O El Hassan, of the ancient Calif Haroun El Raschid of Baghdad."

Crawford's mind went into high gear, as the story began to come back
to him. From second into high gear, and he could have blessed these
bedouin for handing him a piece of publicity gobblydygook worthy of
Fifth Avenue's top agency.

He held up a hand as though in amusement at being discovered.
"Wallahi, O Amenokal, you have discovered my secret. For many months I
have crossed the deserts disguised as a common Enaden smith to seek
out all the people and to learn their wishes and their needs."

"Even as Haroun el Raschid in the far past," one of the subchiefs
muttered in satisfaction, "used to disguise himself as a lowborn
dragoman and wander the streets of Baghdad."

"But how did you recognize me?" Homer said.

The Amenokal said in reproof, "But verily, your name is on all lips.
The Roumi have branded you common criminal. You are to be seized on
sight and great reward will be given he who delivers you to the
authorities." He spoke without inflection, and Crawford could read
neither support nor animosity--nor greed for the reward offered by El
Hassan's enemies. He gathered the impression that the Tuareg chief was
playing his cards close to his chest.

"And what else do they say?"

The elderly Melchizedek went on slowly, "They say that El Hassan is in
truth a renegade citizen of a far away Roumi land and that he attempts
to build a great confederation in North Africa for his own gain."

One of the others chuckled and said, "The Roumi on the magical
instrument are indeed great liars as all can see."

Homer looked at him questioningly.

The other said, laughing, "Who has ever heard of a black Roumi? And
you, O El Hassan, are as black as a Bela."

The Amenokal finished off the mystery of Crawford's recognition.
"Know, El Hassan, that whilst you were here before, one of the slaves
that served you for pay shamelessly looked upon your face in the
privacy of your tent. It was this slave who recognized your face when
the Roumi presented it on the magic instrument, calling upon all men
to see you and to brand you enemy."

So that was it. The Reunited Nations, and probably all the rest, had
used their radio and TV stations to broadcast a warning and offer a
reward for Homer and his followers. Old Sven was losing no time. This
wasn't so good. A Tuareg owes allegiance to no one beyond clan, tribe
and confederation. All others are outside the pale and any a