“That’s why we don’t cry for Hubaira,” Ramman said. “Because you brought us her head, we have not really lost her. She is part of Abu Siq and will be for many years. If we wish to talk to her, we can come out here in the morning and wait for her to appear. If you had not delivered her head to us, there would have been a hole in our hearts for the rest of our lives.”
“Now,” said Qattar, “there is work to be done. We must return.”
Hubaira’s parents headed back to the city, humming softly, leaving Jebel and Tel Hesani to gaze with awe at the Khazneh and the decomposing faces of the not-truly-dead.
Jebel and Tel Hesani spent most of the day with Ramman once he had attended to his duties, exploring more of the city. Tel Hesani was full of questions, most regarding the Khazneh.
Ramman had to leave them again in the afternoon, to help build a house. Tel Hesani offered their services, but Ramman declined—it wasn’t the Um Siq’s custom to accept aid from outsiders. The pair wandered idly and eventually found themselves back by the Khazneh. Tel Hesani hadn’t spoken since Ramman left them. Jebel was tired of the silence, so as the slave studied the Khazneh, he said, “What are you thinking?”
“Why do you assume I was thinking about anything in particular, my lord?”
“I know your expressions,” Jebel said. “You’ve been brooding on something all day.”
Tel Hesani was surprised—he hadn’t thought the boy was that alert. His surprise made him hesitate. Jebel misinterpreted the slave’s hesitation and scowled. “You don’t have to tell me, if it’s a secret.”
“It’s no secret, my… it’s no secret,” said Tel Hesani. “I have been thinking of the beliefs of the Um Siq and the um Khathib.”
“Why?” Jebel frowned. “These people and the snake worshippers are heretics.”
“We can all learn from the faiths of others,” Tel Hesani disagreed.
“Learn what?” Jebel huffed. “If you think that you know the truth of the gods—or God in your case—why do you care what others believe?”
“Only God knows the absolute truth,” Tel Hesani said. “There is always more for men to learn. We grope towards understanding, revealing it a piece at a time. No one should ever shut off his mind to new ideas.”
“You’re wrong,” said Jebel. “My people know all about the gods, how the world was created, what’s wrong and what’s right. If you studied our beliefs, you’d know it all too.”
“But the Um Kheshabah have studied them,” Tel Hesani said. “We seek answers from all the people of Makhras. We believe that each race holds part of the overall puzzle. Only through sharing can we draw closer to the truth. That’s why we don’t hate the Um Aineh, despite all that they have done to our nation over the years. We need you, just as you need us.”
“How dare you!” Jebel exploded. “We don’t need you. The Um Aineh don’t need anybody, certainly not the slaves of Abu Kheshabah. I should whip the skin from your bones for saying such a thing.”
“But you won’t,” Tel Hesani said calmly. “If you did, the Um Siq would kill you. You see, you do need me, just as I need you to free my wife and children. We are bound as all men are, and only a fool hates those upon whom he relies.”
With an angry snort, Jebel turned his back on the Khazneh and stalked off. He heard Tel Hesani following and would have liked to tell the infuriating slave to leave him alone. But he couldn’t, because it was true—Jebel did need Tel Hesani. At least until they got to Tubaygat. After that… The boy smiled grimly. He would teach the slave a costly lesson about need then!
The regiment left the next day, taking the northern branch of the siq out of the city. Qattar and Ramman came to the exit with Jebel and Tel Hesani and thanked them one last time for returning their daughter’s head. They provided the questers with dried meat and thick coats made from the hide of an animal Jebel didn’t recognize.
“Move swiftly through Abu Saga,” Qattar advised. “The Um Saga enslave many travelers and send them to work down mines.”
“We’ll be careful,” Tel Hesani vowed.
“I hope we meet again,” said Ramman.
“I do too,” Tel Hesani said, then added beneath his breath, “although I fear it won’t be in this world.”
The siq ranged higher in the north than in the south, rising steeply until they were soon marching over the mountains, not beneath them. The peaks still towered overhead, but Jebel and Tel Hesani no longer felt as if they were crawling through the bowels of Makhras.
