The Arms of the Watcher

by r. a. Ben Miller

  Chapter 3; Dinner and A Bride Price

  Lar shaded his eyes for a moment as he finally emerged from the lower cave. Looking about him self for a moment, he noticed that the shadows had extended toward the oasis from the high front sand dunes. The day gradually passed. The edge of the shade passed across the vast expanse of the oasis. In the cooling shaded area, the last of the day’s heat shimmered out into the sky.

  As Lar leaned against the door jam of his cave, he watched the edge of the shadow move toward him from outside the oasis. The edge of the shadow continued past the rocks which the people called the Hands and on toward the Watcher. Mists were now rising from the heated pools all around the wadi. The sun would not be visible much longer from inside the Watcher’s arms. It sat like an orange ball on the nearest high sand dune.

  In order to give Til time to set up the area around the game board, Lar decided to take the long way to his uncles tents. He greeted drivers that he knew and dodged packs of running children as he made the first of the required three circles of the camp. When he was out by the gate, he stopped and climbed up on the low rock mounds to watch the sunset.

  Eventually, anyone who had been interested, grew tired of watching him just sit there and returned to their dinner plans. As he was climbing down, he saw what he had come out there to find. Slowly, but with intention, Lar pulled is sleeve over his left hand and reached down to grab a large dusty rock. Being male, even the Watch Man was not allowed to touch an untreated tear. He quickly dropped the stone in a cloth bag and secreted it in an inside pocket.

  Judging by the weight in his clothe, Lar knew that he had found a good one. Even in its sandy covering, he suspected that the jewel inside was bigger than his fist. Still moving slowly in case any one was still paying too muc attention to him, he climbed down as if he had all night, Lar then, continued on his way. As the sun dipped beyond the horizon behind him, he strolled along on the second of his three circles of the his uncles camp.

  At the same time, in the dying light several dunes away, the Tall Ones quietly broke their meager camp. Whispering to each other and their animals, they ate a quick, cold meal. With practiced care, they folded their one flat, sand colored tent. They quietly but firmly grabbed the harnesses on the head of each of their animals. Pulling on those harnesses, they urged their animals to walk slowly away from the Old Man. Their animals were not happy to leave the water, but the men were strong and their whips were insistent. Seeing that a favorable wind was at their backs, they quickened their pace.

  Once the sun had fully set, a nearly full moon was visible. The leader caused them to press their pace even faster the moon’s silvery light. He knew that all these factors would cause the dust they raised to blow ahead of them and not give them away to the people at the oasis. Under this cover of darkness and wind, they set their sights to head back to their father’s village.

  In the tents of the camp, all eyes are again on Lar. Once he started moving again, the whispers began again. The travelers watch the crazy hermit as he makes the second of the expected three circles of their camp. Some of them notice that, in the middle of his third cycle, out near one of the outer gate like rock formations known as the “Hands”, he stops. At once, a whisper passes one to another, “He seems to be studying something. Look! What ever it is lays right there next to his path.”

  Paying no attention to their stares, he kicked it out of his path as if it had been any other rock and continued on his way. He told himself that even though that tear may have been bigger than his, too many people were watching, so his would have to do. He knew that his uncle’s wife and his nieces would be blessed by his gift.

  As he passed each tent for the third time, people quietly pick up their camp chairs. Staying back a few paces they quietly followed behind him. N order to not arrive too soon, they had to go all the way around the camp to the gaming area Sam Ah had made at the edge of Bel Al’s compound. The caravaneers knew that, uninvited, they could not arrive before the honored guest.

  Bel Al and his staff had set his tent in a shady grove of trees. Thus, even in the hottest sun, the inside the of the tent remained cool. As the sun’s heat died, the flaps were dropped down to create a wonderful atmosphere at just the right temperature. No smoky pots were needed for heat yet. Lar was able to avoid the worst of the day’s heat by escaping deep into his home cave. One of the pools in the lowest cave was cold and deep. In the cold days, he would stay by the pool on the other side of the impressed at how well the Bed Ou managed their existence in this arid place.

