"The point I was trying to make is... we're gonna need an Exco team to come help us. If we could get them to recommend you, when we fix everything, you could leave the planet. You wouldn't have to stay here."
"What is Exco?" Christian interrupted. He didn't like the way this conversation was going.Was Miriet was trying to rescue him?
The thought alone was repugnant to him. A knight shouldn't need to be rescued by anyone, least of all a woman. He wasn't entirely sure if Miriet counted as one. She had said herself that she was female-identified, whatever that meant. But whether or not she was a woman, he didn't need her help. Much less her pity.
"Exco is... it's short for Exploration Corps," Miriet said. She spoke slowly, like she was trying to explain something she didn't quite understand herself. Her scales shimmered, opalescent in the light from the windows. "It's part exploring, part peacekeeping."
"Peacekeeping... do you mean, like an order of knights?" Christian asked slowly.
"Kinda." Miriet's tail twitched. "There's less bashy metal. But they do tend to... um... settle arguments, before they get into all-out war. 'Cause that never ends well."
"Let me make sure I understand you," Christian said. "If we survive this, you're going to recommend that I join this corps. And I'd need to leave the world to do so."
"Yeah, pretty much." Miriet's scales settled on a silvery blue. She craned her neck, to look him in the eye. "You don't have to decide now, or even soon, but..."
"I will think about it," Christian said, slowly. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but this was a decision he wasn't eager to make.
“Is that the 'I'll think about it' that means no, or the 'I'll think about it' that means I'll think about it?” Miriet snorted.
“It means I'll consider it. I'm not making any promises.”
“...Fair enough.”
They walked along in silence. Christian pondered the choice he'd been given.
On one hand, he felt as though he didn't have a place in the world. Even after having become a Lord, everywhere he turned, he received some measure of disdain.
The words crossed his memory as if he'd heard them yesterday. Oh, he's an Arundel, you can't trust them. There goes Lord Arundel-that nut who fights duels over every little thing.
There were other, harsher phrases, he'd learned all too well. Though he tried to keep his secret shame from the world's eyes, they still seemed to guess, and all he could do was deny.
There had been moments – many of them-where he felt as though he was meant to be from some other place, but by some cruel fluke of Fortune, he'd come here, instead.
Perhaps out in the stars, he'd find others who felt as he did?
No. You are a sinner, he told himself. Don't even consider it.
Even if that were not true, and the things he thought were normal, there was no guarantee he'd be accepted out in the stars. People seemed to think very strangely, and speak very strangely, where Miriet was from. He suspected it would be harder to grow accustomed to their worlds than it had been to acclimatize to the desert—
Don't think of that. He managed to push the memories aside, before they overpowered him.
Besides, Christian told himself, coldly, you're being selfish. He needed to stay here, care for his sister, and tend to what was left of the family holdings. No matter what he wanted-and he wasn't even sure what he wanted-he had a duty to perform, and he would do it as well as he could. It was the only thing he could do, wasn't it?
Miriet's words he'd overheard echoed in his mind. Are you happy?
No, he wasn't. Either way, though, he didn't think he could be. The thought of change terrified and excited him; the thought of returning home, going back to his old life, weighed him down with resignation.
There's no guarantee you're even going to survive this, he told himself. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind, and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Linna and Anthony's faces, bright as could be in his mind's eye, reminded him what he needed to worry about now. The rest, well, that could come after.
Until then, he'd try to save those he loved, and put himself in God's care.
“Christian!” He heard a voice call him, and looked up from his reverie. He hadn't even noticed his head was bowed.
Daniel stood before him. Christian nearly didn't recognize him-his head, though covered, wasn't shaded by the massive scarf he wore out in the world. His mass of golden curls shone in the sun, and his skin glowed warm brown. He had a large dark bruise on his right cheek, and he was leaning a little on his staff, but his eyes were as bright as before.
"Daniel." Christian nodded. "S-The Captain told me to come talk to you?"
