The older men went away afraid. They sensed in his words the first spark of a flame that could consume the Children of Hammad al Nakir.

Afterward, El Murid visited Mustaf. My fathers caravan? What became of it? he asked the chieftain. Mustaf was taken aback, for he did it as an equal, not a child to an elder.

Ambushed. All wiped out. It was a sad hour in the history of Hammad al Nakir. That I should have lived to see the day wherein men turned upon a salt caravan!

There was something a little evasive in the way Mustaf had spoken. His eyes had become shifty.

I have heard that the men of el Habib found the caravan. I have heard that they pursued the bandits.

This is true. The bandits crossed the Sahel to the country of the western infidel.

Mustaf had become nervous. Micah thought he knew why. The hetman was essentially honorable. He had sent his own people to extract justice for the al Rhami family. But there was a little of the brigand in all the Children of Hammad al Nakir. Yet there is a camel outside which answers to the name Big Jamal. And another which responds to Cactus. Could it be sheer coincidence that these beasts bear names identical to those of camels which belonged to my father? Is it coincidence that they bear identical markings?

Mustaf said nothing for nearly a minute. Coals of anger burned briefly in his eyes. No man was pleased to be called to account by a child.

You are observant, son of al Rhami, he finally replied. It is true. They were your fathers animals. When news came of what had happened, we saddled our best horses and rode swift and hard upon the trail. A crime so hideous could not go unpunished. Though your fathers people were not of the el Habib, they were of the Chosen. They were saltmen. The laws shielding them are older than the Empire.

And there was booty to be had.

And there was booty, though your father was not a wealthy man. His entire fortune could scarcely repay the cost we paid in horses and lives.

Micah smiled. Mustaf had revealed his bargaining strategy. You avenged my family?

Though our pursuit carried beyond the Sahel. We caught them before the very palisades of the heathen traders. Only two passed the infidels gates. We were gentlemen. We did not burn their wooden walls. We did not slay the men and enslave the women. We treated with their council of factors, who knew your family of old. We presented our proofs. They took council, then delivered the bandits into our mercy. We were not merciful. They took many days dying, as an example to others who would break laws older than the desert. Perhaps the vultures still pick their bones.

For that I must thank you, Mustaf. What of my patrimony?