by C. K. Brooke
Stop, he urged himself. She’d commanded him never to touch her again. And anyway, his heart was unavailable. Conflicted, Rob finally removed his eyes from her. He was hot and thirsty, was all, and it was addling his mind.
As the sun rose, he offered the girl breakfast, but she shook her head. “It’ll only make me thirsty.”
He looked down. “Well, let’s hope we find water today.”
After refueling the carriage, Rob set it into gear. Mile after mile they drove, passing fields of stone and sand, fat cacti and the occasional skull of some vermin or another. Overhead, a bird of prey circled aimlessly, casting its fearsome shadow onto the ground beside them. At high noon, they stopped to stretch, but did not eat, for fear of bringing on thirst. They kept their eyes peeled for greenery, but saw none. To Maverick, Rob fed an apple, hoping the juices would hydrate the animal.
Another day ended, and they’d only half a bottle of water left. Antonia scanned the scenery. “We’ve got to come across a stream or something eventually,” she insisted, though not entirely with conviction. “Otherwise, how would anything live out here?”
Rob grunted. “It’s the desert. Hardly anything does.”
She heaved a breath, slumping in her seat. “I just want to dive into a lake and wash all this dust off me, and drink and drink…”
Rob’s hands twitched over the steering wheel. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Axacola has the ocean, no?” She turned to him, wide-eyed. “Are we almost there? Please tell me we’re almost there…”
He clenched his jaw, gauging the sun’s position. “I’m trying to get us there as fast I can, I promise you. It may be another day or two through the Pirsi, I’m not exactly sure. But even then…” He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “The ocean’s still a while away.”
Antonia closed her eyes. “The ocean.”
Rob said nothing, shuttling on.
The following morning, they found their last bottle empty. The day was another fruitless hunt for any sign of water—or the desert’s end—whichever came first. Alas, nothing. That is, until a still shadow of a wet pool materialized on the horizon.
Rob slammed on the accelerator. “Annie,” he breathed, pointing ahead.
She squinted. “Is that…?”
His parched lips quivered. But though he drove for miles, he never seemed to approach it. By mid-afternoon, the pool had all but evaporated.
“I don’t understand.” Antonia searched the horizon. “I saw it, too.”
“A mirage,” Rob realized. He issued a small laugh of disbelief, although their situation was in no way humorous.
“Mirage?” She looked puzzled. “But how could we both share the same hallucination?”
“It’s not a hallucination,” he explained. “It’s a real optical phenomenon. It has to do with light rays…” He wanted to say more, but was too tired. Ravenous, he wondered whether there was still any fruit in back…
“My goodness, Robin!” Antonia’s voice jolted his eyes open, though he hadn’t noticed he’d shut them. “Are you nodding off?”
“Er…” He did feel rather weary.
“Stop the carriage,” she ordered.
Too exhausted to argue, Rob pressed the brake and lifted the lever into park.
Antonia opened her door. “I’m driving.”
“ARE YOU SURE YOU KNOW what you’re doing?”
“Hush.” Antonia lowered the gear. She’d seen Robin operate the carriage enough times; it couldn’t be that difficult. To her surprise, however, the vehicle rolled back when she hit the pedal.
The man adjusted the gear. “You had it in reverse.”
She pouted. She’d figured as much, and could’ve shifted the gear herself. She stepped on the pedal again, and they accelerated forward. “Just try to rest,” she told him, while Maverick lay down between them. “Preserve your energy.”
Robin did as told, shutting his eyes.
Antonia watched the western horizon. They had bypassed the mountains’ foothills, and the sun hung straight ahead, glaring in her face. She kept driving, hands plastered to the steering wheel. Somehow, having something to do, on which to concentrate, enabled time to move more swiftly, and helped distract her from her thirst.
Antonia drove into the sunset, although she knew that, once all was dark, she’d be unable to see where she was going. Yet, to her surprise, when the sun descended, the moon materialized, swollen and glistening. Why, she’d fallen so out-of-sync with the lunar phases in her short time since leaving the temple, she’d not realized the night would boast a full moon!