It was colder up here, and the rocks were dark and hard. The path was less accessible, and they often had to clamber over boulders and in some sections climb cliffs. It was tiring work, and even the Um Siq found the going difficult.
They marched late into the night before stopping. When Jebel rose in the morning, he was shivering, and the chill remained as the march resumed. He was sweating heavily beneath his warm layers. Tel Hesani noted the boy’s discomfort and insisted on examining him when they stopped for a break.
“It’s not serious,” he said, having held the back of his hand to Jebel’s forehead, examined his throat, and taken his pulse. “But you’ll need to rest for a few days, somewhere warm.”
Tel Hesani had planned to cut west after the siq, journey with the soldiers to the al-Attieg gorge, then follow the as-Sudat north. But now he revised his plans. “We’ll go to Jedir,” he said. “It’s not far once we exit the siq, and there are inns where we can stay until you improve.”
“As you wish,” Jebel sniffed, not worrying about the dangers they might face by branching out on their own. But if either had known of the fate awaiting them in Jedir, they would have pushed straight on west and taken their chances with a dozen deadly fevers.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jedir was a small town less than a day’s walk from the mouth of the siq. Tel Hesani led Jebel there once they’d parted company with the soldiers. Jebel was shivering and sweating even worse than before, but Tel Hesani wasn’t overly worried. He was more concerned with the conditions in Jedir. The Um Saga were generally hostile to foreigners and quick to enslave stragglers, so he knew they would need a good story to stave off the interest of those who would otherwise view the pair as easy pickings.
They made slow progress and arrived at Jedir a couple of hours after sunset. It was a square, walled town. Entrances were set in each corner, where suspicious guards judged visitors from a platform overlooking the gates. If they disapproved of those who presented themselves, there was a pot of scalding oil close by to tip over the unfortunates beneath.
The guard who addressed Jebel and Tel Hesani was covered from head to foot in thick furs, and only a small area of his face was visible. He called out to them in his native tongue, a challenge to state their business.
“We do not speak your language,” Tel Hesani replied.
The guard rolled his eyes, then stepped back as one of the men with him moved forward. “Who you?” the second guard bellowed. “Where from?”
“We’re Um Aineh traders,” Tel Hesani said, knowing they’d stand no chance if he admitted to his true nationality—the Um Saga thought even less of slaves than Jebel’s people did. “We’ve come from Abu Siq. We want to spend a few days here, make contacts, and establish business links.”
“Came through the siq?” the guard roared. “I not believe!”
Tel Hesani shrugged. “Believe what you want. But if you turn us away, you’ll have to explain your decision to your superiors when the rest of our party turns up and inquires as to our whereabouts.”
“Not travel alone?” asked the guard.
“Of course not,” Tel Hesani snorted. “We’re part of a large trading party. The rest are coming by river. We only came by land because we wanted to check out the path between the mountains.”
The guard had his doubts—this pair didn’t look like traders—but if they truly had come through Abu Siq, they weren’t to be lightly dismissed. He barked an order for the gate to be raised. Tel Hesani didn’t th
ank him, only nudged Jebel forward before the guard changed his mind.
Jedir was a cramped, messy town. The houses pressed tightly together, cutting out all but a sliver of light from the moon. The people were surly, hard-faced, wary of strangers. They didn’t see many unfamiliar faces here. The town was off the main trading routes. There had once been a tin mine nearby, but that had run dry years ago. The town was maintained purely because it was useful to have a post this close to the siq so that the Um Siq could be spied upon.
There wasn’t a great choice of inns. The first two they passed were foul. The third had no vacancies. The fourth, according to an old crone squatting outside, was the best in Jedir, the place favored by wealthier traders. Tel Hesani tipped her a small silver swagah, then entered with Jebel. They made their way to the bar, and the Um Kheshabah asked about a room. The barman didn’t speak their language but gathered their intent. With hand gestures he set a price—six silver swagah for the night. Tel Hesani haggled him down to four, then led Jebel upstairs.
