The march continued through the Logar valley, with Roberts leading them past cornfields and small villages whose inhabitants crowded to watch the British toil past. He led them past palm groves, where men longed to rest in the shade, and in the shadow of savage mountains, where groups of tribesmen waited on rocky knolls. Jack saw one old man sitting on a boulder, blowing on the match of his equally ancient jezail.
“They’re watching us.” Singer fingered his revolver.
“I see them,” Jack acknowledged. “That’s five days since we left Kabul, and not a single shot fired at us. The Amir’s word has some potency behind it.”
“It looks like there’s a power struggle between Rahman Khan and Ayub Khan,” Singer said. “Many of the maliks are waiting to see who’s the stronger before they decide who to s