Even better, she could see just fine. Clear moonlight bounced off of the beige sands, illuminating her path adequately. They were in the desert, after all. There wasn’t exactly much to run into.
Another western mountain range dotted the far distance, and Antonia felt fairly sure it marked the border of Axacola. As long as she drove directly at it, she would not lose her way. She had this.
Night wore on, but she forced her eyes to stay open. They needed water, and it was clear the desert had no oasis. They had to get out. By midnight, however, her eyelids were sagging in earnest, and the vehicle began to slow. It was running low on oil, she realized. And she had no idea how to refuel it, especially not in the middle of the night.
She glanced at Robin and Maverick, sound asleep on the bench beside her, and sighed. Having no other choice, she parked the carriage and lay back in her seat. Her throat ached, but she brushed the pain aside in favor of exhaustion.
She awoke the next morning feeling not altogether refreshed, but sober. Robin, however, wasn’t looking well. He sported dark creases beneath his eyes, and his lips were chapped. Antonia climbed into the backseat and unearthed an old peach. “Eat this.” She thrust it at him.
He blinked sleepily.
“You need it.”
“And what of you?”
“I’m not hungry,” she lied. She had fasted for spiritual purposes before, and the Azean priestesses had taught her how to discipline her mind against food. It was only thirst she was unaccustomed to suffering.
The man bit into the peach, its liquids trickling down his sprouting beard, and closed his eyes with a grateful shudder. After a walk, he refueled the carriage, and they resumed the journey. Antonia pointed to the mountain range she’d followed the night before. “Is that Axacola?”
Robin eyed the mountains, looking heartened. “Pirsi City, I think. It’s on the border.”
“Is it a real city?”
He laughed. “No, it’s artificial,” he teased. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, is it just a tiny ghost town at the edge of the desert? Or is it an actual city, with people and buildings and roads—?”
“Oh, it’s a city, all right,” Robin replied. He removed a hand from the steering wheel to unfasten another of his blouse’s buttons. “Cor, today’s a scorcher.”
Antonia couldn’t help it; she eyed his chest as it was exposed to her. He was admittedly well-formed. He then happened to glance at her, and she turned away, a peculiar tingling in the lowest region of her stomach.
She swallowed, careful to resume their conversation. “So I take it there’s water in Pirsi City?”
“Should be.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, how could it be a city, right?”
“You don’t sound entirely sure.”
“One can never be entirely sure of anything,” he muttered.
Antonia rolled her eyes. She understood he’d been betrayed by his closest friends, but that did not suddenly make the rest of the world untrustworthy, too.
It was almost evening by the time they heard it: the sounds of civilization. Horses neighed, carriages rolled over cobblestone, and fiddlers’ tunes drifted from the open windows of saloons. Robin moaned as he parked the carriage behind a queue of horse-drawn ones alo
ng the main street. “Time to find a drink.”
And a shower, thought Antonia longingly, examining her clothing. The latest dress she wore was coated in a generous layer of dust. She couldn’t wait to cleanse herself and don a new one.
They were taken aback by a booming voice in their midst. A tall man dressed in a navy suit marveled at them. “By golly,” he bellowed, feathery black moustache aflutter. “But what in the world, may I ask, are the pair of you driving?”
Before Robin could answer, the man removed his top hat, revealing a balding crown between two patches of dark hair. “May I?” Without awaiting a response, he prodded and inspected all around the carriage. “Well, I’ll be,” he breathed.
“It’s sort of…a horseless carriage,” explained Robin.
The gentleman looked intrigued. “Wherever did you get it?”
“My father built it.” Robin opened his door. “It’s an invention of his.”
“May I ask his name?”
“Dr. Thaddeus Watkins of Pangrove, Innía.”
“Genius.” The man replaced his hat atop his head and reached into his breast pocket. “If you don’t mind, son, I’d like to give you my card. Perhaps you could pass it on to your father?”
