His gaze swung back to her. "I will help you mount."

His terse statement was a command that held no warmth. He gave her no time to protest, either, but caught Alysson around the waist and lifted her into the saddle.

Yet when Jafar had set her on her horse, she couldn't help reaching out to touch his lean cheek in a tender gesture. "Thank you . . ." she murmured, her throat tight with emotion.

He looked at her with a slight wariness. "For what, mademoiselle?"

"For sparing Gervase's life."

Abruptly Jafar's expression turned savage. "I do not want your gratitude!"

The words were nearly a snarl as he spun on his heel and stalked off, toward the head of the column.

Startled by his vehemence and abrupt departure, Alysson watched Jafar's retreating figure with bewilderment. Belatedly, she remembered his express command not to mention Gervase's name in his hearing, and yet she didn't think that alone explained his anger toward her.

Beside her, Chand, who had not yet mounted, also gazed after Jafar. "I do not know why the Berber lord did this thing . . . sparing the Bourmont Sahib."

Helplessly Alysson shook her head. She did not know why either. In truth, she didn't understand anything about Jafar anymore.

"I do not believe the Jafar Sahib is as savage as I have judged him," Chand remarked thoughtfully.

"No," she answered, her expression softening. "I suppose not.''

The traveling conditions for the caravan shortly became very difficult. The limitless sand deepened into shifting dunes that formed high ridges, broken occasionally by thorn- scrub. The shimmering panorama of the desert abruptly ended to the west, however, where gaunt masses of cliff rose steeply and dipped away to the south. According to Mahmoud, who rode beside Alysson, this rugged and torn range was the Ouled Nail mountains.

As the morning progressed, Alysson began to wonder if she was seeing things, for nestled at the foot of the mountains was a mirage of dark groves and white minarets. It was with a sense of shock when, an hour later, she realized the vision was no mirage, but rather an oasis. During her captivity she had been only a few hours' ride from civilization! If she had known, she might have made good her escape, instead of nearly perishing in the desert.

Dismayed by the injustice of it, Alysson pressed her lips together and called herself a hundred kinds of fool for cherishing such tender feelings toward Jafar.

She could not sustain her ill humor, though, once they arrived. It was a huge oasis, boasting thousands of palms. Among the towering trees glistened white cupolas and the slim turrets of mosques, while higher up, on a yellow, rocky plain, stood a citadel overlooking the terraced mud-houses and narrow lanes of the town.

The beautiful oasis was called Bou Saada, Mahmoud informed her. "It bears the name 'Abode of Happiness,' " the boy said. Perhaps, Alysson suspected, because of the profusion of lush greenery and obviously productive land. The forests of date palms, crowned by dark green feathery leaves, were still partially laden with golden and coral clusters of dates. Prickly pears and oleanders also abounded, along with apricot, fig, and other fruit trees. Along the way, Alysson caught a glimpse of a riverbed, in which flowed a quiet stream, with thickets of tamarisk bushes lining the high bank.

Their caravan skirted the edge of the oasis, but Alysson was close enough to see that it bustled with activity and swarmed with people: Berbers, Jews, and Bedouin nomads. Merchants, peasants, sheiks. Women, veiled and unveiled.

"Do not look, lady!" Mahmoud exclaimed when Alysson found herself staring curiously at an old Berber woman who was chanting some strange song. "She is a kahina, a witch. It will bring grave misfortune to you and your kin to look so closely upon her."

Alysson smiled but refrained from comment, for Mahmoud obviously believed in the power of sorcery. Apparently it was true, as she'd been told, that the Berbers were even more superstitious than the Arabs.

"Is Bou Saada always this crowded?" she asked instead.

"It is possible, I do not know. I have visited here only once. Currently there is a festival in progress."

Intrigued by the prospect of a festival, Alysson feasted on the exotic sights and smells and sounds. Shortly, her attention was caught by shouts and the noise of bargaining, which she recognized as coming from a bazaar—a suq, as it was called in Arabic. Every village and oasis had one.

It was at this market, according to Mahmoud, that they would purchase provisions for the long journey to Jafar's mountain home.

Alysson would have enjoyed exploring the suq, but she was still weak and her energy was depleted after the long ride. She made no protest when they set up camp on the outskirts of the oasis.

Alysson saw to her uncle first. Honoré was in more than a little pain from the jostling he had received, even in his comfortable litter. She made certain Gastar gave him another sleeping potion, then returned to Jafar's tent to rest for the remainder of the afternoon. She immediately fell into a deep sleep.

She woke several hours later, feeling more refreshed than she had in days. By the time she was fully awake, though, her energy had returned in the guise of acute restlessness.

With no other way to dispel it, Alysson began pacing the tent floor, her thoughts chafing again at her captivity. It chagrined her to think how near to escape she'd been. Just as it frustrated her to still be so helpless . . . more helpless than ever, now that she had to worry about her uncle and Chand as well. This tent, this camp was still her prison.

Alysson interrupted her pacing to pause at the entrance of the tent and look longingly toward the exciting, vivid, thriving community of Bou Saada. The sight filled her with a fiery, restless need. The mounting pressure built till she felt ready to explode, and she turned to pace again—until she suddenly sensed Jafar's presence.

She came to a halt, trying to quell the sudden pounding of her heart, and slowly turned to face him. She'd seen no sign of him for hours. Uncertainly, she regarded him with questioning eyes. Was he still inexplicably angry with her?

Tags: Nicole Jordan Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net