The Turquoise Scarab #3 *PUT ON HOLD FOR MEGA COMPOSTING*

Chapter Three: Caravan

When bad things happen, you comfort yourself with the thought that everything comes to an end. If times are bad, they can only get better; there has to be good in the world to make the balance correct. But often, it doesn't work like that. If times are bad, they can always get worse. If one person dies, it doesn't mean that another will live.

You rub charcoal onto parchment and it is coloured black. You rub harder, and the entire scrap of paper is covered with smudged darkness. You would think that nothing more can happen now; it has to get lighter. You'd be wrong.

٭ص

When I was eleven, Haroun-rän moved the camp to Budjakh to trade at Salz-es-Selime-Jamal-al, the Fair of Camels. Not only did Haroun-rän fail to sell that year's foal, but that night, when everyone was at their tents and reliving the excellent bargains they had made, a thunderstorm blew up. A real tempest, with lightning flashing silently in the sky as a herald to warn of the arrival of the thunder that growled out moments later, like hunger groaning in an empty stomach. The horses, frightened by the lights and noise, panicked, and with a string of followers bolted out of the camp and away into the desert night. Most were found, some came back the next morning, but a lot were lost and never recovered.

Only afterwards did people begin to point fingers in my direction and whisper behind their hands about the boy who had been seen near the horse lines that night (this was quite true; I had been there - trying to get some shelter from the driving rain in the sheltered area) and wonder whether... perhaps.... had he done anything, maybe....?

I could not run away from the rumours and talk and stares of the camp. Living with them was the only way I had of surviving, and even if it wasn't a very good way, it was still all I had. Sometimes I managed to scrounge bits of food, or a woman might be in a rare good mood and give me a loaf of flat, unleavened bread to dip into the yogurt she was making. When my threadbare tunic that I had worn since I was five wore completely away, Jahrurah, Marsinah's mother left me out an old tunic of her son's and I wore that.

As I grew over the years, so the rumours grew with me; eventually mothers forbade their children to come near me, and men made the sign of the wheat ear after I had passed, to try and ward off the misfortune that surrounded me like a cloud.

Matters came to a head when I was fourteen. That year was a bad one, with rains coming late and departing early, and Haroun-rän had extra cause for worry: his wife, Kasia-räní, was expecting their second child in the summer. At the first birth, there had been trouble; complicated Birthing trouble that I didn't understand, but I knew that Kasia had nearly died. Haroun was taking no chances this time. The camp was moved to Vehn-eni-Beer and there we waited for the rains and Kasia-räní's birthing time to come.


٭ص


'Illo! Kaafila-es!'

The shout was taken up by the other children as one of them saw the dot on the horizon. 'Look! A caravan!'

'I see it!'

'Tell Haroun-rän there's a caravan coming!'

'Hey, you!' A boy about six years old jerked his head at me. 'Go tell Haroun-rän that there's a caravan coming!'

I shrugged and turned to go.

'Run and tell him!' the boy commanded.

'It's too hot,' I complained.

'Go on, or I'll tell!'

It was too much bother to protest, so I ran to the camp-leader's tent and told him.

'Good!' Haroun-rän exclaimed. He was sitting on a rug spread outside his tent, braiding a camel bridle, but when I had finished, he put it down and went back inside his tent. Even though he spoke quietly, I could still hear his words. 'Kasia, there's a caravan coming. There may be a midwife there who can help you.'

'Kumanne can - '

'Kumanne is a healer and not a skilled midwife. I don't want trouble like there was at Nathu's birth.'

'Haroun, mah, don't worry.' There was a rustle of cloth and a small sound; I could guess what was happening inside, and felt myself flushing up to the roots of my hair. I decided to leave before anyone found out that I had been listening, and crept back to the outskirts of the camp where the children were still gathered, straining their eyes to watch the caravan approach. Already it was close enough to see the blur of white that was the leader's bisht, and I could make out the number of camels. It's a small caravan, I thought, counting. Five... seven... only ten camels. Perhaps there's more I can't see.

But it was a ten camel caravan that finally stopped by the camp. A boy ran forward from the back of the train to the leader's camel and hit in the back of the knees with a whip; it knelt down, and its rider swung his legs over and landed stiffly on the sand. All the other riders were dismounting and began to unload their camels, taking down the packs and bags from their saddles and hoisting them over their shoulders. Haroun-rän strode forward and he and the leader in the white bisht bowed to each other.

'Maradin ben-Abu, your most humble servant.'

