His doubts grew as a night and most of a day creaked past and there was no response from his heavenly interlocutor. Another evening was gathering. His campfire was sending shadows playing tag over barren rock.

The emissary arrived in a display of thunder and lightning that could be seen for leagues around. He raced his winged steed three times around the horned peaks before alighting fifty yards from the Disciples fire. El Murid rose. He gazed at his own feet respectfully.

The angel, who persisted in assuming the shape of a small old man, limped toward him over the shattered basalt. Slung across his back was a cornucopia-shaped instrument which looked far too massive for his strength.

He swung his burden down, sat upon it. I thought I would hear from you sooner.

El Murids heart fluttered. The angel intimidated him as much now as when he had been a boy in the desert so long ago. There was no need. Everything was going the way it should.

If a little slowly, eh?

El Murid glanced up shyly. A shrewd look had narrowed the angels eyes. Slowly, yes. I got in a hurry. Wadi el Kuf taught me the folly of trying to force something before its time.

Whats happened now?

El Murid was puzzled because the angel had to ask. He told of Yousifs strange flight after the recent siege, and of an impending crisis in his own household. He begged for guidance.

Your next move is obvious. Im surprised you summoned me. Nassef could have told you. Gather your might and strike. Take Al Rhemish. Who will stop you if the Wahlig is gone? Seize the Shrines and your family problem will resolve itself.

But

I see. Once burned, twice cautious. Twice burned, petrified. There will be no Wadi el Kuf. No surprises from children deft with the Power. Tell Nassef that I will be watching personally. Then unleash him. He has the genius to pull it off. He sketched a plan, displaying a knowledge of desert affairs and personalities which quieted the Disciples doubts. Before we part, Ill give you another token.

The old man slipped off his seat and knelt. He whispered to the horn, then hoisted it and shook it. Something tumbled from its bell. Have Nassef transmit this to his agent in the Royal Tent. The rest will follow if he strikes a week later.

El Murid accepted a small teakwood box. He stared at it, baffled.

The old man dashed to his mount and took wing. El Murid shouted after him. He had only begun to discuss his problems.

The winged horse swooped round the horned peaks. Thunder rolled. Lightning clawed the sky. Gouts of fire hurtled back and forth between the horns. Two blasts smashed together and erupted upward, forming some giant sign El Murid could not make out because it was directly overhead.