“Then let me hear ‘aye’ from all in favor of this mission!” he said.
“Aye!” boomed the council in unison.
Arnauld turned to Jared, Rafe, and Sahara. “Then go with all speed, and may God protect you!”
*****
“So when do we make our move?” asked Sahara.
They were resting for the night in the same cave that had sheltered Jared and Sahara so many months ago. Jared had built a small fire while Sahara and Rafe had prepared trenchers heaped with dried meat, nuts, and withered fruits, and now they sat around the fire discussing their plans.
“If he follows the pattern,” Jared answered, “the scout should be patrolling the dunes around midday.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rafe said, tearing some of the dried meat with his teeth.
Sahara stared thoughtfully at the fire. “Is this the first time that scouts will be on that ridge since…” Her voice trailed off, and she rubbed a hand across her forehead.
“The first time since when?”
“Since my ship crashed.”
Jared and Rafe both looked at her and Jared did some rapid mental calculations. Sahara waited, feeling a tension building between her shoulders and in her gut.
“Yes, I think so,” Jared said finally.
Sahara dropped her eyes and stood swiftly, nearly upsetting her trencher. “Maybe this isn’t such a good plan after all.” She went to the urn on the other side of the cave to refill her cup with water.
“Why the hell not?” demanded Rafe impatiently. “You know, our honor is at stake here now! We all but begged the council to let us come out here, and you shamed Arnauld and the rest of those men into doing right by their womenfolk…and now you think it’s not such a good idea?”
As Sahara lifted the dipper out of the urn and poured the water into her cup, the dipper chattered ever so slightly against the rim.
“What’s wrong, Sahara?” Jared asked.
“Nothing’s wrong!” she snapped. Then she stopped, took a deep breath, and continued in a gentler voice, “It’s just…I was just thinking. Maybe that’s why the scout is coming, you know? To inspect whatever’s left of the wreckage. To make sure everyone is dead.”
Rafe glanced at Jared. “What do you think?”
Jared looked grim. “It’s possible. But this patrol route is clockwork for the Dragon-Lords, though. While I’m sure they would investigate the crash, I don’t know that this scout would be the one to do it. That was months ago. I’m sure they have already been out to the crash site.”
“And if they did investigate, they’d have discovered that someone is missing,” Sahara continued, her voice low. She returned to her place and silently continued eating.
“So?” Rafe said. “What’s that got to do with us?”
“Well, it might change things,” Jared said. “Maybe they’re on high alert. Maybe they’ve changed their scouting patterns. And maybe they’re preparing for a strike against the city. Who knows?”
Rafe looked from one to the other, plainly frustrated.
“Well, what do you suggest?” he asked. “Call it off?”
“No, no, we’ve come too far for that,” Jared answered, his eyes never leaving Sahara’s face. “We’ll just have to find a way to make it work.”
No one spoke for several minutes. Finally, Sahara set down her trencher, still holding more than half of her food.
“I’m going to bed,” she murmured, creeping away from the fire and curling up in a corner. She pulled her blanket up to her chin and turned toward the wall. Though she had no desire to eat, she also had no desire to sleep, and she lay awake, listening to Jared and Rafe talk over their situation.
“What’s the matter with her?” Rafe murmured.
“I’m not entirely sure,” said Jared. “But I’ve a feeling that coming so close to the crash site has something to do with it.”
Sahara squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to remember. She’d do anything to forget.
“That’s all we need!” Rafe’s voice was exasperated. “Will she pull it together or should we just leave her here tomorrow?”
“We can’t just leave her here, Rafe. We’re going to need her help, especially if there’s more than one scout. And we’re not going to the crash site, anyway—not unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We’ll stay on the dunes and hope we can get what we came for.”
After a moment’s pause, Rafe added, “I hope you’re right about her.”
“I know I am,” Jared said. “Don’t worry, Rafe. She’s going to be fine.”
It seemed like only moments later that Sahara felt someone gently shaking her by the shoulder.
“Time to get up, Sahara,” Jared said. “We’ve got to get on the move.”
Sahara rolled over and sat up, running a hand through her hair and yawning. “It’s so early!” she exclaimed. “Or is it late?”
“It’s early—a good two hours before sunrise. But the dust storms have finally subsided and we have to take advantage of the time.”
Sahara stood and stretched. “Breakfast?” she asked hopefully, regretting her decision to forego half her dinner the night before.
Rafe tossed her a small cloth bag. “Eat this on the way,” he said.
Sahara opened the drawstring tie and peered inside. A hunk of bread, two pieces of dried meat, and a handful of nuts were nestled inside. “Looks lovely,” she said, closing it.
“I’ve already made your pack,” said Jared, jerking his head at a satchel leaning against the wall of the cave. “See if it’s all right.”
Sahara pursed her lips in irritation. Couldn’t he have woken me with enough time for me to put my own gear together? she wondered, but she said nothing aloud.
She took stock of what was in the satchel. Three water skins, a bunch of pressed herbs wrapped in a clean cotton cloth, another cloth bag filled with rations, and an extra knife.
“It’s fine,” she said, lacing it shut again.
