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enjoy the legendary standing of the Kel Taitok, but it was a wealthy clan nevertheless. As Mariata looked around, it was as if she were seeing it all for the first time; and for the first time she felt ashamed. She had never once given a thought to the polarity between the lives of her people and those of the harratin on whom they depended, having always considered their relative estates the natural order of things. They were the aristocrats and the harratin were their retainers, paid to provide their services. That they were not paid well, or possibly even fairly, had never occurred to her before.
    As she sat around the campfire that night with the other women eating spicy mutton with the fragrant flatbread the slaves had made that afternoon, the thought suddenly occurred to her that she had seen no livestock at all in the harratin village. She was quite certain none of them would be eating meat that night, or indeed that month, and the realization made the lamb stick in her throat until she coughed and coughed.
    ‘Are you unwell, Mariata?’ her Aunt Dassine asked. She was a sharp-eyed woman, sharp-tongued too.
    ‘I have lost my appetite,’ Mariata replied a little stiffly.
    Seated at Dassine’s side, Yallawa stared coldly at Mariata, then turned to her neighbour. ‘The Kel Taitok eat only the most tender of gazelles: clearly our poor sheep are not sufficiently palatable for our regal kinswoman.’
    Mariata pushed the rest of her meal away from her. ‘I am not hungry, though I passed many today who were.’
    Curious eyes turned to her. ‘Beggars, maybe?’ Dassine asked.
    ‘Your own harratin,’ Mariata replied shortly. ‘Their children’s bellies are swollen with hunger. Even the adults are thin as sticks.’
    People began to murmur. Mariata could catch only a word here or there, but the glances the women gave her were hostile. At last Yallawa said, ‘This is not a subject suitable for discussion by ignorant young women.’ She fixed Mariata with her cold regard. ‘And it is especially unsuitable for a young woman who is dependent on the charity of others for her well-being to voice such foolish and unwanted opinions.’
    ‘It is not my fault that my mother is dead and that my father treads the salt road. I would hardly have chosen to come here, but I wasn’t given the choice.’
    Dassine thrust her face at Mariata. ‘When my brother took your mother to wife, the Kel Taitok treated those of us who travelled all the way to the wedding as if we were vassals bringing them tribute. The women laughed behind their hands at our darker skin and made fun of our best clothes, our jewellery and the way our men wear their veils. You may give yourself airs and boast of your elevated ancestry; but your bloodline does not impress me. You are lucky to be pretty enough to have attracted the eye of Awa’s fine son: at least such a match will temper your arrogance.’
    Mariata pushed herself to her feet and without a word walked away, not trusting herself to respond in a civil manner.
    She gave the men’s campfire as wide a berth as possible as she made her way to the tents; but even so she saw out of the corner of her eye how Rhossi ag Bahedi detached himself from the group. She increased her pace, but he soon caught her up and stood in front of her, his dark eyes blazing.
    ‘Walk with me.’
    ‘I will go nowhere willingly with you.’
    ‘You should do what I say, if you know what’s good for you.’
    ‘Since when did any man have the right to tell a woman what to do?’
    ‘You will regret it if you don’t.’
    ‘I am sure I would regret it if I did.’
    He caught her by the arm. ‘I hope you haven’t said anything to anyone you should not have said.’
    ‘I can’t imagine what you mean.’
    He gave her a little shake. ‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’
    ‘Oh, like telling everyone how you so bravely threw rocks at a defenceless old woman?’
    ‘Is she dead?’ he asked, a little too avidly.
    Mariata