In a still moment he heard distant sounds of fighting. Men were selling their lives. He must not belittle their sacrifices. He had to go on and, if it came to that, had to let the desert claim him before he yielded to the Scourge of God.

Eyes still moist, he kissed his teachers cooling cheeks. I mourn, Megelin. This wasteland is no resting place for a don of the Rebsamen. Vulture shadows ghosted along the wadi walls. But I have to leave you. You understand, dont you? You were always a student of necessity. He rose. Bragi! Lets go. Theyll be through the ambush in a few minutes. The sounds of fighting were diminishing already.

He pushed on, into the night, knowing darkness would not stop Nassef. Only the Dark Lady herself would stay the Scourge of God. The three youngsters grew progressively weaker. Horses halted and refused to go on. The camels grew increasingly balky. Bragi became fractitious. He did not know how to handle the animals.

Haroun slaughtered the weakest horse, caught its hot blood, passed it around. Their water was gone. He prayed to no certain god for strength, for guidance, for a miracle. His future kingdom became confined to that narrow and perhaps endless passage of the desert.

Deep in the night, under a silver, uncaring moon, the wadi faded. If he paused to listen Haroun could hear men and animals in the distance. Nassef was gaining again.

Moments after he departed the wadi he halted, confused. Before him stood a strange old tower. He recognized the type. Ilkazars emperors had erected hundreds to house local garrisons. Their ruins could be found wherever the Imperial legions had passed. He was baffled because he hadnt expected to encounter evidence of human habitation in the waste.

Bragi came up beside him. Whats that?

A sad keening came from the tower.

Haroun shook his head. He glanced back. The boys had collapsed.

The keening came again.

Thats no animal, Bragi said.

The wind?

Maybe its a ghost.

Haroun reached out with his shaghûns senses. Incompletely trained, attenuated by hunger and exhaustion, they told him nothing. I dont get anything.

Look! A wan light illuminated a face behind an archers embrasure.

Thats no ghost.

Maybe we can get water.

Could be a bandit hideout. Or a demons lair. Or a sorcerer hiding from El Murid. But if the magical or supernatural lurked there, his shaghûns senses should have warned him.

He listened. The sounds of horses and men hung just on the edge of hearing. Im going to investigate.

Nassef is too close.

I might find something. Water, at least.

Yeah. Water.

Lets go. It was hard to get moving again. His joints ached, his muscles begged for respite. His wound sent wires of pain crawling toward his shoulder. He was afraid it would fester. Somehow, he had to elude Nassef long enough to cleanse and cauterize it.