Jared was rummaging in one of the other wooden chests along the back of the cave. Three crossbows were already neatly placed on the rug behind him. Sahara wrinkled her nose and picked one up.
“What are we supposed to do with these?” she asked.
“You didn’t have crossbows on your world?” Jared asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.
“Yes, we did,” she said. “But I didn’t think we’d be using them for this. Wouldn’t a gun work better? Why didn’t you bring some from the armory?”
“If it comes to all-out war, we’ll need all the ammo we can get. Arnauld wouldn’t let us have them. But crossbows work well for a job like this,” Rafe explained with a grin. “Compact, lethal, and silent, and they can take out a target from a distance. Just what we need.”
“But isn’t it risky, shooting from a distance?” asked Sahara, setting the crossbow back in its place. “What if we miss and he gets away?”
“It’s always better to be prepared for every conceivable scenario,” said Jared. “If we find ourselves up against more than one scout, we’ll be glad of the opportunity to engage them from a distance.”
Sahara shrugged. “Fine. When do we leave?”
Jared straightened up and handed Rafe and Sahara each a hip quiver full of quarrels. “Right now. Let’s suit up.”
They stood at the mouth of the cave for a moment, gazing out over the desert. The air swarmed with tiny particles of sand, and the desert still seemed to be trembling from the force of the night winds. There was no glow of light yet along the eastern horizon, and Sahara could see the stars.
Their sharp, cold twinkling in the black dome of Heaven made her catch her breath. It was beautifully clear, the night sky—like it had been scoured with an iron brush. Sahara thought she could make out patterns in the stars, but none of the constellations were known to her.
Not that I ever paid much attention to such things anyway, she thought. But now….
Rafe nudged her, interrupting her thoughts. “Let’s go
!”
They pulled their triangular silver cloths over their mouths and noses and set off into the desert.
Chapter 12
As the sun rose higher and they drew closer to their destination, Sahara’s misgivings about the adventure grew steadily stronger.
How are we supposed to conceal ourselves out here? she wondered, her eyes traveling over the blazing expanses of sand. We’ll be spotted before we get close enough to do what we came to do.
She frowned and stopped for a moment, shifting her pack on her shoulders.
“I put your camouflage equipment in your pack this morning,” Jared said, turning around. “After you checked it, I mean. So you don’t have to worry about that.”
Sahara gaped at him for a moment. “What?”
“We have special robes that we’ll put on before we get to the dunes. So we won’t be seen. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Sahara stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Did I say that aloud? she wondered. “Robes? What are you talking about?”
“Adaptive camouflage. So even if someone were looking straight at us, he’d see only sand.”
She’d heard of camouflage suits like these, of course— they were just beginning to come onto the black market of her homeworld when she was deported. But she couldn’t wipe the stunned expression off her face, and she knew he must think she had no clue what he was talking about.
He was watching her with a quizzical expression in his silvered eyes, and she just shook her head. Rafe had stopped several paces beyond them and was obviously impatient to be on the move again.
“Let’s go,” Sahara said, walking briskly to catch up with Rafe.
Jared called a halt an hour later, and he and Rafe quickly set up a small tent to provide some shelter from the sun. The three of them crawled inside, and Sahara got out her water skin.
“Better than the first time you were out this way, isn’t it?” Jared asked, watching her take a gulp of water.
She grinned at him and nodded. “Much.”
“Okay, kids, back to business,” Rafe said. “Where are we, and when do we need to move out?”
“Won’t we be spotted out here in this thing?” Sahara asked, wiping her forehead.
“The tent is made from the same camouflage material as the robes I was telling you about,” Jared answered.
“Right. Adaptive camouflage gear.”
“Exactly. So the tent is safe. Invisible, essentially.” He turned to Rafe and said, “We can rest for another half hour, then it’s time to suit up and take the adventure that falls to us.”
“Where did Arnauld get tech like this?” Sahara asked as Rafe rolled onto his back and crossed his hands behind his head.
“Back in the days before the Dragon-Lords, we traded with other worlds. We were on the cutting edge of these kinds of technological advances…and then, one day, everything changed. The Dragon-Lords came, and we lost all communication with our friends and allies in other systems. It was over just like that. Whatever advanced technology we had, we hid. We keep it only for emergencies now. Better for the Dragon-Lords to think Albadir is some backwards little village.” He grinned at her. “We’ve got some surprises yet.”
Sahara glanced down at Rafe. His breathing was deep and slow.
“Did he just go to sleep?” she marveled. “I wish I could drop off like that!” She took another drink from her water skin.
“He’s spent years perfecting the art,” Jared said, a smile in his eyes.
Sahara was silent for a moment, feeling suddenly awkward. She plucked at the string that connected the plug to the mouth of the water skin.
“How do you know him?” she asked finally.
“Who? Rafe?” Jared chuckled. “We’ve been friends for years. Since we were boys getting into trouble. We were apprentices together for a time under Childir, until Rafe went rogue and decided he liked street fighting better than herb lore.”
Sahara glanced up at him. “You weren’t a street fighter yourself?”
