Empires of Sand by David Ball Quotes

“Now the château was empty except for herself and the butler, who had been instructed by him to see her out of the château and to then escort her wherever she wished to go in the city. [She] had delayed her departure with one excuse or another, as she waited for everyone to leave. There was an unfinished piece of business. She hoped she would encounter no trouble from the butler, who had reported the count's instructions with what she thought was thinly disguised enthusiasm. Whatever his orders, she knew she could bribe him if need be.

When she saw the carriage pull away and disappear at the end of the drive, she hurried down the back stairs, carrying a large leather bag. She hesitated, listening for the butler. She heard him in the kitchen. No doubt stealing the wine.

She entered the drawing room next to the study and crossed to the wall safe. She fumbled twice, but managed to get it open, and began stuffing its contents into the bag. There were securities and cash and jewelry, and even a few deeds. As she hurried to pack it all in, she felt a glimmer of bitter satisfaction. He might throw her out, but he had not succeeded in stealing everything that belonged to her. There was more than enough in the safe to enable her to leave Paris and avoid poverty. It wasn't what she deserved, but it was something.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“Men with mortal wounds did not worry him like a woman in labor.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“He was a cobra with its hood withdrawn-- no immediate peril, yet no mistake in the danger.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“Dianous came up behind him. "What is it, Madani?" "Abdel Krim, Lieutenant. He has shot himself." "Is he dead?"

"No sir. He is a poor shot."

Abdel Krim had passed out. The bullet had only torn a bloody crease in his skull. El Madani bandaged his head. "Take away his weapons," El Madani told another tirailleur, "and tie his his hands."
Slowly the camp slipped back into uneasy exhaustion. Few men slept. The mood the next morning was somber. The omen of the camels had been surpassed by the omen of suicide. The unfortunate man marched alone with his failure, a pariah. Men looked at Abdel Krim with varying degrees of pity for him and fear for themselves. He had been the first to crack, the first to give up. They told themselves they were stronger than he. But no one really knew for sure”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“He shut his eyes to close out the sky, and for a moment felt vague tentacles of dread settling over his mind, reaching down into the places where all was blackness and he could not see.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The incline and height of the rocks increased sharply, making his climb more difficult. He needed his other hand totally free, as he knew his pursuers would as well. He holstered his pistol. He'd gotten more than three- quarters of the way to the top when even two free hands were barely enough to continue upward. The steps be- gan sloping on top, so that there was less and less to stand on. His legs pushed, toes searching for holds, arms pulling, fingers clutching, each new ascent more difficult than the last as the steps began to disappear altogether, until he found himself clinging to a nearly vertical slab of granite. Still he pushed upward, his chest and stomach in constant contact with the rock beneath, his hold growing more tenuous each moment. He looked up. Rock walls soared above him on both sides. He prayed there was somewhere to keep going, because he couldn't see it now. Up and up he climbed, every so often finding a small outcropping to grasp, but having to stretch more for each one, his legs almost dangling free as his boots sought purchase in the rock niches. Several times small rocks he tested for support broke free and clattered down the mountain. They fell, hit, split apart, and hit again, until they made a distant thud at the bottom. He shut his eyes, thinking he might sound like that, only softer. If it got any steeper, he knew, he couldn't hold on any longer.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“You seem preoccupied," she said. He shrugged. "It is nothing. "Oh," she said, working at her leather. "I thought it might be Daia."

"Well, it is not," he said too quickly. Moussa tried to escape his mother's gaze, but he had never been able to do that successfully. Now he saw no need to pretend. "She is Mahdi's woman. They are to be married. She has said it, and Mahdi has said it." Serena put down her knife.

"And what have you said?"

"That I will not interfere."

"I am not asking of your head, Moussa. I am asking of your heart.".

"It is the same thing."

She smiled at that. "I don't know how you can be so quick to show a camel your feeling for it, Moussa, and so slow to show a woman.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The flat became more rolling, and the rolling became

hills, and the hills became the Hoggar, its odd volcanic peaks and spires struggling through the almost irides- cent violet haze that seemed to emanate from them. They had never seen such a place, and rode enraptured. The camels stepped tenderly through the rocks, which had changed from smooth gravel to rough cobbles to razor-sharp stones, at first spaced well apart but then closer and hard to avoid. It slowed their progress, and at times the caravan stretched out over two kilometers, a great undulating jumble of humps and baskets and bags and winding through the men, craggy passages and long wadis. The camels groaned as if mortally wounded when they cut their feet, their cries returning in haunted echoes from the rock walls. They shifted themselves in exaggerated motions to favor their feet, sometimes losing their loads altogether or having them slip out of place until their tenders had to stop and ad- just them. In the worst places the men walked, leading their mounts by hand.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The desert madness." He'd never been to Africa, but he'd seen plenty of remote places and what they did to men. "Lots of them get it. They've nothing to do but brood. Time treats them badly. It stretches worse here because the liquor stinks and there aren't any women. The place just uses them up. Even their assholes get raw from the sand."

