Zanzibar coast. We have learned that he has sent envoys to the Great Mogul, the Supreme Emperor in Delhi, and to the Sublime Porte in Constantinople. His old allies are rallying to support him. Soon all of Islam and Christendom will unite against us. Our victory will drain away into the sands, like the ebb of the spring tide.'
'What do you want from me, Kadem al-Juri?' Dorian asked softly.
'We need a leader with a rightful claim to the Elephant Throne,' Kadem replied. 'We need a tried warrior who has commanded the desert tribes in battle: the Saar, the Dahm and the Karab, the Bait Kathir and the Awamir, but most of all the Harasis who hold within their sway the plains of Muscat. Without these there can be no ultimate victory.'
Dorian sat quietly but his heart had beaten faster as Kadem recited those illustrious names. In his mind's eye he saw again the battle array, the glint of steel in the dust clouds and the banners unfurled. He heard the war-cries of the riders, 'Allah Akbar! God is great!' and the roaring of the ranks of camels racing onwards across the sands of Oman.
Yasmini felt his arm tremble under her hand, and her heart quailed. I believed in my heart that the dark days were past for ever, she thought, that I might never again hear the beat of the war drums. I hoped that my husband would always stay beside me and never again ride away to war.
The company was silent, each of them thinking their own thoughts. Kadem was watching Dorian with that glittering, compulsive stare.
Dorian shook himself back to the present. 'Do you know these things are true?' he asked. 'Or are they merely the dreams born of desire?'
Kadem answered straight, without lowering his eyes: 'We have been m council with the desert sheikhs. They who are often divided all speak with a single voice. They say, 'Let al-Salil take his place at the head of our armies, and we will follow wherever he leads.'
Dorian stood up abruptly and left the circle around the campfire. None of the others followed him, neither Tom nor Yasmini. He paced along the edge of the water, a romantic figure in his robes, tall and shining in the moonlight.
Tom and Sarah whispered together, but the others were silent.
'You must not let him go,' Sarah told Tom quietly, 'for Yasmini's sake and ours. You lost him once. You cannot let him go again.'
'And yet I cannot stop him. This is between Dorian and his God.'
Batula packed fresh tobacco in the bowl of the hookah, and it was almost consumed to ash before Dorian came back to the fire. He sat cross-legged with his elbows on his knees and his chin cupped in both hands, staring into the leaping flames.
'My lord,' Kadem whispered, 'give me your answer. With the trade winds standing fair, if you sail at once you can mount the Elephant Throne in Muscat at the beginning of the Feast of Lights. There can be no more propitious day than that to begin your reign as Caliph.'
Dorian was silent still, and Kadem went on his tone was not wheedling, but strong and sure of his purpose: 'Your Highness, if you return to Muscat, the mullahs will declare jihad, a holy war, against the tyrant. God and all of Oman will be at your back. You cannot turn aside from your destiny.'
Dorian raised his head slowly. Yasmini drew a long slow breath and held it. Her nails sank into the hard muscles of his forearm.
'Kadem al-Juri,' Dorian replied, 'this is a terrible decision. I cannot make it alone. I must pray for guidance.'
Kadem fell forward, prostrating himself on the sand before Dorian. His arms and legs were spread wide. 'God is great!' he said. 'There can be no victory without His benevolence. I shall wait for your answer.'
'I will give it to you tomorrow night at this same time and place.'
Yasmini let out her breath slowly. She knew that this was only a reprieve, and not a pardon.
Early the next day Tom and Sarah climbed to the top of the grey rocks that guarded the entrance to the lagoon, and found a sheltered nook out of the wind but full in the sun. The Ocean of the Indies was spread beneath them, raked with creamy furrows. A sea bird used the wind to hang like a kite above the green waters. Suddenly it folded its wings and plunged from on high, hitting the surface with a tiny splash, rising again almost immediately with a silver fish wriggling in its beak. On the rocks above where they lay, the
hvrax sat in the sun, rabbity brown balls of fluff watching them with huge, curious eyes.
