The wind blew hot across the arid steppes. The weather was changing and the clouds raced by the restless line of camels that were trudging along the well-worn trail. The Caravan Master shot an angry glance at his overseer,
"Get those slaves in line," he snapped, "If they cannot control those beasts, I will feed them to the sands and get others!"
The Overseer nodded his head and turned his horse's head sharply, heading down the line of heavily laden beasts that were weaving about and protesting loudly. He lofted his whip as he rode and used it liberally on the men rather than the beasts. Out of panic, the handlers took stronger control of their beast's heads and slowly the line began to move forward steadily once again. The caravan master cursed under his breath,
"The Amizrak will have my skin if this shipment is late...he may have my skin, anyway...." He frowned.
The Overseer rode back up the line, reining in his horse to keep pace with the master's.
"They should keep pace now...It was the wind. It was blowing in the beast's eyes. "
The Master nodded distractedly. There was a cloud of dust coming from the horizon to the West. He squinted his eyes against the dust and the glare. One rider? two? On horseback, he had no doubt; they were approaching too quickly for anything else. He pointed at the cloud of dust,
"Go...ride out and see what it is. Now that we're moving again, I don't want to stop unless we must."
As the line of camels trudged behind him, the Master watched the meeting of horsemen a crease of worry deepening between his already drawn brows. After moments of conversation, the three horsemen turned their mounts and rode back towards the caravan. A cold feeling of fear clawed its way out of the stomach of the Master and grappled its way towards his throat as he recognized one of those who rode with his overseer. It was Yilgtig, champion of Prince Aphar the Bloody, and his presence usually meant death. As the riders came to a halt, the caravan master bowed low from his saddle and remained bowed a long moment, as much to prevent the blood draining from behind his eyes as to show his humble obedience. As he pulled himself upright, his glance went to the four Variags that were following the camels, though they were intent on their job of keeping the slaves in line.
The Caravan Master swallowed hard and with an effort found his voice, "My lord. I greet you in the name of the Amizrak, father of kings and son of the spear, may he ever prosper! What can your humble servant do for the most honored champion of Prince Aphar?"
Yilgtig sat back on a horse that was breathing hard and flecked with foam. Beside him rode an armed warrior. Whatever had caused him to drive the over-ridden beast in such a way must be important indeed. Then again, this man was not known for his mercy. He wore a silken robe, embroidered with all manner of richness, with velvet gauntlets and a dagger and sword that hung from his belt. The caparison of his horse was that of a noble man's, the reins of the silk-woven bridle wrapped around his gloved wrist. The master shuddered as he took note of what he wore around his neck: a necklace made of human teeth, and hanging from a plait of his oiled hair, a strand of dried ears. The champion caught the man's glance and smiled broadly showing teeth that had been filed and sharpened.
"Ah, my friend. Do not begrudge me a few extra, for you see I am in need of an ear!" Yilgtig turned his head and revealed the red and ragged scar where his own ear should have been. Then he laughed. "Perhaps you will lend me an ear, too, eh?"
The Master averted his glance quickly and asked, "How can I serve the mighty Prince Aphar?"
Yilgtig answered, "The Prince requires but the smallest of things, merely three of the camels from this host of beasts and the goods that they carry."
"My lord, I cannot..." The Master began again, "I humbly beg my lord, these goods belong to the Amizrak himself. If any are missing, it...it is death. Surely the Prince can take what he requires once we have reached our destination?"
Yilgtig's eyes glittered in the sunlight. "Most surely he cannot, if he has sent me. Is that not so? As for death..." He clicked his tongue against his sharpened teeth. "That is a thing that can come at any time, do you not agree?" He smiled and nodded to the warrior that rode beside him who urged his steed a pace closer to the caravan master.
"No....no, no...It will be as you say, my lord" the Master said hurriedly, and gestured frantically to the Overseer who was just riding down the line of still moving camels.
"Three, along with the slaves, to go with lord Yilgtig!", he yelled to the man who wheeled his horse and began barking orders to the last of the camel tenders who brought their beasts to a halt and stood waiting.
Yilgtig smiled once more, "You are a man of prudence and wisdom, and when the Prince returns from his travels in the north you can be assured of great reward." He nodded to his companion who rode out and circled the three standing camels slowly. "Now go on your way , and may all that you deserve come your way. "
The Master of Caravans bowed wanly and turning his horse spurred to catch up to the safety of his Overseer and Variags. This was not good. Not at all. Yet, the old ruler doted on his eldest son. It was possible that the missing goods would be forgiven. So the master kept telling himself as he reached the safety of his guards.
Yilgtig watched him ride off and chuckled silently to himself, "Yes, you will get exactly what you deserve...fool." And with a sign to his henchman, the small group of goods and camels moved towards the north.
