Chapter thirty-seven

Ben-Fah Oasis: the Effaron desert

 

It was noon and Fred lay inside his tent, hot and restless. They had been in Al-Ham’s oasis camp for several days and nothing much seemed to be happening. Well, not for him, Potentilla, on the other hand, was being treated like royalty. Al-Ham and his entourage acted as if she were a queen – in fact, Fred wasn’t so sure that that wasn’t what this was all about. Maybe Al-Ham was looking for another wife.

The camp, which apparently held the only usable well for two hundred miles, was fringed with palms and so hot in the middle of the day that you could have fried an egg on the top of Fred’s bald head. Well, someone might if they noticed that he was even there. Not that he minded – he’d spent most of his time in his tent eating dates and considering the virtues of nomadic life. There weren’t many, he’d rapidly concluded.

The day wore on and he dozed. At about five the heat had dropped to the point where it was safe to go out and look for Potentilla. They needed to talk about leaving.

Fred went over to the bucket of water by his tent entrance and filled the ladle with its tepid water. He poured it over his head – he could almost see the steam rising from it. He took the Algharian hat that he’d been given, a dun brown floppy one, and pressed it down his head. He opened the flap of the tent and walked out into the bright, late afternoon, sunshine. Around him were the tents of Al-Ham’s soldiers, high white structures with gay flags of scorpions, snakes and desert foxes. Scattered among them were the grey squat tents of the train – his tent was one of those but it was all he wanted. In the middle of the camp was Al-Ham’s tent, light green and twice the size of the other soldiers’, and Potentilla’s, which was slightly smaller but made of the most exquisitely embroidered silk, depicting scene of Imperial elves being spectacularly imperialistic, and Algharians bringing them gifts, serving them and generally being nauseatingly sycophantic. It didn’t do much for Fred, although he could see it was well rendered. Anyway, he’s never actually seen Potentilla inside her own tent, so the structure seemed unnecessarily showy.

Fred went straight to Al-Ham’s tent and coughed loudly at the entrance.

‘Potentilla’ he shouted, ‘where the hell are you?’

There was a shuffle inside the tent, something that may or may not have been a giggle and a longish delay. Potentilla came to the tent flap grinning broadly. Fred averted his eyes so that he didn’t have the embarrassment of seeing her adjusting her clothes. Or to put it more clearly, if she was adjusting her clothes he’d rather not know.  

‘Come on in, Fred’ said Potentilla, ‘it’s really hot out there!’

Fred peered inside. The tent had a large bed, several comfortable sofas and a big foldable table. On the table was a half completed game of chess. Al-Ham, who was reclining on one of the divans in front of the table, looked up.

‘Mister Fred!’ he said expansively, ‘come in, you are most welcome’

Potentilla ushered him in and he sat, awkwardly, on one of the sofas. Potentilla sat next to him, her robe half open, and crossed her legs.

 ‘Do you play chess, Fred?’ asked Potentilla

‘No – not really’ said Fred, staring at the board.

‘What I like about it’ said Potentilla, ‘is that the Queen is the most powerful piece’

Fred frowned.

‘Yes, I guess that you would’

There was a brief pause while Potentilla moved a knight. Al-Ham was, as usual, taking very little notice of him. Fred looked at Al-Ham with unconcealed distaste – the Algharian didn’t spot his expression. Fred gestured to Potentilla that he wanted Al-Ham to go. Potentilla smiled sleepily.

‘What’s up, Fred?’ she asked

‘We need to talk’ he muttered, repeating his gesture. This time Al-Ham saw it.

‘My Lady’ he said, ‘would you like me to leave?’

Potentilla started to say, ‘no, no…’ but stopped when she saw Fred’s glare.

‘Oh sorry, darling... can you pop out for a second or two’. She moved towards him, kissed him gently on the top of his thick black hair and shooed him, mischievously, on his way. He bowed and strode out of the tent. Potentilla sat back on the sofa. Fred remained bolt upright next to her.

‘What fun, eh, Fred!’ exclaimed Potentilla, ‘isn’t this wonderfully exotic’

Fred ignored her.  It wasn’t.

‘When are we going to leave?’ he asked, pointedly shifting to Ethian.

‘What?’

‘Leave’

‘We can’t’ said Potentilla, taking a fig out of a bowl of fruit.

‘Well, not yet’ she continued, ‘It’s the sandstorm season’

Fred narrowed his eyes and studied her carefully. How foolish was she, really?

‘So he says. How long is it meant to last?’

‘Al-Ham said about two weeks, possibly three’

Fred shrugged and stared at her.

‘Does he know that you’re not an elf princess?’

‘He doesn’t ask those kinds of questions’

‘No – he just assumes…’ 

Potentilla smiled.

‘It’s just a bit of fun’

‘To you it is…’

Potentilla’s face clouded over a bit.

‘I assume he’s not married…’ he said

‘No – he’s not… I think’

‘Well, then he might have a bloody good reason for over-egging that sandstorm’

‘Oh Fred – you are an appalling cynic. He’s just being kind…’

Fred gave her his biggest available frown and then got up from the sofa.

‘Get off your arse, elf’ he said, ‘we need to find Kath’

Potentilla looked a little ashamed

‘I’m sure he’s not...’ she started

He didn’t let her finish.

‘This was your idea – so don’t bugger it up’ he said. Then he was gone before she had any chance to reply.

 

***

The three camels were laden with goods. They weren’t very happy about it, but the least happy of the six beings about to set off on their journey was Al-Ham, who sat on his camel upright but grim-faced. Fred didn’t think that the look really suited him.

‘Are you sure that you want to go ahead with this, my Lady?’ he said rather stiffly, ‘I have explained the dangers’

Potentilla manoeuvred her camel expertly alongside his and ruffled his hair.

‘Come on Al’ she said, ‘how can we fail in your hands? You’ll be the best guide ever’

Al-Ham nodded gravely – he had little choice but to go along with this. For a moment Fred thought that the Algharian had shot him a rather unpleasant glance, but he might have been mistaken.  He didn’t care. They had to get on.

Fred had been given some camel-riding lessons but he still felt deeply uncomfortable on top of his camel. It had taken him eight attempts to just get on to the thing.

Al-Ham was giving his last orders to his men. He had been insistent that only he would go along with the two travellers, and they had all been politely concerned.  When he had explained that he did not want to risk any others they had reluctantly accepted his plan.

‘If one is buried then all will be’ he explained, ‘so one can succeed just as a thousand’.

They all nodded wisely. This was clearly a well-worn and time-honoured piece of wisdom.

Once all the farewells had been made they began to make their way across the desert. Fred made a mental note of exactly how clear and still the day was and then concentrated really hard on not falling off his camel.