Lil’ Louis to find the guardian of the stones. The old druid would help him, of that he was certain.
“We are not going with them?” Salam looked worried, with his clothes soaking wet and his heavy pack sliding off his shoulder.
“No, we are taking the dinghy,” Kalaan told him, using his oil lamp to show him the small skiff well below them, pitching wildly on the water and banging against the ship’s hull.
“Never!” Salam’s accent was even stronger when he was offended.
Kalaan threw his head back and laughed heartily. His hair was dripping wet, and he licked his lips to savor the salty sea spray.
“I don’t have the time to persuade you, but we will gain precious time with the dinghy. I could take a short cut by the ramparts and be home before sunrise. So, are you coming with me, or are you swimming?”
At this point Kalaan turned out the lamp, put it on the bridge and slid down the long rope to land in the dinghy. At least that is what Salam imagined, for he could not see a thing! He did not know how to swim, but was not going let a little salt water stop him, so he felt around in the dark for the rope and followed Kalaan, sighing in relief when he felt the wood of the little boat under his feet. He sat down and firmly gripped the gunwale [45] . He was surprised to see that it was no longer pitch black and that in the early signs of dawn he could make out shapes and forms, such as his friend’s imposing silhouette.
Kalaan was amused by his discomfort and stood laughing after picking up an oar. This devil of a man was fearless… except, of course, where women were concerned. That thought alone helped Salam to relax, and he began to laugh with Kalaan, who was far from imagining what the Tuareg was laughing at. The irony of the situation put Salam in an even better mood.
With his hair flying in the wind and his long coat flapping behind him, Kalaan sculled [46] powerfully away from the frigate. Suddenly, something in the opposite direction caught his attention.
“What do you see?” Salam shouted, pestered by the gusts of wind and heavy rain. He knew his friend was endowed with excellent night vision.
“The last yawl with Lil’ Louis and the other men has just reached the levee. There are a lot of people there to greet them, for which I am happy.”
Indeed, in the far lights of torches and oil lamps, they could make out the forms of many people moving on the embankment. The sailors were reunited with their wives and children after long months of separation and in the coming days, their return would be joyfully celebrated. Kalaan pushed away any sad thoughts when he realized no one was there to greet him. After all, it was his decision and given the circumstances it was a thousand fold better having his mother and sister in Paris.
They arrived quickly at the bottom of some very steep stone stairs that went up along a very high wall. Kalaan docked the dinghy, tying the docking rope with a mariner’s knot and began climbing the slippery steps four by four. He seemed to forget Salam behind him. The Tuareg was severely hindered by his long dripping robes and heavy pack. He could not move nearly as easily as Kalaan and swore in a most undignified manner when he faltered on the last landing. He would have fallen backwards had Kalaan not caught him in his strong grip.
“Follow in my steps, brother,” he advised, as he stepped onto stone and dirt path.
Salam tried to do just that, muttering and swearing every time he stumbled. The desert sand was far less treacherous, even if your feet sank into it at each step. And in Egypt, it was much warmer; rain was a rare treasure, whereas here, the rain froze you to the bone and water became your enemy!
The two men walked quickly despite the steep ascent, which brought them to the heights of the isle. They soon found themselves on a strip of land dimly lit by the light coming from the windows of a long stone house.
Kalaan strode onto the courtyard
“We are not going with them?” Salam looked worried, with his clothes soaking wet and his heavy pack sliding off his shoulder.
“No, we are taking the dinghy,” Kalaan told him, using his oil lamp to show him the small skiff well below them, pitching wildly on the water and banging against the ship’s hull.
“Never!” Salam’s accent was even stronger when he was offended.
Kalaan threw his head back and laughed heartily. His hair was dripping wet, and he licked his lips to savor the salty sea spray.
“I don’t have the time to persuade you, but we will gain precious time with the dinghy. I could take a short cut by the ramparts and be home before sunrise. So, are you coming with me, or are you swimming?”
At this point Kalaan turned out the lamp, put it on the bridge and slid down the long rope to land in the dinghy. At least that is what Salam imagined, for he could not see a thing! He did not know how to swim, but was not going let a little salt water stop him, so he felt around in the dark for the rope and followed Kalaan, sighing in relief when he felt the wood of the little boat under his feet. He sat down and firmly gripped the gunwale [45] . He was surprised to see that it was no longer pitch black and that in the early signs of dawn he could make out shapes and forms, such as his friend’s imposing silhouette.
Kalaan was amused by his discomfort and stood laughing after picking up an oar. This devil of a man was fearless… except, of course, where women were concerned. That thought alone helped Salam to relax, and he began to laugh with Kalaan, who was far from imagining what the Tuareg was laughing at. The irony of the situation put Salam in an even better mood.
With his hair flying in the wind and his long coat flapping behind him, Kalaan sculled [46] powerfully away from the frigate. Suddenly, something in the opposite direction caught his attention.
“What do you see?” Salam shouted, pestered by the gusts of wind and heavy rain. He knew his friend was endowed with excellent night vision.
“The last yawl with Lil’ Louis and the other men has just reached the levee. There are a lot of people there to greet them, for which I am happy.”
Indeed, in the far lights of torches and oil lamps, they could make out the forms of many people moving on the embankment. The sailors were reunited with their wives and children after long months of separation and in the coming days, their return would be joyfully celebrated. Kalaan pushed away any sad thoughts when he realized no one was there to greet him. After all, it was his decision and given the circumstances it was a thousand fold better having his mother and sister in Paris.
They arrived quickly at the bottom of some very steep stone stairs that went up along a very high wall. Kalaan docked the dinghy, tying the docking rope with a mariner’s knot and began climbing the slippery steps four by four. He seemed to forget Salam behind him. The Tuareg was severely hindered by his long dripping robes and heavy pack. He could not move nearly as easily as Kalaan and swore in a most undignified manner when he faltered on the last landing. He would have fallen backwards had Kalaan not caught him in his strong grip.
“Follow in my steps, brother,” he advised, as he stepped onto stone and dirt path.
Salam tried to do just that, muttering and swearing every time he stumbled. The desert sand was far less treacherous, even if your feet sank into it at each step. And in Egypt, it was much warmer; rain was a rare treasure, whereas here, the rain froze you to the bone and water became your enemy!
The two men walked quickly despite the steep ascent, which brought them to the heights of the isle. They soon found themselves on a strip of land dimly lit by the light coming from the windows of a long stone house.
Kalaan strode onto the courtyard
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