The Place of Pots was obvious; the ground beneath their feet began to show a shard or two with every yard, and occasionally there were a few blocks still on top of one another that announced the presence of an ancient wall. Beyond, there was a long grove of palms indicating water and, possibly, someone who had her child. She could not run or present herself as an odd stranger; her only hope would be to arrive in the company of this small band of nomads and then try to determine if her infant was really here. Annie didn't let herself think of the likelihood that Laylah would have found the child and already made off with it. That terrible realization would come soon enough if she needed to know it.
Her eyes ached with the strain of staring at the row of palms, even though she knew she was still too far away to make out any meaningful detail. But she could sense the moisture in the air from the water that nourished the trees, and at last, she entered into their shade. It took her only a moment to note that there were at least seven separate parties of nomads, perhaps eighty or ninety people at most. Some women might be in the tents temporarily but most of them would be at the water, gossiping, doing tasks, cleaning clothes or themselves or their children. Annie surveyed the scene where the women were gathered.
And for once, finding what she needed was simple. A woman with three children – two at the edge of the water, one in her arms, seemed slumped with dejection, a sharp contrast to the other women watching their children. She was alone, as if her sorrow was keeping away companions, and that too was unusual. Annie went to her, a horrible knowledge growing in her, twisting her stomach. The woman, on edge, turned at her approach, and Annie saw that the young mother's face was stained with tears which she had not bothered to wash away. Her children, Annie noted as she grew closer, also looked as if they had spent some time weeping.
"My name is Noor. I am looking for my baby," Annie said to her, in the dialect she had learned from Laylah.
"I am Ashera. But you are too late," the girl answered her. Annie sank to her knees beside her. "There was another woman. She came in the night. She swore she was his mother. I did not believe her, but my husband did."
"And you let her take him?"
"I knew she was not the mother, but I knew I was not, either. And my husband was nervous, this baby, where it was found, how it came to us. And she was looking for him. She knew of him, what could I do?"
"Who brought him to you?"
"My daughter found him. In a wrecked jeep."
"You saved him."
"We all did. We all loved him." The girls were near now, staring at Annie. Annie realized a lock of her hair had escaped and she pushed it back, but they had noticed its color. Annie reached forward and pressed her hands against the chest of the young woman, above her breasts. Her baby had lain there, against his woman, for many nights. She shook off the tears. There was no time.
"The woman who took him, where did she go?" The woman pointed. It was back to the "main" road. Yet they had not encountered her on their path to the Place of the Pots. Laylah might well be wise enough to go in one direction at first and then switch to her real route once she could no longer be observed. But where would she be going?
Wherever she believes Eyal to be, Annie realized. Which was where her new "employer" would want her to be, eventually. And since she had lost her guides, she suspected that might be sooner rather than later. They could not want her running about on her own for long. Yet the urge to try to follow Laylah was almost irresistible. Annie grasped part of her long skirt. In it were sewn strands of gold beads, emergency money. She slit the thread holding it into place and extracted nearly all of it, pressing it into the hands of the young woman who had nursed and loved her child in place of her.
"No, it is not necessary," the nomad woman protested. "It's all right! You will need it, for you and your baby…."
"Without you he would have died. That is worth much, much more than this." Annie pulled out another thread of beads. All together it was not much, maybe an ounce of gold, but that was a fortune here. She wanted to give her some way of contacting her, of connecting, of helping her in the future – but she knew she could not. Her connection with Annie's fortunes was probably more than enough to have put her in danger. That was reality. Annie stood. There was nothing more to do here. If Laylah had headed back toward the main road, that was at least possibly her real direction. She looked longingly at the camels that some of the nomads had, but no one would sell a single woman one, not after arriving as a nomad with the others – at best she would be reviled as a runaway wife and given no assistance whatsoever. So she shared blessings with Ashera, stayed to the cover of the string of palms as long as she could, and began walking back the way she came.
