Part 13 (1/2)

”Well, you've read about him. He came into office at a time when the country was going to economic pot by the minute. Some of the measures he and his so-called brain trust took were immediately hailed by his enemies as socialistic. In answer, Roosevelt told them that in times of social stress the true conservative is a liberal, since to preserve, you have to reform. If Roosevelt hadn't done the things he did, back in the 1930s, you probably would have seen some _real_ changes in the American socio-economic system. Roosevelt didn't undermine the social system of the time, he preserved it.”

”Then, according to you, Roosevelt was a conservative,” she said mockingly.

Crawford laughed. ”I'll go even further,” he said. ”When social changes are pending and for whatever reason are not brought about, then reaction is the inevitable alternative. At such a time then--when sweeping socio-economic change is called for--any reform measures proposed are concealed measures of reaction, since they tend to maintain the _status quo_.”

”Holy Mackerel,” Cliff protested. ”Accept that and Roosevelt was not only not a liberal, but a reactionary. Stop tearing down my childhood heroes.”

Isobel said, ”Let's get back to this Amenokal guy. You think he's smart enough to see his only chance is in going along with ...”

Homer Crawford pointed ahead and a little to the right. ”We'll soon find out. This is a favorite encampment of his. With luck, he'll be there. If we can win him over, we've come a long way.”

”And if we can't?” Isobel said, her eyebrows raised again.

”Then it's unfortunate that there are only three of us,” Homer said simply, without looking at her.

There were possibly no more than a hundred Tuareg in all in the nomad encampment of goat leather tents when the solar powered hovercraft drew up.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

When the air cus.h.i.+on vehicle stopped before the largest tent, Crawford said beneath his breath, ”The Amenokal is here, all right. Cliff, watch your teguelmoust. If any of these people see more than your eyes, your standing has dropped to a contemptible zero.”

The husky Californian secured the lightweight cotton, combination veil and turban well up over his face. Earlier, Crawford had shown him how to wind the ten-foot long, indigo-blue cloth around the head and features.

Isobel, of course, was unveiled, Tuareg fas.h.i.+on, and wore baggy trousers of black cotton held in place with a braided leather cord by way of drawstring and a gandoura upper-garment consisting of a huge rectangle of cloth some seven to eight feet square and folded over on itself with the free corners sewed together so as to leave bottom and most of both sides open. A V-shaped opening for her head and neck was cut out of a fold at the top, and a large patch had been sewed inside to make a pocket beneath her left breast. She wasn't exactly a Parisian fas.h.i.+on plate.

Even as they stepped down from the hovercraft, immediately after it had drifted to rest on the ground, an elderly man came from the tent entrance.

He looked at them for a moment, then rested his eyes exclusively on Homer Crawford.

”_La Bas_, El Ha.s.san,” he said through the cloth that covered his mouth.

Homer Crawford was taken aback, but covered the fact. ”There is no evil,” he repeated the traditional greeting. ”But why do you name me El Ha.s.san?”

A dozen veiled desert men, all with the Tuareg sword, several with modern rifles, had formed behind the Tuareg chief.

Melchizedek made a movement of hand to mouth, in a universal gesture of amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Ah, El Ha.s.san,” he said, ”you forget you left me the magical instrument of the Roumi.”

Crawford was mystified, but he stood in silence. What the Tuareg paramount chief said now made considerable difference. As he recalled his former encounter with the Ahaggar leader, the other had been neither friendly nor antagonistic to the Reunited Nations team Crawford had headed in their role as itinerant desert smiths.

The Amenokal said, ”Enter then my tent, El Ha.s.san, and meet my chieftains. We would confer with you.”

The first obstacle was cleared. Subduing a sigh of relief, Homer Crawford turned to Cliff. ”This, O Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, is Clif ben Jackson, my Vizier of Finance.”

The Amenokal bowed his head slightly, said, ”_La Bas_.”

Cliff could go that far in the Tuareg tongue. He said, ”_La Bas_.”

The Amenokal said, looking at Isobel, ”I hear that in the lands of the Roumi women are permitted in the higher councils.”

Homer said steadily, ”This I have also been amazed to hear. However, it is fitting that my followers remain here while El Ha.s.san discusses matters of the highest importance with the Amenokal and his chieftains. This is the Sitt Izubahil, high in the councils of her people due to the great knowledge she has gained by attending the new schools which dispense rare wisdom, as all men know.”