Part 6 (1/2)

We left with the caravan that same afternoon, hired camels and Aman Akbar carrying Aster's booty. We were now officially rug-and-silk merchants, though we had enough variety of goods to open any sort of stall we cared to. If our appearance was shabbier than that of the other merchants in the caravan, no one commented. In fact, four unaccompanied women excited a great deal of unsolicited solicitousness among our traveling companions, who seemed to be trying to look through our draperies to see if we were worth adding to their own collections.

We rode in little houses called howdahs atop the backs of camels. I suppose the idea was that being in the howdah would not only shelter one from the sun but would also serve to ameliorate the effects of the camel's rocking gait upon one's stomach. Not so. I am a good horsewoman but I am not a good rider of camels, I confess. I preferred for the most part to walk along side, though I suffered from the sun despite my abayah and sandals. By the standards of my own country my skin was well-weathered and tough, but I found I was ill-prepared for this climate: my skin burned and peeled. My temper soured and curdled. Aster declared I was more than a match for Um Aman at her worst. But if my temper put me in a poor mood to deal with my friends, it put me in an excellent one to deal with foes.

But even Amollia's good nature was somewhat taxed by the journey. Animal lover that she is, she made a perfunctory attempt at befriending the camels, but said she found their personalities only slightly more amiable than mine.

Thus we traveled for several days with the caravan, under the delusion of protection, four helpless, weak, and for my part, heat-sick females. We saw waves of sand, and waves of heat, and supercilious camel smiles, and dung-dropping camel behinds, and endured the speculative eyeball rollings and half-jeering remarks of our companions... until the brigands livened things up by sweeping down upon us and causing a carnage that quite revitalized me, despite the heat.

It happened suddenly. One moment there was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see and the next a flapping white line, like a flock of geese on the horizon. The man leading the camel ahead of ours shouted and flung out a hand, and several others shouted also and drew swords. I had retained the ornamental weapon given Aster by the Emir's wives and drew it too, just in time. The dots on the horizon rapidly grew into horses and men. The blood from the rider of the lead camel of our caravan was already spurting from his neck before my sword was drawn. All around us animals and men churned the sand and camels scattered in all directions. Single members of the deadly flock detached themselves and gave chase to the faint-hearted souls who had suddenly decided to seek another route, while the main body attacked those who stood against them. I cleaved a limb or a neck here and there but the sword was dull and unless I could pounce unexpectedly upon a brigand, I found myself without adversaries. Even the foes I wounded seemed disinclined to take me and my blunted sword seriously. By the time I looted a decent scimitar from one of the bodies, what was left of the caravan was in the hands of the attackers.

Depending upon how you look at such things, good fortune or ill dictated that we women were regarded as booty and were taken prisoner rather than slain outright, as were those of our companions foolish enough to fight for their goods.

The problems for our foes began when they attempted to take possession of us. A brigand seized Amollia, who struggled. This displeased the cat, who leaped upon the brigand, whose companion drew a scimitar and sliced at the cat. Both cat and its prey were saved only when Amollia wrenched herself from the grasp of her a.s.sailant, causing that man to fall, cat and all, to the ground. Whereupon Amollia whistled loudly and the cat bounded away and sailed over the nearest sand dune.

Our husband bucked and bit those who would steal him, behaving as might any self-respecting a.s.s under similar circ.u.mstances.

A flying bundle of draperies dragged Aster backwards from her camel at the beginning of the raid and I didn't see her till sometime later. Um Aman sensibly chose to throw herself onto the sand and pray through the whole thing.

I for my part cheerfully waded in to exchange hacks and slashes with a great many fellows who no longer could afford to ignore me. What added to my cheer was that, perhaps due to Um Aman's prayers, I avoided being wounded in the exchange. The sons of dogs did outnumber me, however, and while I was defending myself with my excellent second-hand weapon, a pair of the wretches took me from behind, one grappling my knees and the other yanking my head backwards and laying hold of my veils and hair. I was severely irritated. Say if you must that all things are fair in love and war, but having just fought a great deal of the latter, I was in no mood for even more of the former, which, unless I missed my guess, was what these thieves had in mind for us all.

My suspicions were confirmed when a brigand lay his forearm across my throat, pressed his cheek next to mine, breathing noxious fumes laden with something akin to essence of well-aged goat urine and camel milk mixed with blood (a common drink among that sort of person. It smells even worse than it sounds), growled, ”Aha, this one fancies herself a man. Shall I slay her like one?”