'I want to have serious speech with you,' Sarah said.
Tom rolled on to his back and locked his fingers behind his head, grinning at her. 'Fool that I am, I thought you had brought me here to have your wicked way with me, to ravish my tender flesh.'
Tom Courtney, will you never be serious?'
'Aye, lass, that I will, and I thank you for the invitation.' He reached for her, but she struck away his hand.
'I warn you, I shall scream.'
'I will cease and desist, for the moment at least. What is it that you wanted to discuss with me?'
'Tis Dorry and Yassie.'
'Why does this not come as any great surprise to me?'
'Yassie is sure that he will sail to Muscat to take up the offer of the throne.'
'I am sure she would not hate the thought of becoming a queen. What woman would?'
'It will destroy her life. She explained it all to me. You can have no conception of the intrigues and conspiracies that surround an Oriental court.'
'Can I not?' He raised an eyebrow. 'I have lived twenty years with you, my heart, which has given me good training.'
She went on as though he had not spoken: 'You are the elder brother. You must forbid him to leave. This offer of the Elephant Throne is a poisoned gift, which will destroy them and us also.'
'Sarah Courtney, you do not truly believe that I would forbid Dorian anything? It is a decision that only he can make.'
'You will lose him again, Tom. Do you not remember how it was when he was sold into slavery? How you thought he was dead, and part of you died with him?'
'I remember it well. But this is not slavery and death. It's a crown and power unbounded.'
'I think you begin to relish the thought of him going,' she accused him.
Tom sat up quickly. 'No, woman! He is blood of my blood. I want only what is best for him.'
'You think this may be best?'
It was the life and the destiny for which he was trained. He has become a trader with me, but I have known all along that his heart is not truly in our enterprise. For me it is meat and wine, but Dorry hankers after more than we have here. Have you not heard him speak
of his adoptive father and the days when he commanded the army of Oman? Do you not sometimes see the regret and longing in his eyes?'
'Tom, you look for signs that are not there,' Sarah protested.
'You know me well, my love.' He paused, then went on, 'It is my nature to dominate those around me. Even you.'
She laughed, a gay pretty sound. 'You do try, I grant you that.'
'I try with Dorry too, and with him I succeed better than I do with you. He is my dutiful younger brother, and over all these years I have treated him like that. Perhaps this summons to Muscat is what he has been waiting for.'
'You will lose him again,' she repeated.
'No, there will be only a little water between us, and I have a fast ship.' He lay back in the grass and pulled his hat down over his eyes to shield them from the sun. 'Besides, it will not be bad for business to have a brother able to issue licences for my ships to trade in all the forbidden ports of the Orient.'
'Tom Courtney, you mercenary monster. I do truly hate you.' She leaped on him and pummelled his chest with clenched fists. He rolled her easily on to her back in the grass and lifted her skirts away from her legs. They were still strong and shapely as those of a girl. She crossed them firmly.
'Sarah Courtney, show me how much you really hate me.' He held her down with one hand while he unbuckled his belt.
'Stop this at once, you lecherous knave. They're watching us.' She struggled but not too hard.
'Who?' he asked.
'Them!' She pointed at the ring of staring rock rabbits.
'Boo!' Tom shouted at them, and they shot down the entrances to | their burrows. 'They aren't watching now!' said he.
Sarah uncrossed her legs.
The gathering at the campfire that night was solemn and fraught with uncertainty and anxiety. No one in the family knew what Dorian had decided. Yasmini, sitting beside her husband, answered the silent question that Sarah flashed to her across the fire lit circle with a resigned lift of her shoulders.
Tom alone was determinedly cheerful. While they ate grilled fish with chunks of new baked bread, he retold the story of their grandfather Francis Courtney, and the capture of the Dutch East India galleon off
Cape Agulhas nearly sixty years before. He explained to them where Francis had hidden his booty, in a cave up at the head waters of the stream that ran into