"I'll never let the desert affect me as it does them," Paul said. "I'll go home first."

Remy couldn't help mocking Paul gently for his naïve enthusiasm. "I think you take it a bit far the other way. Let me see if I understand your point of view. In the market there are clouds of flies competing with swarms of beggars for the pleasure of eating camel shit mixed with rotting vegetables. What they can't stomach the cook picks up. He spices it up nicely with some old spit and smears it on top of a mixture of couscous, peb- bles, and sand. Then he dishes it back to you, at six times the price he'd charge anyone else. You know what you're eating-you watch him prepare it-but all the same you enjoy it, because it's exotic."

"That's about it." Paul smiled. "L'haute cuisine d'Afrique." Remy roared.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“Are you troubled?" Moussa asked, his voice gentle with concern.

"No," she said. "I was only thinking of my mar- riage." It was true, so she didn't understand why she hated herself instantly for saying it. She thought Moussa's head jerked a little at the words. After that he was uncharacteristically quiet and for the first time in nearly four days they rode in a sad unnatural silence that was as suffocating as the desert heat. Suddenly each stride of the camel seemed interminable, and Daia didn't know what to do. One part of her wanted journey to end quickly, wanted to arrive in Abalessa where all the confusion might end. The rest of her, most of her, wanted their journey to last forever.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“There are wide boulevards in Paris lined with trees," he told her, spreading his arms expansively. "The buildings are nearly as big as our dunes."

Her eyes widened. "Why on earth would anyone wish to live in such a crowded place?" she asked. "Why would they wish to live in a house built of unmoving stone? Why would they wish a roof over their heads? How would they know the sky? How would they know freedom?" She shook her head. "It is odd that people choose to live in such a backward fashion. It is no better than the harratin who till the soil, forever chained to there are plots of land.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“But why does she always come back? Why doesn't she just leave?"

"Because she knows me. We are comfortable to- gether. She does my bidding as I do hers. I feed her, she feeds me. I suit her needs today, as she suits mine."

"And if she does fly away?"

"Then she is free," he said, shrugging, "a daughter of the desert once more. She will fly away one day. I will make her, if she doesn't do it on her own. She was wild once, and will be wild again. I have only borrowed her spirit from the desert. She was not born to live at the end of a jess. She is mine only for a season, and never really mine at all. When she leaves I will catch another, and begin again. That is the way of it. I doubt I'll find another like Taka, though.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“Through everything they did ran the strong thread of laughter. It was easy, comfortable, everywhere. They laughed at things they hadn't laughed at before, at things that hadn't been funny until they saw them together at the same moment. They laughed at the antics of the jerboa as it hopped before the night fire, carrying bits of bread to its mouse house, and at the grotesque complaints of their meharis as they were loaded in the morning, and at Moussa's imitation of an abbess he called Godrick- a thoroughly sacrilegious display that Daia only partially understood but which had her nearly in tears.

For both of them, it was a time that passed much too quickly.

All the while she knew he was not courting her, that he realized she was on her way to join her betrothed. There was no pressure on them and so they were able to be free, free to enjoy each other without other eyes or ears nearby to disapprove or to spread gossip, free to be silly and young, free to say whatever they liked, free to be alive.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“He remembered the awe of his first desert night, the dazzling web so clear and bright. He had never seen such a sky when he lived in Paris. The lights of the city were too bright. The lights, such lights .. it was six long years since he'd last seen them. Or was it seven now, or even eight? The years ran together and time lost its urgency and sometimes he didn't notice its passage at all. But surely it was a lifetime since Paris. He was happy in the desert yet sometimes longed to be back in the city, to see what it was like now. His memories of it were fond, the bad parts seeming not so bad, the good parts seeming better than they were. But the more time passed, the harder it became to remember at all. No matter how he tried to hold on, the treasures of his past no longer burned so brightly in his memory. The details dimmed and the people grew fuzzy, and he couldn't remember what some of them looked like. He closed his eyes and tried to bring them up, Paul and Gascon and Aunt Elisabeth, but sometimes he couldn't do it. It worried him terribly when it happened. It seemed as if he didn't care. He DID care, he told himself. He didn't want to be unfaithful. He didn't want to lose his other life completely. He asked the marabout for paper and drew pictures of his father with scraps of charcoal. The pictures were crude, but they helped him remember. He promised himself a thousand times that no matter what pron happened to the other faces and places in his mind, he would never let himself forget his father's face. He folded the papers carefully and put them in a leather pouch that hung from his neck, and at night by the fire took them out to look. After he had folded and unfolded them many times the pictures would smear, and he would draw new ones.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“Now as he trudged along the path he could already feel some hideous disease burning his lungs. He won- dered whether, if he died, Sister Godrick would be sorry when she heard. Not a chance. She'd probably cross herself in thanks, and lead the class in hymn. He considered leaving a note, so that when they chipped his body out of the ice the gendarmes would know who to blame. But the police would never dare arrest Sister Godrick, not even for murder. As far as he could tell people didn't do things to nuns. Nuns did things to people”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The food situation grew worse. Stocks of grain were dwindling. Prostitution spread to pay for hunger. Hooves and horns and bones were ground into osseine for soup. Animals from the zoo were sold for slaughter. The chefs of Paris cooked buffaloes and zebras, yaks and reindeer, wapitis and Bengal stags, wolves and kangaroos, and when there was nothing left-Castor and Pollux, the elephants.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The bile came again, sudden and furious. He curled up on the floor around the chamber pot, gagging and heaving until his insides hurt. Were

