“It is for your eyes alone:”
Angry mutters and grunts rustled throughout the tent. Her father looked from the warriors to the elders, then said, “Did you not tell me everything you knew earlier today?”
Ruha nodded. “There is something else:”
,,If it is important, then you can tell me here;’ the sheikh said. “Otherwise, it wig have to wait:’
“Then it will wait,” Ruha sighed.
As she turned to depart, the servant boy returned with Zarud, Kadumi following on their heels.
“If it pleases you, Sheikh, I would like to hear what you have decided;’ Kadumi announced, pausing at the tent entrance.
Sighing, the sheikh waved the boy into the tent. “You deserve to know:’
Glancing grimly at her brotherin-law, Ruha started to step past him and Zarud. As she passed, the Zhentarim caught her by the arm and shook his head, then said something in a language she did not understand and motioned for
her to stay.
Ruha looked to her father, and he nodded.
Zarud took the widow’s sleeve, then gently tugged her along as he stepped into the center of the semi-circle of the sheikh’s council. When he stopped, both the warriors and elders frowned at his presumption in touching a Bedine woman. Ruha pulled free of his grasp.
Paying no attention to either the widow or the advisors, the Zhentarim asked a question. No one spoke his language, but there was no need to understand his words to know he requested the Mtair Dhafir’s decision about the treaty. In the eyes of every Bedine present, however, there was an unspoken question: why had he wanted a woman, especially Ruha, to stay?
The sheikh glanced at his daughter, then looked back to Zarud, carefully masking whatever curiosity he felt behind a blank face. “The Mtair DhaSr accept your treaty;” he said, nodding his head.
Wry grins crossed the fips of several elders and warriors. The sheikh had sworn no loyalty and pledged no friendship. In Bedine terms, at least, Sabktrat had not bound them to any alliance.
Smiling, Zarud inclined his head to the sheikh, then to the elders and the warriors. He spoke some more words that no one understood. The men of the Mtair looked from one to another with querying eyebrows and blank eyes.
Zarud spoke again, this time grasping Ruha’s wrist and pointing toward the Bitter Well, where the Zhentarim were camped. He put his hand in front of his mouth and made speaking motions, then did the same for the widow.
“He wants to take her to teach them our language;” concluded an elder.
Ruha jerked her wrist free. “Never!”
The Zhentarim grabbed her arm again, nodding and speaking sharply. He pointed to two elders, then to Al’Aif and Nata, and then toward the Bitter Well again.
“Why does he need with so many teachers?” demanded Nata. “This isn’t right!”
Kadumi stepped toward Zarud, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his jambiya. He stopped when AI’Aif rose and motioned for him to stop. The scarred Mtair turned toward Ruha’s father. “Already the Zhentarim tighten their reins, Sheikh. Is it still your wish to placate them?”
The sheikh locked gazes with Zarud, giving no sign that he had heard AI’Aifs question. Finally, without looking away from the Zhentarim, he said, “It is the only way, AI’Aif. You will all be ready to leave at dawn:’
Kadumi stepped forward again. “No;’ he yelled. “Ruha is the wife of my brother. I cannot allow this! “
AI’Aif intercepted the young warrior. “The sheikh has decided, Kadumi;’ he said, pushing the boy toward the exit. “Don’t worry about Ruha. I’ll protect her.”
After AI’Aif and the boy had gone, the sheikh looked at Nata and the two elders Zarud had selected, then rested his gaze on his daughter. “I’m sorry that it has to be this way;’ he said. “We must think of the welfare of the whole khowwan:’
“You must think of the tribe:’ Ruha retorted, turning to leave the tent. “I have not been bound to do so since I was five
Angry mutters and grunts rustled throughout the tent. Her father looked from the warriors to the elders, then said, “Did you not tell me everything you knew earlier today?”
Ruha nodded. “There is something else:”
,,If it is important, then you can tell me here;’ the sheikh said. “Otherwise, it wig have to wait:’
“Then it will wait,” Ruha sighed.
As she turned to depart, the servant boy returned with Zarud, Kadumi following on their heels.
“If it pleases you, Sheikh, I would like to hear what you have decided;’ Kadumi announced, pausing at the tent entrance.
Sighing, the sheikh waved the boy into the tent. “You deserve to know:’
Glancing grimly at her brotherin-law, Ruha started to step past him and Zarud. As she passed, the Zhentarim caught her by the arm and shook his head, then said something in a language she did not understand and motioned for
her to stay.
Ruha looked to her father, and he nodded.
Zarud took the widow’s sleeve, then gently tugged her along as he stepped into the center of the semi-circle of the sheikh’s council. When he stopped, both the warriors and elders frowned at his presumption in touching a Bedine woman. Ruha pulled free of his grasp.
Paying no attention to either the widow or the advisors, the Zhentarim asked a question. No one spoke his language, but there was no need to understand his words to know he requested the Mtair Dhafir’s decision about the treaty. In the eyes of every Bedine present, however, there was an unspoken question: why had he wanted a woman, especially Ruha, to stay?
The sheikh glanced at his daughter, then looked back to Zarud, carefully masking whatever curiosity he felt behind a blank face. “The Mtair DhaSr accept your treaty;” he said, nodding his head.
Wry grins crossed the fips of several elders and warriors. The sheikh had sworn no loyalty and pledged no friendship. In Bedine terms, at least, Sabktrat had not bound them to any alliance.
Smiling, Zarud inclined his head to the sheikh, then to the elders and the warriors. He spoke some more words that no one understood. The men of the Mtair looked from one to another with querying eyebrows and blank eyes.
Zarud spoke again, this time grasping Ruha’s wrist and pointing toward the Bitter Well, where the Zhentarim were camped. He put his hand in front of his mouth and made speaking motions, then did the same for the widow.
“He wants to take her to teach them our language;” concluded an elder.
Ruha jerked her wrist free. “Never!”
The Zhentarim grabbed her arm again, nodding and speaking sharply. He pointed to two elders, then to Al’Aif and Nata, and then toward the Bitter Well again.
“Why does he need with so many teachers?” demanded Nata. “This isn’t right!”
Kadumi stepped toward Zarud, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his jambiya. He stopped when AI’Aif rose and motioned for him to stop. The scarred Mtair turned toward Ruha’s father. “Already the Zhentarim tighten their reins, Sheikh. Is it still your wish to placate them?”
The sheikh locked gazes with Zarud, giving no sign that he had heard AI’Aifs question. Finally, without looking away from the Zhentarim, he said, “It is the only way, AI’Aif. You will all be ready to leave at dawn:’
Kadumi stepped forward again. “No;’ he yelled. “Ruha is the wife of my brother. I cannot allow this! “
AI’Aif intercepted the young warrior. “The sheikh has decided, Kadumi;’ he said, pushing the boy toward the exit. “Don’t worry about Ruha. I’ll protect her.”
After AI’Aif and the boy had gone, the sheikh looked at Nata and the two elders Zarud had selected, then rested his gaze on his daughter. “I’m sorry that it has to be this way;’ he said. “We must think of the welfare of the whole khowwan:’
“You must think of the tribe:’ Ruha retorted, turning to leave the tent. “I have not been bound to do so since I was five
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