The youth clenched his teeth, and the widow saw that her threat was not lost on him. After giving Ruha a quick scowl, Kadumi addressed Sa'ar. "If it pleases the sheikh, I would entrust my sister-in-law to Lander's care. I have seen him fight and believe that even in the thick of battle, she will be safe with him."

"If that's what you want, then I approve," the sheikh said, impatiently turning his attention away from the trio. "Now I must go and prepare my sons for battle."

The three hundred warriors of the Mahwa said good-bye to their loved ones over the next quarter-hour, then gathered with their camels and weapons. Along with Kadumi and Lander, Ruha waited at the edge of the gathering, wondering what the night would bring. Several times, Lander started to ask a question of her, but Kadumi, who was straying no more than twenty feet from her side, always came over to smother the conversation.

By the time the last radiance of At'ar had vanished from the western sky, the sheikh was satisfied with his tribe's battle preparations. He drew his scimitar and waved his warriors forward. The small force mounted their camels and formed themselves into a column, then slipped between the hulking rock spires without a sound.

As Sa'ar's advisor, Lander rode at the sheikh's side. Ruha and Kadumi were a few yards behind the Harper. Like the rest of the column, they proceeded in tense silence, their thoughts occupied with images of what the night would bring.

Within a half-mile of travel, the sheikh sent Kadumi forward to join the rest of the warriors. When the boy was gone, Lander allowed his camel to fall back, then turned to Ruha and whispered, "What do you have in mind?"

The widow frowned, confused. "I don't understand."

"What's your plan?" he asked. "Why did you ask to join the battle?"

"To watch your back," she replied honestly.

The Harper's jaw drooped. "What about your-?" He finished the question by gesturing as if he were casting a spell.

Ruha raised her brow. "That's not why I came," she whispered, glancing at Sa'ar's back to make sure he wasn't eavesdropping on them. "What do you think I can do that will give three hundred men victory over three thousand?"

"You did okay at the ambush," Lander countered. "I thought you had an idea."

"No," Ruha said. "I just didn't want to be left alone."

The Harper rubbed his chin, then looked toward the front of the column. "Just the same, it can't hurt having you here."

They rode for another ten minutes before the column rounded a wishbone-shaped spire familiar to the widow. This had been the first oasis that Ruha had visited after Qoha'dar's death, so she recognized the terrain ahead. Less than two hundred yards away, a flat outcropping of rock rose from the desert floor, its walls draped in darkness. At the small plateau's southern end there was a narrow gap, barely visible in the pale light of the crescent moon. That gap was the beginning of the narrow, winding canyon that descended to the Well of the Chasm.

The scouts stopped in the shadow of the wishbone spire, awaiting the sheikh's command. Gathered in front of the canyon was the unsuspecting army of the Zhentarim. Their camels were unladen, and the men were gathered in small clusters, laughing and joking without regard to danger. From the dark gap leading into the chasm came a sporadic stream of shouting, amarat sirens, and guttural yells-the only sign that there was a battle nearby.

As Sa'ar paused to study the scene ahead, Lander turned to Ruha, an unspoken question in his eye.

"What do you think I can do?" she hissed.

The Harper shrugged. "It would be nice if the enemy couldn't tell how many of us there are," he answered. Without waiting for a response, he moved forward to take his place next to the sheikh.

Realizing that she might be able to accomplish what the Harper wanted, Ruha stopped behind the sheikh and forced her camel to kneel. She paused to make sure that everyone's attention was fixed on the Zhentarim camp. When she felt satisfied that she was last thing on anyone's mind, the widow picked up a handful of dust.

The sheikh raised his scimitar and signaled his warriors to charge.

Ruha whispered her wind incantation, then blew the dust from her hand. As the warriors galloped toward the unsuspecting Zhentarim, a gale rose at their backs, catching the dust raised by their camels and lifting it high into sky. Within moments, the cloud stretched across the entire valley and was billowing a hundred feet into the air.

"What's happening?" Sa'ar cried.

"Who can say?" Lander replied. Over his shoulder, he cast an approving glance at Ruha, then turned back to the sheikh. "But from the Zhentarim camp, it must look like you've sent ten thousand warriors into battle!"

As the dust cloud descended on the Zhentarim, Lander's sword hand went to his weapon's hilt and fitfully rested there. He was still sitting at Sa'ar's side, below the wishbone-shaped minaret, and he found himself wishing he were riding into battle instead.

Two hundred yards ahead, the wall of dust was sweeping toward the canyon that led down to the Well of the Chasm. Inside that dark curtain were the sheikh's three hundred charging warriors. Lander hoped their surprise assault, combined with the dust cloud Ruha had arranged, would convince the Zhentarim that they were under attack by a much larger force. With a little luck, the Black Robes would panic and flee their camp, leaving a clear route into and-more importantly-out of the Well of the Chasm.

After that, rescuing Sa'ar's allies would be a simple matter of defeating the asabis, then collecting the other tribe and fleeing before the enemy regrouped and counterattacked. Even if the warriors drove away the Zhentarim camped outside the canyon, Lander had no idea how the Mahwa would accomplish the second half of the plan, but he saw little sense in worrying about it until the first part was achieved.

When muffled screams and roars began rolling out of the dust cloud, Lander knew the Mahwa had reached the enemy's camp. A warrior's blade sang out as it clanged against a defender's saber, then there was another chime, and another. It was not a sound the Harper was happy to hear. Ringing steel meant the Zhentarim were fighting, and the Mahwa could not win a battle outnumbered as badly as they were.

Wondering if there was anything else that Ruha could do, Lander glanced over his shoulder. She stood next to her kneeling camel, her eyes still fixed on the dust cloud, her robes flapping in the wind. The Harper realized she was still concentrating on her first spell and could do nothing else unless he wanted her to let the dust curtain die away.

When Lander turned back around, he saw Sa'ar scowl and reach into a djebira. When the sheikh pulled his hand from the saddlebag, it contained a huge amarat. "In case I need to call a retreat," Sa'ar explained, resting the horn in his lap.

The sheikh had no need to sound his amarat. During the next minute, another dozen blades clanged, then, save for the wail of the wind, the dust cloud fell ominously silent. A moment later, there were a few shouts and the murmur of Bedine voices, both muffled by Ruha's wind magic, but the voices quickly fell silent again. The sheikh scowled, concerned.

"Is this Zhentarim magic?" he asked Lander.

The Harper shook his head. "Their sorcerers prefer more spectacular displays."

A single warrior came galloping out of the dust cloud.

Sa'ar leaned forward in his saddle, looking for more men behind the rider. When the Mahwai reached the pair, Lander saw that his aba was spattered with dark stains, and the Harper could smell the coppery odor of blood. The warrior's camel was so charged that the young man could barely keep his mount under control.