The room was on the top floor of the inn. It was basic—rugs laid on straw for a bed, one rickety chair by a tiny window—but cleaner than Tel Hesani had dared hope. He told Jebel to lie on the bed and remove his clothes, then examined the boy’s chest. Jebel was coughing miserably, but there were no signs of a dangerous infection.
“You’ll be fine,” Tel Hesani said. “You’re just not used to the cold and damp. With rest and warmth, you will make a full recovery.”
“I feel terrible,” Jebel moaned. “Why aren’t you sick too?”
“I have traveled widely. I am accustomed to changes in the weather.”
“It’s not fair,” Jebel sniffed. “You’re the slave. You should be suffering, not me.”
Tel Hesani laughed, told Jebel to put his clothes back on, and went down to find out if he could buy some milk and honey.
Jebel spent the next forty-eight hours in bed, shivering and coughing, but he was gradually improving, and Tel Hesani thought they would be able to resume their march north by the end of the week.
When he wasn’t nursing Jebel, Tel Hesani spent his time exploring the meager markets of Jedir, asking questions related to trade. He’d spotted one of the guards from the gate talking with the barman not long after they arrived. He felt he should back up his story by acting as if he was a trader. So he did the rounds, paying a translator to ask questions about supply, price, and delivery times. He pretended to be a representative of an influential group. He didn’t talk much about his business but allowed a few “hints” to slip, letting people believe he’d struck a deal to trade with the Um Siq.
On the third day Jebel felt a lot better. After a short examination, Tel Hesani agreed to let him come down for lunch. The pair were at the top of the stairs, Tel Hesani ahead of Jebel, when the door to the room beside theirs swung open, and a man boomed happily, “The bet is mine, Master Blair!”
“Indeed, Master Bush,” came the reply. “You’re a keen judge of circumstance.”
Jebel whirled around with excitement. “Master Bush! Master Blair!”
The two traders from Shihat were standing in the doorway, beaming. They were dressed in the same clothes they had been wearing in Abu Aineh, although Master Bush now wore thick, knee-length socks beneath his tunic, and both had heavy grey capes draped around their shoulders.
“Greetings, Jebel Rum,” Master Bush smiled, stroking his goatee, which was thicker than before.
“And greetings to you also, Tel Hesani,” said Master Blair, clapping Jebel on the back, then striding forward to clasp the slave’s hand.
“How long have you been here?” Jebel exclaimed. “We’re staying in the room next door!”
“We know,” Master Bush said. “We could tell by the snores.” He chuckled. “Actually, we arrived only a few hours ago. As we were checking in, we heard talk of a pair of traders who had come through Abu Siq. I said to Master Blair, ‘I bet those are the friends we left behind in Shihat.’ ”
“To which I replied, ‘Don’t be a fool!’ ” Master Blair grimaced. “I thought you would have been chewed to pieces by alligators long ago.”
“We nearly were,” Jebel said. “There were snakes too, and—”
“Hush, my young friend,” Master Bush interrupted. “I’m sure you have many thrilling stories to tell, but such delights are best shared over a meal. And while the food here is… I hesitate to say disgusting… not of the highest possible standards, it should nevertheless provide a fitting backdrop to your stirring tales.”
Laughing warmly, the slim trader led the way down to the dining area and insisted that he and Master Blair treat the weary travelers to lunch.
Masters Bush and Blair had enjoyed a pleasant journey since they had parted company with Jebel and Tel Hesani. The traders had sailed up the westernmost tributary of the as-Surout before crossing to Hassah on foot. They conducted some business there—“We made… it would be inaccurate to say a fortune… but a more than modest profit,” Master Blair purred—then sailed to Abu Saga through the al-Attieg gorge. They’d met with a few miners and discussed their plans for mining in the lands north of the al-Meata mountains and were now on their way to Disi, the capital of Abu Saga.
“Disi’s where the action is,” Master Bush declared. “Most of the miners we spoke with weren’t interested in our proposals, but we’ll find keener ears in Disi.”