Appearing worn, Robin received the card. Without looking at it, he shoved it into his back pocket. Clearly, water was his only concern at the moment.
The stranger tipped his hat. “A good day to you both.”
“‘Day,” mumbled Robin.
Antonia descended the carriage, glancing up at the adobe buildings lining the bustling street. “I think there’s a hostel down the way.” She pointed. “It should be inexpensive. Only…”
“What?”
“I’ve just a few coins on my person. And I was hoping to use them to get to Ela—”
“I’m paying.” Robin hoisted their bags out of the backseat.
“Y-you are?”
“Sure.” He smiled. “What’s a few extra coins to me at the moment? I’ll soon be the richest man in all of Otlantica, once we find the Red Pearl.”
Antonia gave a start. We? Wasn’t she only accompanying him until he regained the map? Surely, he wasn’t going to make her find the pearl with him, too? Why, at that rate, she’d be with him the rest of her life!
But he didn’t seem to notice his error as he made off down the sidewalk, Antonia and the dog flanking him.
They found the hostel, but the porter pointed to Maverick. “No canino,” he said. No dogs.
Robin held out his hands. “Come on, man…”
The porter only shook his head.
Scowling, Robin steered Maverick out to the busy street. “Sorry about this, fella.” He knelt down. “But you’re going to have to stay outside tonight. I’ll bring you a bowl of water, all right?”
With doleful eyes, Maverick watched them leave, and Antonia felt alarmingly sorry for the creature. “Poor dear,” she said as they reentered the lobby. She stole another glimpse of the lonely dog through the window. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll get lost?”
Robin laughed, ruffling her hair. “He can’t get lost, Annie. That dog can sniff his way anywhere.”
Antonia tried to smile, but felt strange, for he’d just touched her hair. Though he’d only done it casually, playfully…right? Surely, he meant nothing by it. Still, he seemed to be taking a good deal of familiarities with her. And more disconcerting than the fact that she didn’t altogether mind it, was that she found herself almost…well, liking it.
But he’d already expressed that he wasn’t interested in her, she reminded herself. And neither did Antonia intend to lose sight of her goal. Nay, this entire trip was just an inconvenient excursion, really. For her real adventure would begin in Elat.
Perhaps she could find work in the castle as a laundress or scullery maid. She’d wear her hair back, how Robin had advised she looked prettiest, and flash her brightest smiles. She’d attract the attention of one of the king’s men, sooner or later. There would be plenty to choose from. Brawny or slender, gentle or gregarious, it didn’t matter; any would do.
Her mind drifted, envisioning herself a barmaid at an Elatian dining hall, apron tied round her waist, a robust man seated alone at a table. She’d lean over his shoulder, serving his drink, and he’d look up at her and grin, aquamarine eyes meeting hers, the shadow of a reddish beard at his jaw…
“Antonia?”
She sucked in a breath, her reverie vanishing. The same face that had just crept into her fantasy watched her from the reception desk.
“I’ve just checked us in,” said Robin. “You coming?”
AFTER A HEARTY DINNER AND several pitchers of water, Antonia felt she could sleep for a year. Drowsy, she traipsed up the stairwell to the women’s quarters, while Robin departed for the men’s. Her room was small, with bare walls and floors. A single bed with a wrought iron headboard rested against the far wall, and a pair of plain, sheer curtains rippled at the open window.
Antonia turned the corner into the tiny washroom and peeled Mrs. Watkins’s gown from her body. She was alarmed by the contrast of her tanned arms against the rest of her fair complexion. Exhausted, she scrubbed her face and hair at the basin, and changed into a nightshift. She was asleep the moment her wet head touched the pillow.
She didn’t arise until late the following morning, well past breakfast-time. With haste, she pulled on a new gown, this one soft and yellow, decorated with a blue rose pattern at the knee-length hem, all the while hoping Robin had not been anxious looking for her. Tying back her hair, she pressed out of the room and descended the steps. She found the dining hall empty, but for a few wait staff sweeping the floors.
