The Seventh Scroll Read Free

have travelled far and I am grown weary. It is here that I will rest for all eternity."" Duraid removed his glasses and looked across at Royan, "'The second step". It is a very precise description for once. Taita is not being his usual devious self."
    "Let's go back to the satellite. photographs," Royan suggested, and drew the glossy sheet towards her. Duraid came around the table to stand behind her.
    "To me it seems most logical that the natural feature that would obstruct them in the gorge would be something like a set of rapids or a waterfall. If it were the second waterfall, that would put them here-' Royan placed her finger on a spot on the satellite photograph where the narrow snake of the river threaded itself through the dark massifs of the mountains on either hand.
    At that moment she was distracted and she lifted her head. "Listen!" Her voice changed, sharpening with alarm.
    "What is it?" Duraid looked up also.
    "The dog," she answered.
    "That damn mongrel," he agreed. "It is always making the night hideous with its yapping. I have promised myself to get rid of him." At that moment the lights went out.
    They froze with surprise in the darkness. The soft thudding of the decrepit diesel generator in its shed at the back of the palm grove had ceased. It was so much a part of the oasis night that they noticed it only when it was silent.
    Their eyes adjusted to the faint starlight that came in through the terrace doors. Duraid crossed the room and took the oil lamp down from the shelf beside the door where it waited for just such a contingency. He lit it, and looked across at Royan with an expression of comical resignation.
    "I will have to go down-'
    Duraid," she interrupted him, "the dog!'

    He listened for a moment, and his expression changed to mild concern. The dog was silent out there in the night.
    "I am sure it is nothing to be alarmed about." He went to the door, and for no good reason she suddenly called after him.
    "Duraid, be careful!" He shrugged dismissively and stepped out on to the terrace.
    She thought for an instant that it was the shadow of the vine over the trellis moving in the night breeze off the desert, but the night was still. Then she realized that it was a human figure crossing the flagstones silently and swiftly, coming in behind Duraid as he skirted the fishpond in the centre of the paved terrace.
    "Duraid!" She screamed a warning and he spun round, lifting the lamp high.
    "Who are you?" he shouted. "What do you want here?" The intruder closed with him silently. The traditional full-length dishdasha robe swirled around his legs, and the white ghutrah headcloth covered his head. In the light of the lamp Duraid saw that he had drawn the corner of the headcloth over his face to mask his features.
    The intruder's back was turned towards her so Royan did not see the knife in his right hand, but she could not mistake the upward stabbing motion that he aimed at Duraid's stomach. Duraid grunted with pain and doubled up at the blow, and his attacker drew the blade free and stabbed again, but this time Duraid dropped the lamp and seized the knife arm. The flame of the fallen oil lamp was guttering and flaring. The two men struggled in the gloom, but Royan saw a dark stain spreading over her husband's white shirt front.
    "Run!" he bellowed at her. "Go! Fetch help! I cannot hold him!" The Duraid she knew was a gentle person, a soft man of books and learning. She could see that he was outmatched by his assailant.
    "Go! Please! Save yourself, my flower!" She could hear by his tone that he was weakening, but he still clung desperately to his attacker's knife arm.

    She had been paralysed with shock and indecision these few fatal seconds, but now she broke free of the spell and ran to the door. Spurred by her terror and her need to bring help to Duraid she crossed the terrace, swift as a cat, and he held the intruder from blocking her way. She vaulted over the low stone wall into the grove, and almost into