  Finally, At the front of the largest tent in the cluster, a circle of blankets covers a hard swept area. A table of three levels and two chairs are at the center of the blanketed space. The crowd scurried to arrange themselves just off these blankets. Much jostling and some low cursing are accompanied by their attempts to get a good view. Sam Ah, Bel Al’s Sword Master, stepped out of his master’s doorway and just looked at the noisy ones. Immediately, silence fell as people peacefully found seating and set up their chairs.

  Sam Ah bowed low and held the door flap for the honored guest. Bel Al met him just inside and they bowed low to each other. Lar said, “A Salaam, uncle…Bless this house and all who enter in…”

  Bel Al touched his heart, bowing, “A Salaam, my nephew.”

  With a flourish, the host waves Lar into the center of the room to a pile of pillows. He clapped his hands together. Giggling, two beautiful girls brought a tea set and cups. Bel-Al smiles at them, “Aren’t they amazing? These are my last two daughters. They should be married, but I cannot part with them.” With dimpled smiles, they bow their way out. In silence, the two old friends sip the dark, sweet brew in fine painted cups.

  Lar bowed to his nieces, “Truly, uncle, my nieces are too beautiful to serve a lowly keeper such as I…” The girls laugh.

  Bel Al waved his hands, “Shoo, shoo…” The girls left looking over their shoulders at their cousin.

  They slurped their drinks noisily. After a while, Bel Al noticed a shawl covered head looking into their room through a curtain. “And here, my beloved nephew is my new wife.”

  Lar’s face brightened as a tiny, round woman came in from an outer area bearing a huge tray of dates and sweets. He jumped up and bowed low. He was so shocked to see his hostess that he just babbled,, “Auntie Fre Ya! Number one wife… Tanta… my mother’s aunt… it is an honor to see thee again!”

  Bel Al acted displeased, but he was secretly not, “Oh, please…You will spoil her… Here I have only just married her again and now I may have to send her back to the Great City by the Sea again! There will be no pleasing her.”

  “You married her again?”

  “Yesss…well,,, I was in need of a wife and she has been doing a fine job running our main home in the Great City. As the mother of my three sons, I could never really put her out. I have been fighting off her wander lust for the last three treks. When she found out that we were coming here this time, she was not to be denied. She says that she has missed you and that you needed her cooking to keep from blowing away in a sand storm.” They all laughed.

  Lars mind flashed back to another time long ago when he and Frey Ya had been children together. In those days, Lar’s grandfather had been the Watch Man. His brother was Fre Ya’s father and also was the game keeper in the great woods where Lar’s father made his living as a huntsman .Fre Ya, although she was barely three years older than Lar, had been often been asked to take care of Lar and his cousin, Little Kiv, when their mothers would go with the tribe’s women to sell skins and meats at the market. Lar, in a baby way, had called her Tanta. The name had stuck as his pet name for her even when they were grown.

  Bel Al’s father ran caravans. He would come often to the hunting camp for dried meats to take with him on the treks out across the great desert. His son, though barely in his teens, was already a Beast Master for his father’s caravan business. Even though they were of different tribes, they had fallen in love. Once she had married Bel
Al, they had seen each other less frequently. At first, she had gone on caravans with Bel Al while he was learning to be a Star Master.

  Once she brought babies to her father’s door, she was forgiven by her parents. They both decided not to take small babies into the Great Desert. So, when Bel Al was away with his father, she was in her parents’ camp. She continued to care for Lar so his mother could do her work. Some of the People had shunned her because she had married out of their tribe.

  Lar’s father had remained a close friend to Bel Al’s father. And, because of that friendship, Lar’s parents, knowing Bel Al to be a fine fellow, had continued to treat her and him as family. This fact, that had bonded these two families strongly through out the long years. Great games of bones had been played at the hunting camps and at Trading Time. This competition had fed the two families friendship. When as time passed, Lar’s grandfather had died, his father had taken his proscribed place as the Watch Man.

  As his father had through his young manhood years, Lar had become a huntsman remaining at the hunting camp between gathering times. He was given a home with Kiv’s family for training and development. During the fourteen nights of the Gathering, Lar would live in the caves inside the Watcher with his parents. Sitting at his mother’s knee, he filled the time telling his parents stories of his adventures. Then, when Gathering was over, he returned with the rest of the People to their regular lives.

