The clansmen were suddenly silent, in shocked surprise.

“That cannot be true!” the elderly chief snapped.

Omar ben Crawf looked at him mildly. “Why should my follower lie?”

“I do not know, but we will talk of it later, away from the women and children who should not hear such abominations.” The chief switched subjects. “But you have no flocks with you. How are we to pay for these things, these services?”

“With money.”

The old man’s face, what little could be seen through his teguelmoust, darkened. “We have little money in the Ahaggar.”

The one named Omar nodded. “But we are short of meat and will buy several goats and perhaps a lamb, a chicken, eggs. Then, too, as you have noted, we have left our women at home. We will need the services of cooks, someone to bring water. We will hire servants.”

The other said gruffly, “There are some Bela who will serve you.”

The smith seemed taken aback. “Verily, El Hassan has stated that the product of the labor of the slave is accursed.”

“El Hassan! Who is El Hassan and why should the work of a slave be accursed?”

One of the tribesmen said, “I have heard of this El Hassan. Rumors of his teachings spread through the land. He is to lead us all, Tuareg, Arab and Sudanese, until we are all as rich as Roumas.”

Omar said, “It is well known that the Roumas and especially the Americans are all rich as Emirs but none of them ever possess slaves. The bedouin have slaves but fail to prosper. Verily, the product of the labor of the slave is accursed.”

“Madness,” Moussa-ag-Amastan muttered. “If you do not let our slave women do your tasks, then they will remain undone. No Tuareg woman will work.”

But the headman of his clan was wrong.

The smiths remained four days in all, and the abundance of their products was too much.