Read Casca 16: Desert Mercenary for Free Online Page B

was taken in by the Tuaregs, for he speaks several languages, something most unusual for a Tuareg. There are many stories. Take your choice of them. One will serve as well as another.
    "One other thing I know is of the guests he keeps at his camp by the mountain known as Baguezane. If my feeble mind has not completely lost its ability to do simple mathematics, I would conclude that they are the reason you are asking these questions. Is it not so?"
    "Yes, that is correct, you desert jackal. It has fallen to me and those under me to take the two, as you called them, `guests' from the hospitality of Sunni Ali."
    Sharif Mamud rose from his cushions. "Come with me. We shall walk and talk during this the most pleasant time of the day when the sun gives way to the night and the air is cool."
    Gus started to trail after them but was detoured by Mamud. "No, my large one. Remain and dine. Lamb roasted with mint jelly and grape leaves and sweet rice is being brought to you now. Stay and do that which you do best, and leave thinking to those that are thinkers. Feed, thou offspring of an elephant, feed.”
    Gus would have been indignant but the mention of lamb roasted with mint jelly was too much, especially as the platters were at that moment being brought to him by the women of Sharif Mamud's household. The aroma removed any thought of insult or retaliation from his thick brow. Carl smiled at him as a parent would smile at a slow but well-loved child.
    Mamud led the way between rows of date palms to the edge of the oasis where they climbed to a rocky ridge and sat upon the stones. These craggy ridges, on the horizon beyond the Sahara, kept the moisture of the sea from being dissipated by the desert, giving life to a thin green strip along the North African coast.
    The day was giving way reluctantly as the shadows grew longer and darker across the land. Mamud looked to the south, his eyes going beyond the mountains. "It is hard out there, my friend. There is a saying which has much truth to it. And that is: if you cross the Sahara, to stay on the trail look for the bones of those who have died. They mark the trail. When you cannot find them, you are truly and forever lost."
    Carl knew that even though the danger that he spoke of was real, in the deep caverns of his soul Mamud still longed for the freedom he had known of the desert before he became master of Wadi Jebel. Out there in the great silence was the only true freedom for one such as he.
    "Al Kattel, I will go with you in your quest. If you will cross the Baguezane, you will have need of one who knows the way. Once, when I was young, my sire pitched our tents at the base of the mountain. My boyhood friends and I spent many months learning its secrets. I know how to get to the camp of Sunni Ali. You must come from the east over the mountain. No one will look for you to come out of the desert."
    Mamud was not a young man but Carl knew that he had hidden reserves of strength. And he was right, he would be needed. Perhaps he would even make the difference. "Very well, graybeard. If you would go once more into the desert, then come with us as friend and companion."
    Mamud faced toward the mountains, now only a faint, soon to be invisible line against the rim of heaven. "Good. It is right that I go with you. I have been too long away. The soft life has taken much from me, and now I have little left to give. My days grow short and I am not needed as I once was. My sons have sons. They are not of the desert anymore. Soon they will want cars and planes, vacations in Europe. That is well enough for them, but I wish to return one more time to the furnace that once made my people great in the eyes of God."
    Turning his eyes to Carl he breathed deeply, "Ah, yes I know. I ramble too much. Dream too much. But you know that when only the stars separate one from the face of God, when the djinns, the spirits, ride the winds and great dunes move as oceans over the land, it is easy to dream. To dream