"No."

"I didn't think you would. Those were happy days— until your mother left. She was a good woman, but she destroyed Yasir. He was never the same again. His wife gone, his two sons gone, Yasir felt he had nothing to live for. I suffered with him for three years, for I loved Yasir as a brother. I hoped he would forget your mother, and find happiness again. I had a sister named Margiana, a beautiful girl who adored Yasir. So I offered Margiana to Yasir in marriage."

"But my mother and father were still married. How could he marry your sister?" Philip interrupted.

"Your mother had gone and was not coming back. It was the same as if she were dead. Yasir was free to marry again. He could make a new life and sire sons he could watch grow to manhood. So Yasir agreed to marry my sister. I was called away just then, and asked Margiana not to marry until my return. But she refused to wait.

"I was wounded while away and was bedridden for months. It took me almost two years to find my sister and Yasir's tribe. Rashid, my sister's son, was a year old then.

"And so the years passed, and I thought all was well with my sister. Yasir was still unhappy. He did not love Rashid as he had you. However, when I visited my sister she acted as though she were happy.

"Several years ago, my sister came to me and finally told me the truth about her so-called marriage. Yasir refused to marry her at the last minute. But on the night they were to have been married, he got drunk and raped her. When she discovered months later that she was with child, she begged Yasir to marry her. But he still refused. He couldn't forget your mother. Margiana felt ashamed because she was not married, so she lied to me and let me think she was happy. Yasir never took her again, but he let her and Rashid live with his tribe. She loved him, and he treated her like dirt.

"After my sister told me the truth, she killed herself. It was as if Yasir had plunged the knife into her. He killed my sister, and on that day I swore revenge. I waited, but Yasir knew of my sworn hatred and never ventured from his camp alone. He never forgot I was waiting for him, and I waited too long. Yasir died a happy man, without suffering the way my sister suffered."

"But all that has nothing to do with me. Why do you want me dead?" Philip asked. He believed the story. Yasir had lived with the memory of his first and only wife until the day he died. He probably never knew that Margiana loved him and was suffering because of it.

'You will take Yasir's place," said Ali Hejaz. "You, his beloved son, who were everything to him, as my sister was to me. You, who gave Yasir pleasure in his last years when he should have had none. You, the son of the woman who was to blame for my sister's death. You, who are just like your father in every way, taking women without marriage and mating them suffer.

"You shall die, and I will be avenged at long last." Ali laughed, a short, satanic laugh. "Ah, but revenge is sweet. If only Yasir were here to see your death, I would be the happiest of men. I will even grant you a last wish if it is reasonable."

"You are too kind," said Philip sarcastically. "I would like to see Christina Wakefield now."

"Ah yes, the woman. I did say that you could see her, did I not? But first I must warn you, I am afraid she met with a slight accident before she came here."

"An accident? Where is she?" Philip demanded.

Ali Hejaz motioned to one of the men behind Philip. The man lifted a curtain at the back of the tent.

Philip saw Christina huddled on the floor. "Oh, my God!" he gasped. He bent down to touch her, but she didn't move.

"I thought it best to drug her for a few days until the swelling goes down," Ali said from behind him.

Philip stood up and turned very slowly to face the old man. The muscles in his cheeks twitched with the violent rage consuming him.

"Who did this?" he said quietly, emotions held tautly in check. "Who did this to her?"

"It should not have happened. The man who beat her has always been cruel to women. When she ran from him he went wild and beat her before my men could stop him. He will die, of course. I gave strict orders not to harm the woman, and he disobeyed me. I have not yet decided how he will die, but he will."

"Give him to me," Philip said grimly.

"What?"

"Give the man who did this to me. You have granted me one request. I want the man who beat her."

Ali looked at Philip incredulously, then his old eyes widened. "Of course! It is right that you have the honor. I have no doubt you will win, but it will be a fair fight. You will fight with knives, immediately, in the center of the camp. After Cassim dies, you shall die a slower death."

Philip followed the old man from the tent. He could think only of killing the man who had dared hurt Christina.

"Bring Cassim out and tell him what is expected," Ali ordered.

