In the Eye of the Storm

23. Bizarre Bazaar

The bazaar looked nothing like what I had imagined. I had dreamed up palace-like constructions, glittering golden in the sunlight, where sultans and beautiful, veiled (and of course deplorably unfeminist!) women were carried around on litters by hordes of slaves.

The reality seemed to consist more of a labyrinth of small booths constructed from wood and striped cloth. There were no sultans to be seen anywhere. True, there were quite a lot of veiled women, but they weren't being carried around in litters, and to judge from the volume and vigour with which they argued with the red-faced merchants inside the stalls, they were considerably more forthright than I had expected.

And last, but certainly not least, there were camels. Dozens of them, even hundreds. And they were all extremely large, extremely loud and extremely smelly. I had my issues with animals at the best of times, but at least horses didn't stink like public privies or try to spit in your eye!

'Is it quite necessary to utilize these creatures?' Mr Ambrose asked Youssef, his eyes narrowed at the nearest camel in a derisive stare. The animal managed to return the look without blinking, which increased my already significant respect for the ugly beasts. 'I have observed their movements, and horses are considerably faster.'

'But horses wouldn't make it through the desert, Effendi. Do you see this?' Yousef pointed to the great hump on the camel's back. 'The animals use it to store water. That way they can travel for up to three weeks through the desert without drinking a single drop of water.'

'Hm.' Taking a yardstick out of his pocket, Mr Ambrose unfolded it and held it against the camel's hump. The creature gave him another contemptuous look that clearly said, 'My hump is bigger than your hump, you hairless monkey!'

Mr Ambrose nodded. 'I see. An efficient storage method. That is acceptable.' Snapping the yardstick together, he put it away again. 'Acquire forty of these creatures for our expedition. Here is the money.'

He handed Youssef a number of bank notes. The Egyptian's eyes widened. 'But... Effendi, this is no more than seven hundred pounds! That would make not even eighteen pounds for every camel!'

'And?'

The Egyptian almost seemed wounded. 'Effendi, a camel is not a cheap thing to buy. A good camel is a precious and rare creature. One of these prized companions costs at least twenty-five pounds!'

'Well, we are buying forty of them, aren't we? They should be easier to produce en masse, so I expect to receive a bulk discount!'

Youssef rung his hands. 'But... Effendi! These are not shirts or saucepans produced by machine! These are beautiful and gentle creatures, reared in years of care and–' He suddenly cut off when he saw Mr Ambrose's expression, or perhaps I should say expressive lack thereof. Hurriedly, he gave a bow. 'Yes, Effendi. Bulk discount, Effendi. Of course, I shall do my best.'

And he disappeared into the crowd, muttering in Arabic.

With the air of a suffering martyr giving away his life's blood, Mr Ambrose started distributing more banknotes among some of the other men and instructed them about what to buy and how much to pay for it. The list included everything from water to woollen cloaks.

'Woollen cloaks?' I asked, stepping nearer as the last man was dismissed, his task before him.

'It can get cold in the desert at night.'

'So you've been into the desert before?'

'Not this place.' He eyed one of the camels distrustfully. 'I've only been to decent deserts, where there were horses to ride, and the provisions were a lot cheaper.'