Elda’s suspicious and less than welcoming reception tells me one of two things—either she does not trust these travelers, or the level of our city’s water supply is more dire than I had thought.
Perhaps both things are true.
Harsh sunlight bakes the braids against my skull as we await the travelers’ response.
“We seek water,” the older of the women, Fran, says. “We are passing through and ask for shelter to rest today and tomorrow, and water to fill our skins and the wolves’ barrel.”
Elda rubs her chin and turns her assessing green eyes to the woman. She doesn’t want to help the travelers, I can tell. The drought has robbed our kingdom of its generosity.
“With no goods to exchange, we don’t expect much,” Caleb says.
I can see the travelers’ tension, their hope in their hunched shoulders and cracked lips.
“Of course you may stay,” Elda says.
She isn’t cruel, but I wonder if her pause was manipulative, a subtle reminder that these travelers owe us a debt. In this dry, hot desert with nothing but dunes, scorpion dragons, and windhaunts surrounding us, these travelers owe us more than a debt; we’ve saved their lives.
Once darkness falls, the city breathes a collective sigh. Cynthia Welltender distributes our water rations. I clutch my water skin gratefully, wondering how I can make it last all night and through the next day. I overhear Silas Wolfhandler tell Elda that we might need to release some of our wolves, as their thirst had made them more aggressive.
“Increase their water rations,” Elda says. “I shall inform Cynthia.”
I see one of the travelers, the man they call Petre, eyeing the stone platform in the center of the square.
He sees me watching him and his eyes meet mine. His irises are a sandy shade of brown, a shade we don’t often see in the kingdom.
“Do you have a storyteller?” he asks.
“Yes. She lives in the City of Stars,” I say.
“None here?”
“Not at this time, no.”
Nima Storyteller is training a young boy in her art. She promised to send him to us soon, but he won’t be ready for another eight months, at least.
Petre straightens in his green tunic, but his brown eyes are shy. He runs the toe of his boot along the base of the platform. “Would you like to hear a story?”
I feel my face stretch in a smile. “The entire city would, I’m sure. If you’re offering one.”
He nods. “I am. At nightfall, I’ll spin a tale.”
The handful of people around us have naturally overheard, and conversation ripples outward through the square. It won’t be long before everyone in the city knows a story will be told.
At dusk, the square begins to fill. I make my way through people getting comfortable on the ground. Orion is nearby—it seems he is always nearby. He seems to read my mind and we each plop down on the ground in front of the stone platform. If we wait too long to sit, all of the good spaces will be taken.
Nudging my shoulder with his, Orion asks, “How’s your stomach?”
“It’s marvelous,” I lie. “Never better.”
In truth, I ache all over—not only from the blow to my gut, but from the fall.
Orion seems to know this, and he nods. “Tomorrow will be better.”
“For me, you mean.” I grin. “Because it will be your turn on the ground.”
He opens his mouth to retort, but Petre has taken a place in the center of the platform and he’s waiting for the square to quiet. I hadn’t noticed, while Orion and I bickered, that the square was filling with people. Markus is here, leaning against one of the buildings. He’s a part of the kingdom and the tale without really taking part in any of it. Typical.
“What happened there?” Orion asks, following my gaze to Markus.
“Exactly nothing,” I say. Then I hesitate. Orion hasn’t pried once, not after Nima and I were whipped in this very square, not after he’s seen Markus avoiding me ever since. “It’s to do with—”
“I have a story for the City of Sand, of the Kingdom of Sand and stars,” Petre begins.
I hold my tongue. Now wouldn’t have been the best moment to dredge up past ills, anyway.
A hush falls over the square. Above us, the stars are growing brighter in the east as the sun falls farther down in the west. A few hours without its relentless heat will be welcome. I tighten my grip on my water skin and refuse the temptation to drink deeply from it. I’ll allow myself a few sips before going to sleep.
“This is a story,” Petre continues, “of jungles, of dragons. It is a story of water.”
At that, the drowsy half-attention of the audience transforms. We sit up straighter. Orion and I even lean forward slightly, and looking around, I see we aren’t the only ones.
“Far past The Salt, in the jungles to the west,” Petre says, “all manner of creatures have been created by the jungle goddess, Beline. Tiny, furry, pig-like creatures. Giant lizards that lurk in the river. Cats that are larger than men. Long-limbed creatures dwell in trees and fight with the people for fruit and insects to eat.”
He pauses dramatically. By now, I am ready to let my thoughts wander to stories of their own, because this is nothing like the tales told by Nima. Her stories have characters, intrigue. Petre is just spouting a bit of boring lore.
I’m not the only person in the square who is losing interest. Several others sit back once more. Even Elda looks disappointed.
Likely sensing that he’s losing his audience, Petre speaks more loudly and energetically. “But the largest, rarest, and most puzzling creature is the water dragon. It is said that these water dragons are formed only with the blessing of the goddess, and even then, only in times of great need.”
Next to me, Orion is still staring attentively at the storyteller. Surprised, I glance around once more. Few seem to be paying him any real heed. Markus is whittling a piece of wood with his good battle knife, a small child is fretting behind me. Elda is listening to Petre, but she is frowning. Only Master Kenneth looks as attentive as Orion.