'Haroun ben-Rama, the one most unworthy of your attentions.'

With the traditional running-down of their names over and done with, they got down to business. Haroun asked, 'Will you stay and trade? The well is free to all.'

'Yes, we will. We're traveling to Mem'hazd, so we've passed through Alq and Jushat already.'

Haroun's face brightened at the mention of the wealthy cities, but his mind was on another subject. 'Your wife - is she skilled in the birthing arts? Or do you have any others in your caravan that can act as a midwife?'

'My wife, Zara, has helped at more than one birth; she'll help, I'm sure. Why? Is there a woman in your camp near her time?'

'Kasia, my own wife. She had trouble at our first son's birth, and I'm worried for her this time.'

'Ah well.' Maradin clapped a friendly hand on Haroun's shoulder. 'Let my wife help, and all will go well, insh'aweh. Here, boy, leave that alone!' He glared at one of the camp children who had started poking in one of the saddle bags. The boy scampered off and Maradin went to supervise the watering and tethering of his camels. Among the caravan were Maradin's wife, his three children, several traveling merchants who were trading on the journey and a few people who were piggy-backing a safe ride by offering their services to Maradin personally. I saw a scribe who stared at me with an odd expression; a man who I found out later was a leather worker and a woman who was helping Zara with her children.

Haroun-rän prodded me in the back. 'Don't you go bothering these people.'

'I'm not,' I began, but seeing his eyebrows beetle together into a frown, I amended it to, 'Yes, rayyis.'

'And don't stare at me like that.'

I ducked my head. 'Yes, rayyis.'

'Oh, just shut up and get out of here!'

'Yes, rayyis,' I murmured. I went, as I always did, to the goat pens, taking comfort from lingering smell of the animals that remained even when they were out foraging, as they were now. I sat on the fence poles and watched the heat shimmer over the sand, rippling up and down in water-like waves. But these were comfortable waves, made up of heat and air, and not of water that would hold you up one minute and betray you the next.

I saw the caravan set up its tents and start their cook-fires; soon the smells of coffee and roasting meat wafted up into the still, hot air, making my mouth water. The last time I had eaten had been at sunrise, and it was now almost noon. My thoughts dwelt wistfully on the taste of goat and chickpea stew, and only half listened to the voices coming from the caravan's tents. Suddenly, though, I heard my name.

'Ba told Rohsair to get out of the way, so he's probally sitting out by the goat-pens, dreaming away to himself.'

It was Nathu, Haroun's son and some of his friends, all of whom were about my own age.

'Rohsair? Is he the tall, pale boy with very dark brown eyes and untidy hair?' I recognized the voice as that of the scribe in the caravan.

'Yes, rayyis, that's Rohsair.' Nathu's voice was disdainful. 'Why do you want to know about him? He's a huzjaa.'

'Is he?' For some reason, the scribe seemed disappointed. 'How so?'

'He's petrified of water for a start. Even if you just flick water in his face, he runs away. He runs away from everything; won't help with any work, doesn't try to hunt. He just sits with the horses or the goats and stares at nothing for ages.'

One of the others, Amin, laughed as he said this, and I dug my fingernails into the fence pole, knowing the truth of his words. But there's nothing wrong with that! I thought. Daydreaming is fine, it's not... a waste of time. They just don't understand. No one understands. Even as I acknowledged that last thought, part of me was shaking its head and
whispering, Self-pity, Rohsair, self-pity.

'So what?' I muttered between my teeth, glaring at the dirt under my fingernails. Wallah.

'Ma'lesh,' the scribe sighed. 'Thank you, anyway. Will you help me hold this tent pole for a minute?'

I slid off the fence and walked away into the desert until their voices had faded behind me. Looking behind me, I could see the tents clearly and the little moving figures of the people preparing for the noonday meal. It was always like this, I thought moodily. Going away from the voices, looking back and knowing that I'd have to return. It was a circle, and at that moment, it looked impossible to break out of. Going round and round, always in the same pattern, always running away from the same things and always returning for the same simple reasons. Like the rains; they come, they leave, they come, they leave, always the same, twice each year, for every year. Except they haven't done that, have they? I thought ironically. The rains haven't come yet, and the elders say they know why. Because of me. How droll.

Slowly, still moodily, I turned around and began walking back to the tents, standing out ink-dark against the pale sands.


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I'm not very happy with this chapter, and I think this needs a lot of work. Comments on everything welcomed with open arms.

Once again, this is great! Keep it coming...and it's great writing once again.

