Chapter 11

The anger had his fingers curled into white knuckled fists as he tromped down Shaft 2. Yakhir was spouting every invective and curse he could conjure from his memory. More than one archivist heard his railing and gave him some distance; everyone was waiting for Atto's wrath to come raining down upon his head. The rains had come.

The young archivist had achieved a modicum of control by the time he reached the assigned area of his master. He ducked into the tunnel in search of Jahmiel and found him pronouncing his own curses in Neo-Mandarin. Both of them had been trying to crack the encryption code to the site. The apprentice Yakhir had failed and the Master Kevit-Nakar had some limited success but the decrypted material was very difficult to understand. They continued to wrestle with the task because the word "Diamond" appeared frequently in the deciphered pages.

"So the hammer has fallen," the master called to the archivist without turning around from his datapad.

"How did you know?" a puzzled Yakhir asked.

"How could I not know? Half of the population, that is to say the half that wasn't struck down by your curses, must have heard you coming down the Shaft. His rotundness must have finally worked out a suitable punishment for his public shaming at the hands of a youngster. Let me guess: painful for you but not so inviolate as to raise the ire of the master archivists."

"He assigned me to a dump run," Yakhir sighed.

"The timing is unfortunate, but every archivist is required to do a stint in the field. The punishment could have been much worse," Jahmiel pointed out.

Yakhir pinched his lips, "Yes, I understand, but Adilah will complete her apprenticeship while I am rifling through a garbage dump in the middle of nowhere. For three years we have waited for this moment and now it is denied, delayed, and destroyed."

The master chuckled, "What is a few weeks of delay compared to a lifetime of love together. If that is your worst complaint archivist, then you are fine shape."

"You sound like my mother," Yakhir bemoaned the lack of sympathy.

"When do you leave?" Kevit-Nakar asked, ignoring the whining.

"The caravan leaves in three days."

"Then take some advice from an old hand. Purchase the best pair of field boots you can find and get a waterproof padded pack for your datapad. Bring your worst clothes and a decent bottle of liquor," the older man ticked off on his fingers. "Before you leave, I'll give you one of these decrypted datacubes just to keep your skills honed out there in the wilderness."

Yakhir was only half listening. He was imagining Adilah pitching a fit when he told her he would be gone for three months and that all of their plans would be put on hold until he returned. He was wondering how he was going to manage without a lover for that long. 'How does Azzi do it?' he wondered, "I'm going to have to find that boy and have a talk.'

"Go," Jahmiel broke into his thoughts. "You haven't heard a word I said and you have a lot of preparation ahead of you. Go and take care of business."

Yakhir stumbled out of the bin and sleepwalked out of the Shaft and down the mountain, until he realized he was almost home. He felt a pinch on his arm and almost leapt a meter until he realized his tormentor was Aziz.

"You damn near had me shit in my pants," Yakhir snapped.

Aziz laughed, "You had your head so far up your ass, nothing would have come out. I called out three times and you never heard a word."

"Yeah," Yakhir absently waved off the criticism, "I just got punished with a dump run and I'm not happy. I haven't told Adilah yet, but I can imagine the fireworks that are coming."

Aziz looked thoroughly amused, "There is nothing wrong with a dump run, especially when it one of my caravans."

Yakhir looked into his friends eyes with wonder and a pointed finger, "You? You're my trail master for this misbegotten trek into the wilderness?"

Aziz playfully slapped his hand away. "I'm way too young to be a trail master yet; but I will be escorting the pale, weak, and wimpy archivist on his little tour through the countryside."

Yakhir wanted to dance with joy; at least he wouldn't be alone on his journey. As he looked at Aziz's lazy smile for the first time, he realized that his friend had two rifles slung over his shoulders. Yakhir looked perplexed and made a pointing motion at both muzzles.

Aziz shook his head with false gravity, "When is the last time you went hunting?"

Yakhir had no clue, "The last time must have been with you."

"Well, that was a couple of years ago, my friend. Today we are going to practice on a target and then go rabbit hunting. Maybe you'll get lucky and bring mama home some dinner. Don't give me that look, Yakhir. You need to know how to shoot well on the trail and there is no way I'm going to let my good friend embarrass me in front of my trailmates and boss. We practice until we leave."

Yakhir was fairly satisfied when he returned home at dusk. He had started out a little rusty on the target, but he improved throughout the afternoon. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed hiking and hunting. He didn't bag a thing, but the thrill was an old pleasure that he readily embraced again.

He would have been completely satisfied if Azzi hadn't mentioned the horses. Heading east, the caravans took camels into the deep desert. The west and north, however, had blossomed into fertile plains, fresh springs and forested mountains, where horses were more appropriate. Camels stank, spit, and sashayed when mounted, but horses promised chafed thighs and a sore butt. The young archivist had definitely gone soft and he knew it.

The announcement of his dump run had already run through the family before he arrived home. He invited Azzi to dinner and they bustled into the house together, only to be confronted by his matronly aunts. Adilah was looking up at him sullenly from the couch, but there was no way he could break through the line of spread thighs and old, swinging breasts. Upon hearing the news, the army of aunts had taken up the task of outfitting their young nephew for his first big journey.

They rifled his room for awhile until a minority broke off to take apart the kitchen for dinner. Since the aunts had to sit, Yakhir ate falafel standing in the corner, unable to take a private moment with Adilah. She was surrounded as well by the doting widows who were just full of advice for a lonely fiancé; there was no doubt that she was a part of the family. Aziz was thoroughly amused by the hustle and bustle; he was just having too much fun at his friend's expense. The food was better than his house too.

His mother had the look of patience on her face as she tried to clean up her devastated kitchen. Meanwhile Ayoub was running wild through the house trying to get someone to pay attention to him; his whoops and hollers were giving his older brother a headache. Then his uncles and older cousins came to join the cavalcade, but at least they brought several bottles of ouzo, of which one never made it into his pack. His eldest cousin, the one who gave him the stone, was more than a little interested in his datapad and Yakhir felt compelled to carry it around under his arm the entire evening. Stone and datapad were not an even exchange.

Aziz left somewhere in the middle of the evening, promising to awaken him early for a good hunt. Sometime later, Yakhir sat in a chair in the main room with his head in his hand and his datapad in his lap, waiting for everyone to leave. He had drunk two shots of ouzo, which did wonders for his nerves but left him a bit queasy. He looked up one last time, surprised that the house was suddenly empty. His mother was finishing up in a spotless kitchen and he could hear Adilah tucking Ayoub in bed.

"What just happened?" he called out to his mom.

She allowed herself a small laugh while she tucked a stray bang of hair back behind her ear. The grey was starting to show.

"I'm serious," Yakhir protested. "I barely had time to tell Jahmiel around lunchtime. Before I know where to turn, Aziz meets me outside my door and the family is rummaging through my dresser while the sun is still shining. I really didn't want the image of Great Aunt Sulemay running her hands over my underwear in my memory forever."

"I like running my hands through your underwear," Adilah chimed in as she walked into the room.

"Me too!" Ayoub yelled from his bedroom adding irony to Yakhir's mortification. His lover was talking about his underwear in front of his mother, and his brother was eavesdropping.