As dusk fell over the tribesmen’s camp, Ahmad found himself looking more and more into the east, in the direction the women and children of the Baobab and Painted Sand tribes had taken in their flight to safety. His mother and sisters had gone with them as had Qirfah, Jamilah’s daughter and, he now knew, the mother of his son. He had been offered the chance to lead the Painted Sand contingent for his father, but had turned it down, preferring to prove himself in battle. Now, he found himself questioning his own judgment. Yet each time he rethought it, he always came to the same conclusion. He was where he should be. He sighed, pulling his eyes away from the darkness in the east, knowing he should be concerning himself now with the darkness that moved ever nearer from the west.
Earlier in the evening, he and his cousins, Adhem and Yusef, had pitched their tent and checked over their weapons, putting everything in readiness for the coming battle. They had eaten a light supper, talking companionably, but keeping the subject away from recent events and what they knew was soon to take place. They had talked aimlessly of horses and hunting, the weather, and anything else they could think of, carefully avoiding any talk of the fleeing women and children. Ahmad knew that Adhem had sent a wife and two small children into the east. And, although Adhem took his part in the conversation, Ahmad could tell Adhem’s thoughts lay with them. After dinner, Ahmad excused himself and walked around the perimeters of the encampment, locating the tents of Jamilah and her sons-in-law amongst those of the Baobab. Remembering his promise to Qirfah, he wanted to drop in and visit with them, to renew their acquaintance before the battle took place, but knew that he would not do it. He had no place with them. His presence would have been awkward at best. Even so, when Jamilah emerged from one of the tents as he passed, he nodded to her. She gave him a long, thoughtful stare, then nodded in return.
Going back to his own tent, Ahmad found it empty, Adhem and Yusef having gone off on walks or errands of their own. Taking advantage of the solitude, Ahmad reached for the vial his mother had given him as a parting gift, the one that contained the poison. He weighed it carefully in his hand, deciding what to do with it. Surely a poison like that was of better use to an archer, or to one of the Baobab hunters with their darts. He wouldn’t dare coat his sword with it for fear that a mistake with the blade would injure himself or one of his own kinsmen. Besides, he doubted there would be enough poison in the little vial to cover such a blade. Instead, he took his dagger from its sheath and, following his mother’s instructions, soaked the blade in the viscous liquid, letting it dry completely before returning the dagger to its sheath.
[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]
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