[piosenniel]

The trackers – Husam

Jamílah scanned the rolling grasslands to the west, looking for signs of the returning scouts. The combined tribes had decided, after several days of unsuccessful pursuit of the young ones’ group, to move their main camp further west, to the head of a small valley between the arms of a lengthy outcropping of sandstone through which a small year round stream had cut and eroded the layers of rock. The tents had been set up at the eastern end of the valley, the grasslands and water supply plentiful enough for the horses of the painted sands, and the small, goat herds of the Baobab.

It was late afternoon, of the third day they had sent out their fresh teams of trackers. Scouts would return each evening from the lead group, always with the same story. They had seen recent signs that the young had stopped here or there, but never an actual sighting of the young ones themselves. Like ghosts, they kept vanishing.

The trackers had ranged out further and further west, two new teams of three each day – one team heading northwest, the other southwest. They wove back and forth across each other’s tracks in a serpentine fashion, as they moved westward looking for their prey. This day had brought them within range of an outlying, established settlement, on the outskirts of a small town that had sprawled along one of the east-west trade routes from the western coast.

One of the Baobab, Husam, had gone down to the nearest of the six furthest outlying farms – a goat farmer with whom the tribe had traded whenever their path brought them near. A pouch of silver coins hung round his neck, concealed beneath his shirt, as he walked in through the main gate to the holding, waving his hand to the children who played in the yard near the house.

‘Your father - is he here, little ones?’ he asked smiling. As was the custom, he stopped a distance from the house, in the shade afforded by a small tree and waited for the children to let their parents know a visitor had come. The wife was the one who came out from the house, and looking him over closely, she spoke to her eldest son, sending him running for his father. She sent a jar of cool water to Husam with the younger boy, bidding him wait until her husband would come to speak with him. Husam smiled at the boy as he thanked him for the water, and nodded at the woman, noting her eyes darted constantly to the road behind him, scanning the distance beyond. And noting also the three large herd dogs that stood near the entrance to the house, their watchful gaze following his every movement.

Soon the goat farmer, Bemah, came in from the fields, wiping the sweat from his brow with his pocket rag. He bore a spear in one hand, and his eyes narrowed as he approached, looking closely at Husam. His shoulders seemed to relax as he recognized the man beneath the tree. He gave the spear into the keeping of the son who had come back with him, and wiping his hands on his breeches, he drew nearer, and clasped Husam’s hand.

The pleasantries and rituals of greeting done, Husam ventured to comment on how unusual it was to see the man carry a spear. ‘Has there been trouble?’ he asked, motioning to the young man standing a little way off who still held the spear. ‘Not that has come to my door as yet, friend,’ said Bemah, leading Husam to his house. ‘But others have come back from trading in the town, and there are reports of a body of rough, armed men moving our way.’ Husam nodded his head at these rumors, saying that Latif had come back from the town a little further west than this settlement’s town, and that there he had witnessed a sacrifice done at the behest of the priestess who traveled with the army. ‘We had heard that rumour, too, and thought it was just some tale picked up and grown larger than it really was.’ Bemah shook his head at the confirmation that it was, indeed, true, then listened carefully as Husam told him of the strange flight of many of the young from the tribe toward this army. Husam was careful not to say he was tracking the youngsters, and made no mention of the Painted Sands’ tribe.

Bemah was thoughtful as Husam spoke. If this were true, then the neighboring farmers needed to be made aware of it. He would speak to them as soon as his business with Husam was finished.

Trading was always done at a leisurely pace, and today proved no different, though both men had other pressing matters on their minds. More news was shared. What each had seen and heard since last they met, who was married, who had new babies, who had died. Finally the talk narrowed down to the business at hand. Bemah’s herd had several pregnant nannies, and they had been bred with his neighbor’s two billies who produced rugged, healthy goats, the females of which were excellent milk producers.

‘When will the kids be here do you think?’ asked Husam, knowing that it would be several months after that before they would be ready to join the tribe’s bands. Bemah gave his estimated date, and Husam asked that three females and two males be set aside for him. They discussed the price of the goats, and after a few moments of haggling, came to a mutually acceptable sum. Husam fished for the pouch beneath his shirt and took out half the agreed on price. ‘Nasr and I will come when they are ready and bring them back to our herd. Until then, this should hold them for us.’

The better part of an hour was then spent drinking homemade spirits and toasting the continued health of each other’s family. Husam took leave of Bemah when he could and hurried back to the other two trackers who awaited him. ‘We must get back to the main camp,’ he told them. The priestess and her army are quite near, and none have seen the youngsters in this area. I think it most likely they have already joined their forces with that of the priestess.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, Bemah took one of his dogs and his eldest son with him to call on their nearest neighbor. He passed on the news that Husam had brought - to this neighboring family, who in turn passed it on the following morning to several others in the vicinity. And so on, until the families in the outlying holdings had all been made aware of what was happening.

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]