Puzzled by Master Kenneth’s interest, I try to pay attention to the storyteller.
“The dragon is a foul monster, a heartless beast, a natural enemy to humankind. Its lungs belch fire and its claws shred anything that breathes. Yet despite its despicable qualities, the water dragon contains within it a map to all the water in the land—in the North, South, West, and East.
“We will find one of the water dragons and we will skin it to get the map and return water to the entire continent of Celinia.”
I kick Orion with the toe of my boot and whisper, “Well, that took a grotesque turn.”
Orion nods and sends me a brief smile, but he doesn’t comment. Did he take the spiritual legend seriously? He can’t have; it was too grotesque. Then again, Master Kenneth seemed enraptured, as well.
Petre changes the story into something mellow, something about a sandstorm revealing a hidden city.
But my thoughts remain with the idea of water dragons. I wouldn’t want to skin any creature—but would thirst drive me to it?
Chapter 2
The belief is the hope and the hope is the belief and the dragon soars above it all.
“Inez. Wake up.”
The whisper is so faint, I think I must have dreamed it. But it comes to me again, this time accompanied by a warm hand on my shoulder.
My eyes open and I sit up. “Orion—what is it—is there danger?”
“No. Shhh. Come out to the walkway, where we can talk.”
My gaze darts around the room. All the maids from age twelve and up are fast asleep, except for me. The chamber mother sleeps also.
“Come on,” Orion says, tugging on my arm, seemingly heedless to the effect his skin has on my body.
Because now my heart beats quickly for another reason entirely, one that has nothing to do with danger.
I follow him from the chamber and into the wide walkway outside.
The n
ight is cool against my skin, a welcome relief after the day’s heat. But dawn will bring more punishment.
Orion wears only trousers, and I try not to stare at his bare torso. He has always been well-muscled, strong, but he rarely flaunts that strength, unlike Markus, who behaves like a preening bull camel.
“Inez, I’m going to look for a water dragon,” he says.
I can only stare, searching for a sign on his face that he is telling a joke.
But Orion doesn’t tell jokes. His face is entirely earnest as he continues, “I spoke to Elda after the story. She’s given me her blessing to go.”
“It’s a fool’s errand,” I say. Suddenly, I don’t want to lose him.
“Elda can’t think so, not if she gave her blessing,” he argues in a heated voice. “Even Master Kenneth believes the quest has merit. He’s heard the legend of the water dragon, as well. It’s an old spiritual legend that he heard of long ago, and no one believed it until Petre’s story.”
“Of course Elda gave her blessing,” I say, ignoring Master Kenneth’s belief in the quest. “One fewer throat to water in this city.”
“Two.”
“Two what?”
“Two fewer throats. Elda told me I could go, but not alone. A sled, provisions, and one companion.”
I shake my head in disbelief. I’m not going to lose him, and there’s an easing in my gut. But what he’s about to ask…I don’t know what to think.
“Please, Inez,” he whispers. “I want it to be you.”
Already the word “no” is forming on my lips. Leave the kingdom in search of a mythical creature? It is senseless.
“Don’t make me take Markus,” Orion says.
I almost laugh. “The two of you would kill each other within a sevennight. What about Ben?”
Orion shakes his head. “You know he’s trying to find a wife.”
Poor Ben. He wasn’t completely heartbroken after Nima left, but it hadn’t been easy for him, either.
“You know he’s been looking at you,” Orion continues.
“You are joking.”
“You’re the right age.”
“Being the right age is no reason to marry someone!” I exclaim.
Orion shrugs. “I just thought you’d want to know. You used to call him Handsome Ben.”
“You didn’t make this up to push me into this absurd journey with you, did you?”
“No.” His deep green gaze is intent on mine. “Honestly, I didn’t know what effect it would have. Ben’s a good man, and the knowledge that he’s interested in you could make you want to remain here.”
It is true. As husbands go, I could do so much worse. In fact, a year ago, I had been encouraging Nima to marry Ben.
But I shake my head. “No, I do not want to marry him. If the stars said it should be, I would do it. But if my heart were to have a say, then no.”
He looks relieved. “So you will come with me to the Western Lands?”
“Orion, I don’t want you to go. I don’t think anyone should go.”
“Our wells are drying up. Something has to change. If nothing else, we might find a new site, a place to rebuild the city.”
“This, at least, doesn’t sound like complete nonsense.”
“Then you will come,” he says.
I look up and down the wide walkway, the white walls bathed in moonlight. Down at the end is the tile basin where fresh water used to trickle in a constant, musical stream. Every morning and night, we washed our hands and faces there. Now the basin is dry, the tiles dull and dusty.
It was only the first of many luxuries to go when we began to notice the water levels dipping.
“This is unbelievable,” I say.
He takes one of my hands in his. “But you will come?”
“Because it is you,” I say, “yes.”
He tugs me forward and pulls me into a hug. I’m enveloped in his warmth and dusty scent. Embraced. I’m so surprised that I don’t hug him back before he steps away.
