Utaiba glanced accusingly at Ruha, then scowled at Lander. "Have you slept with the widow, Lander?" he asked. "Only N'asr's curse could cause this."

The Harper, staring at the heads in anger and shock, did not seem to hear the question.

Ruha answered for him. "Our sleeping arrangements are not your concern, Sheikh, but you may rest assured that this is not N'asr's curse."

When Utaiba frowned at Ruha's reply, Sa'ar said, "The widow and the Harper slept in my camp last night, and I swear they did nothing to anger her husband's spirit."

"I would not doubt the word of a brother sheikh," said Didaji. He was a tall, gaunt man swathed in a brown turban, and a crimson scarf was pulled across his face. In his tribe, it was the men who covered their mouths and the women who went without veils. "But if this is not N'asr's doing, how did it happen?"

"Zhentarim magic," Lander answered, his attention still fixed on the heads.

Utaiba walked to one of the heads and picked it up by the hair. Pointing at the stump of the neck, he said, "This was cut by a sword, not by a magic charm."

"A dozen asabis could have killed every man here," Lander said, waving his hand at the camp.

"I don't see how," objected Sa'ar. "Even if a dozen men could sneak past our sentries, someone would have seen or heard the attack."

"Not if you didn't know what to look for," Ruha said. When the sheikhs looked at her with curious expressions, she continued, "I can show you how they did it."

"Please do," requested Didaji.

Ruha pointed at the khreima closest to the group. "Sheikh Sa'ar, would you take your sword and begin striking a tent pole?"

The burly sheikh raised an eyebrow, but went to the entrance and did as asked. As his blade began to bite into the wood, hollow thuds throbbed across the hilltop.

"That is something like the sound a beheading would make, is it not?" Ruha asked.

"Close," Utaiba replied, tossing the head in his hand aside and rejoining the others.

The widow removed a pinch of clay from her pocket and cast it into the breeze, at the same time speaking her incantation. The sound of Sa'ar's blade striking the tent pole faded to silence, but everyone could see the sheikh swing several more times.

The Mahwai stopped and frowned at Ruha, angrily asking a question that no one could hear. Several of the sheikhs chuckled.

"This is all very funny," said Didaji, "and I can see why no one was awakened by sounds of struggle. But there is still the matter of sight. Even in the night, the asabis would not be invisible."

"They might be," Lander said. "Remember the ring I brought to Elah'zad."

Utaiba brow rose in alarm. "How many of those could they have?"

"Not many," the Harper replied. "But there are spells that do the same thing for a short time."

Utaiba looked at Ruha with renewed respect. "Can you do that?" he asked.

"I cannot make people invisible," she replied, "but I can conceal them in the darkness."

The sheikh nodded thoughtfully. "Then I am glad the gods have blessed you with their favor," he said. "We shall have to make a list of your other talents."

The comment sent a wave of contentment through Ruha's veins, and she was surprised at how good it felt to be needed.

Sa'ar interrupted her satisfaction by stepping to her side. "What did you do to-?" The burly sheikh stopped speaking in midsentence, astounded to hear his own voice again.

Ruha chuckled at his astonishment. "I didn't do anything to you," she said. "I did it to the pole you were hitting. It was a spell that absorbs sound from everything within a few feet of its target."

Flushing with embarrassment, Sa'ar sheathed his scimitar and turned to his companions. "What are we waiting for?" he asked, waving at the campsite. "This changes nothing. Let us go to battle."

"No," Lander replied, walking toward one of the Ruwaldi tents. "That's what the Zhentarim want, so we'd better come up with another plan."

"What do you mean?" asked Yatagan, a toothless man with a wizened face. In contrast to the abas of the other Bedine, he wore billowing, brightly colored trousers and a loose shirt covered by a green vest.

"The Zhentarim's leader is trying to be sure that we attack, otherwise he wouldn't have sent his mercenaries to commit this atrocity," the Harper explained. "To me, that suggests that he's picked his ground carefully and prepared a few surprises. I think we'd be wiser to change our plans." He peered into a tent and made a disgusted face, then withdrew his head and looked toward the sheikhs. "That's only a suggestion, of course."

Utaiba nodded, then said, "There is truth to the Harper's words. Let us discuss them in my camp."

"After we send someone to wash and bury the dead," Yatagan added.

Sa'ar and several others grumbled at the delay, but they were outnumbered and had no choice but to agree to the council. They descended the hill without inviting either Lander or Ruha to join them. It was, the widow realized, a diplomatic omission. With the warriors anxious for battle, it would be better if it appeared that neither she nor Lander were responsible for delaying the fight.

Once the sheikhs were gone, Lander began moving from tent to tent, repeating the peculiar warning that Ruha heard him speak to any dead he encountered. "Dead ones, you will meet N'asr's denizens everywhere. Remember your gods and keep their faith, or you will suffer as surely as the wicked."

Ruha followed a few steps behind, peering into the khreimas as Lander spoke to the corpses. The scene was always similar. In the back of the tent was a large gash, apparently cut by the attackers. Six sleeping carpets lay in a rough circle in the center of the tent. At the head of each carpet lay the kuerabiche that had been serving as the warrior's pillow when he was decapitated. In some of the tents, the six headless corpses had each been dragged into a corner, as if by a greedy dog, and the soft parts of the body had been devoured.

When she could stand looking at the grisly scenes no longer, Ruha took the Harper's arm and stopped him. "I have seen enough of Yhekal's work," she said. "Why don't you tell me what it is that you're doing?"

"The camp of the dead is filled with N'asr's evil servants. They hunt the spirits of those who lose their faith or those who never had any," he explained. "So I'm warning the dead to remember their gods. As long as they don't lose conviction in their gods, they'll be safe."

"How do you know all this?"

The Harper flushed, but he did not look away. "My mother worshiped Cyric, who is N'asr to the Bedine," the Harper explained. "This is what she learned from her priests."

"And you really think the dead will remember what you say?" Ruha asked.

Lander shrugged. "I'm not even sure they can hear me," he said. "The warning can't do any harm, though."

Ruha nodded. "That's true," she said. "Go ahead and finish."

As the Harper returned to his task, the first of the burial detail arrived. The widow allowed them a few minutes of disgust and outrage, then directed them toward the dead to whom Lander had already spoken.

By the time the Harper had finished his task, At'ar was two spans above the horizon and the day was already beginning to grow warm. Realizing that neither she nor Lander had eaten anything since last night, Ruha suggested they return to her khreima for breakfast.

As they walked toward Sa'ar's camp, Lander's face seemed vacant and weary. Recalling the effect that viewing even a few of the tents had had upon her, the widow decided that the Harper might not want to eat. Her own emotions were torn between elation at the feeling of acceptance she had experienced that morning and revulsion at what the Zhentarim had done to the Ruwald.

"Perhaps you're not hungry," she suggested. "Maybe you would prefer to find someplace to graze our camels."