Nigel watched the last rocks being added to the pile while Janey adjusted his sling, adapted from a headscarf. The sun was well down the western sky, and beneath it the mountains of Dirzhan stretched away into the distance. It wasn’t a bad place to be buried, he thought. He fetched the map out of the van and marked the place with a cross, in case there was ever a chance for the children to give their parents a proper Muslim funeral. They drove on for a while through featureless upland, passed a couple of shabby hamlets and turned west, then down through a series of hairpins into a wooded valley. In the fading light they found a place where they could get off the road far enough to hide the van among the trees. They shared out the food that Janey had brought, and after they’d eaten she made Nigel strip off his shirt and probed around on his shoulder with firm, efficient fingers. “Caught you a right wallop, didn’t he?” she said. “No wonder you feeling it. Too swoll up for telling if anything’s broke.
What do You think about In The Palace Of The Khans?