Ali took his own knife from his belt and handed it to Philip. "When the fight is over, you will throw down the knife and offer no resistance. If you do not, Christina Wake-field will never be returned to her brother, but will be sold into slavery. Do you understand?"

Philip nodded and took the knife. He stuck it into his waistband, removed his robe and tunic, then grasped the knife in his right hand. Cassim was brought out of a nearby tent, fear showing clearly on his face. He was dragged forward to stand before Philip.

"I will not fight this man!" Cassim screamed. "If I must die, then shoot me!"

"Stand up and fight like a man. Or I will have your heart torn from your living body!" Ali shouted.

Philip felt no pity for the man cowering before him. All he could see was Christina's swollen face. "Prepare to die, woman-beater."

Cassim was released and fell back a few feet, then lunged forward. But Philip was ready for him. He stepped aside, and his knife caught Cassim in the right arm, below the shoulder. They circled each other warily, arms outstretched. Cassim jabbed forward again, intending to stab Philip in the chest. But Philip moved like lightning striking its unsuspecting victim. He cut downward on Cassim's extended arm, slicing it to the bone. Cassim dropped his knife to the ground, staring dumbfounded at the wound. Philip backhanded him across the face, knocking him down.

He gave Cassim time to retrieve his knife, then attacked again. Cassim was obviously no knife-fighter and his fear made him careless and an easy victim for Philip's skill.

Philip knew many tricks he had learned from his father, but he had no need of tricks now. Philip's knife struck Cassim again and again until he was covered with his own blood. Philip finally tired of the game and cut his throat. Cassim fell forward onto the sand.

Philip felt disgusted. He wouldn't have believed that he had such violence in him. How could he kill a man so mercilessly? The man would have died anyway, and he deserved to suffer for hurting Christina, but Philip felt sick for executing him. He threw the knife down beside Cassim's body and walked over to Ali Hejaz.

"You do not look pleased, Abu. Perhaps you will feel better knowing that Cassim also shot your tribesman."

"There's no way to feel better after killing a man," Philip replied.

"When you have waited many years to kill a man, as I have, revenge can be pleasurable," said Ali. "You will go with my men now. Remember that you hold Christina Wakefield's future in your hands. Also, I have ordered my men to shoot if you try to escape. A wound in an arm or a leg will only make your death more agonizing."

The men seized Philip and led him behind Ali Hejaz's tent. Four stakes stood embedded in the sand, with ropes attached to each. He knew then how he was going to die.

He gave no resistance. The men spread-eagled him on his back and tied his arms and legs to the stakes. Philip heard one man whisper, "Forgive me," then he left. The other man walked to the shade of Ali's tent and sat down to guard Philip.

Guard against what? Philip wanted to know. He could not escape. It was late afternoon, but the sun would beat down for at least two more hours. He felt a slight hunger, but that was the least of his worries.

Not much damage would be done today, but tomorrow his suffering would begin. Would he be able to stand it? Could he will himself to die?

He would force himself to stay awake this night, that was the only way. The two nights and days he had gone without rest would enable him to sleep tomorrow, and perhaps he would die quickly in the hot sun without ever waking.

An hour passed, and Philip was already fighting to stay awake. A shadow loomed over him, and he opened his eyes to see Ali Hejaz.

"I think it is ironic that you should die this way, don't you? You wanted to live under our sun and make Yasir happy, so it is only fitting that you die under our sun. It is not a pleasant way to die. Your tongue will swell. But I do not want you to choke to death too soon. You will be given enough water to prevent that. You will suffer long, as the sun bakes you alive. And if you thought of staying awake this night and sleeping through your suffering tomorrow, I will have to disappoint you. I drugged your wine slightly, and you will sleep tonight." Ali laughed as he put an end to Philip's only hope. "You look surprised, Abu. But, as you see, I have thought of everything. Yes, you will be awake tomorrow when the sun rises. Have a pleasant night, Abu. It will be your last." With that, he left Philip to his thoughts.

Philip pulled against the ropes with all his strength, but there was no hope for escape. He slept.