"These are the real Tuareg, the comparatively untouched. They've got
three tribes, the Kel Rela, the Tegehe Mellet and the Taitoq, each
headed by a warrior clan which gives its name to the tribe as a whole.
The chief of the Kel Rela clan is also chief of the Kel Rela tribe and
automatically paramount chief, or Amenokal, of the whole
confederation. His name is Melchizedek."
"Do you think you can win him over?" Isobel said.
"He's a smart old boy. I had some dealings with him over a year ago.
Gave him a TV set in the way of a present, hoping he'd tune in on some
of our Reunited Nations propaganda. He's probably the most
conservative of the Tuareg leaders."
Her eyebrows went up. "And you expect to bring him around to the most
liberal scheme to hit North Africa since Hannibal?"
He looked at her from the side of his eyes and grinned. "Remember
Roosevelt, the American president?"
"Hardly."
"Well, you've read about him. He came into office at a time when the
country was going to economic pot by the minute. Some of the measures
he and his so-called brain trust took were immediately hailed by his
enemies as socialistic. In answer, Roosevelt told them that in times
of social stress the true conservative is a liberal, since to
preserve, you have to reform. If Roosevelt hadn't done the things he
did, back in the 1930s, you probably would have seen some _real_
changes in the American socio-economic system. Roosevelt didn't
undermine the social system of the time, he preserved it."
"Then, according to you, Roosevelt was a conservative," she said
mockingly.
Crawford laughed. "I'll go even further," he said. "When social
changes are pending and for whatever reason are not brought about,
then reaction is the inevitable alternative. At such a time then--when
sweeping socio-economic change is called for--any reform measures
proposed are concealed measures of reaction, since they tend to
maintain the _status quo_."
"Holy Mackerel," Cliff protested. "Accept that and Roosevelt was not
only not a liberal, but a reactionary. Stop tearing down my childhood
heroes."
Isobel said, "Let's get back to this Amenokal guy. You think he's
smart enough to see his only chance is in going along with ..."
Homer Crawford pointed ahead and a little to the right. "We'll soon
find out. This is a favorite encampment of his. With luck, he'll be
there. If we can win him over, we've come a long way."
"And if we can't?" Isobel said, her eyebrows raised again.
"Then it's unfortunate that there are only three of us," Homer said
simply, without looking at her.
There were possibly no more than a hundred Tuareg in all in the nomad
encampment of goat leather tents when the solar powered hovercraft
drew up.
[Illustration]
When the air cushion vehicle stopped before the largest tent, Crawford
said beneath his breath, "The Amenokal is here, all right. Cliff,
watch your teguelmoust. If any of these people see more than your
eyes, your standing has dropped to a contemptible zero."
The husky Californian secured the lightweight cotton, combination veil
and turban well up over his face. Earlier, Crawford had shown him how
to wind the ten-foot long, indigo-blue cloth around the head and
features.
Isobel, of course, was unveiled, Tuareg fashion, and wore baggy
trousers of black cotton held in place with a braided leather cord by
way of drawstring and a gandoura upper-garment consisting of a huge
rectangle of cloth some seven to eight feet square and folded over on
itself with the free corners sewed together so as to leave bottom and
most of both sides open. A V-shaped opening for her head and neck was
cut out of a fold at the top, and a large patch had been sewed inside
to make a pocket beneath her left breast. She wasn't exactly a
Parisian fashion plate.
Even as they stepped down from the hovercraft, immediately after it
had drifted to rest on the ground, an elderly man came from the tent
entrance.
He looked at them for a moment, then rested his eyes exclusively on
Homer Crawford.
"_La Bas_, El Hassan," he said through the cloth that covered his
mouth.
Homer Crawford was taken aback, but covered the fact. "There is no
evil," he repeated the traditional greeting. "But why do you name me
El Hassan?"
A dozen veiled desert men, all with the Tuareg sword, several with
modern rifles, had formed behind the Tuareg chief.
Melchizedek made a movement of hand to mouth, in a universal gesture
of amusement. "Ah, El Hassan," he said, "you forget you left me the
magical instrument of the Roumi."
Crawford was mystified, but he stood in silence. What the Tuareg
paramount chief said now made considerable difference. As he recalled
his former encounter with the Ahaggar leader, the other had been
neither friendly nor antagonistic to the Reunited Nations team
Crawford had headed in their role as itinerant desert smiths.
The Amenokal said, "Enter then my tent, El Hassan, and meet my
chieftains. We would confer with you."
The first obstacle was cleared. Subduing a sigh of relief, Homer
Crawford turned to Cliff. "This, O Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, is
Clif ben Jackson, my Vizier of Finance."