"By now the sentries have relayed word of our arrival to Sa'ar and Utaiba. One of them will send some boys from his tribe to tend our camels."

"That makes sense," the Sembian replied. He had given no thought to the sentries surely posted around the oasis, for he had not heard them sound any alarm. "Why didn't we hear any amarats?"

"I don't know, and it worries me. But rest assured that we have been seen."

"Should we take their silence as a warning?" he asked. "Could Sa'ar and Utaiba have changed their minds and be planning some sort of an ambush?"

The widow shook her head. "Most Bedine keep their word," she said, pulling the djebiras containing Qoha'dar's spellbook off her mount's back. "Still, there are many other sheikhs down there, and they were not a party to our agreement."

Lander scowled, his stomach already growing knotted at the prospect of being turned away after his difficult journey.

When the Harper did not move toward the camps, Ruha said, "Let's go. We are not going to stop the Zhentarim and kill Yhekal by standing around up here."

She started down the hill, leaving the camels roaring in protest at not being allowed to drink. As she passed Lander's mount, it even tried to nip at her. The Harper could sympathize with the beasts' fury. The animals had not had any water since leaving the Sister of Rains three days ago.

On the morning following the assassin's attack, Lander had taken the camels to drink from the springs while Ruha washed Kadumi's body. After the corpse was prepared for its journey, the pair had buried it near the wall, covering the grave with rocks to prevent scavengers from digging it up. They had bothered with no such courtesy for the Zhentarim. Instead, Lander had taken the man's magic ring, then dragged his body away from the oasis and left it in the open for the vultures.

After that, they had picked the last of the wild figs, then dashed across the northern edge of the Shoal of Thirst. Though the journey had seemed hotter than the first crossing, it had been alleviated by a surplus of drinking water and the fact that the milk camel had started providing again.

Now Lander was looking forward to a meal of solid food. Other than the figs and the rabbit Kadumi had caught at the Sister of Rains, he and Ruha had eaten nothing but camel's milk and blood since the Battle of the Chasm. The Harper was surprised at how well it had sustained him, but the effects of his liquid diet were beginning to tell. His scabbard belt was now wrapped three times around his waist instead of the customary two, and he had taken to chewing scrub twigs just to exercise his teeth.

As the pair descended toward the lake, a handful of boys rushed up the slope to meet them. When the group arrived, Ruha told them where to find the camels, then the youths rushed off to fulfill their responsibility. A few moments later, another group of older boys, about ten or twelve, approached.

"You are to come with us to Sheikh Sa'ar's tent," said the tallest. He studied them carefully, then looked past them up the trail. "We were told there would be three of you."

"Kadumi isn't with us," Lander answered, not bothering to explain what had happened.

The boys glanced from the Harper to Ruha, exchanging knowing looks and regarding Lander with suspicious expressions.

"Lead the way," the Harper ordered, upset by the iniquitous assumptions that he guessed were running through the youths' minds.

The boys surrounded the pair and eventually led them into one of the camps at the edge of the lake. As the escort brought Lander and Ruha through the circle of tents, the women and the children stared at the small procession. The children's eyes were round with curiosity, and they were plainly wondering why the pair of strangers was receiving so much attention. The expressions of the women, mostly hidden behind their veils, were harder to read.

Their eyes betrayed both interest and fear, but Lander could not guess why the women were frightened.

The Harper noticed that everything in the camp seemed new and fresh. The khreimas had been recently colored with henna juice and other dyes. They were in such excellent repair that Lander guessed all the tents were newly made, which would only make sense if this was Sa'ar's tribe. The Mahwa had lost all of their khreimas when they fled the Zhentarim at Colored Waters. He was surprised that they had recovered so quickly, however, and wondered if the other tribes had helped them. If so, that was a good sign, for it indicated that the Bedine were already working together.

The procession stopped in front of a large closed tent, around which were gathered dozens of mature warriors. Lander recognized Kabina and a few others from the Mahwa and Raz'hadi, but most of the faces were new to him. Their keffiyehs were decorated in the varying patterns popular in different tribes: red and white checks, solid browns or blacks, green stripes, and many more. Some even wore turbans.

Kabina waved the boys away, then regarded Lander and Ruha with a surly frown. No one said a word, and the gathering remained as silent as the Shoal of Thirst. From inside the tent came the scent of roasted meat and the quiet murmur of polite conversation. Lander's mouth started watering, and he felt his knees grow weak. He took an absent-minded step toward the open khreima, but Kabina held up a restraining hand. "No," he said. "The sheikhs are feasting."

"Tell them we are here," Ruha demanded. "We have had a long journey." Her gaze was fixed on the tent, and the Harper could tell that the smell was having the same effect on her.

Kabina did not lower his hand. "They know," he said.

They waited for several more minutes, straining in vain to hear the muffled words of the sheikhs. Lander had not expected Sa'ar to be overjoyed at seeing him and Ruha, but he had expected a more civil reception. He began to worry that the other sheikhs were resisting the agreement that Sa'ar and Utaiba had made regarding Ruha's magic.

At last, Sa'ar stepped out of the tent, Utaiba and thirteen more sheikhs behind. "So, berrani, you dare set eyes on Elah'zad, the secret paradise of the Bedine?" He addressed Lander alone, ignoring the widow.

"I do," Lander replied. He motioned to Ruha, who was still holding the djebiras containing the spellbook. "We have crossed the Shoal of Thirst and recovered the spellbook of Ruha's mentor, and we have crossed it again to meet you here. Surely, the gods look well upon us."

Sa'ar grunted an acknowledgement.

Ruha interrupted the conversation by sniffing loudly at the air. "What's that peculiar odor?"

Utaiba frowned and stepped to Sa'ar's side. "What odor?"

The widow stepped toward the khreima's entrance. "It's coming from in there," she said, pointing at Sa'ar's tent. "It smells like cooked meat. Perhaps we should go and eat it before something happens to it-though after ten days on the trail, I'd rather drink a bowl of warm camel's blood."

A chorus of laughter rustled through the warriors, and Lander could tell that every one of them had endured similar experiences.

Utaiba grinned sheepishly and laid a hand on Sa'ar's shoulder. "We've forgotten your manners, my friend. Our guests must be fed."

Sa'ar scowled in embarrassment. "Accept my apologies," he said. "All I have is a big buck that my arrow downed yesterday. My wives have spent the morning basting it with honey and spices, but I'm sure it cannot compare to camel's blood."

Lander smiled, relieved that Ruha's joke had lightened the atmosphere. He hoped the change of mood indicated that the cold reception did not mean the other sheikhs were opposing the agreement;.

Sa'ar stepped aside, waving Lander and Ruha toward his tent. "Save some for Kadumi. I'm sure his palate is less demanding than yours."