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“They remain at their posts for seven days and nights before being relieved by another team. Their camels carry enough food and water for each man and his mount to survive for that length of time. Still, the nights are long and the days longer in the sun’s relentless heat. After seven days, their bodies are weary and their wits dull. The safety of my people is best served by replacing them with fresh eyes and ears.”
“What do they do if strangers approach?”
“They do what they must.”
Bree shivered, despite the growing heat. She pictured bodies crashing to their death in the canyon hundreds of feet below. Not trusting the natural barrier surrounding his oasis, Tahraz had fortified his isolated kingdom with human shields. Were there many souls out there, roaming the barren wasteland, seeking the liquid gold his oasis had in abundance?
Once they’d gone through the pass and were heading down the foothills on the other side, Tahraz picked up the pace. Bree hung on to the reins for dear life, leaning forward on the neck of her mare and gripping Ashana’s mane as she did on her runaway camel.
Beside her, Tahraz sat astride his stallion easily. He looked every inch a desert sheik, white robes billowing behind him as they galloped across the sand. The coeds in her classes back in Chicago would have described him as hot, with his rugged sun-bronzed face and startling blue eyes that gleamed wickedly every time he looked at her, as though he could see right through her robes.
Hours passed, and the sun rose higher in the sky, turning the desert into an inferno. The air seared their lungs with every breath. Tahraz pointed and shouted something, but his words were swept away by the wind. She strained her eyes. In the distance, Bree saw the outline of massive boulders strewn here and there in the sand, like a handful of pebbles tossed by a child.
As they drew nearer, the mounds took shape. Man-made structures appeared, revealed by the relentless shifting of the sands even as other buildings were slowly swallowed up. Tahraz gave his mount a swift kick, and the horse galloped faster, heading straight for an opening in one of the ruins. Ashana was determined to follow, and Bree ducked her head just in time to miss smacking it on a low doorway as her horse charged into the dim enclosure.
Tahraz had already dismounted, Rummaging in his saddlebags, he got out a goatskin flask and poured water into a wooden bowl. His grateful steed drank greedily. Turning, he lifted Bree off her horse.
She practically fell into his arms, dizzy and weak from the heat. He steadied her on her feet, holding the flask to her lips, and then refilled the wooden bowl with water for her horse. Bree examined her surroundings. They stood in a cavernous room with a high ceiling, its farthest corners disappearing into darkness. The temperature was blessedly lower inside, the crushing heat blocked by three-foot-thick mud brick walls that were slowly being buried by the sand.
“We rest now,” he announced, pulling the woven blanket from Ashana’s back and laying it out on the floor for Bree. She sank to her knees, barely acknowledging him when Tahraz handed her a pouch filled with sweet dates and nuts, the same food that made up every daytime meal she’d eaten while traveling with her caravan. Bree managed to chew and swallow a handful of the mix before curling up on the blanket and closing her weary eyes. She was asleep in less than a minute.
She awoke with a start. Hours had passed; she didn’t know how many. But the light coming through the open doorway was softer now. She heard a noise and turned. Ashana was tethered to an iron spike that protruded from the wall at the other end of the room. She tossed her head and blew out a breath. The black stallion was tied to another ring nearby. Bree swore the male was watching Ashana with the same lustful expression she’d seen in Tahraz’s eyes when he announced the terms of his ultimate wager.
The suiltaan appeared in the doorway. “Ah, you are awake. Good. I will show you something of this place. Later, we dine under the stars.”
While she slept, Tahraz had seen to the needs of the animals and built a fire outside the room. She could see a clay baking dish like the ones Bashar used, only much smaller, nestled in the hot coals. Apparently, in his world, even a suiltaan with a retinue of servants learned basic domestic skills.
Here in this stark, lonely place, he looked more relaxed than he ever did in his lavish tent in the oasis, despite the fact that he probably hadn’t slept at all. Bree took the hand he offered, and he led her out the door.
