After a quarter-hour of increasingly strenuous activity, Ross felt that he and the stallion had developed a reasonable understanding of each other. As a final experiment, he put Rabat into a full blazing gallop, then grasped the saddle horn and slid down so that most of his body hung precariously over the stony soil. It was a dangerous trial, for a swerve or misstep by the horse would pitch Ross headfirst into the ground at high speed.
But in spite of his rider's unbalanced weight, the stallion held rock-steady as Ross plucked one of the fragile desert flowers. He pulled himself back into the saddle, then slowed to a canter and rode back to the watching Turkomans, laughing from sheer exhilaration. Most of the audience was smiling and calling out approving comments, but Dil Assa watched in dead silence.
Undeterred by his host's expression, Ross exclaimed, "Magnificent, Dil Assa! If you had the schooling of Rabat, he does you great honor."
With a blend of irritation and grudging respect, Dil Assa growled, "Aye, I trained him. When Rabat was born, I caught him with my own hands so he would not fall to the earth and break his wings. When he nursed, I fed his mother a dozen eggs a day so his coat would be sleek. For three years he ran completely free, unhampered by bridle or saddle. For five years more I have trained him in all the maneuvers of the game. There is no finer bozkashi mount anywhere. See that you use him well."
"I shall try to prove worthy," Ross said. "By the way, do you have another mount that my servant can use to ride with us to the site of the bozkashi match?"
Eyes narrowed with malice, Dil Assa scanned the remaining horses. After mounting a fiery-looking dark bay, he said, "Your Tuareg slave can ride that chestnut."
Speaking in Tamahak, as if translating, Ross told Juliet, "Careful, slave. I think our kind host wants to see someone's neck broken today."
Without deigning to reply, Juliet adjusted the chestnut's cinch and stirrups, then mounted. The nervous young gelding was not as hell-bent on having its own way as Rabat, but it was very skittish, so another battle for control took place. Juliet did not have Ross's strength, but she had an uncanny ability to sense what a horse would do next, and she brought the chestnut into order very quickly.
Dil Assa scowled. "Perhaps your slave should also play bozkashi today."
"No," Ross said flatly. "If Jalal is injured, who will care for my camels?"
Accepting the logic of that, Dil Assa ordered the rest of his men to mount, and the group set off to the site of the bozkashi match. It was about two miles away, and as Juliet had predicted, hundreds of spectators had arrived and were spread out along the dunes, ready, willing, and eager to follow the action. Numerous peddlers were also present, busily offering food and drink to the crowd.
It was easy to pick out the bozkashi players, for they were idling about on their mounts. There were about three dozen, all of them lean and dangerous-looking. Most wore caps edged with karakul or fox fur, and all carried the short, ugly whips.
Juliet slid off the chestnut and handed the reins to one of the Turkomans, then went on foot to find Saleh and Murad. Dil Assa rode over and gave Ross a terse set of explanations. "There is the boz, the goat." The headless, sand-weighted carcass lay in the middle of a circle drawn with white quicklime.
He waved his hand toward the horizon. "There is the pole which the boz must be carried around. Since the sun is hot and this is only a small, friendly match, the pole was set near." In fact, it was just barely visible in the distance.
Finally he indicated the quicklime circle. "The boz must be returned to the hallal, the circle of justice. The man who throws it in the circle is the winner." With a wolfish flash of teeth, Dil Assa said, "Shall we begin, my ferengi friend?"
"Ready when you are," Ross said pleasantly.
At Dil Assa's signal, the bozkashi master, an older man with a whip-scarred face, gave a shrill whistle between his fingers. Immediately the players trotted over and gathered in a rough circle around the goat. Ross found a place opposite Dil Assa. The air vibrated with tension as the riders jockeyed for position, their faces avid with the desire to be first and fiercest.
The master raised his arm, then chopped it down. "Begin!"
Instantly the circle dissolved into a maelstrom of chaotic activity as the riders spurred their horses forward. Only Ross held back, preferring to observe until he better understood the game.
A slightly built man proved quickest, and he leaned over and jerked the goat from the ground. Immediately it was ripped away by two players who began pulling on different legs, both of them screaming like fishwives. A third man drove his horse between their mounts and reared his horse straight up, separating the other two so he could seize possession himself.