"Oh! Yes, um. The caravan's leaving later. And you are coming with us, right? ...How did you get out of your cell?" Daniel spoke far too quickly, babbling as new ideas caught his mind.
"It's a long story." He frowned. "What preparations do we need to make?"
"Dress for the weather." Daniel tilted his head to one side, squinting up at Christian's face. "You'll need robes, not... Well, not Eastern clothes." He gestured at Christian's trousers. "They're bad for you in the heat. I could loan you something..."
Christian couldn't help but crack a grin at that. Daniel was a head shorter than him, and built like a reed. There was no way he was fitting into any of the younger man's clothes.
"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll manage," he said.
"You're welcome." Daniel smiled.
"So, ah... When we go to rescue your... your kinsmen," Christian began. "The other dhunni-"
Daniel's eyes widened for a second. As he realized what Christian said, he frowned. It was strange to see him not smiling.
"Don't use that word," he said. His voice was surprisingly cold.
"Which one?"
"Dhunni." Daniel said it as though it was a curse. "Don't use that one."
"Why not?" Christian frowned back at him. "It just means... people like you. Doesn't it?"
Daniel took a deep breath, and shook his head. He pressed his lips together.
"It means dirty," he said.
"No, it doesn't." Christian didn't want to contradict him just for the sake of contradicting him, but he was fairly sure 'dhunni' just meant desert people.
"Yes, it does. You're from the East, you wouldn't understand." Daniel took another deep breathin through his nose, and out through his mouth.
"...Well, what should I call you, then? Is there even a word?" Christian frowned. The distinction seemed semantic to him, but he didn't want to anger their travelling companions.
"We call ourselves Dhareg. You can use that one." Daniel looked at him, coolly, though his eyes were still squinted.
"All right." Christian folded his arms. "When we meet the other ...Dhareg. Are they going to be worried about Miriet?"
"How do you mean, 'worried'?" Daniel raised an eyebrow.
"I mean are they going to think she's a demon."
Daniel laughed, though there was an edge to it.
"I guess you could call her your daemon?" he said. "Doesn't she give you advice and things?"
"Advice?" Christian blinked. "I'm not a conjurer, boy."
"Don't call me boy, I'm almost a man." Daniel glared at Christian.
"Well, don't call me a witch, then!" Christian glared right back.
"Children," Miriet said. Christian had forgotten she was there, until her claws dug into his shoulder. "Stop fighting or you're both grounded."
It was clearly a joke, but her voice was sharp. She sounded like Christian's old governess.
Christian's hand clenched into a fist. He wanted to draw his sword, but knights didn't challenge commoners to duels. And Daniel was a commoner and a foreigner.
"I'm sorry." Daniel said it first, but he pressed his lips into a fine line. "I didn't intend to hurt your feelings."
"It's all right." Christian moved his hand away from his swordbelt. "I'm sorry if I offended you."
Miriet snorted. "Onc
e more, with feeling."
"I'm sorry," Christian said, again.
Daniel just gave him a Look.
"I want to like you," he said. "But you're being really awful."
"...I'm sorry?" Christian said. Daniel was already walking away.
Christian cursed, quietly, under his breath.
"What did I even do?" he muttered.
"The nonapology you gave him was a pretty good start." Miriet's voice was dry. "Do you really have to estrange yourself from everyone in the world that isn't just like you?"
"That wasn't what I was trying to do." Christian began to walk. He knew he had to prepare to go into the desert, soon. It was going to be dangerous. And, he considered, sourly, without Daniel's good wishes, it was going to be even more dangerous.
Just his luck.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunlight spilled from the sky like white-hot metal, heating the tawny sand and jagged rocks of the desert. A faint breeze kicked up sand, scattering it through the air and blowing it at the caravan.
Christian felt as though he was a chunk of metal, in the refiner's fire-or one of the ancient martyrs, who'd been burnt alive.
