Lion, Tiger, Bear | 253 An old women in black robes spiraled red lambs wool onto a special stick, the humble house used for carpet-making. Vibrant colors and intricate designs surrounded ah. Youll be up and riding in about two weeks with any luck. Does this hurt? asked Alice, moving his leg at the hip. Bernie gripped a straw pillow. Oww! Yes it hurts! Why are you damn women always torturing me? The observing elders laughed, their black bowl hats, wise weathered faces, and matching black moustaches giving them a proud, dignified look. They smoked Turkish cigarettes by the smell of it. Small conversations ensued; they were wary of outsiders, but clearly generous to honorable guests. Strong tea in small glasses was served along with ashy sheeps liver from a hot fire with rice. Nothing but the best for houseguests, a strong tradition of welcome. Bea cleaned his face with a rag. Shut it, Horatio Hornblower. And this is not your fault, even though Id very much like to blame all our woes on your damned airship obsession. She ate some paper-thin flat bread and rolled her eyes from the fresh taste. Yummy. Looks like were spying on goat-herders after all. Bernie grimaced. Youre both shitty nurses..-.but good snipers. Alice taped the fresh bandages. Ill live with that. I dont think the bullet hit the upper femur, lucky. Another woman sewed Bernies heavy twill trousers with patches of bright colors. Aww, now Ill look like a damned circus ringmaster, moaned Bernie. Outside, the villagers stripped the dead bandits naked, collecting all their gear and remaining horses; nothing was wasted, the horses and guns valuable trade items. Bea watched as the bodies were buried in a common pit, the tribal conflicts a sad part of life in the lawless mountains. Nasim was given an honorable rock mound burial by two able teenage boys, a headstone to mark his departure from this world to the next with honor. As she walked away, the very last body being dragged caught her eye. He was much taller than the others, with broad shoulders and knee-high laced boots. Tie boots. Gwafa! He came on the run. Amongst concerned Persian murmurs, Bea excitedly stripped off the dead mans twisted headscarf. The man was Caucasian and tanned to a caramel brown, with short-cut sandy brown hair and a thick beard. Franticly, she peeled off layers of robes.