"Go on," Ruha urged.

"The time came when the Zhentarim decided to take over the rich farms and orchards of Archendale. They assigned my mother the task of gathering the names of all the farmers and landholders in the valley. That was when she insisted upon joining my father and me on our annual trip," Lander continued. "Fortunately, my father was an observant man, and my mother, as usual, underestimated his intelligence. When she insisted upon meeting all of his business contacts and asked about men he did not even deal with, he decided to find out what she was doing.

"When we returned to Archenbridge, my father hired someone to follow my mother while he was out of town. The man was able to stalk her to a secret meeting of Cyric's evil sect and to see her meeting with a known Zhentarim agent."

"What a shock for your father," Ruha said, absent-mindedly holding her bloody jambiya in her hand. "What did he do? Kill her?"

Lander grimaced. "In Sembia, men don't do that sort of thing to their wives," he said. "My father set out for Archendale to warn the farmers about the Zhentarim plot. He sent me to another city with a message for a trusted friend.

"My mother saw me leaving town and came after me with two men. When she caught me, she tried to convince me to join the Zhentarim, but I couldn't help remembering all the wonderful times my father and I had shared in Archendale. I told her to let me go and, when her guards tried to take me prisoner, I killed them."

"And your mother?"

Lander shook his head. "I made the worst mistake of my life," he said. "I let her go."

Ruha gave him a exonerating nod. "A man shouldn't-"

"My mother went straight to her Zhentarim masters," the Harper interrupted, an intentionally sharp tone in his voice. "They sent their agents into Archendale."

"What happened?" the widow asked, her concerned eyes showing that she had already guessed the answer.

"I don't really know," Lander replied, looking at the ground. "I passed my father's message to his friend, then waited for him as he had made me promise. I didn't hear anything until nearly a fortnight later, when a Harper came and told me that both my parents had died in Archendale."

Ruha's voice dropped to a shocked whisper. "How did it happen?"

Lander shook his head. "A Zhentarim assassin caught my father shortly after he entered the valley. The Harper wouldn't tell me how my mother died."

They sat in uneasy silence, both of them staring at the pebbled ground. After a time, Ruha cleaned her jambiya on a piece of cloth and sheathed it. She took some dried camel dung out of a kuerabiche, then reached into her aba and withdrew a flint and steel. She handed the dried dung and the flint and steel to Lander. "Will you please light a fire?"

Without speaking, the Harper pulled some shreds off the hem of his tattered aba to use for tinder.

Ruha withdrew a pot from another kuerabiche and half-filled it with water. "I see mirages from the future," she said, avoiding the Harper's eyes. "When I was a little girl, I was not wise enough to hide this."

Lander piled the tinder on a dung-patty. "So? Seeing the future is a gift."

"Not among the Bedine," Ruha replied. "I was shunned."

"As a child?" Lander exclaimed.

The widow nodded. "It was my father's decision, but he had no choice, of course. The elders demanded it."

"The elders were fools!"

When Ruha did not meet his gaze, Lander leaned over the dung patties and began striking sparks. The third one caught, and he gently blew on it until it produced a small flame in the tinder.

"Who are fools?" asked a youth's familiar voice.

Lander looked up and saw that Kadumi had returned from his duty as a scout. The boy was standing at the edge of their campsite, his bow and quiver in one hand and the reins of his camel in the other.

"Er-nobody," Lander said.

The color rose to the visible part of Ruha's cheeks, and Lander looked uncomfortably back to the flame.

Kadumi scowled, then turned to unsaddle his camel. After a moment of tense silence, he asked again, "Who are fools?"

"Nobody," Lander replied, looking up from his fire. "Ruha and I were just talking about the differences in our cultures."

Though he wasn't sure why he should be embarrassed, Lander could sense from the attitudes of both Kadumi and Ruha that he and the young widow had violated an unspoken rule.

The Harper's explanation did not satisfy the youth. Tossing his bow and quiver aside, Kadumi advanced angrily. "Ruha is my brother's wife," he said. "You may not have secrets with her!"

Lander stood. "We don't have any secrets-"

Kadumi reached for his jambiya.

"Kadumi, no!" Ruha cried.

The Harper was so shocked by the action that the boy actually had the blade halfway out of the scabbard before Lander caught his arm. Grasping Kadumi's wrist tightly, he helped him pull the dagger the rest of the way out of the sheath, then quickly used his free hand to press inward against the joint. Kadumi cried out in pain and dropped the dagger.

"Don't draw a weapon on a man you can't kill," Lander said. His heart was pounding hard, but he kept his voice even.

Kadumi's response was direct and heated. "Blood!" he yelled.

The word resounded across the rocky plain, bringing the camp to sudden silence.

Ruha shook her head violently. "Kadumi, don't do this."

Lander released the youth and pushed him away. Before the Harper could kick the boy's jambiya back to him, Sa'ar and several warriors arrived.

"What's happening here?" the sheikh demanded.

Kadumi pointed at Lander. "He's courting Ruha," the boy accused. "I have challenged him."

Sa'ar looked from the boy to Lander, then back to the boy again. "You're sure?" he asked. "We could have misunderstood you."

"You did not misunderstand," Kadumi snapped. "It is my family's honor."

The sheikh sighed, then gave Ruha an accusatory glance. "We had better do this according to tradition," he said. "Give the boy his jambiya, Lander."

The Harper did not move to obey. "Why?"

Sa'ar frowned. "He challenged you," the sheikh responded. "Kill him, and Ruha is yours."

The Harper looked from the sheikh to Kadumi. The boy was trembling, though Lander could not be sure whether it was with fear or anger. Regardless, he was standing tall and staring at Lander with an unwavering gaze.

"He's just a boy!" Lander objected.

"He's a Bedine warrior," Sa'ar corrected. "Don't worry. We'll witness the fight. Nobody will doubt your honor if you win."

Lander snorted his disbelief, then shook his head. "I won't do it. I refuse the challenge."

The warriors gasped, and Sa'ar looked confused. "What?"

"Kadumi can try to kill me if he wishes," Lander explained. "But I won't kill him. I refuse his challenge."

"You can't do that!" the youth yelled.

"I can, and I have," Lander replied calmly.

The Bedine stood, looking confused. Several moments later, Ruha burst out laughing. "Kadumi, if you must, try to kill him. I doubt that any harm will come of it."

The warriors could not restrain a few chuckles, but Sa'ar did not seem amused. He pondered the situation for what seemed like an hour, then turned to Lander and pronounced his judgment.

"Very well. Since you are not a Bedine, it is your privilege to refuse Kadumi's challenge," he said. "But being a berrani does not entitle you to ignore all of our traditions. Ruha is still the widow of Kadumi's brother, and it is a matter of family honor that he defend her reputation, whether she wishes it or not."

The sheikh glanced at the Harper meaningfully, then continued, "Therefore, you will not speak to Ruha except in Kadumi's presence. In return, he will not challenge-or attack-you again. This is my decision, and be it known that any who ignore it violate my hospitality."