointing at the specks in the camp. 'No tribe can stand against so many.'

Lander frowned and pulled the boy's arm down. 'Of course not. Any tribe that fights the Zhentarim alone will meet the same fate as the Mtair Dhafir and the Qahtan. We'll need a hundred tribes.'

Ruha and Kadumi looked skeptical. 'That's impossible,' Kadumi said. 'No tribe has that many allies.'

Lander shook his head. 'Kadumi, this isn't a matter of traditional alliances. Tribes that have never heard of each other must ride and fight under the same banner. They're all battling a common enemy.'

'It will never-'

Ruha interrupted Kadumi's reply with an alarmed gasp. Pointing over Lander's back, she cried, 'Look out!'

Lander reached for the jambiya at his waist with one hand and for his sword with the other. The effort made his wounded shoulder burn with agony. He clenched his teeth, then pulled the blades from their sheathes and spun around on his knees to meet the unseen attacker.

There was no one there. Fearing his enemy to be cloaked by invisibility, Lander jumped to his feet. He sliced through the air in front of him with the scimitar, then crossed the pattern with a slash from his dagger. Neither blade hit a target. Groaning with pain, Lander took one step backward and repeated the pattern first to his right and then to his left. Still nothing.