"Perhaps the Mtair escaped," Kadumi whispered. "It was dark, and we could not see what was truly happening."

The trio had spent the night watching the battle, but they had not seen much. After the amarats had sounded a second time, the torches on the battleline went out, presumably extinguished by the warriors themselves in order to keep from drawing attention to their positions. A few minutes had passed, then muted cries had begun to drift up the mountainside.

In camp, the women, marked by the flickering lights of their torches, had scurried about, collecting children and supplies with renewed frenzy. As the Mtairi battle cries grew more desperate, the women had assembled on the far side of the camp, then fled the battlefield.

Before the line of yellow flames had traveled fifty yards, a muffled chorus of surprised screams had heralded an invader ambush. The refugees had scattered, but their torches had started to wink out immediately.

Recalling the agonized shriek that had accompanied each dying light, Lander knew that even if some of the women had escaped, there were many more who had not. The sand should have been carpeted with their bodies and with the bodies of the warriors who had died at the battleline.

Lander shook his head. "Everybody couldn't have escaped, Kadumi." The Sembian did not bother to speak in a hushed voice. With the Zhentarim nearly a half-mile away, there was no chance of being overheard. "There should be dozens of corpses at the very least. Do you see any?"

"No corpses," Ruha answered. She pointed at a knot of dark specks gathered at the tent in which the trio had been held last night. "But I don't like what is happening there."

As she spoke, the gathering began to break into groups of ten or twelve. As each group left, it moved in a different direction.

"Search parties!" Lander said.

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."