The Parched Sea by Troy Denning Read Free Book Online Page B

wind;’ Lander noted flatly, then took a sip of water. “If they approach the desert tribes in the same way they have approached villages all over Faerun, this is how the Bedine
    will fall: The Black Robes will approach the sheikh in the guise of friendship and offer him a treaty. Once he agrees, they’ll find a pretext to invite his family or other important tribe members into their camp. The Zhentarim will not permit these guests to leave and will use them as hostages to guarantee the tribe’s submission. They will send agents, whose job it is to report murmurs of rebellion, to watch over the tribe. Before they know it, the Bedine will be subdued:’
    “If the Black Robes want slaves, why did they massacre the Bedine at El Ma’ra?”
    “I’m not sure,” Lander said, shaking his head. “Perhaps the sheikh wouldn’t cooperate, or perhaps they wanted an example to use in intimidating other tribes:’ He closed his waterskin. “The Zhentarim are usually more subtle than they’ve been in Anauroch-probably because it’s so empty that they think brazen actions won’t be noticed. In any case, the change of style makes it more difficult for me to guess their reasoning:’
    Bhadla furrowed his brow, then shrugged. “If you say so;” he sighed. “But what concern of yours is it? What does it matter to you if the Black Robes conquer the Bedine?”
    “I’ve come here to help the Bedine retain their freedom;” Lander answered, looking at his saddle and pretending to adjust a strap. Even though he wasn’t lying, he was intentionally dodging the D’tarig’s question; he had often been told that his face was too honest when he was trying to hide something.
    “So I have gathered,” the D’tarig replied. “What I want to know is why?”
    Lander opened his waterskin again and lifted it to his lips, more to hide his face than to wash the grime from his mouth. Between sips, he said, “Someone had to:”
    The little guide shook his head. “Not so. Only a fool strays from his path to search out another man’s trouble. You may be gullible, but you do not strike me as a fool. What is your reason for coming to the desert?”
    Realizing it was useless to dodge Bhadla’s inquiries, Lander tried an honest reply. “I can’t tell you why I’m here:’
    The D’tarig’s eyes sparkled, and Lander guessed that Bhadla was smiling beneath his mask of white cloth. “I think I know the reason for your discretion;’ the guide said.
    “Oh?” Lander asked, confident that the D’tarig could not guess his secret.
    Black eyes locked on Lander’s, Bhadla said, “The Harpers sent you.”
    Lander’s jaw dropped.
    Bhadla’g eyes shone with triumph: “You see, nothing escapes my notice:’,
    From the guide’s manner, Lander realized there was no use in denial. “How do you know?”
    Bhadla pointed at Lander’s left breast. “The harp and the moon:’
    Lander looked down and saw what had given him away. Beneath his burnoose, he wore a light tunic of cotton. On the left breast of that tunic was pinned the emblem of the Harpers, a silver harp sitting within the crescent of a silver moon. On the exterior of his burnoose, there was a vague, dirty outline of the symbol he wore over his heart.
    “Very observant,” Lander noted. “I’m surprised you recognized it:’
    “The Black Robes have told us how to identify a Harper. If I had seen your symbol before we entered the desert, it would have meant five hundred gold pieces:’
    “I’m glad my robe was not as dirty in your village,” Lander answered, rubbing his palm over the patch of cloth that had given him away. “What else have the Zhentarim told
    you about the Harpers?”
    “That you are a tribe of meddling fools who stand in the path of free commerce and the growth of kingdoms:’ “That’s wrong;’ Lander objected, shaking his head sternly. “We’re a confederation of individuals dedicated to preserving the tales of those who have passed before us, to