Jared laughed aloud. “Do I look like I was a street fighter? I learned the arts of war the civilized way—from a tutor and with blunted weapons. Rafe was schooled less gently. If I told you the number of times he’s had a limb broken, you’d think I was lying.” The smile faded from Jared’s face slowly, like the sun setting, leaving its glow but not its brilliance. “What about you? You’re skilled in blade work and have a good head in a fight—where did you learn?”
Sahara felt a horrible burning lump mass itself in her throat. She swallowed hard, but it did no good. “From my father.”
“Your father taught you to fight?”
“He was a brigade commander.”
“But why did he teach you? Didn’t you have brothers? Or was it customary on your world for women to learn to fight?”
“I had no brothers. Well…none that survived past infancy.” She clenched her teeth for a moment, and then continued in a controlled voice, “And that was no fault of theirs, either.”
Jared looked at her steadily for a moment. “Whose fault was it?”
Sahara took a deep breath and met his gaze. “When the Dragon-Lords invaded my homeworld and killed our king, they decided soon afterwards that male children were a danger to their fragile tyranny. So they rounded them up and took them away. I’m sure they killed them all. My two brothers were among them.” A strangled sob broke past her careful steadiness. “Jonah was two. Deor was not yet half a year—still nursing at my mother’s breast. Their deaths killed my mother.” She paused, struggling with an upsurge of grief that threatened to tear her to pieces. “I was eight.”
“My God,” Jared breathed. He reached out his hand and covered hers. “My God, Sahara, I’m so sorry.”
“Well,” she said briskly, “after that, my father and the other men of our city decided that the only way for freedom to survive was to train the girls to fight. And so we learned in secret. We learned the black arts of the assassin—poisons, drugs, knife work, sleight of hand. We learned the straightforward arts of combat—strategy, sword, archery, riding, swimming, shooting.”
“A full military training.”
“Yes. And then it happened. When I was fifteen, my father was killed in a desperate attempt to free our land from the Dragon-Lords. The battle cost our city all that was left of its men. Even without our fathers, brothers, husbands…we continued to meet, to practice, to hone our skills. They all looked to me to lead them, Jared! By the time I was eighteen I was at the head of one of the deadliest fighting forces our world had ever seen. All the more deadly because we were secret—no one ever thought that beneath all the smiles and finery and glowing skin we were trained killers.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and she jerked her hand out from under Jared’s.
Jared was staring at her with an intensity that made her avert her face. From her position within the tent, she could see the northern edge of the dunes, stretching away to a haze of shimmering forms on the horizon, which she guessed were mountains. There was no sign of movement along the ridge, and she sighed.
“Sahara,” Jared said, “I know this journey will be difficult for you. If we have to go to the ship, I mean. You can stay here if—”
“No.” Her eyes clashed with his. “I will not stay here.”
Jared sighed. “Listen, you and I know each other too well now for me to play games with you. Can you handle this or not? Because if you have some kind of breakdown, we’ll all die out here.”
Sahara arched an eyebrow. “I know Rafe thinks I’m weak. That I’ll let you down. And I know I showed weakness last night. I’m sorry for that.”
“You heard us talking.”
“Yes. But that was last night. This is today. And today they will pay.”
At that moment, Rafe heaved a deep breath and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. “Ready?” he asked with a yawn.
Jared grinned at him. “Glad you decided to join us, sleeping beauty.”
; “Hey, a man’s got to sleep when he can.” He sat up and his eyes came to rest on Sahara’s face. “What about you, sweetheart? You ready?”
Sahara smoldered at him. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
Rafe’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, and then his generous mouth twisted into a crooked grin. “I see we have our feistiness back,” he remarked. “That’s excellent.”
Sahara gave her head a small shake, smiling in spite of herself, and looked out at the dunes again.
There was something there now, very faint and far in the distance. A speck. And it was moving in their direction.
“I think we’re about to have company,” she said. “You boys ready to play?”
Before she finished speaking, Jared was unpacking their camo gear and tossing it to them. Rafe and Jared wound turbans around their heads and over their necks and shoulders, pulling the fabric so that only their eyes showed. Sahara pulled her veil over her hair, crossing one corner over her face and fastening it behind her ear. They tossed aside their sand-colored mottled battle jackets and stepped into their camouflage jumpsuits. Finally, they pulled covers over their boots.
Weapons at the ready, they crept cautiously out of the tent and positioned themselves in stages along the side of the dunes.
Sweat trickled down Sahara’s nose. The scout’s pace felt agonizingly slow, but he came on steadily. He was on foot, and he seemed to be alone. Sahara stared hard at him, at the mask of beaten and burnished metal that gleamed every now and again beneath its dark cowl. Sahara wondered what he could—and could not—see through that mask, and she wondered what lay beneath the dark armor that coated his body like scales. As he approached the place where they lay hidden, his steps slowed, and he drew his sword. It was long and curved and cruel, like the one hanging in Jared’s room, and the sun blazed along its edges.
Sahara hardly dared to breathe. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Jared had his crossbow at the ready. She focused once more on the scout, scanning his body for any indication of a weakness. There was only one—a small place just under his left arm where one of the scales of his mail shirt was twisted out of place. It was only just big enough for a crossbow bolt, and Sahara prayed that Jared had good aim.
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