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regarding the newcomers silenced the younger men’s chatter with a gesture of his hand. He turned to Mansoor and said, “You speak the language of the Sands and know the customs of our people. But tell me, stranger, what manner of clothing is that you have on? Why do you not wear the clothes of the desert?”
    Mansoor bowed his head in respect and then replied, “Do not be offended by my dress, Ancient One. It is the custom in England, where I was educated. Rest assured that beneath it all I am a full-blooded Arab. As a child I lived with my family among the Manasir on the northern edge of the great Rub‘ al Khali. I still return to the desert tribes on occasion to do business, as I do now.”
    “And what sort of business did you say you were in, ben Mansoor?” queried the old man.
    Mansoor spoke absently and pretended to return to his meal. In between bites he replied, “This and that—trading mostly. At the moment I am looking for breeding stock on behalf of my employer, Lord Marley, of Marley Arabians. Lately I have been having a difficult time of it, though.”
    Khaldun interrupted, “Yes, even we who live outon the Sands have heard of the new law limiting the export of first-class Arabian horses. Is that what is troubling you, Mansoor?”
    “No, the problem is not the government—I have many friends there who can help me around the law. My only difficulty is in finding the right horse. I simply haven’t been able to find the kind of quality horse I am looking for, so …”
    “So you come to Khaldun,” the desert chieftain interrupted again, finishing Mansoor’s sentence for him with a proud smile. “Let me assure you that you did the right thing in coming to see me, rather than any of the other tribes. But before we go any further”—Khaldun paused to give his words special emphasis—“there is just one little thing I’d like to clear up. It has been brought to my attention that you bear a distinct resemblance to a certain man known as
al Bis
, the Cat, from Abu Dhabi. Are you familiar with this man, by any chance?”
    The bodyguards stiffened in their seats, their eyes fixed ahead of them. Quiet tension filled the air. “Yes, I am also known by that name,” Mansoor replied evenly. Some of the tribesmen began whispering together, and it was apparent that the Cat’s reputation as a clever smuggler was known to them as well.
    Khaldun’s counsel leaned over and murmured something into the chieftain’s ear. The sheikh spoke at last. “Tell your men to relax,
al Bis
. You are among friends. Raiders we may be, but first and foremost we are men of honor. If we thought any less of you, your bones would already be drying outside in the desert sun. Rest assured that we will help you find the horseyou seek. But it is not our way to speak of business so soon in the company of guests. Come, tell us about the Englishmen. Do they worship God? Are they all rich as we have heard? Tell us of London.”
    The younger men listened with rapt attention as Mansoor began to speak. “Do not believe everything that you hear about the marvels of the city, my brothers,” he said. “In many ways it is a poisonous place. The very air the English breathe is thick with smoke from their factories.”
    “Are there no tribes, no camels?” asked one of the wide-eyed boys. Mansoor smiled and slowly shook his head.
    “It is a place where the women do not veil their faces, a place where men mark the passage of time not by the phases of the moon but with machines known as clocks. Here, I carry one myself.”
    Mansoor reached inside his breast pocket and withdrew a gold watch and chain. He showed it to the boys, who crowded around him and passed it back and forth between them. While Mansoor continued with his stories of city life, the older men talked among themselves, unimpressed with the stranger’s tales. The only things they would ever need from the West were their rifles.
    After dinner the men drank coffee and Khaldun’s