“Not at all,” Jabar assured her. “That is only the signal that the ants have gone back underground and it is safe to come out of our strongholds—for see! The sun has set!”
Looking toward the west, Balkis and Anthony saw that the last sliver of scarlet had slipped below the horizon, though the sky was still lit with an afterglow of rose and lavender. Other horns took up the call from other castles until the whole valley resounded with their music. As the sound faded into echoes, the gate swung wide and the people streamed out to begin their night's work. After them came drovers with their line of camels, and last of all came the elephants, their mahouts astride their huge necks.
“Why do you need such giant beasts of burden?” Anthony asked.
“Because they will carry gold,” Jabar answered. Then he laughed at their stares. “No, there are not so very many bushels of gold nuggets that we need vast baskets—but the metal is very heavy, and the pack that would hold a moderate load of corn would break a donkey's back were it loaded with gold.”
Balkis stared at the line of elephants swaying away into the darkness. “That is still a great deal of gold! Where do your people find it?”
“Each takes his turn at each task,” Jabar explained. “Some collect the gold the ants bring up, while others drive the elephants and camels out of the castles to bear it far away to our kings' treasuries. It is with this gold that they pay their tribute to Prester John.”
Balkis had a notion that the kings kept more than they sent to Maracanda, but this certainly was neither the time nor the place to say so.
“Would you like to see the work?” Jabar asked. “You shall pass by it on the road along the valley.”
“Very much,” Balkis and Anthony said together, then glanced at one another with small embarrassed smiles.
Jabar said nothing, but his eye gleamed. “Come! Let us walk awhile in the coolness!”
He led them down a flight of stairs and out the gate. The night was soft, the breeze a caress of velvet, the air filled with the fragrance of wildflowers. Balkis glanced at Anthony again and found he was watching her. She smiled, suddenly feeling shy, then looked away, blushing.
“The moon comes,” Anthony breathed, “and how huge it is!”
Balkis looked up and saw the golden bowl rising over the valley rim. It was three-quarters full and seemed gigantic indeed for a desert moon, no doubt magnified by the humidity of the valley. She sighed with happiness and started to reach out for his hand, then caught herself and stopped. He was only a traveling companion, after all.
At the bottom of the slope, they saw the cones of anthills as high as they were tall, breaking the flat floor of the valley at odd intervals, not even in a straggling row or wandering arc, but completely at random. Dots of light clustered around them, more dots moved across the plain, but others were distant, almost like stars come to earth. Balkis realized they were torches.
As they neared the first of the anthills, they saw the need for the clustered lights. They burned atop poles stuck in the earth, and by their light men and women sifted the dirt of the anthill with shovels and sieves. As they shook the wire grids, the soil fell through—and left nuggets of gold behind. These the workers poured into a padded basket.
Balkis stared. “I did not doubt when I heard it, but I never truly believed it until now!”
“Aye,” Anthony agreed, then asked Jabar, “why do the ants bring up gold?”
Jabar shrugged. “Because it is in their way, most likely. Why do ants bring up any earth? To remove it from their galleries.”
“Then why would they so earnestly pursue any who take it?” Anthony asked.
“Because it is theirs,” Jabar answered. “They would as likely chase flecks of mica or pebbles of quartz that were taken from their hills.”
“Why, then, do they not wage war against your castles?”
Jabar started to answer, but a voice out of the darkness called,” 'Ware! Make way!” and he caught their arms to hurry them aside. Balkis saw a huge shadow swaying toward them, looming higher and higher with every step. It came into the pool of torchlight and she saw it was an elephant with huge panniers strapped to its sides. The mahout rode its neck and steered it with prods of his ankus. Balkis noticed that the mahouts didn't use the hook of the goad, just the point. The huge beast shuffled past and halted by the anthill. The workers stopped their digging and sifting and stepped aside. The mahout gave the elephant a command, and it curled its trunk around the gold-filled basket, lifted it up, and dumped it into a pannier. Then the mahout tapped the side of its head and spoke again, and the huge creature swayed away into the night. The workers took their basket and went on to the next hill.
“Is the elephant taking the gold back to the castle so soon, or will he wait till both his panniers are filled?” Balkis asked.
“He will not go back to the castle.” Jabar's teeth flashed in a smile. “When both his panniers are filled, his mahout will direct him to join the caravan, and they shall leave the valley well before sunrise.”
“So soon as that?” Balkis asked in surprise. “So much gold in one night?”
“The panniers will only be half full,” Jabar said, “for the metal is heavy, and there will be only half a dozen animals in the caravan—but yes, the ants do bring up that much of a night.” He turned to lead them away into the darkness, explaining, “The caravan will journey a day's march to an oasis, where others will join it every evening. When there are twenty, they will depart for their homes.”
Anthony asked, “So the ants do not attack your castles because there is never any gold there?”
“Never,” Jabar confirmed. “The last camel leaves the valley at sunrise, and by the time the ants come up for the day, the scent of gold is too distant for them to follow.”
“How clever!” Balkis said.
They had climbed high enough up the road toward the valley's rim that they left the anthills behind. The roadside torches now illuminated people hoeing rows of plants.
“So you grow your own produce?” Balkis asked.
Before their guide could answer, a voice from the darkness called, “Clear track!” Jabar pulled them back from the roadway. A string of camels came by with four elephants behind them. Each was piled high with bales of goods securely tied.
Balkis stared as they passed. “These do not carry gold, nor do they travel northward.”
“Indeed not,” Jabar agreed. “That is a caravan returning to the valley. Those bales hold salt meat and live poultry, vegetables and flour, cloth, and other goods that we need.”
“Your kings send them?” Balkis asked.
“Why not? The caravan must come back for more gold anyway—why not let it bring supplies?”
“Do you never have fresh food?”
“Every castle has a garden within its walls,” Jabar replied.
“But what of the fields these people cultivate?”
Jabar led them back onto the road as the last elephant swayed by. “By night, we all take turns in the fields, plowing and sowing—but the ants do the reaping.”
“What a waste of labor!” Anthony cried with a farmer's indignation.
“Not at all, young man,” Jabar told him. “There is little enough game in this valley, after all—as soon as an animal wanders in, the ants bring it down. No, they must have food to eat, or they will not live to dig us more gold—and they are quite content with grain and vegetables. We harvest some for ourselves, of course—but not by day.”
Anthony shuddered. “I should think not!”
A mile farther on, Jabar led them out onto the plateau again. Balkis looked back over a long canyon sprinkled with warm yellow lights. “It looks like a garden of enchantment,” she said, “but it holds so much danger!”