First paragraph:

That incident - with my arm and Tabithí's baby - was when I was nine. Nothing as dramatic happened in the following years; just lots of little incidents that meant nothing by themselves, but added up into one big, ominous conclusion when you stacked them up and looked at them all together.

Like the time when I was eleven, and Haroun-rän moved the camp to Budjakh to trade at Salz-es-Selime-Jamal-al, the Fair of Camels.

I just don't like the first paragraph. The style doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the story. Could you find a different way to say the same thing? It's hard to explain, but: "added up into one, big, ominous conclusion' is just a little...I don't know. cheesy or something, i guess.

Going into the second paragraph, starting with 'Like' is similar to starting in the middle of a sentence. The sentence is a fragment. I would suggest, 'for instance' or 'for example' or even just start with 'One time when I was eleven," or just...something other than 'like.' (that was a long sentence!)

I could not run away from the rumours and talk and stares of the camp. This was the only way I had of surviving, and even if it wasn't a very good way, it was still all I had.

"This was the only way..." is a little confusing. What was the only way? Be specific. "This camp was the only way" for instance.

Matters came to a head when I was fourteen. That year was a bad one, with rains coming late and departing early, and Haroun-rän had extra cause for worry: his wife, Kasia-räní, was expecting their second child in the summer. Nathu, their first child, was a few months older than I, and although one son was good, two sons was far better. The camp was moved to Vehn-eni-Beer and there we waited for the rains and Kasia-räní's birthing time to come.

You say that there is cause to worry, because she is expecting a child. Then you say one son is good, but two are far better. It seems as if you're contradicting yourself here...I know you're not. You just need to state why exactly there is cause for worry: because of the problems with birthing. It sounds here like the child is a cause for worry, which is why it seems like contradiction when you say two sons are better.

Anyway, I have to go, but I didn't see any punctuation or grammatical errors...I've probably missed something, but others will pick it up. Anyway, great word! Loved it yet again, and keep...er...'Warp and Woof?' ...keep it coming!

Yours most absolutely,

Thank you for reviewing, sokool! As to the title, "Warp and Woof" refers to past and present interweaving over each other to make up Time. Like in cloth, the warp goes up, and the woof goes across - or is it the other way round? Anyways, that's what it's supposed to mean. The series' title is "Dream Lords", but maybe I need to come up with a more snazzy title for the next bit, as "Warp and Woof" tends to make people think of dogs.

I could find no faults whatsoever with this piece other than it was a bit....long? No, too descriptive in places.

Also, could you try to break the writing up a little? So that it's easier on the eye.

This was very good and you have no reason to worry about it.

Keep it up,
Alainna
xxxx

You did say shred, yes? Those were your words, "please shred it for me"? *cringe* I don't hate it, darling, I really don't, in fact I like it a great deal so please don't shoot me.

Part One of gyr's crit:

When bad things happen, you comfort yourself with the thought that everything comes to an end. If times are bad, they can only get better; there has to be good in the world to make the balance correct feels a tad awkward, maybe something like “to bring balance”. But often, it doesn't work like that. If times are bad, they can always get worse. If one person dies, it doesn't mean that another will live. Ooo, me like.

You rub charcoal onto parchment and it is coloured black. You rub harder, and the entire scrap of paper is covered with smudged darkness. You would think that nothing more can happen now; it has to get lighter. You'd be wrong.

Hmmm….its interesting to me that you wrote this entire sec. in direct address, something not often seen in fiction and something I’ve never seen in your work. It does work here, but I’m just wondering why you chose to use it at this point and if it is entirely necessary. I like what you’ve done, I’m just wondering if it isn’t a little…confusing to just have it dropped in the middle of a first-person story.

When I was eleven, Haroun-rän moved the camp to Budjakh to trade at Salz-es-Selime-Jamal-al, the Fair of Camels

okay, whole lotta “foreign” words in there, maybe replace “Haroun-ran moved the camp” with “my tribe/clan moved” or such. Also, I think that “to trade at the Fair of Camels, called…” would work better, give you more distance between the unknown words.

at their tents

should be “in their tents,” methinks

reliving the excellent bargains they had made, a thunderstorm blew up

wait, I thought you said they failed to sell that year’s foal, what excellent bargains?.

as a herald to warn of the arrival of the thunder

wordy and repetitive, love, try something like “as a herald of the thunder,” works just as well

like hunger groaning in an empty stomach

??? sorry, just really confused, I think I get what you’re trying to say, but perhaps just something about an empty stomach groaning with hunger?.

with a string of followers bolted out of the camp and away into the desert night

this makes it sound as if the “string of followers” knew the horses were going to bolt and bolted with them, not followed them to bring them back, maybe mention the followers after “into the desert night”

a lot

should be “many,” sorry, “a lot” just sounds too modern

Only afterwards did people begin to point fingers in my direction and whisper behind their hands about the boy who had been seen near the horse lines that night (this was quite true; I had been there - trying to get some shelter from the driving rain in the sheltered area) and wonder whether... perhaps.... had he done anything, maybe....?

