“Among?” Omar smiled widely. “We are the best, sahib. Without a doubt.”
Tariq offered him a tentative grin. “Do we have a deal?”
“I believe so, sahib; however, may I ask one last question?”
Tariq nodded.
“What is the purpose behind you seeking out the Badawi?”
Tariq thought for a moment. This elderly man was, at best, a servant. Most likely, a relic sent to collect water on a daily basis so as to maintain an appearance of usefulness in his old age. Giving him information seemed rather harmless.
“I have a business proposition to make.”
“Business?” Omar cackled. “With the Badawi? Why would a rich young sahib need a desert wanderer’s help?”
“I answered your question. Do we have a deal?”
Omar’s dark eyes twinkled. “Yes, yes, sahib. We do.”
Tariq directed Zoraya to a perch atop the well, and then turned to his horse to remove his recurve bow. He lashed the quiver to his back and slung the sinew across his chest, for he was not fool enough to leave behind a weapon. Finally, he tugged on the rope to make sure it was solidly rooted before positioning himself on the stone and mortar brim.
The well was as wide as a man and two times his height, so it was not an especially difficult task to ease his way down and grab the wooden bucket floating on the water’s surface. In short order, Tariq climbed back up the stone hollow and out into the orange dusk of a desert sunset.
He passed the bucket to Omar. “I suggest tying a rope to the handle, for the sake of future ease.”
Omar laughed. “A wise suggestion!”
The two men began the process of filling the animal skins with water and securing them to the camels waiting nearby.
“So,” Tariq commenced, “which Badawi tribe do you ride with?”
Omar grinned. “I ride with the al-Sadiq family.”
“I’ve heard that name before.”
“Many say it is a great family. From a long line of powerful desert wanderers.”
“Who is your sheikh?”
“A sixth-generation son of the al-Sadiq line. Some would argue he’s a bit strange. He studied in Damascus for a time before returning to the desert.”
“And what did he study in Damascus?”
“Sword making. He mastered the craft of iron and steel, sahib.”
“What possessed him to learn this trade?”
Omar shrugged. “He believes such knowledge gives him an edge over his enemies.”
Tariq nodded pensively. “He sounds like an interesting man.”
“As are you, sahib. But I am most curious; what is the nature of your business with the Badawi?”
Tariq hedged. “It is personal.”
“Personal?” Omar laughed. “Then you are trying to overthrow a family member or . . . win the heart of a woman.”
“What?”
“Why else would a rich young sahib have business of a personal nature with the Badawi? So which is it? Is your father a despicable despot of lore? Are you the hero your people long to serve?”
Tariq glared down at Omar.
“Ah! So then you are trying to win the heart of a beautiful young woman.”
Tariq turned to his horse.
“She must be very beautiful,” Omar mused. “To bring a handsome sahib with a falcon and a fine al-Khamsa this far into the Sea of Sand.”
“It has nothing to do with that,” Tariq muttered.
“Then she is not beautiful?”
Tariq whirled around. “It has nothing to do with her beauty.”
“So it is about a girl!” Omar crowed.
Glowering, Tariq grabbed the reins of his stallion and swung into the saddle.
“Do not be offended by old Omar, sahib! I did not mean to press the issue. I am just curious at heart, and my curious heart has quite a fondness for love stories. Please! If you follow me, I would be happy to introduce you to the sheikh.”
“And why would you do that?”
“For the sake of my curious heart,” Omar replied with a ridiculous smile that emphasized the dark gap between his crooked teeth.
Tariq paused in deliberation. The old servant could be lying to him, but this could also be his best chance to meet with a sheikh from one of the most celebrated of the Badawi tribes.
It was worth the risk.
“I will follow you to your camp.” Tariq adjusted the quiver of arrows on his back, for good measure.
Omar nodded, straightening his rida’. “I will be sure to tell the sheikh of your helpfulness at the well today.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, sahib! I am nothing if not honorable.”
Tariq followed Omar at a wary distance as Omar guided the two camels back into the desert. Omar rode the smaller camel at a steady pace, looking over his shoulder every so often to give Tariq a reassuring grin.
The sky darkened to blue-black, and the brightest stars began to flicker above, winking white at the edges. After riding for half an hour, a large enclave of tents surrounded by a ring of torches materialized in the sea of rising dunes.
Omar led the camels directly into the center, whistling cheerfully to himself. As he passed, several men stopped to nod at him, and Omar bowed back, with a hand to his brow. He dismounted from the camel before a large, patchworked tent in the middle of the encampment. The instant his sandaled feet hit the ground, a pattering of footsteps burst from the shadows to the side.
Tiny burnished arms grabbed at his legs and battled for his embrace.