Svengal shrugged. 'Don't worry, chief. We've got these Tualaghi surrounded – from the inside.'

'Exactly,' Erak replied dryly. Then he gestured to the stony ground. 'Take a seat, why don't you?'

As the others sat, Evanlyn knelt beside the Oberjarl. Gently, she examined the wounds to his scalp and the massive bruise around his eye.

'Are you all right, Erak?' she asked.

He shrugged. 'Oh, I'm fine. They never hurt you so badly that you can't walk. And they're treating me like an honoured guest – a handful of mouldy dates, some stale bread and a mouthful of water, then a nice walk in the sunshine. Who could ask for more?'

'Any word of Toshak so far?' Halt asked.

Erak's expression darkened. 'Not by name. But that swine Yusal hinted that I'd be meeting a countryman soon – and I don't think he meant you, Svengal. I can't wait. If I get a chance to get my hands on Toshak's throat, he'll wish he'd never been born.' He looked up at Halt then. 'Unlike you to be taken by surprise, Halt. Are you losing your edge?'

Halt raised an eyebrow at him. 'From what I've heard, you didn't do so well yourself at Al Shabah,' he pointed out and Erak shrugged ruefully.

'I guess we're all getting careless,' he said.

'Any idea where this bunch is headed, chief?' Svengal asked.

'They don't exactly consult me. I just drag along behind Matilda there.' He jerked a thumb at the nearest of the two camels. 'We've become quite fond of each other,' he added, glaring balefully at the grumbling beast.

'Odds are we're headed for the northern massif,' Selethen said and Erak looked at him with interest.

'I believe I did hear those words mentioned,' he said. 'Well, you'd better get some rest while you can. It's a long day when you're walking.'

Horace scratched his ear, the movement made clumsy by the fact that his hands were tied together. 'What time do they feed us?' he asked. Erak looked at him for a second, then grinned.

'Don't ever change, Horace,' he said.

Will, Umar and one hundred and twenty Bedullin warriors were on a forced march across the desert. They rose four hours before dawn, rode until four hours after first light, then rested through the heat of the day. In the late afternoon, a few hours before sunset, they would set out again, riding until well after dark before they stopped to rest again. Will estimated that it was around nine in the evening when they would camp for the night. But the two rest periods, one in the middle of the day and the other late at night, gave them plenty of time to water and feed their horses and recover their strength for the next march.

It was a hard schedule but a sensible one. They rode at a steady pace, trotting their horses rather than cantering or galloping. But Will soon realised that they were covering great distances by keeping to the steady pace, even though he was tempted to go faster. As the kilometres reeled by under Tug's hooves, he knew that this would be the better course in the long run.

Umar had decided to act on jamil's assertion that the Tualaghi were headed for one of the towns in the northern massif. As a result, they were able to plan a straight-line course to intercept the raiders, rather than return to the site of the battle and follow their tracks. This, combined with the prodigious distances they were able to cover each day, meant they were well on the way to overhauling the enemy.

Will had asked Umar and Jamil to show him the location of the massif on his chart. It was further to the north than the area covered by Selethen's chart. They studied that document with some interest, rapidly seeing its relevance, even though the Bedullin never used charts themselves. Their navigation was based on tribal lore and knowledge, handed down over hundreds of years. As they pointed to landmarks drawn by Selethen, they would refer to places by names such as 'River of bright stones' or 'Ali's Hill' or 'the snake wadi'. While some of the names were self-explanatory, the origin of others was hidden in antiquity. Nobody, for example, had the slightest memory of who Ali might have been, and the bright stones that marked the river had long since disappeared – as had the river itself.

This was a war party, so the Khoresh Bedullin women and children had remained at the oasis camp, with seventy of Umar's warriors to keep them safe. The Aseikh was reluctant to reduce his attack force by so many but the desert was an uncertain place and seventy was the minimum number of men he was willing to leave for the protection of his people.

'We'll be outnumbered,' he remarked to Will.

'They won't be expecting us,' the young Ranger replied and the Aseikh nodded, with a certain grim satisfaction. 'I'm looking forward to that.'

On the third day of travel, the problem of numbers was redressed. A forward scout rode back at a gallop to report that he had encountered a party of thirty men on foot in the desert.,

Umar, Will and Hassan rode back with him, cantering ahead of the main party. After three kilometres, they came upon the group of men, sitting in the meagre shade afforded by a wadi bank and sharing the last of a water skin the scout had left with them.

'Arridi troopers,' Umar said, recognising the remnants of the uniforms they wore. Will noticed that none of the men wore boots, although they had torn cloth from their cloaks and shirts to wrap around their feet for protection. There was barely more than a mouthful each in the water skin and the distribution was being carefully overseen by a young man who still wore a lieutenant's insignia. The group might be ragged and close to exhaustion, but it was obvious they had maintained their discipline. Will wasn't certain but the officer looked vaguely familiar. He thought he might have been one of Selethen's men.

The three riders had carried extra water skins back with them and these were quickly distributed. The lieutenant moved towards Umar and made the traditional greeting gesture.

'Thank you, Aseikh,' he began. He recognised Umar's badge of rank, the triple strand of horsehair rope that bound his kheffiyeh. 'I'm Lieutenant Aloom of the – '

Umar stopped him with a gesture and passed him his own water skin. The young man's voice was dry and croaking. 'Drink first, Lieutenant,' he told him. 'The talking will be easier after that.'

Gratefully, the officer raised the water skin to his mouth and drank. Will noticed that even though he must have been parched, he sipped only small amounts of the water, drinking slowly so as not to overwhelm his body with a sudden flood of moisture. The people of Arrida maintained excellent water discipline, he realised, remembering how desperately he had tried to gulp the water he was given when Umar found him.

It was close to the tenth hour of the morning, which was the time Umar would usually call a halt for the first rest period. He signalled to the others to dismount and swung down from his saddle.

'We'll camp here,' he said. 'The Arridi can use the rest period to recover.'

Lieutenant Aloom had quenched his thirst now and told them of the Tualaghi ambush and the ensuing battle; how Halt and the others had been taken prisoner while he and his men had been turned out into the desert by Yusal, without boots and with a bare minimum of water. That had been two days ago.

'You've kept thirty men alive and marching with just two water skins?' Umar queried. There was a note of respect in his voice.

The lieutenant shrugged. 'They're good troops,' he said. 'They understood the need for discipline.'

'They have a good officer,' Will said. He'd been tempted to interrupt the lieutenant immediately and ask for news of his friends. But he saw that the man was close to exhaustion and thought it better to let him tell his tale in his own time. The lieutenant stared at him for a moment before recognising him. When the war party had set out from the oasis, Will had adopted Bedullin clothes – baggy trousers, a long flowing shirt and cloak and, of course, a kheffiyeh to cover his head and face. But the longbow and quiver slung over his back were unmistakable.