system, elders are held responsible for the actions of offspring. A parent may be rewarded for his son's good services, or he may be beheaded for his grandson's crime."
The other men nodded at this arrangement.
"This is best," one of them said.
The chief continued, "And it works the other way around as well. If a father harms another, his son can be held accountable and even traded for the crime. The family, and not the individual, is the unit in our law."
The Reverend shifted in his seat. Ahcho suspected that he was made uncomfortable by these remarks and not just because his long legs ached in their crossed position. He studied his master's face and searched for any sign that the same questions and speculations were arising in his mind. But the Reverend's face remained inscrutable.
"Out here," the chieftain continued, waving a finger over the abstract pattern of the brightly woven rug as if it were a map of the borderlands, "labyrinthine rules based on familial retribution keep order. It means that one can ill afford to offend. Any punishment is severe for either accident or error. You must approach every situation alert for signs of danger." He looked at the Reverend and asked, "Do you understand this?"
The Reverend's eyes became narrow and intent. "I do," he said.
"You are not an ignorant man, then?"
The Reverend did not reply but raised a single red and bushy eyebrow.
"All right. Let us assume that you are wiser than I thought," the chieftain said. "I will tell you what I know."
The Reverend whispered in English, "Thank you, sweet Jesus."
"But first," the chief said, "I will need something from you."
"Anything."
The chieftain smiled for the first time that evening, and Ahcho was not surprised to see that his teeth were all but gone. The two he had left were as black as tree stumps after a forest fire. "I am not a successful man by accident, am I?" asked the chief.
His men chuckled at this, and Ahcho could not help letting out a disgusted grunt. Even the best of these people were greedy louts. You could not turn your back on them even for a moment. Nomads, of all people, needed the Lord Jesus. Ahcho wondered when the Reverend would get around to mentioning Him.
"All right, what do you want?" the Reverend asked.
"Your boy is most precious to you. So, I think, something precious in return."
The men muttered in agreement, clearly proud of their conniving leader.
The Reverend did not hesitate. He pushed aside the swath of red cloth that crossed his chest, unbuttoned his long coat, and reached inside his vest pocket. Ahcho let out a slight puff of air as the Reverend pulled forth his handsome gold watch on its chain.
"Reverend," Ahcho said in English, "he may be lying to you."
The Reverend lifted a hand to silence him. Ahcho had seen how grief could make a person turn foolish or even temporarily insane. He had witnessed this any number of times in the past, most recently with the mistress on bathing day, but here he was saddened to see it happening with his clever master as well.
The gold of the watch shone dully as it swung in the firelight. The chieftain reached for it and clasped it in his soot-stained hands. He showed his compatriots how heavy it was by letting his hand sink under its weight. Then he brought it up to his mouth and bit down on it with his two sorry teeth. Ahcho could not bear the sight any longer and stepped forward.
"Of course it's real gold!" he shouted in their language. "It was a gift to the Reverend from his father. The Reverend John Wesley Watson is not to be trifled with, you old fool."
The two younger men hopped up from their seats and instantly pinned Ahcho's arms to his sides. Ahcho tried to pull himself free, but they held him fast.
"Please don't be offended by my man," the Reverend said quickly to the chieftain. "He is only being loyal to me. He is upset that I am willing to make this significant sacrifice to you." The Reverend pointed at the watch. "For this is certainly real, is it not? As I assume your information about my son is also completely real."
The chieftain snapped his fingers, and the men let go of Ahcho's arms. "I see this is a sacrifice," he commented, fingering the watch. "I like this sacrifice." His black eyes danced, and his despicable smile returned.