The setting sun threw some of the buildings around her into shadow, while highlighting others with its slanting rays. They walked along a narrow pathway. Utter silence surrounded them. Then, faintly, Bree became aware of the desert wind whispering and sighing, of the sand humming softly as it shifted in the empty streets, like the echo of an ancient hymn. Her eyes lit up, entranced by the spectacle laid out before them.
The abandoned city was vast. Bree could see the tops of multi-story buildings poking out of the dunes while, in other places, the desert wind had swept the sand clear, exposing everything down to the ancient stone streets. They wandered aimlessly, sometimes pausing so Bree could examine an inscription or a carved relief on one of the structures. Tahraz was delighted by her enthusiasm. He answered her endless stream of questions, repeating legends handed down through the centuries about the place he called the motherland of all the desert tribes.
The symbols etched on the stone blocks were like none Bree had ever seen. “This language is even more ancient than Sumerian cuneiform,” she marveled, running her fingers over one set of shapes. Suddenly, she had a wild thought. “Can you read this?”
“Alas, there is no one left alive who knows their meaning,” Tahraz replied. “But some records need no scribe to interpret them. Come. I will show you.”
He led her to one of the largest buildings still visible. An enormous doorway yawned open at the top of a wide flight of stairs. The doors had long since disappeared. Inside, the layout reminded Bree of the ancient temple site she’d been excavating in Mahrib.
Tahraz pointed to a carved frieze all around the cavernous room, just below the ceiling. Bree twirled, taking it in. Protected from the elements, even the paint had survived. Herds of brightly colored animals roamed a vast green savannah split by a dazzling blue river. Bands of hunters followed the animals. Some of the creatures lay on the ground, with arrows or spears protruding from their backs. Others were depicted in motion. The artists had been so skilled, Bree could almost see the beasts move – gazelles bounding, lions pouncing, zebras galloping.
“Nothing like this has ever been seen, ever imagined,” she whispered in awe. “This site dates back long before Greek or Roman art, millennia before the first Egyptian pyramid broke ground. Skilled artists sculpting in stone, bringing three-dimensional life to the animals depicted in the cave paintings of our earliest ancestors.” She turned to Tahraz. “There are creatures here I don‘t even recognize!”
* * *
Tahraz stood in the shadows, studying the animated woman before him. When he first found her, Bilquis had impressed him with the courage she’d shown alone in the desert. Once in the hareem, her defiant spirit aroused his manhood. She’d proven herself a worthy opponent with a sharp mind, besting him in their first real game of chess.
But he’d never before seen her in a moment of pure joy. She was radiant.
At that moment, he wanted desperately to see the look on her face when he drove her again and again to the peak of desire, and finally took her soaring over the top.
Later, after their evening meal, they sat in companionable silence in front of the fire, gazing up into the heavens. Bree turned to Tahraz. “Tell me another tale of your ancestors,” she urged.
Tahraz thought for a moment then began the account of a young hunter he described as an ancestor of his who lived so far in the past that the days had not yet been numbered. He told of the wonders of this holy city and how, long ago, a wicked ruler turned his back on the gods and bade the people worship him alone. Of how the gods in turn cursed the land with a great drought lasting for many years and driving the wildlife away. The young hunter beseeched the gods for help. They spoke to him, answering his prayers. He listened to their message and, in a desperate attempt to save the lives of those he loved, gathered up his people, leading them through the ever-growing desert to follow the herds.
Tahraz went on with his tale, telling her many of the little band perished from exhaustion and thirst. Of how when the others grew too weak to carry on, the young man trekked onward through the harsh terrain alone, near death, trusting that the gods would be merciful – and trusting also that the instincts of the animals he tracked would lead them eventually to water. He told her of the moment the young hunter crawled with the last of his strength to the top of a mountain and gazed down for the first time on a lush green valley with the life-giving waters of an oasis shimmering like a jewel in its center – and how the grateful survivors he led there proclaimed that he and his heirs would evermore be known as suiltaan of this paradise he had discovered.
* * *
