The fact that, other than Storm Silverhand's gift, Lander was expected to pay his own expenses while on assignment had not troubled him at all. One did not become a Harper in order to seek wealth or glory. Of course, Lander told none of this to Bhadla. Considering what the D'tarig had said about earning five hundred gold pieces by informing the Black Robes of a Harper's presence, the Sembian thought it would be better if Bhadla did not know that there was not much to be gained from his present master.

"Six months ago, the Harpers sent me to spy on the Zhentarim," Lander offered after a time. "I crossed the Desertsmouth Mountains, then traveled Anauroch's edge for four months posing as an incense trader. During this time, I saw little that would be of interest to the Harpers."

"So why didn't you go home?" Bhadla demanded, casting a watchful eye ahead to make sure that Musalim was not neglecting his duties as scout.

"I was about to," Lander continued, "but as I was leaving I learned of a group of Zhentarim who were buying whole herds of camels."

"Naturally, you went to investigate," Bhadla surmised.

"Yes, and what I found astounded me. The Zhentarim had gathered enough supplies at Tel Badir to equip a small army. At first, I couldn't imagine why, but I soon learned the reason through a few bribes," Lander explained.

"So you hired Musalim and me to help you find the Bedine," Bhadla concluded.

Lander nodded. "There you have it. That's what I'm doing in Anauroch."

Bhadla shook his head. "This is foolish business," he said. "It will probably get you killed."

"Perhaps," Lander agreed. "I'll try not to take you and Musalim with me."

"Good. For that, we would charge extra," Bhadla said, urging his camel forward. "I'd better check on Musalim. He will lose the way if I leave him alone too long."

As the afternoon passed, the wind grew stronger, roaring with a menacing ferocity and carrying with it a pale cloud of blowing sand. This cloud streamed along only a few feet above the dunes, shooting off the crests in great plumes that rolled down the leeward slopes in magnificent, roiling billows.

The trio moved along the troughs between the great dunes, where the sand swept along the desert floor like a flood pouring across a dry creekbed. The heads of the riders and camels protruded above the white stream, but the sand rasped across the robes of the riders and scoured their exposed hands into a state of raw insensitivity.

Lander discretely checked his compass every few miles to make sure they were traveling in the right direction. Bhadla's knowledge of the desert proved unerring. He never varied more than a few degrees off-course, save when he led the small party around one of the mammoth dunes that periodically blocked their path.

At'ar sank steadily toward the horizon ahead, a great disk of blinding yellow light that turned the sea of dunes ahead into a foreboding labyrinth of silhouettes and dazzling yellow reflections. Finally the sun disappeared behind the dunes, curtaining the western horizon with a stark light of ruby and amber hues. A rosy blanket of ethereal light bloomed on the crests of the sand hills, while velvety shades of ebony and indigo spread through the troughs below.

Lander did not remember witnessing a more spectacular sunset, but he could not honestly call it beautiful. The sight left the Sembian in a bleak and lonely mood, for it only reminded him that he was a stranger in a dangerous and alien place.

Bhadla and Musalim stopped their camels and waited for Lander to catch up. The Harper quickly checked their heading on his compass, then, as his camel came abreast of theirs, he said, "There's no need to stop. Your course is the same as it has been all day."

Bhadla furrowed his leathery brow. "Of course," he said, pointing in the direction they were traveling. "I have been watching El Rahalat for the last hour."

Directly ahead, a gray triangular cloud the size of Lander's fingertip rose above the sands and stood silhouetted against the scarlet light of the setting sun.

"At the base of that mountain is a large oasis," Bhadla said, then he pointed northward. "Over there is a well, but the water is bitter and you must work hard to draw it. If there are any Bedine in the area, they will be at the mountain."

"That makes sense," Lander replied. "What are we waiting for?"

Bhadla glanced at the sky. "Not many stars tonight," he said. "I will lose my way after dark."

"I'll let you know if we're straying," Lander answered.

"A mistake will cost us our lives," Musalim warned. "I don't trust your instincts."

"I'll be using something better than instincts," Lander replied, "but I won't make a mistake. You just keep your eyes open. If we're going to beat the Zhentarim to the oasis, we'll start overtaking stragglers."

"Yes," Bhadla agreed, nodding. "We have made good time and could catch them at any moment."

"It's too dangerous," Musalim said, an air of resignation in his voice. "We should wait." Despite his protests, he urged his camel forward and once more assumed the lead position.

Bhadla watched his assistant for a few moments, then asked, "How will you be certain of your directions? Magic?"

"Yes," Lander replied, justifying the lie by telling himself that a compass would seem like magic to the D'tarig.

Bhadla nodded, then finally urged his camel forward. "If I sense that we are straying," he called over his shoulder, "Musalim and I will stop."

Lander followed twenty yards behind Bhadla, checking his compass every few minutes. At'ar disappeared, and the faint glow of the full moon appeared above the eastern horizon. Overhead, a few stars penetrated the dust cloud, but they were too dim and too few to identify. It became more difficult for Lander to read his compass, but 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.