“In the morning,” he says, “we can start making preparations.”
Chills race over my arms. “So soon?”
“Master Kenneth told me we should leave right away,” he says. “Get some rest.”
I return to my sleeping platform, but sleep eludes me. When I climbed onto this platform at the start of the evening, I had no idea it would be my last night before a big journey.
But the voyage won’t last forever, I tell myself fiercely. We’ll find a water dragon, or—more within the realm of possibility—a new site, rich with water, on which to build a new city.
The preparations for Orion’s and my voyage are largely made on our behalf, leaving the two of us with a hot day full of nothing to do. I pack little in the way of clothing, and I pack my sword. Elda organizes the provisions and delegates the sled and wolf choices to Silas Wolfhandler.
I sit with Orion at the top of the low courtyard wall, facing one of Master Kenneth’s classes with young children. Markus, Ben, and a few other warriors are out patrolling the dunes beyond our walls. They won’t be gone long; Elda shrank the patrols so as not to overtire the wolves or the warriors. Every decision is being made toward the goal of conserving water.
Small wooden practice swords clank together as the children follow Master Kenneth’s instructions.
“Were we ever that small?” Orion asks.
“I remember my father bringing Nima and me to this courtyard,” I say. His hand had seemed so large as it held mine.
I’m about to ask Orion which parent brought him, when I remember that he grew up mostly under Master Kenneth’s guardianship. I’ve never learned why, although Markus used to entertain Nima and me with wild guesses about Orion’s parents, who live here in the city, and why they wouldn’t want to raise their own young son.
At the time, I hadn’t seen those “wild guesses” for the cruelties they actually were.
In the early evening, Orion and I eat supper at a table with Elda and Master Kenneth. The travelers sit nearby, talking animatedly in a foreign tongue.
Petre catches my eye and gestures me over to them. I think of asking Elda’s permission, but after I leave, she will no longer be my leader. So without a glance in her direction, I stand up and walk to where they sit.
“Inez, right?” Petre says.
When I nod, he continues, “your leader has told us about your search for the water dragon.”
I wait, because he has not asked the question, even though he pauses as if encouraging response.
“Fran and Melina have decided that our way is not toward the Western Lands, otherwise we would join you in your journey.”
A lucky miss, I think.
“But I have talked them into a gift for you and Orion, to go with you in our stead.”
He takes a packet from his shirt pocket and hands it to me. The package is thin and square, about the width and length of a handspan. It’s wrapped in cloth with leather bindings.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Open it and see,” Fran says from the bench beside Petre.
Carefully, I untie the knot and pull back the cloth. A collection of papers sits in my palm. I look at Petre and Fran in question.
“Prophecies,” Petre says. “You’re holding prophecies.”
I feel Orion’s warm presence at my side, so I turn to look at him and raise my eyebrows. I’ve never seen prophecies in written form, and I don’t know how they would be useful to us.
“Melina transcribes them from a copy of the book of the ancients,” Petre goes on. “She has copied every prophecy relating to dragons.”
Now I know why Melina’s fingers bear dark splotches. They aren’t bad tattoos, but ink stains. Which, I suppose, are the same thing.
And I see the travelers in a new light—they’re not really travelers, not in the desert sense that we are used to. They’re probably a religious sect, and their “storyteller” is their priest.
And Orion fell for their stories, and now that the
sun is setting, I will be leaving everything I know and love in pursuit of an old spiritual legend.
It’s too late to back out now, but my face feels hot with indignation. Legends and myths aren’t the same as sound reason. It is all I can do not to crumple their gift in my fist.
“Thank you,” Orion says, tugging on my elbow.
I make a choked sound approximating the syllables of thank you, then allow Orion to lead me to the city gates.
“What is it?” Orion asks.
“We’re leaving on a quest based on a legend, not on anything real,” I hiss.
He shakes his head. “We’re leaving on a quest based on hope.”
I try to see the journey as he does—a hopeful adventure. I can be a hero to our people. Orion and I can both be heroes.
Or, more likely, we’ll return home sunburned and empty-handed, if we return home at all.
Two wolf sleds have been readied—one for the travelers and one for Orion and me. I move toward it, but Master Kenneth stops me with a hand on my arm.
“You remember your lessons?” he asks, his deep green eyes, so like Orion’s, searching.
I nod. “Of course.”
“And the stars will show you the way,” he adds.
Orion has come to stand next to me; I feel his warmth like the sun hasn’t released its grip on the evening.
“We remember our lessons, Master Kenneth,” Orion says. “All of them.”
Master Kenneth’s eyes shine more than usual, and I’m struck with a reminder that he has raised Orion like a son. His heart must be aching right now. I should move away, give them privacy for their farewell.
But Master Kenneth surprises me by pulling Orion and me both into the same embrace, squishing us together like overripe figs. Orion’s bicep presses into my shoulder, his shoulder knocks my ear.
Master Kenneth lets out a little laugh, short and abrupt as a sob. “You two will take care of each other out there beneath the wide sky.”
The emotion in his voice makes me feel as though wet sand is clogging my throat.
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