Sand had gotten into his clothes, into his shoes, into the folds of the scarf he wore around his head and shoulders. It trickled into his collar and grated his bare skin. The weight of his pack seemed like a cross on his back, and his mouth and eyes felt as though they'd been baked dry.
Every step was an incredible effort. Christian bit his lip and struggled through, repeating the names of those taken with each step.
This step, for Linna... this for Mercadier... this for the King.
He craved water, but there was no way he could have a drink. The water was rationed. It was, after all, heavy, expensive, and hard to carry. The caravan master would call when it was time for the next rest stop, and they'd refill waterskins then.
Christian tried to ration his water, only drinking when they paused-which wasn't often, usually in some fleeting patch of shade. He was going to wait, so he didn't risk running out of water before they'd reached their destination.
Daniel was immediately in front of him, leading a camel. His many-colored headscarf, shining in the desert sun, was almost as offensive to the eye as the scent of camel was to the nose. He carried a long staff in one hand, and seemed unbowed by the sand and the heat.
He glanced back, and gave Christian a slight nod of encouragement.
"You're doing great! Keep moving," he said. Christian wondered if that meant Daniel had forgiven him, but decided he probably hadn't.
It was at that moment that the camel decided to abruptly halt. It stood there, chewing its cud, as if there was no reason in the world to move at all. Christian vaguely wondered if it was doing this on purpose, before the stinging sand got in his eye again and made him pause.
Daniel let out an exasperated sigh, and yanked on the camel's lead.
"C'mon, Fish, move it," he said.
Christian turned, and walked around them. The rank smell of camel-camel droppings, camel piss, and a few other things Christian didn't even want to think of-hit him harder the closer he got.
The camel still refused to budge. Daniel pulled, then tapped it on the flank, lightly, with the staff.
"Come on, you..." he said, muttering some rather salty oaths. "We're going to get left behind..."
Christian couldn't resist watching. It was almost a funny scene– the young man struggling, with all his strength and intelligence, to get the brute beast to move, and the beast resisting just as hard. He stood about a pace away, enjoying the chance for a rest-after all, wasn't he supposed to be following Daniel?- and watched the show.
Finally, after much coaxing, the camel stood. It turned its head, staring contemplatively, and spat directly in Christian's face.
"Ugh!" Christian shuddered. The camel's spit had been horribly warm, and it turned the sand on his face into sticky gunk.
He tried to clean himself off while walking. The sleeve of his doublet, among other things, would never be the same again. He felt disgusting, and he just knew Daniel was quietly laughing at him.
"Sorry." Daniel shot a look at the camel, akin to the look a woman would give her wayward nephew. "Fish can be a pain in the sides sometimes."
"You named the camel Fish?"
"Yes, because he drinks like one." Daniel laughed, lightly, and began to walk again, leading Fish along. Christian followed behind him.
"...I didn't know camels drank water," he blurted, and felt like a fool.
"You've never been on a desert journey before, Lord Arundel?" Daniel tilted his head to one side, in a way that very much reminded him of a cat.
"Not this deep into the desert." Christian shuddered. "I've been to Jihrat before."
He hoped Daniel wouldn't press the question further. Even walking silently, so keenly aware of the sand and the heat, would be better than dredging up memories of the Crusade.
"Oh?" Daniel sounded damnably interested, though his voice was strained with effort.
"...Rather not talk about it..." Christian grunted.
They walked in silence for a long while, conserving their strength. He watched the sky turn from burning, brilliant blue, through fiery ocher, to the dark, winter-blue of Mercadier's eyes, and then sable-black, studded with stars.
The air grew chill. At first, it was a pleasant change from the sweltering heat of the day, but soon enough, the wind whipped through Christian's tunic. It felt cold enough that it might snow, though the skies were clear. He could see the stars, like distant lanterns in the gloom, but they were cold comfort.
"....Are we going to stop for the night?" he asked.
"We stop when the moon hits the top of the mountain." Daniel pointed. "Only for a few hours, though."
