Desert Rhapsody - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The bandits rested and fenced their loot, selling off their extra gold, silver, camels, and horses. They divided themselves into groups as they pleased: some scattered into the city to seek pleasure, while the rest followed Abal and, three days later, set out smoothly with only light mounts. Jiang Yuan rode a camel, with Sun tethered behind her. At the very least, she could sway and jolt her way through the desert while keeping up with the bandit gang.

The weather was gradually turning cold. Winter had come to Arabia. They began changing their schedule, traveling by day and resting at night. Even in modern times, the average winter temperature in the Middle East stayed above seven degrees Celsius, but more than a thousand years ago, the weather seemed colder. Ordinary single-layer clothing could not keep out the chill. Out in the vast Gobi, the difference between day and night temperatures was enormous. Jiang Yuan was given some fur and learned to dig herself a pit at night, sleeping near the fire without scorching herself. She also learned to keep her eyes closed and poke in a lump of sheep dung, or camel dung, when the fire went out. In the desert, that was the best fuel there was.

They encountered several caravans from a distance. In winter, merchants actually traveled more often because the season made the journey easier. But Abal stopped his subordinates from getting eager. He merely looked at the size of the caravan, raised his banner, and demanded a token toll. If they caused too much trouble, the forces sent to suppress them would increase. Their earnings were already enough. Aklan’s head had already been delivered back to the Emir Governor’s desk. After this incident, Abal’s bounty and the Blood Eagle’s deterrent power would likely rise another level. His authority over his men was absolute. Orders were carried out the moment they were given, and no one wanted to defy him.

They gradually moved away from the trade routes, detouring through the dunes. Experienced old camels and guides could skillfully identify directions, finding a path forward through sand hills and plants where Jiang Yuan could not see the slightest trace of a road. Jiang Yuan could not help feeling worried. If her vacation required her to follow this invisible path out of here all by herself, she might as well kill herself on the spot.

The Blood Eagle’s base was in an abandoned tribal settlement. They arrived after traveling for about a month. It seemed to be a relic of ancient Arabians. There was even an underground river flowing through the area, and hardy grass grew amid the windblown sand and stones. It was simply too far from any road, the land was poor, and the river was thin, so its former inhabitants had abandoned it. In any case, for people worn down by dust and travel, it was comfortable enough. The weather was already very cold, and after nightfall, the chill bit to the bone. Jiang Yuan was assigned a tent. She was drenched in sweat, hurrying to set up her temporary dwelling, when Jamal brought her some things.

Inside the bundle were Jiang Yuan’s old clothes, a few belongings she had carried with her, her keys, wallet, and identification documents. They had clearly been searched through. Jiang Yuan merely counted them one by one, then calmly put them into her luggage under Jamal’s gaze.

She still had work to finish.

That night, Abal came to find her. This group was clearly made up almost entirely of Abal’s trusted men. Jiang Yuan had roughly counted them; there were only twenty-eight. Presumably, these were the people she was supposed to teach. She sat by the bonfire eating her own meal, a portion of clear-stewed lamb with herbs and dried fruit. Along with the rush of wind from the falcon, the young bandit chief walked over. He had washed up, and his whole body carried a cool dampness. His white robe was clean and neat, and his headscarf was properly fastened, the two sides hanging down over his shoulders. He sat beside her. His blue eyes swept very naturally over Jiang Yuan’s pot.

The pot and bedding were both things Jiang Yuan had bought in the small town. On the road, water had been rationed, and she could only eat whatever filled her stomach. Now that they had arrived somewhere with enough water, she could finally make herself something decent. Although it was still lamb, it was at least the best of a bad lot. Better than nothing. Abal asked, “Is this cuisine from the Tang Empire?”

Jiang Yuan liked putting expensive spices into soup to stew them: peppercorns from India, herbs from Persia. She had bought a few dubious medicinal ingredients from itinerant merchants; in any case, they would not kill her. She tried braising lamb with wine, and she also tried stir-frying slices of meat in fat. She had her own rules when it came to cooking. But no one else would come eat the devil’s food.

Jiang Yuan said, “Probably from France.”

“Where is France?”

Jiang Yuan did not know how to describe it to him. Come to think of it, did France even exist right now? She thought perhaps she had made a mistake. Those blue eyes looked at her, as though he found her a little ridiculous. Abal said slowly, “The Franks? I’ve never heard of the Franks cooking food like yours, or using these spices in this way. Do you know who the king of the Franks is?” Jiang Yuan had never even heard of Frankia. The bandit chief said softly, “I took the things you carried to Damascus and asked around. No one had ever seen anything like them. The place you come from is truly fascinating, Jia Nan.”

Jiang Yuan remained silent. Abal looked at her expression and gave a soft laugh.

