dawn and be a few miles away before anyone realizes a boat is missing.”
“Right,” replied Lara, nodding her agreement. “And you weren’t mistaken; it was
my
suggestion. I didn’t think it through.”
“I know I will regret asking,” said Hassam. “But why are we not trying to hide the fact that we were here and that we know the water is poisoned?”
“If we spend three or four hours making the oasis pristine, we won’t reach Lake Nasser until daylight,” said Omar. “We want to steal a boat, not acquire one in a pitched gun battle.”
“Besides,” added Lara, “the wind will soon die down. It may cover the first few miles of tracks we leave, but we’re more than twenty miles from the lake. Unless you know a way to cover
all
the tracks we’re going to make, it won’t be too long before the Mahdists figure out where we’re going.”
“We can talk while we ride,” said Omar, “and time is of the essence. We
must
reach the lake before sunrise.”
Lara took the last swallow from her canteen. “How long will it take to reach Lake Nasser?” she asked as El Khobar rose to his feet and fell into step behind Gaafar’s camel, with Omar’s next to hers and Hassam’s bringing up the rear.
“Perhaps five hours, perhaps six,” replied Omar. “With luck we’ll get there four hours before dawn, which is fortunate because I do not know for a fact that there will be a village where we reach the lake. We may have to ride along the shore for a few miles.”
Lara looked at the canteen, then shrugged and slung it over her shoulder. “Six hours. That’s not too long to go without a drink.”
“I warned you before,” cautioned Omar. “You may become ill from the water.”
“You informed me of the alternative,” said Lara distastefully. “Let’s let the camels keep the water they’ve already drunk.”
Omar laughed. “That was done only in situations of the greatest desperation. Our situation may be desperate, but thankfully not in that way. We are being hunted by enemies. If they catch or confront us, we have rifles and pistols and can return their fire. Who do you shoot at when you are lost in the desert and there is no water?”
“Point taken,” admitted Lara. “Tell me about the Mahdists.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“The Mahdi’s grandson, whose name eludes me. . . .” began Lara.
“Sadiq al Mahdi,” provided Omar promptly.
“Sadiq al Mahdi,” she repeated. “He was elected as the Sudan’s prime minister back in the 1960s, wasn’t he?”
“In 1965,” said Omar. “But his government fell in 1967.”
“But then he came back again, didn’t he?”
“He was elected in 1986,” answered Omar. “And he was thrown out a second time three years later.”
“Then my question is simply this: Since there’s still a bloodline tracing to the Mahdi, and since one of them was popular enough to be elected not once but twice, why don’t the Mahdists support one of the Mahdi’s descendants to run the country? Why waste all this effort trying to find the Amulet?”
“Sadiq al Mahdi was elected twice because of his bloodline, and he was removed twice because of his performance in office,” answered Omar. “This served to show the Mahdists that merely having the blood of the original Mahdi is not enough. Their hoped-for leader must have the power as well, and that power resides in the Amulet.”
“If they should find it before we do, will they give it to a descendant of the Mahdi?” she asked.
“Whoever possesses it will
be
the Mahdi,” explained Omar. “The grandson and others took it as a family name, but the original Mahdi was actually named Muhammad Ahmad. The word
Mahdi
actually means the Expected One; in your culture, it would be the equivalent of the Messiah.”
“I see,” said Lara. “So the Mahdists really have no ties to the current Mahdi clan?”
“No,” answered Omar. “In fact, should the Mahdists come into possession of the Amulet, I think
“Right,” replied Lara, nodding her agreement. “And you weren’t mistaken; it was
my
suggestion. I didn’t think it through.”
“I know I will regret asking,” said Hassam. “But why are we not trying to hide the fact that we were here and that we know the water is poisoned?”
“If we spend three or four hours making the oasis pristine, we won’t reach Lake Nasser until daylight,” said Omar. “We want to steal a boat, not acquire one in a pitched gun battle.”
“Besides,” added Lara, “the wind will soon die down. It may cover the first few miles of tracks we leave, but we’re more than twenty miles from the lake. Unless you know a way to cover
all
the tracks we’re going to make, it won’t be too long before the Mahdists figure out where we’re going.”
“We can talk while we ride,” said Omar, “and time is of the essence. We
must
reach the lake before sunrise.”
Lara took the last swallow from her canteen. “How long will it take to reach Lake Nasser?” she asked as El Khobar rose to his feet and fell into step behind Gaafar’s camel, with Omar’s next to hers and Hassam’s bringing up the rear.
“Perhaps five hours, perhaps six,” replied Omar. “With luck we’ll get there four hours before dawn, which is fortunate because I do not know for a fact that there will be a village where we reach the lake. We may have to ride along the shore for a few miles.”
Lara looked at the canteen, then shrugged and slung it over her shoulder. “Six hours. That’s not too long to go without a drink.”
“I warned you before,” cautioned Omar. “You may become ill from the water.”
“You informed me of the alternative,” said Lara distastefully. “Let’s let the camels keep the water they’ve already drunk.”
Omar laughed. “That was done only in situations of the greatest desperation. Our situation may be desperate, but thankfully not in that way. We are being hunted by enemies. If they catch or confront us, we have rifles and pistols and can return their fire. Who do you shoot at when you are lost in the desert and there is no water?”
“Point taken,” admitted Lara. “Tell me about the Mahdists.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“The Mahdi’s grandson, whose name eludes me. . . .” began Lara.
“Sadiq al Mahdi,” provided Omar promptly.
“Sadiq al Mahdi,” she repeated. “He was elected as the Sudan’s prime minister back in the 1960s, wasn’t he?”
“In 1965,” said Omar. “But his government fell in 1967.”
“But then he came back again, didn’t he?”
“He was elected in 1986,” answered Omar. “And he was thrown out a second time three years later.”
“Then my question is simply this: Since there’s still a bloodline tracing to the Mahdi, and since one of them was popular enough to be elected not once but twice, why don’t the Mahdists support one of the Mahdi’s descendants to run the country? Why waste all this effort trying to find the Amulet?”
“Sadiq al Mahdi was elected twice because of his bloodline, and he was removed twice because of his performance in office,” answered Omar. “This served to show the Mahdists that merely having the blood of the original Mahdi is not enough. Their hoped-for leader must have the power as well, and that power resides in the Amulet.”
“If they should find it before we do, will they give it to a descendant of the Mahdi?” she asked.
“Whoever possesses it will
be
the Mahdi,” explained Omar. “The grandson and others took it as a family name, but the original Mahdi was actually named Muhammad Ahmad. The word
Mahdi
actually means the Expected One; in your culture, it would be the equivalent of the Messiah.”
“I see,” said Lara. “So the Mahdists really have no ties to the current Mahdi clan?”
“No,” answered Omar. “In fact, should the Mahdists come into possession of the Amulet, I think
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