Riding a camel at a walking pace, which was most common, was like constantly being jerked from a standstill on a sled resting on rough ground. There were many painful falls, but the bruised boy would always remount, his face set like stone. Faisal wondered at the Scorpion’s tenacity.

“It is as if the boy knows he is preparing for battle,” Faisal said to his father, after seeing the Scorpion climb back up the thelul’s neck and perch on the saddle, his leg hooked around the pommel like a monkey’s tail around a branch.

“He is Allah’s khalifah, God’s deputy, although he does not know it. Only Allah knows what is written for him,” Sheikh Zaid replied in a troubled voice. Silently they watched the Scorpion chase after the other riders.

Even harder was riding at a trot or a gallop. To preserve their bottoms from a terrible pounding, the Mutayr rode squatting, not sitting. The position required an extraordinary sense of balance and it took the Scorpion a long time to master it.

One day Youssef challenged Nick to a race. The boys spurred their camels to a gallop across a vast salt flat, blinding white as snow in the sun and rimmed by arad salt bushes, which were good forage for camels. Nick called to Jidha and the she-camel burst into the lead, her long neck stretched out. She held her head up elegantly, like a proper English lady’s pinky when sipping tea. The warm wind pressed against the folds of his thaub like an embrace. He felt a surge of exaltation, of wild freedom, a boy’s dream of heaven come true. When at last they reined in their camels, Nick’s face was flushed with triumph. He had never been so happy.

Faisal taught him to ride using only his feet and verbal commands to guide the camel, so that he would have his hands free for fighting. He learned to be a dead shot even while riding at a gallop. Safooq taught him how to feint, slash and thrust with the curved sword and the khanjar dagger. Soon while rolling on the ground he was able to throw the khanjar at a tamarisk tree from twenty paces and hit a spot no bigger than a man’s palm.

“Your enemy will attack you when you least expect him. You must always be ready, for there will be no time to prepare. And you must do the same when you attack him. In fighting, surprise is everything,” Safooq said. But learning to survive in the desert meant more than fighting.