When it had passed he felt better. He lay there for nearly an hour without moving, his eyes open but un- focused. He got up and cleaned himself again. He wan- dered around his room for a few moments, unsure of what he wanted to do. Aimless, always aimless. It was still early, just after midnight. Sleep would not come again, not without the bottle. He looked at it on the dresser and reached for it but then stopped. The thought of more made him nauseous. Extraordinary. Even I have had enough. He stopped in front of the mantel, where”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“A month and a half of siege had dulled the sharp gay edge of Paris. People walked more slowly and talk to more softly, and there was less laughter than before. Even the boys noticed something was different”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The days when he had taken insults passively had passed, as had the days when he would melt in tears. He had never understood what made the others do it, only that he was somehow apart from them, somehow differ- ent, and that he would never fit in. From the time Serena had first held him after it happened, when he

was only five, his mother had counseled patience. "Ignore them," she said. "Deny them the satisfaction of seeing you rise in anger." She too had suffered this way. "Pay no attention to them. They are only jealous of your noble birth." She had tried to soften their in- sults. "When they call you half-breed you must remem- ber what it really means, that you are the best of two worlds, the best of the French and the best of the Tuareg."

Her advice felt warm and wise while he was on her lap, but evaporated quickly in the schoolyard. His patience only drove his tormentors to greater creativity in their taunts, and then they accused him of cowardice, of being a sissy. If he cried it drove them to new heights of viciousness.

And then one day when Moussa was eight Henri had seen his bruised cheek and asked about it, and Moussa had poured out his sorrow and his dilemma.

"Your mother is right in her way," Henri agreed after listening, "but just now I think they need a good thrashing. You need to teach them a lesson. I wish it weren't so, but they respect only strength." After that Moussa tried hard not to forget his mother's advice, but he found that fists often worked better. At first he lost most of the fights, but a bloody nose from fighting back felt better to him than a bloody nose from doing nothing. And with practice, along with the instruction he received from his father and Gascon, he got better. Before long the students learned to taunt him at their own peril, for even if they might finally beat him, they would pay a heavy price.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“Bismarck's generals needed little persuasion of their own superiority. They were confident or their troops. For four years, since Sadowa, they had been rearing, preparing, planning. As generals always did, they wanted more time. But when time ran out, they would be ready.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The bishop had no desire to alienate the count and and accept his requirements. It was a time of great spiritual Independence in france, and of hypocrisy. Many were anti-religious, but followed the forms: They had their children baptized, and married in the Church, and were desperate to receive the last rites from a priest. It was spiritual insurance they sought- the comfort of tradition without restraints on their behavior. It was the sort of transaction the bishop understood perfectly and exploited for his treasury. If the count wanted to keep a pagan woman but remain in the Church and give it money, then the bishop would certainly not deny him his wish. But he must try for the woman's conversion. It was the proper form.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“The balloon floated just above a ridge that ran along one side of the valley. They could see no one, no ani- mals or sign of any life, but there were trails in the hard sand bed that suggested people occasionally passed this way. Such trails could be misleading, for in the desert they could exist for an eternity, and one could never tell how old they might be.”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball

“She had sung him nursery rhymes, and comforted him when the other children made fun of him. He was only five the first time it had happened. She had never dreamed it would begin so soon.
"Maman, what's a half-breed?" His eyes had been so puzzled, so wide, so hurt. Of course none of the chil- dren had the slightest idea what a half-breed might be: just words picked up from parents. But in the manner of children they could use words cruelly, playing happily with him one moment, making him feel isolated and alone the next. This had been a double insult, for the child had called him demi-sang, a term reserved for horses, not men. One of the children discovered that he could make a rhyme of it, and the rhyme caught on and all the children except Paul joined in.

Moussa burst into tears and ran away.

Later he climbed into Serena's lap where she stroked his hair and searched her mind for words of comfort, but the words would not come. She knew it would not be the last time he would feel the sting of disapproval, the agony of being different. She felt it herself every day, had felt it ever since coming to France with Henri. Peo- ple stared at her and laughed and whispered and pointed. They made fun of her accent and touched the long locks of her hair as though she had crawled from under a rock. She was strong, stronger than they, strong enough to stand straight and stare back, and so could only tell her son that which she knew”
― David Ball, Empires of Sand by David Ball