than we thought,” he said.
She nodded and let go of the grab bar. It was easy driving now compared to where they had just come from. She still couldn’t believe that finding Tara might be as easy as an ancient atlas and the words spoken by a dying man.
“I can see it,” she said. “El Dewar.”
He gripped the wheel as they recognized the first sign of something other than the endless sea of sand. A bit of green. An oasis. The place his parents had visited with Tara and Faisal on the last trip any of them had taken as a family before tragedy had intervened and changed the course of all their lives.
His lips tightened and she bet he was thinking of all that had transpired and of the urgency that felt almost crushing.
“The summer vacation we think she was referencing in that video,” Kate said.
He gave a brief nod as the Jeep bounced through a sand-packed gulley that seemed to run diagonally for a few minutes before they climbed to the top and the terrain became level again.
They drove in silence now, as they could see the oasis. It was small, as was the village it supported, and because of its isolation, she imagined that it likely saw few strangers. The usual sandstone-colored, square buildings huddled close together as if trying to escape the inhospitable desert.
Within minutes they were there.
As they got out of the Jeep, Kate was almost blinded by the sun as it reached its peak in the midday sky. But, still, it was cooler than usual for the time of year. She folded her arms across her chest as a cool breeze buffeted her, the palm trees rustling ahead of them. The fronds, moving back and forth in the center of the village, seemed, in an odd way, to almost welcome them.
A man in a fawn-colored aselham, the long robe skimming the tops of his feet as his sandals whispered quietly on the path that was hard-packed sand, walked past, continuing to stare as he moved. Farther away a man was filling a metal trough with water as two camels waited, reins dangling on the ground. A woman with a basket full of vegetables and a toddler clinging to her robe made her way into the center of the village, glancing back at them once and then continuing on her way. A group of women watched them and an old man smoking a cigarette was avidly following their progress. Everyone they’d seen was dressed in the traditional Berber aselham.
“Emir Al-Nassar,” Emir said, holding out his hand as a man in fawn-colored robes approached.
“Aqil,” the man returned with a slight nod of his head.
Emir didn’t introduce Kate and, unlike the last village, she didn’t volunteer. They needed information and shaking up the local culture in regard to their views on women wasn’t going to do it.
Still, she knew Emir could feel her eyes on him. She was letting him take the lead and honoring the customs of the community.
“I heard about your sister only this morning,” Aqil said in careful English. “Our internet is spotty. But, as you know, your family is well known.” He shrugged as the wind tugged at his clothes. He ran a hand through his gray-speckled beard. “We were lucky to have heard when we did. The wind is picking up. I doubt if we’ll get a connection again today or even in the next few days. That’s how it works.”
“I know you usually have your ear to the ground out here,” Emir said.
Aqil’s attention went to Kate and he frowned.
“We can talk alone,” Emir said as he followed Aqil’s gaze. “Stay here,” he said almost gruffly to Kate.
The command rankled her but it was Berber land and their rules. But there was one other thing she knew. It wasn’t just the men who were privy to things in this isolated village; the women had a key role in society in a different way than they were used to in the West or even in the city. Knowing that, hopefully between them they would learn something.
Emir looked at her like he wanted to smile at her but didn’t. Instead he let the amused smile on her face and her silence sit unacknowledged between them. But Aqil’s attention had turned to a man who had just approached and Emir took the opportunity to address her.
“You’ll be all right?” he asked in an undertone.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, although for the first time she felt slightly overwhelmed. No matter how much she’d studied, no matter her experience in Morocco, on this small tract of land they were thrown back in time and place and to the reality that she was a blond-haired American woman in Western clothing. She didn’t fit in.
“Speak to the elders first,” he advised and motioned to an elderly woman squatting beside an open fire. “If they accept you, the others may, too.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Kate?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.” But despite her words she still felt unsure and out of her element.
She took a step away as the man who had first greeted Emir came up to him.
“Come,” Aqil said as he began to lead Emir. His pace fast despite his short stature. He glanced behind as he talked, as if to ensure that Emir was indeed following him.
* * *
EMIR FOLLOWED WITH one last glance and a nod to Kate as his host led him along a beaten sand path that served as a road.
A group of small boys tossed a ball back and forth and a group of women were carrying on what seemed to be a lighthearted conversation as two of them laughed. But as the men approached, they quieted and stared.
Aqil stopped in front of a one-story, square, sandstone-colored building no different than any of the others. Inside, as in the previous home they had visited, furnishings were sparse. What was different this time was that what was there was of high quality. There was an ebony, pearl-inlaid hutch and gold-stamped figurines on various shelves throughout the room, indicating this village was doing well.
Emir removed his shoes and walked barefoot over a rug so thick he seemed to sink as he walked across it. This one was ruby red and in the middle sat an intricately carved ironwood table. A trio of men sat around the table, each with a long, thin, metal smoking stick. The smell of tobacco wove through the air and was strangely pleasant, unlike the acrid scent of cigarettes at home. Here it was a different smell, warmer, in a pleasant, rather earthy kind of way that blended with the smell of cinnamon and jasmine sifting through the air from a number of incense pots set in various corners.
He turned his attention to the man in the traditional long robe in front of them who had just joined Aqil. Unlike his first host, this man clearly wasn’t interested in introductions.
“I wish we had met under better circumstances,” the man said, his dark brows furrowed.
“The men you seek.” He looked at Emir with a scowl that deepened, as if challenging him to contradict him. “Their group was seen not forty-eight hours ago heading west.” He took a drag from his pipe, blew out a thin stream of smoke and continued. “They didn’t stop for water nor did they enter our village.”
Emir knew that piece of information was critical. Water was vital. No one would not stop for water in the desert when it was available, no matter if they carried a supply or not. Two scenarios played in his mind—they were heading to a place they knew had water that was relatively close, and had enough water to get there—an oasis with enough water to keep their small group going or...someone here had met them with a supply.
“No one here helped them, or had any contact,” the man said, as if he’d read Emir’s mind. “And there’s nothing nearby.”
“Was there...?”
“There’s nothing more,” the man said and turned away from Emir. He whispered a few words to Aqil, making it clear from his actions and poise that he was a leader within the village.
Emir straightened. He knew he’d been dismissed, that there was nothing further to be learned in this room.