“Annie.”
She turned, spotting a familiar figure approaching. He’d shaved again, and his hair was tidily combed back. Once more, the effect was devastatingly handsome.
Robin eyed her latest gown, seeming momentarily lost for words. “I, ah…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I slept in. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
“N-no, I just got here,” she replied. Heavens, why was she stammering?
“Well.” He glanced down. “I’m going to check on Maverick. Would you care to join me?”
“Sure.”
Unexpectedly, he held out his arm. Antonia took it, and her heart flounced as they departed the hostel together. She’d never linked arms with a man before, and wondered if it always felt this special, this elating. At any rate, it was good practice for the future, whenever she was to meet her true love.
They found the dog begging outside of a café. Spotting Robin, Maverick bounded at him, ears flying and tail wiggling. The man fed him some scraps from his bag. After, the three strolled about the city, passing droves of people while wagons and horse-drawn carriages hobbled by.
“Pirsi City sure is lively,” Antonia called over the din. Robin shot her a small smile in response. He was awfully quiet that morning.
They leisurely meandered the busy streets, until finding their way back to the hostel’s front door. “Sorry, pal.” He patted the dog’s head. “Wait out here for us, all right?”
The dog sat, and Antonia dared give it a tiny stroke on the muzzle. He immediately extended his tongue and slurped her. “Ugh.” She wiped her hand on her dress.
Robin chuckled, opening the lobby door for her. “After you, my dear.”
Her eyebrows lifted. My dear?
The dining hall had just begun to serve lunch, and a number of patrons were already seated. Antonia was about to suggest a cozy spot by the bar, but Robin took her hand, leading her to a more remote corner. “It’s too crowded over there. Let’s sit someplace private.”
Holding tight to him, Antonia let him guide her to the back of the room. There was only an old man puffing a cigar, and another pair of travelers murmuring together, dark caps pulled down over their shadowy fa
ces. Antonia stifled a giggle. “We look shady, Rob.”
“We are shady.” He winked at her. “We’re a couple of foreigners on a secret mission, no?” Coming to a table, he pulled out a chair for her. Antonia sat, and he assumed his seat opposite her.
“Now.” He lowered his voice. “Seeing as we’ve reached the border of Axacola, it’s time we devise our strategy for seeking out Adams and—”
“Something to drink, you two?”
They glanced up at the waitress who’d interrupted them. “Erm.” Antonia fiddled with her cutlery. “Just a cup of tea, please.”
The woman turned to Robin, and Antonia felt strangely satisfied that he hardly looked at her. “Coffee,” he requested.
The waitress circled back as quickly as she’d come, and Robin smoothed his hair, looking pensive. “Anyway. What was I saying?”
“Strategy,” Antonia reminded him, although such talk was far from her mind at the moment. In fact, all she wished to do was gaze upon him, admiring the way his masculine throat tapered down to his chest, baring ringlets of auburn hair through the open buttons of his blouse…
“Once we cross into Axacola, our best bet is to do exactly what Adams and Rowena would do. Only then can we hope to intercept them, and take back the map.”
Antonia’s eyes trailed back up into his. “And what would they do?”
“Hire a translator.”
“A translator?”
“It’s an unusual map, Annie.” He fell silent as the waitress returned with their drinks. Once the woman was safely out of earshot, he resumed. “Whereas most maps are just drawings, this one has obscure written directions—the better to make it cryptic, and the treasure more challenging to find, I reckon. Only, the directions are in another language, a dead one, no longer used.”
He leaned forward. “Ricardo Rivera managed to translate half the map into Innían before he died. But he never lived to translate the rest. That was to be our—Rowena’s, Adams’s and my—next job: find someone able to read Skarsköt, and have the other half of the map—”
Antonia nearly choked on her tea. “Skarsköt?” She wiped her mouth, coughing. “Rob. I can read Skarsköt!”