me with boundless courage. I feel shame."
I closed my eyes for a few seconds. If this went on much longer, it would be as unendurable as the walk in the desert had been. "I don't wish to talk about that anymore," I said. "We don't have time to indulge our emo-tions. The only hope we have of living through this trouble and returning to the city, and then restoring our-selves to our proper place, is to keep our minds focused clearly on a plan of action."
Papa rubbed his cheek, where his gray stubble was turning into a patchy beard. I watched him chew his lip as he thought. Evidently, he arrived at a decision, because from then on he was the old Friedlander Bey we all knew and feared back in the Budayeen. "We are in no danger from the Bani Salim," he said.
"Good," I said, "I didn't know where they stood."
"They've accepted responsibility for our well-being until we get to Mughshin. We'll be treated as honored guests and receive every courtesy. We must be careful not to abuse their hospitality, because they'll give us their food even if it means they themselves must go hungry. I don't want that to happen."
"Neither do I, O Shaykh."
"Now, I've never heard of Mughshin before, and I suppose it's just a community of huts and tents around a large well, somewhere to the south. We were wrong in thinking the sergeant in Najran arranged to have us dropped in the center of the Empty Quarter. The chop-per traveled much farther than we thought, and we were thrown out in the northeastern part of the Sands." I frowned. "That's what the Bedu call this huge desert," Papa explained, "simply the Sands. They've never heard of the Rub al-Khali."
"Where we were didn't make any difference to- us," I said. "If the Bani Salim hadn't found us, we'd have died long ago."
"We should have walked in the opposite direction, to the east. We're closer to Oman than we are to the western edge."
"We couldn't have made it to Oman, either. But we're still going to travel south with the Bani Salim?"
"Yes, my nephew. We can trust them. That counts for more in our situation than time or distance."
I drew up my knees experimentally, just to see if they still worked. They did, and I was happy about it, although they felt very weak after two weeks of enforced rest. "Have you planned our future after we reach Mughshin?"
He looked up, over my head, as if gazing into the distance toward the Budayeen and our enemies. "I do not know where Mughshin is, and even the shaykh, Has-sanein, cannot show me. There are no maps or books among the Bani Salim. Several of the Bedu have assured me that beyond Mughshin, it is not a difficult journey across the mountains to a coastal town called Salala." Papa smiled briefly. "They speak of Salala as if it were the most wonderful place on earth, with every kind of luxury and pleasure."
"Mountains," I said unhappily.
"Yes, but not great mountains. Also, Hassanein prom-ised to find us trustworthy guides in Mughshin to take us onward."
"And then?"
Papa shrugged. "Once we reach the coast, then we travel by ship to a city with a suborbital shuttle field. We must be extremely careful when we return home, because there will be spies—"
Noora returned, this time carrying some folded gar-ments. "These are for you, Shaykh Marid," she said. "Would you like to put on clean clothes, and take a walk with me?"
I wasn't in a hurry to put my aching muscles to work, but I couldn't refuse. Papa stood up and went outside the tent. Noora followed him and dropped the flaps in the front and the back, so I could dress in privacy.
I stood up slowly, ready to quit for the day in case I experienced any severe stabs of pain. I shook out the clean garments. First, there was a threadbare loincloth that I wrapped around myself. I wasn't exactly sure how the Bani Salim men wore them, and I wasn't about to find out. Over that I pulled a long, white smock, which the Bedu called a thobe. The poor men of the city wore some-thing very similar, and I knew that Friedlander Bey often
I closed my eyes for a few seconds. If this went on much longer, it would be as unendurable as the walk in the desert had been. "I don't wish to talk about that anymore," I said. "We don't have time to indulge our emo-tions. The only hope we have of living through this trouble and returning to the city, and then restoring our-selves to our proper place, is to keep our minds focused clearly on a plan of action."
Papa rubbed his cheek, where his gray stubble was turning into a patchy beard. I watched him chew his lip as he thought. Evidently, he arrived at a decision, because from then on he was the old Friedlander Bey we all knew and feared back in the Budayeen. "We are in no danger from the Bani Salim," he said.
"Good," I said, "I didn't know where they stood."
"They've accepted responsibility for our well-being until we get to Mughshin. We'll be treated as honored guests and receive every courtesy. We must be careful not to abuse their hospitality, because they'll give us their food even if it means they themselves must go hungry. I don't want that to happen."
"Neither do I, O Shaykh."
"Now, I've never heard of Mughshin before, and I suppose it's just a community of huts and tents around a large well, somewhere to the south. We were wrong in thinking the sergeant in Najran arranged to have us dropped in the center of the Empty Quarter. The chop-per traveled much farther than we thought, and we were thrown out in the northeastern part of the Sands." I frowned. "That's what the Bedu call this huge desert," Papa explained, "simply the Sands. They've never heard of the Rub al-Khali."
"Where we were didn't make any difference to- us," I said. "If the Bani Salim hadn't found us, we'd have died long ago."
"We should have walked in the opposite direction, to the east. We're closer to Oman than we are to the western edge."
"We couldn't have made it to Oman, either. But we're still going to travel south with the Bani Salim?"
"Yes, my nephew. We can trust them. That counts for more in our situation than time or distance."
I drew up my knees experimentally, just to see if they still worked. They did, and I was happy about it, although they felt very weak after two weeks of enforced rest. "Have you planned our future after we reach Mughshin?"
He looked up, over my head, as if gazing into the distance toward the Budayeen and our enemies. "I do not know where Mughshin is, and even the shaykh, Has-sanein, cannot show me. There are no maps or books among the Bani Salim. Several of the Bedu have assured me that beyond Mughshin, it is not a difficult journey across the mountains to a coastal town called Salala." Papa smiled briefly. "They speak of Salala as if it were the most wonderful place on earth, with every kind of luxury and pleasure."
"Mountains," I said unhappily.
"Yes, but not great mountains. Also, Hassanein prom-ised to find us trustworthy guides in Mughshin to take us onward."
"And then?"
Papa shrugged. "Once we reach the coast, then we travel by ship to a city with a suborbital shuttle field. We must be extremely careful when we return home, because there will be spies—"
Noora returned, this time carrying some folded gar-ments. "These are for you, Shaykh Marid," she said. "Would you like to put on clean clothes, and take a walk with me?"
I wasn't in a hurry to put my aching muscles to work, but I couldn't refuse. Papa stood up and went outside the tent. Noora followed him and dropped the flaps in the front and the back, so I could dress in privacy.
I stood up slowly, ready to quit for the day in case I experienced any severe stabs of pain. I shook out the clean garments. First, there was a threadbare loincloth that I wrapped around myself. I wasn't exactly sure how the Bani Salim men wore them, and I wasn't about to find out. Over that I pulled a long, white smock, which the Bedu called a thobe. The poor men of the city wore some-thing very similar, and I knew that Friedlander Bey often
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