Instead, she said, "I only knew Ajaman for three days before the Zhentarim came."

Kadumi nodded. "Not much time for a marriage."

Ruha took a deep breath. "Your brother was a wonderful man. If there had been more time for him and I, we might have grown to love each other."

"And had ten sons to watch your herds," the youth added, resting his apprehensive brown eyes on her veiled face.

"Perhaps," Ruha sighed, "but I would have always had to hide my magic, for fear that Ajaman would have reacted as you have. Probably, he would have found me out anyway, and that would have been the end to our marriage."

Kadumi frowned and looked away, unable to deny what she said. "What does that have to do with you and the berrani?"

"Nothing and everything," she said, fixing her eyes on Kadumi's face. "Lander knows of my magic, and it does not offend him. Can you understand how it feels for me to talk to someone who accepts me for what I am?"

For several moments the boy did not look at her. Instead, he stared at the burnished pebbles on the desert floor with a vacant stare, his face marked by his conflicting emotions.

At last he looked up. "I can understand how you feel, but what does it matter? When you chose to become a sorceress, you chose the path of loneliness. When you spoke the marriage vows with Ajaman, you promised to honor him and his family. Nothing has changed."

After riding a few more steps in silence, Kadumi suddenly looked away and whipped his mount into a gallop, then rode off toward the front of the caravan.

Ruha groaned inwardly at his terse departure, then closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing.

The bells of the sheikh's camel soon brought an end to Ruha's glum meditation. "A young woman should not ride alone," Sa'ar said, drawing up beside her.

Ruha opened her eyes. "This one should."

Sa'ar nodded. "Ah, yes-the curse of the flesh," he said. "For your husband's sake, you must be patient."

The young widow studied the sheikh with an appraising eye. "What do you mean by that?"

The sheikh looked at the sky and shrugged. "Nothing," he said. "Only that Lander strikes me as a handsome enough man, and you are a young widow. If you were a weaker woman, it might be natural to have certain feelings…"

Sa'ar let the sentence trail off, and Ruha simply shook her head at his not-so-subtle warning. When the sheikh did not take her hint and leave her to ride alone, she closed her eyes. Before long, the rhythmic jingle of the sheikh's bells and her limping camel's rocking gait lulled her into a restful slumber.

The young widow did not really sleep, for she remained awake enough to keep from falling off her camel. She was also aware of a hot breeze blowing against her face and of the periodic cries of warriors when they urged their hounds or birds after a lizard or snake for the evening's meal. The sun sank lower in the western sky, and At'ar's merciless rays struck Ruha's eyelids at increasingly horizontal angles. Kadumi's protectiveness and the sheikh's suspicions became distant worries, and the widow was resting as peacefully as she would have on a bed of soft carpets.

Some hours later, Ruha felt her mount shift from its pebble-sore stride to a softer tread more suitable for dust or sand. She opened her eyes and saw that the caravan now traveled in a more tightly knit formation.

Sa'ar still rode next to Ruha, but his attention was focused on a scout urgently whispering at his side. The sun had already touched the horizon, and night would soon fall. The dusk seemed unusually quiet and tense. Aside from the scout's murmuring voice and Sa'ar's jingling bells, the only sounds breaking the twilight were the soft footfalls of weary camels.

The caravan had left the burnished pebbles of At'ar's Looking Glass behind. It now rode over a carpet of dust, indigo colored in the failing light. To all sides, the purplish towers of rock that had seemed so distant earlier rose like minarets into the sky.

The Well of the Chasm lay less than a mile ahead, Ruha knew, through a labyrinth of stony spires that led to a deep canyon. Over a distance of several miles, the canyon descended to a depth of five hundred feet and ended in a boulder-strewn hollow. In the center of this small valley, a deep pit penetrated the bedrock to tap an underground stream of rust-colored water.

While Sa'ar conversed with the scout, a knot of concerned warriors slowly gathered around. They rode in silence, straining to hear what the scout was reporting to the sheikh. Even Lander and Kadumi had returned, riding side-by-side a few yards to the widow's right. Ruha began to feel swarmed by the silent throng and wished that Sa'ar had selected some other part of the caravan for his conference.

When the scout stopped whispering to him, Sa'ar wasted no time with deliberations or thought. He simply looked up and addressed his warriors. "Ready your bows and your scimitars," he ordered, signaling the caravan to stop. "Have the women wait here. If we do not return by dawn or if I send word for them to flee, they are to scatter into the desert. Should this happen, tell them not to wait for us, for we will not be joining them."

When the warriors did not relay his orders quickly enough, Sa'ar barked, "Do it now!"

As the throng dispersed, Lander urged his mount close to Ruha and Sa'ar. "What is happening, Sheikh?"

"The Zhentarim are camped outside the canyon leading to the Well of the Chasm," Sa'ar replied. "They are just sending their asabis to destroy the Raz'hadi. We assume that our allies will meet the attackers in the narrowest part of the canyon. We are going to try to drive the Zhentarim away from their campsite, then attack the asabis from behind and free the Raz'hadi."

Lander shook his head. "There are too many Zhentarim. You'll never drive them away. They'll just wipe you out while the asabis destroy your allies."

"Perhaps," the sheikh replied. "But we must fight. It is a matter of honor for the entire khowwan."

"Though it means dying in vain?"

"Even so," Sa'ar acknowledged, nodding. "This is not your fight, berrani. You and Kadumi should wait with the women. Flee if we do not return."

"I choose to fight," Kadumi called, drawing his scimitar. "The Zhentarim killed my father and my brothers in combat, and they slaughtered my mother and sisters without cause. It is my right to seek their blood."

The sheikh regarded the boy with a sad expression. "As you say, it is your right. You may ride with my warriors."

Lander spoke next. "This is not my fight, Sheikh, but I know more about the Zhentarim than any of your warriors. If you allow me to accompany you, I may be able to offer some advice."

Sa'ar nodded. "I was hoping you would volunteer to do this, for those who know their enemies will prevail more often. I will keep you safe."

"Then I'll stay with Lander," Ruha said, intruding on the conversation that had been going on all around her.

Both the sheikh and Kadumi scowled at the widow, and Lander studied her with an expression of surprise and puzzlement.

"Out of the question!" Sa'ar roared.

"Why?" Ruha countered. "You have promised to keep Lander safe. Surely it will cause no trouble to extend that protection to me."

"Lander rides with me because he may prove of use during the battle," the sheikh said. "Aside from being an unnecessary source of worry, what can you contribute to the warriors' cause?"

Lander's good eye flashed with inspiration. He turned from Ruha to the sheikh. "Perhaps Ruha is concerned about what will happen to her if we do not return," the Harper said. "After all, she is a stranger to the Mahwa and has only Kadumi and me to watch after her."

Sa'ar looked irritated. "She can't think she will be safer at the battlefield!"

The widow said, "But I do. With Kadumi riding into the middle of the fight, I would feel much safer in Lander's company." Ruha glanced at her brother-in-law meaningfully. "Unless, of course, Kadumi prefers to stay with me and the other women during the battle."