The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [45]
“How can they be your family if you are a Circassian?” demanded the leader suspiciously.
“They are my family by marriage,” answered Lara. She pointed to Omar. “He is my husband.” Then to Gaafar and Hassam. “And they are his brothers.”
“Something is not right here,” said the man. “He did not say you were his wife. . . .”
“You didn’t ask me,” interjected Omar.
“You claim to be Circassian, but no Circassian woman wears such shameful clothing even under a robe.”
“How many Circassian women have you seen without their robes?” asked Lara.
“And you are impudent,” continued the leader.
“You are wasting our time,” said Gaafar. “We have important business elsewhere.”
The leader frowned. “There is nothing more important than paving the way for the Expected One. What kind of Mahdists are you?”
“Late ones,” said Omar. “And our business has to do with the Mahdi.”
“What is it?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss it,” said Omar. “But be assured that were we not devout Mahdists who have the trust of our leaders, this duty would not have fallen to us.”
“Your answers are almost too facile,” said the leader. He looked from Omar to Lara and back again, then sighed. “Still, I could be wrong.”
“Then we have your permission to leave?” asked Omar.
“Yes. Go in peace.”
Lara grabbed her camel’s reins. “Kneel, Nasrullah.”
“What did you call him?” asked the leader sharply.
“Nasrullah,” said Lara. Then, contemptuously: “Have you never heard of him?”
Suddenly five rifles were out of their sheaths and pointing at Lara and her party.
“In answer to your question,” said the leader, “every Arab knows Nasrullah. He was the Aga Khan’s greatest stallion.”
“Then what—?”
“The Aga Khan made war against the Mahdists,” explained the leader with a nasty smile. “No Mahdist would ever give a horse or a camel that name. And if you are not a Mahdist,” he continued, “you are almost certainly not a Circassian. And if you are not a Circassian, then your name is not Bashira. But I know what your name must be.” He paused. “I think you and your companions are coming to our gathering after all, Lara Croft.”
16
They rode slowly across the desert, inland from the Nile. The leader, who informed them that his name was Rahman, rode alongside Lara.
“You could save yourself a great deal of pain if you would simply tell me where the Amulet is,” he said.
“If I had it, do you think you could have captured us?” she shot back.
“I did not say you had it,” he replied. “But you are Lara Croft, whose fame has reached even the Sudan. If you do not have it, you at least know where it is.”
“I know you’re not going to believe this,” said Lara, “but I not only don’t know where it is, I don’t even know what it looks like.”
“If you keep lying, it will go hard with you,” he said seriously. “Very hard indeed.”
“You’ve already told me you’re going to kill me if I don’t tell you what you want to know,” she said. “How much harder can it go?”
“Harder than I hope you can imagine, Lara Croft,” answered Rahman.
“I must say that you are certainly encouraging me to find it.”
“Just tell me where it is and I will retrieve it.”
“I have no idea where it is, but once I find it, you in particular are going to wish I hadn’t.”
He laughed humorlessly. “After we kill you and these three false believers who have accompanied you, we will force Kevin Mason to deliver the Amulet to us, so you see that you cannot keep it from us. Why do you persist in defying me?”
“I don’t like your beard,” said Lara.
“My beard?” he repeated, surprised.
“Or your face, or your breath, or your manners, or your threats.”
He laughed again, this time in genuine amusement. “I admire your spirit, Lara Croft. I say this in all sincerity. It is almost a shame that it will so soon be separated from your broken, shattered body.”
“You talk too much.”
“And you do not talk enough,” replied Rahman. “I will ask you one last time: Where is the Amulet?”
“Good,” said Lara.
He looked confused. “What is good?”
“The fact that you have asked me for the last time.”
“Perhaps you have too much