Okay, I really like what you’re trying to do here, and you’ve got a good start, but the wording is just really awkward and the sentence itself is far too long. First step: eliminate the parentheses, they are not necessary at all, and just make what is contained in them a different sentence, ie: “the horse lines that night. This was quite true…” Second step: after the end of that part now in parentheses (“the sheltered area.”) you obviously need to mod the wording so that it, too is a separate sentence. I like the atmosphere you’ve captured with your word choices here, so I’d say keep it, but just make it a complete sentence on it’s own. This way, you’ll end up with three nicely sized sentences instead of one long one, and you will have 86ed the dreaded parentheses.

even if it wasn't a very good way, it was still all I had

hmmm…see, my brain jumps in and says at this point: couldn’t he jump camps? Join up with some other group who doesn’t know him? Steal a camel and go solo? Now, I understand that he might not realistically be able to do these, but it’s nice to mention that he may have considered and abandoned them; it shows the reader that you’ve been here and you’ve thought what they’ve thought and you’ve explained it..

my threadbare tunic

I think “the threadbare tunic” would be better here, as you go on to identify that it’s his it just saves on redundancy


,

so the rumours grew with me; eventually mothers forbade

I think these would work better as separate sentences, with a period after “me”

to try and ward off

it just gets under my skin and it might be bad grammar, too, but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be “to try TO ward off.” Of course, I would just say “trying to ward off,” but that’s me

been trouble; complicated Birthing trouble

umm…why is there a semicolon after the first “trouble”? should be a comma. Note: I like the way you capitalized “Birthing,” though



Edit: part two to be posted later tonight.

Haha, here we are, part two! (and much better this part is, too, b/c, methinks, ye have more dialogue)

First off, question: Um…why are you using only single quotes?

Beyond that...

'Kasia, there's a caravan coming. There may be a midwife there who can help you.'

'Kumanne can - '

'Kumanne is a healer and not a skilled midwife. I don't want trouble like there was at Nathu's birth.'

'Haroun, mah, don't worry.'

I just really like this whole exchange: the dialogue has a natural flow and “mah” fits right in.

ten camel caravan

hit in the back of the knees with a whip; it knelt down,

you seem use semicolons an awful lot, darling, and while sometimes they’re good, in general I’d say err on the side of the period and just start a new sentence

'Maradin ben-Abu, your most humble servant.'

'Haroun ben-Rama, the one most unworthy of your attentions.'

Ah…this takes me back all the way to Lawrence of Arabia….happy bird

running-down of their names

um…maybe this is just ‘cause I’m a yank, but I don’t know what “running-down of their names” means. I can guess from context, but could you maybe say “With the traditional greetings over” or sumsuch?

she'll help, I'm sure

unnecessary and awkward, kill it.

and I'm worried for her this time.'

again, kill it, unnecessary

several traveling merchants who were trading on the journey

kill.

I saw a scribe who stared at me with an odd expression; a man who I found out later was a leather worker and a woman who was helping Zara with her children.

um…I think you get the idea

Haroun-rän prodded me in the back. 'Don't you go bothering these people.'

'I'm not,' I began, but seeing his eyebrows beetle together into a frown, I amended it to, 'Yes, rayyis.'

'And don't stare at me like that.'

I ducked my head. 'Yes, rayyis.'

'Oh, just shut up and get out of here!'

'Yes, rayyis,' I murmured.

here again, your brilliance with dialogue shines, darling, I daresay this is the best way you convey both setting and character

But these were comfortable waves, made up of heat and air, and not of water that would hold you up one minute and betray you the next.

oooo….. good sentence overall, darling, and very intriguing

probally

should be “probably,” just a typo

I recognized the voice as that of the scribe in the caravan.

how would he, we never heard the scribe speak

their voices had faded behind me. Looking behind me,

uh, yeah



Overall, darling, I think it's a great chapter--you're really drawing me into the story and into Rohsair's character. Keep bugging me about those other two, don't you dare let me forget!