“But I didn’t come here to question your origins. I don’t care where you come from, just as I don’t care about your sex. Tomorrow, you can begin teaching us your miraculous power.” He changed the subject with perfect ease. He was only a fourteen-year-old youth, someone who, in modern times, could even be called a boy. But here, the young bandit chief was as seasoned and shrewd as the finest hunter. “I came to ask whether you are ready.” Jiang Yuan said, “I already told you. We can begin at any time.”
“That would be best, of course,” Abal said. “Remember what I told you, Jia Nan.”

He rose and left. The falcon crouched on the roof of Jiang Yuan’s tent, staring after him. A moment later, it suddenly spread its wings and took off, shrieking past the side of his head before flying ahead of him. Jiang Yuan lowered her gaze to the mutton. The strange smell of camel dung drifted up with the meat, and all at once the chunks in the pot seemed unbearably foreign, rank and gamey. If she could have a meal from home right now, she would probably burst into tears.

Arabia’s winter was not quite the same as Jiang Yuan had imagined, either. Rather than winter, it was more like the rainy season. The rain grew heavier by the day, and Jiang Yuan watched the waters of the oasis they used for drinking overflow, spilling along the marks previously carved into the ground by floodwater. The Arabs called them “wadis.” There were no rivers here, only a crisscrossing network of wadis stretching in every direction, sketching across the Arabian Peninsula the strange “roads” known to nomads.

Fresh grass sprouted from the earth, forming a small pasture around them. The camels and horses grew fat and strong over the winter, growing long coats against the cold, only for their owners to shear the hair and weave it into blankets and clothing for warmth. Jiang Yuan learned how to milk camels, groom foals, and deliver lambs. Like a young Arab boy coming of age, she learned to take care of her own property, while Abal and several of his men learned a little of Jiang Yuan’s hand-to-hand fighting.

Most of these young bandits were still not fully grown. Compared with strong adult men, they were always lacking in strength and at a great disadvantage. They were vicious enough, but in combat, they were still naturally weaker. Most of them were good at fighting on horseback, but once their feet touched the ground, they became rather clumsy and would topple the moment Jiang Yuan hooked a leg around them. Even Abal had to run laps around the camp for two months before he could barely keep up with Jiang Yuan’s lessons.

The rumors that Jiang Yuan could split wooden boards bare-handed and with a side kick spread through the little camp along with her reputation as a devil. Although it seemed many of them had guessed she was female-the children here matured early, and most of them had known women before; they were not so stupid that they could not tell male from female after being taught up close-no one shouted it plainly to her face.

Ever since Jiang Yuan had arrived here, she had never slept too deeply at night. In this empty wilderness where all was silent, hiding a sound was no easy thing. She caught a few men who came to ambush her. The firelight was dim, and she did not even see their faces clearly. She broke their bones, threw them out of the tent, and went back to sleep. The next morning, Abal stepped over the bloodstains on the ground with a perfectly normal expression and came to her for his lesson as usual.

Later, someone left for a few days and brought back a wandering troupe of women who made their living in the flesh trade. Supposedly, they had crossed the Tigris River and drifted all the way here from Azerbaijan. Compared with slave girls from Persia, they had their own distinct charm. Jiang Yuan moved the place where she taught outside the camp, avoiding the foreign women, and after that, no one tried to attack her in the night again.

After winter, spring soon arrived. The pasture grass on the ground had already been eaten clean, and the wadis had dried up. The bandits, who also worked as herdsmen on the side, had to chase water and grass and head northeast to richer lands. Besides, after resting for three or four months, it was about time for them to get back to business. Abal came to Jiang Yuan and asked whether she wanted to go to Damascus with him.

“On your own, I’m afraid you wouldn’t know the way, would you?”

If possible, Jiang Yuan wanted to leave alone. And for her vacation, she wanted to go to Baghdad to find Adnan, not to Damascus. But Abal’s proposal was far more tempting. “Once you reach Damascus, you’ll immediately be able to find the road and a caravan to Baghdad. Besides, this place is closest to Damascus.” This was the edge of the Nafud Desert, only a step away from the wilderness of Syria, from Mesopotamia nurtured by the Euphrates River and the Tigris River, and from the Fertile Crescent that would become world-famous in later generations as the richest of lands. But in an age without maps, when one could only rely on guides, Jiang Yuan could not make the journey on her own.

Abal said, “I can lead the way and take you to Damascus. In addition, as a special privilege for your first vacation, the time you spend on the road won’t count against your leave.”

Jiang Yuan said, “What are your terms?”

Abal laughed, clearly very satisfied with Jiang Yuan’s grasp of the situation. “I need to prepare for my coming-of-age ceremony.”

Going to sleep.

Next chapter preview: into the desert, camping, searching for grassland, killing a lion.