Free Dark Oil by Nora James Page B

façade, one saying in Negalese “Zakra’s Best Bakery”, another “Fresh and Halal Meat” and Lara realised this was a shopping district.
    After a while the buildings became scarce, with large tracts of land between them. Although there were no trees or plantations, no vines or lavender farms as she’d expect back home, Lara knew this was the countryside.
    Around a bend and through a cloud of dust from the unsealed road, she suddenly saw a large gathering of people. As they got closer, she noticed they were all men in bright dwanas, standing in groups, gesticulating with fervour as they spoke. Towering above them were camels, majestic and awe-inspiring if only because of their size.
    The four-wheel drive came to a halt in the open space near the camel market and they all climbed out. As she left the air-conditioned comfort of the vehicle, Lara wished she had brought a hat, and cooler, looser clothing. She had packed nothing but business clothes, dark and somewhat austere, assuming there would be no time for sight-seeing. And she probably would have been right, had the Minister not cancelled the meeting.
    The driver waved to friends and, after asking Jack’s permission, joined them with a spring in his step. Martin and Jack strolled through the market, with Lara in tow, struggling to keep up as her heels disappeared into the sand. Every now and then the trio stopped to admire one of the beasts although always from a distance.
    Jack turned to Lara. “How’s it going? OK?”
    She nodded, but she was starting to wonder why they’d come here. It was just a holding place for camels that were being traded. The poor animals stood around groaning or bleating, shooing the flies with their tails as best they could, every now and then tugging frantically at their reins as men haggled over them.
    â€œDo you want to pat one?” asked Martin. “Have a go. Don’t stand behind them, though. They kick.” He held out his hand, encouraging Lara to come forward.
    â€œI’m not fussed, Martin, honestly.” Lara took a step back.
    The heat seemed unbearable to her now, perhaps because there was no shade in sight, or perhaps it was the smell of the animals mixed with the sweat of the merchants that made it intolerable. She felt nauseous and brought a hand to her stomach.
    As her shoes sank into the sand again, she noticed it was a much darker, richer colour here. Still, nothing seemed to grow. There was no vegetation in sight.
    Jack smiled softly at Lara, as if he sensed she’d had enough. “Maybe we should press on. I think we’ve pretty much seen what there is to see.”
    Martin nodded, pointing to the left. “We’ll go over to that side and then make our way back to the car.”
    Within a couple of minutes they came to an area that was fenced off in a rustic, post and rail fashion. They were still in the market grounds here, but there were no people and no camels around. Nothing but large empty pens. Nothing except what looked like a sculpture at the far end of the last enclosure, or was it a struggling bush?
    An unexpected breeze blew the sticky hair off Lara’s forehead, and she closed her eyes with relief. It was wonderful to feel the air move again, even if the temperature failed to drop. As the wind picked up, the sculpture she had noticed seemed to twirl, twisting and turning upon itself.
    In the opposite direction, in the distance, a man waved to Martin and Jack. They waved back and walked towards him.
    Lara looked behind her again, still intrigued, trying to make out what the mysterious shape represented. “I’m going to check out that bit of Negalese art” Lara said. Neither of the men turned around. They’d increased their pace, as they approached the man they seemed to know.
    She turned back and wandered over to the sculpture, away from Jack and Martin. For an instant, she pondered whether they’d heard her, but then