”What? And waste all that? By G.o.d, the sun has broiled your wits at last,” the other replied and s.n.a.t.c.hed my abaya askew from under his comrade's meaty arm.

'Twas my gallant spouse saved my honor, or at least delayed its loss long enough for me to save it myself.

With a stricken bray and hooves spraying sand, Aman Akbar galloped into the clutch of ruffians surrounding me. His hooves clouted them like clubs of iron and his back arched and straightened, a catapult of bucking to power his mighty kicks. All the while his awesome voice rent the desert air with its shrill clamor of a.s.s's indignation.

More with the thought of escaping being stricken by those hooves myself than of actually obtaining freedom, I ducked below the shock-loosened arm of my chief captor and sprinted across the sand-straight into the perfumed arms of the limpid-eyed, moon-faced gentleman who had been sweeping forth to peruse the results of the raid.

”Kill the d.a.m.ned donkey!” a voice behind me bellowed.

”Never mind him! That thrice-accursed woman's attacking the Khan!”

I was not. I was tripping upon my disarranged draperies and he, in his attempt to rise, was tangling them with his own and with the sword still in his scabbard. Having heard the brigand threaten Aman Akbar, I tried to free myself to race back to his defense, but as I finally extricated myself momentarily from my new complication, I saw that Amollia had preceded me. Like a great black falcon she swooped into the fray, smas.h.i.+ng the circle surrounding our husband and throwing herself upon the man who clung to Aman's stubby mane and held a blade to our poor husband's jaw. Blood stained Aman's pale coat already but with great deftness Amollia pried the blade from the brigand's hand and sent it flying.

She wasn't able to prevail for long. In an instant another brigand flung himself upon her, and Aman Akbar shot out from under all three, galloping off to attack from yet another position. In this endeavor Kalimba joined him, her spots again streaking to stripes as she launched herself at the men with whom her mistress was locked in combat. Her ferocious scream was such, as they say in this land, to turn the hair of children gray.

And now, her prayers finished, Um Aman joined the battle. The nails of her hands raised like talons before her, her veil slipped down over one cheek, its beaded string dangling from her chin, she rushed forward in defense of her beleaguered son. The brigand atop Amollia all but lost his eyes, saving himself only by twisting aside in time to swing his arm across both of hers, rapping her across the ear.

He in turn was rapped by Aster, who sprang forth as if from nowhere, leaving a brigand behind her clutching futilely at the torn black robe she had discarded as easily as a serpent shedding its skin.

Beneath it she wore a simple blue robe, and had gathered its long sleeves into her hands. These sleeves she swung with such momentum that I saw they had weights in their tips, and using them as cudgels she felled three of the men, including the one who held her robes, almost before anyone knew she was there.

My heart sang within me. This was more like it! From a complete rout, it looked as if we might be winning. At least we were fighting. Screaming my father's battle cry I bounded forward, only to be yanked back, my own sash jerking tightly across my middle.

”Hold, my impetuous beauty,” the voice behind me said with maddening calm and even gentleness. ”In the name of G.o.d the compa.s.sionate and compa.s.sioning, I bid you hold.”

”Hold yourself,” I replied, twisting so that I might smite him. He skipped nimbly out of smiting distance. ”I have a battle to fight here.”

”So I see,” he said, and inserted two fingers between his lips, blowing a loud, piercing whistle. ”Cease, by G.o.d, as your commander I bid you, cease this warring against women and beasts!”

”They started it,” one of his men protested.

”By G.o.d, we did not-” Um Aman began angrily. But the commander whistled again, silencing them all.

”Hearing and obeying,” the men mumbled with various degrees of meekness, and the one who had obtained a firm grip around Amollia's bosom lowered his arms until they sedately encircled her waist instead.

”For shame!” the leader scolded. ”Do you think we are common brigands to-”

”As a matter of fact...” I began. He glowered at me.

”You dishonor the principles for which we fight. Rich merchants to fatten our war chests are one thing. Women fighting for their lives and virtue-”

”And winning,” I growled. I was angry at having to stop while we were ahead.