  Bel Al had often invited Lar to their tents when he was in the hunting camp resting between forays out on the trails. He and Lar had begun to play bones on those visits. By comparison to the finely carved works of art with which they now played, their humble bones sets had been simple stones with symbols painted on them. In the beginning, they had only one level games.

  Once Lar had moved out here to take his father’s place as the law decreed, their friendship continued. Whenever Bel Al’s caravans would visit Wadi Sha’lom, they would play. As their skills advanced, they had moved to the higher skill levels needed to play the full three level game.

  Fre Ya had eventually stopped coming out to the desert. She had too many babies and a house back in the Great City to run during the rest of the year. While her father had lived, she had continued to come with her children as part of her father’s camp during Gathering. Once her father had died, she had stopped coming at all. Now, for the first time in years, they joined hands as they should and their familial love was rekindled.

  To give them a little privacy, Bel Al went through the drape into the back rooms, “I will check on those lazy girls about our supper.”

  Lar went quickly to the older women. His mother had always called her Auntie Fre Ya’ and insisted that Lar do the same. He hugged the tiny woman tightly, “Tanta Fre Ya, I bring the greetings of the Watcher.”

  He closed her right hand in both of his and kissed the back of it in the way of the People. Unseen by anyone, he slipped the bag with the tear in it into her pocket, “Did you see the red leaf.”

  “Yes, my nephew, I did.”

  “The Master calls the Gathering.”

  “My heart responds, but, my husband and my duties to him will take me elsewhere.”

  Lar nodded his head silently, “You are still my aunt and your daughters through you are of the People as well. May this token of my love be broken in two as a bride price for my cousins. If the banns are followed, the Watcher watches and blesses.”

  She bowed her head and closed her eyes, enjoying being home. She whispered, “The people respond in humble gratitude. I hear and obey.”

  Bel Al swept back into the room. His daughters followed him in with trays of food. Others brought strong coffee and cups of cool water. Distracted by the preparations, Bel Al did not notice his wife duck out of his tent into her own. She had saved some of the goat’s blood from this days killing to prepare the stone for market. She went to the trunk her mother had given her just before she had died. As it had for all of its previous owners, it seemed innocent enough of a trunk.

  To all appearances, it was a simple, though beautiful, trunk that contained the clothing and bedding she needed on a trek. It was intricately carved out of sand colored wood. It had been handed down from the first daughter to the next first daughter over generations. She went to door way and looked out. No one was nearby, so she went quickly to her knees before the trunk. She reached to the bottom around the back side. A flower that looked like all the others was able to be pushed in. With an audible click, a secret drawer on the side opened to reveal a pouch made of softened camel leather and a blood stained piece of goat skin.

  She unrolled and untied the pouch. In it were two priceless objects to a woman of the People. The first was a pair of pincer tongs made of pure gold. The second priceless object was a jewel encrusted knife. She dropped the stone in the pan of blood to soften the hard sandy covering. Taking the stone out of its bath with the tongs, she laid it on the blood stained piece of goat skin. She struck the shell with the handle of her knife and it broke away revealing a ruby as big as her fist. She struck the stone on one of the peaks. It broke into twp large pieces and four small ones.

  She sat there on her haunches and let the tears of gratitude flow. Now, her last two daughters could be married correctly now. When the People returned to the Great City, she would visit Loi. The small pieces would easily and pay the marriage broker her fees and the promise of an egg sized ruby would be temptation enough of a bride price for the Shiree to dangle before the greedy mothers of two strong, young husbands, one for each of her young girls.

  As she had hoped, the men paid no attention to her absence. While she had worked to clean the stones, they had spent their time eating and lying and laughing. Always the entertainer, Bel Al regaled his son and his nephew of the wonders he had supposedly seen in his travels. Til Al told his cousin all about his training as Star Master. Bel Al pitched in for a small fortune to another Star Master for his son’s education. Lar had expressed his pride that Til Al had unerringly led the caravan all the way from the Great City to Wadi Al Sha Lom.