"Then... when do we sleep?" Christian's head felt as heavy as lead.
"During the hottest part of the day. It's not safe to travel then." Daniel continued leading Fish along, talking all the way. "The best time to travel is before the sun's come over the mountains, and right after it goes under."
"But... traveling when it's dark... aren't there bandits?" Christian rubbed his hands together for warmth.
"You really are a nobleman." Daniel smiled, though Christian thought his eyes narrowed. "Bandits are people. If it's too hot for people to travel, they're not going to be out in force."
"I see." Christian didn't like the implication that he was a fool because he was a nobleman, but he wasn't going to fight it. He didn't want to stir the pot. "When we do stop..."
"Mm?" Daniel tugged at Fish's reins, leading him.
"After we've gotten a bit of rest, would you care to spar with me?"
He wasn't going to ask any of the other members of the caravan. Sara was a woman, Miriet was... no, and though he could strike up a conversation with a stranger, he didn't really fancy the idea. Besides, he'd like to revenge himself of Daniel's slight. He wouldn't kill him or anything like that, obviously, but he would like to make him pay for what he'd done.
"Spar with swords, or...?" Daniel's lips quirked, into a not-quite smile. "I think you'd kick me into next week if I tried."
"I was thinking staffs." Christian heard his voice turn gruff with embarrassment. Staffs were a peasant's weapon; a knight-such as himself-shouldn't know how to fight with one. But he'd need to practice with the staff from the aliens' ship if he wanted to rescue Linna and Anthony. He'd become able to fight with it, in a very basic way, but it didn't feel like part of him, like his sword could.
"All right." Daniel seemed amused, and Christian's heart sank within him. "I think you may be overestimating your strength, milord. And my own."
"I need to learn this." Christian frowned. "Whether or not you have the strength to teach me.”
"Well, let's see how you feel when the sun's below the mountains."
Daniel tilted his head, and stared at the horizon. His eyes widened with horror.
".... Oh, no. This is the last thing we need."
/> "What?" Christian gazed at the horizon. It seemed almost... gray. As if the sun was about to come up. But that couldn't be right, the sun had just gone down. The wind was picking up, and he had to shield his face from the sand on the wind.
Daniel seemed to ignore him, running ahead, and shouting in some strange language.
"Akkeed!" he shouted. "Papa-akkeed, el-shanar tilarth-"
Christian followed after him. The sky was growing dark. A bad feeling lurched in the pit of his gut.
"What the devil is going on?!" he shouted.
"Sandstorm. Can't outrun it. We've got to get under cover."
Daniel sprinted towards Fish and yanked something off of his back. It was a large, beige piece of cloth, almost the size of the camel. He flung it over Fish's back and motioned to Christian.
"Get inside, quick!"
Christian felt a cold droplet, then another, fall onto his face. It was starting to rain, he realized. He ran into the makeshift tent, and Daniel closed the fabric around them, leaving them in darkness.
"Shouldn't we let the camel in here, too?" Christian asked.
"He'll be fine," Daniel called back.
They sat for a moment in silence, listening to the howling of the wind and the rain. Christian shuddered. He hated storms, on sea and on land, alike.
"Why does anyone live in the desert?" he muttered. He took his boots off and shook the sand from them. The Crusade had taught him to fear the desert, but on this quest, he'd learned to loathe it.
"Some people think it's beautiful, some people have no other choice," Daniel said. He seemed to be pondering something, and it was a long moment before he spoke again.
"Why did you come here, Sir Christian?" he asked. "You said it was 'pressing business'. If it's all right, I'd like to know a little more."
Christian sighed. If Daniel didn't believe in demons, there was no way his explanation would make sense to him. And without Miriet to help him, there was no way he was going to be able to give him the true version.
"My sister was... taken," he said. "You'll think me mad, but... demons came from the sky, they..."
He became acutely aware of how foolish he must sound, and his cheeks grew warm. The sentence, he decided, would be better left unfinished.
The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1) Page 14