”Are another. Ah, ah, ah, ah!” He shook a finger admonis.h.i.+ngly at a fellow with a scar cutting diagonally across a face that probably hadn't inspired songs to its beauty before but now gave him the fearsome aspect of having two noses, ”Touch not the loyal a.s.s, nor yet the lion. These n.o.ble beasts but defended their helpless mistresses, thereby preserving us from committing a great wrong. Ladies, lay down your weapons. Come to my tents where you may cool yourselves in the shade while we tend your wounds.”

Accepting an invitation was not the same thing as being captured. I realized, when the hot blood that rose in my veins during battle ceased surging against my throat, that we could not have won. There were vast numbers of these men and we had escaped murder at their hands only because of the benefit they hoped to gain by reason of our s.e.x-whether to slake their own l.u.s.ts or to sell us as slaves. Their master seemed of a different mind and I saw no reason to antagonize him. We could not fight indefinitely nor could we flee into the desert without camels or water so it seemed best to accept his hospitality.

Um Aman took this to extremes. Upon ducking into the dimness of the man's tent, she immediately threw herself across the rich carpets spread on the sand and sprawled beside a lady who was turning a handmill. The startled woman fell back on her heels and Um Aman grasped the handle and cried, ”I lay an ar ar upon you to protect my family and the family of my son. A thousand virulent curses smite you if you dishonor us.” upon you to protect my family and the family of my son. A thousand virulent curses smite you if you dishonor us.”

In doing this, she evoked another of the customs of her people. A woman whose protector is absent may claim protection from another man by doing as Um Aman did, throwing herself upon the mercy of her host. Though women ordinarily did not choose to appeal to those who murdered their escorts, I suppose, the custom was not without practical merit. For the appeal to the man's n.o.bler instincts was backed by the promise of messy, painful and inconvenient occurrences which would befall him should he fail in his duty toward his involuntarily acquired obligation.

Our host was clearly put out. ”Where is this son of yours that he cannot protect his own family?” he demanded.

”You know very well where he is, oh my chosen protector,” Um Aman replied smugly. ”He is tethered outside with your animals.”

”Tethered?” the two-nosed brigand asked, horrified. ”Great Khan, I swear to you, we slew all the men but we didn't tether anybody! No one, that is, but the a.s.s.”

Aster hung her head with a childish sadness calculated to melt hard brigand hearts and said, ”That is no a.s.s, that is our husband.”

The leader, called Marid Khan, sat down abruptly, missing the cus.h.i.+on he had aimed at and rubbing his hip as he regarded us. He bit into an apple and chewed for a while before asking, ”And what manner of women are you, helpless ones, to be married to and the mother of an a.s.s?”

”Whoever they are, Marid Khan,” one of the men commented as he dressed the scratches inflicted by Um Aman's nails upon one of his fellows, ”they fought as tigers.”

”One of them is is a tiger,” Two Noses pointed out and addressed Um Aman directly, ”Is she your daughter too, old woman?” a tiger,” Two Noses pointed out and addressed Um Aman directly, ”Is she your daughter too, old woman?”

”Enough,” the Khan said, gesturing us all to sit, for women had begun pouring into the tent bearing with them viands whose odors immediately dispelled any desire I might have had to make or listen to lengthy explanations.

Marid's chosen profession required a lot of moving, and with this we, as new members of his tribe, were expected to help, as well as with the spinning, weaving, cooking and other tasks. I felt comforted by the familiarity of these tasks, much as I disliked them.

We traveled in not only dangerous but exalted company, for not only was Marid Khan no ordinary brigand; he was a rather extraordinary rebel prince. His people had roamed the desert freely in the time of the Emir's predecessor and had traded peaceably with the city folk. Marid himself had been sent to Kharristan as a boy to be educated and to learn courtly manners. But upon the ascension of the Emir Onan to the governors.h.i.+p of Kharristan, the favored position of Marid Khan and his people changed for the worse. Around the same time, problems developed between the throne and Marid's people. Some aunt of Marid's had disappeared from the King's harem and the mutterings were that she had been slain.

Marid's stance as leader of his people was to enrich them and gain honor and status in the kingdom by relieving the city of much of its excess wealth. What he would do once he was rich wasn't really clear, but everyone was delighted with the loot obtained by robbing the caravans and so far no one had thought to question his plans beyond that point. He was, after all, a relatively young leader. To make war and gain prosperity seemed like a good start.