They were impressed by Jebel and Tel Hesani’s adventures and pressed them for details. They asked a few questions about the um Khathib, how they lived, and what they traded, but their interest in the swamp folk was nothing compared to their eagerness to learn about the Um Siq. They wanted to know the condition of the path in the siq, the layout of the buildings, their military strength, and so on. Tel Hesani didn’t say much. Jebel spoke more freely, describing Abu Siq as clearly as he could, enjoying the envious looks of the traders and their lavish compliments.
“They must be overflowing with riches,” Master Blair murmured.
“Yes,” said Master Bush. “Are the legends true? Do they really sleep on beds of gold and play marbles with gems?”
Jebel laughed and was about to tell them how ridiculous the legends were, when Tel Hesani laid a hand on his knee and squeezed. Jebel winced and glared at the slave but then recalled his promise to Ramman and flushed.
“The legends are exaggerated,” he muttered, “but only slightly.”
“Do they leave diamonds lying around?” Master Blair asked. “Are the streets overrunning with swagah? Could you stroll along, fill your pockets, and walk out a rich man?”
“No,” Tel Hesani said. “They guard their riches hawkishly. Only a very brave and stupid man would try to steal from the Um Siq.”
Master Blair’s face dropped, but Master Bush smirked. “I never did believe the legends. Tell me more of the Khazneh. It sounds like a marvelous spectacle.”
As Jebel started to describe the Khazneh again, three Um Saga entered the inn. They were all heavily bearded and dressed in dark blue clothes. One was carrying a rusty ring on his belt from which dozens of tiny keys hung. When Master Blair saw this, he cocked his head and eyed the man speculatively. Rising, he made an excuse and strolled to the bar, where he introduced himself to the trio and had a hushed conversation. After a while he returned to the table and smiled as he sat. “I thought I knew one of them, but I was mistaken.”
Jebel had been talking of their fight with the mamlah. As he recounted it again for Master Blair, the trader laid his right hand on the table and began lightly drumming with his fingertips. Neither Jebel nor Tel Hesani noticed, but Master Bush’s eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips. He rubbed his left ear, stole a glance at the Um Saga, then gave the ear a meaningful tug.
“You must be thirsty after all that talking,” Master Bush said, getting up. “Let me fill your mugs.” He took the boy’s and reached for Tel Hesani’s. “Anything stronger than water for you, my friend?”
“No,” Tel Hesani said. “In fact, I think we sho
uld return to our—”
“Don’t rush off!” Master Blair exclaimed, grabbing Tel Hesani’s mug and shoving it at Master Bush. “I know the boy’s been poorly, but talk is good for him. Let’s have one more drink, then we can all retire for the afternoon.”
“How about goat’s milk?” Master Bush asked. “A mug for each of you. Milk’s good for healing, especially if you add a spoonful or two of honey.”
“They have no honey here,” said Tel Hesani.
“But we do,” Master Bush beamed. “Master Blair has a sweet tooth, and we never travel without a few jars. I’ll fetch some.”
Tel Hesani checked with Jebel. “I don’t want to go up just yet,” Jebel said.
“Very well.” Tel Hesani nodded gratefully at Master Bush. “But you paid for the earlier drinks, so please let us pay for these.”
“Nonsense,” Master Bush snorted. Before Tel Hesani could argue, the trader hurried to the bar, where he called for two mugs of their finest milk, then darted upstairs and returned with a large bag. Setting the bag down next to the mugs, he undid it, took the top off a jar hidden inside, and stuck a spoon into it. With his back to Tel Hesani and the others, he transferred a couple of spoonfuls to one of the mugs, then half a spoonful to the other, before screwing the top back on the jar and tying up the bag. As he carried the mugs to the table, the three Um Saga at the bar paid for their drinks and left.
“To your good health,” Master Bush toasted Jebel when he sat down again.
“And yours,” Master Blair said to Tel Hesani after they’d drunk the first toast.
“And ours,” Master Bush laughed, and they drank yet again.
Jebel made a face. “It tastes strange,” he said. Tel Hesani was also grimacing.
“Abu Nekhele honey,” said Master Blair, “from al-Attieg bees. They’re larger than most, and their honey isn’t the sweetest. But it’s better than none at all. You develop a taste for it after a while, especially when it’s all you can find.”