He gave a low, uneven laugh. “I could tell.” He kissed her forehead. “So did I.” He lay for a while, his breath calming. Then he said, “Did I hurt you?”
“No…a little. It’s fine.” With a yawn, she added, “I would have thought it would bother my back more.”
“We should make sure it’s all right.”
“Tomorrow…”
Sleepily, he said, “I know. But we should check now. You may not feel pain, but if anything tore open, we should treat it. Or it might get worse.”
Too drowsy to protest, she rolled onto her stomach. She felt his hand on her back, exploring. His palm moved over her behind, where she had no cuts at all, and between her legs, where she still tingled. She lay enjoying it for a while, until finally she murmured, “Behave yourself.”
He laughed softly and slid his hand up her spine, over her shoulders, and along her arms. “That’s odd.”
“Hmmm…?”
“The cuts, the welts, the burns—they’re almost gone.”
“They can’t be already.”
“I know. But they are.” He paused. “Maybe you just needed sleep.”
“I’ve tended people with similar injuries. Sleep helps, but never this much, this fast.” She hesitated, not wanting him to become angry or ridicule her. “Darz?”
“Yes?” He lay down and turned her over so he could pull her into his arms.
“You mustn’t get upset.”
His arm muscles tensed. “About what?”
“I had a visitor today.”
“What?” He pushed up on his elbow. “I told you not to open the door!”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how did someone get in?”
“He didn’t need the door.”
“He?” He grasped her arm. “What happened?”
“It was the Dragon-Sun.”
His grip eased. “Oh, Ginger.”
“It’s true. He came here at noon. He said he would punish you for not believing in him. I told him I was promised to you. He was angry. At first. Then he wasn’t anymore.”
She expected him to say she had dreamt it all. She wasn’t even certain she hadn’t. When instead Darz just kept looking at her, she blinked.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You said this happened at noon?”
“Yes. The sun was shining through the window.”
“How long did it last?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“And then what?” His voice had an odd quality. Fear?
“He let me go and went back into the sky.”
“Gods above,” he said. “It can’t be.”
This certainly wasn’t the response she had expected. “What do you mean?”
“Something impossible happened today. At noon, for about fifteen minutes, we had an eclipse.”
“A what?”
“When the moon passes in front of the sun.”
“I don’t understand.”
He spoke uneasily. “I’m not sure I do, either. The palace astronomers in Quaaz claim the earth goes around the sun, not the reverse. And the moon goes around the earth. Sometimes it gets between the earth and the sun. When that happens, we cannot see the sun. So it gets dark.”
“And that happened today?”
“Yes. It scared a lot of people.” He shook his head. “We had a full moon last night. If it was on that side of the earth, how could it get between the earth and the sun today?”
She just looked up at him.
“I’m not saying it’s true,” he added. “But if it were…”
“Yes?”
“You would really defy the Dragon-Sun for me?”
“Yes.”
His grin flashed. “Brave woman.” He lay down and tickled her belly button. “You were as fiery as the sun tonight.”
Her lips curved upward. “I thought you were sleepy.”
“That was before.”
He drew her closer, and she responded with an intensity she wouldn’t have expected even a few days ago. For so long she had thought she would never know a man’s embrace. Darz was a gift. She didn’t know if this passion had always been within her, waiting for its time, or if the sun had released it, but she soon stopped caring, or thinking at all, as she and Darz celebrated their own fire.
The potter’s caravan was small, only six merchants and a handful of helpers. They were headed to Quaaz instead of Taza Qu, but Darz seemed reconciled to the change in his plans. They agreed to take the newlyweds if Darz would guard the caravan. Although Ginger could see it was an equitable arrangement, it meant he spent all day riding up and down the procession. She hardly saw him, and she missed his company.
The merchants wore cowled robes over leggings and tunics, similar to Jazid nomads, but they dyed the cloth yellow and topaz rather than charcoal. They all looked the same; she recognized Darz only because he was taller and huskier than the other men. No one seemed bothered when she adopted their style of dress. Even if they had known she was a priestess, which they didn’t, she doubted they would expect her to wear the wrap. If she did, they would have to carry her in a litter, which would be annoying for everyone. She gladly quit the ceremonial garments; she loved this freedom.
The days stretched out as they traveled west, and the sun blazed. At night, temperatures plummeted, but she and Darz didn’t mind, ensconced in their tent. She learned the ways of his touch and his scarred body, yet not of his heart. She wanted to believe he had begun to trust her, but he remained silent about himself.
He also bought her a horse. In Sky Flames, no one had wanted her to ride. She had learned by coaxing Heath, who could never tell her “no” on anything. These merchants took it for granted that anyone who traveled with a caravan could ride and do it in sensible clothes. For now, the lifestyle of the caravan suited her.
Ginger missed the temple and her work, though, tending to people and the village. She missed the cool stone spaces and burbling fountain. She longed for the serenity of those days, before reality had shredded her illusions.
Today Darz patrolled the heavily laden wagons on horseback. He intended to return Grayrider to Kindle as soon as he and Ginger were settled and he found an army company or caravan traveling east. As Ginger rode up alongside him, he maneuvered Grayrider to give her room. Only his dark eyes were visible; he kept a scarf over his face as protection from the sun and wind-driven sand. Far up ahead in the topaz desert, the green line of an oasis bordered the horizon.
“The caravan master tells me we will reach Quaaz the day after tomorrow,” Ginger said. “Maybe tomorrow night.”
He nodded, surveying the land around them. “It will be good to be home.”
“Do you have a house there?” She had tried asking more obliquely, with no success.
He continued to scan the desert. “I live with my cousin and her husband.”
She hadn’t expected that. “Do you mean the cousin you were pledged to marry?”
“That’s right.”
No wonder he avoided talking about his living arrangements. “Isn’t that awkward?”
He glanced at her, his eyes enigmatic. “No. Should it be?”
“Her husband trusts you?”
He gave a snort. “Her husband doesn’t like me in the least. But that would be true regardless. He knows if Lima and I had wanted to marry, we would have done so long ago.”
It still sounded thorny to Ginger. But maybe they couldn’t afford separate households. “Will there be room for me?”
“Enough.” He went back to studying the desert. He always seemed on guard these days, alert for an attack. It might be his normal state. Or maybe he was tense because of what had happened to him. She wished he would talk to her more.
“Is there a temple near where you live?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“And?”
He peered at a ridge to their south, shading his eyes with his hand. “And what?”
“Will you tell me about it?�
��
“Nothing to tell, really.”
Dryly she said, “Perhaps I should try to extract one of your teeth. You might be more willing to let me do that.”
He shot her a startled look. “I should hope not.”
“Why won’t you talk to me? Don’t you want to?”
“Well, yes.” He sounded bewildered.
“But?”
“But I think I should pay attention to my duties instead of chatting with my distracting wife.”
“Oh. Of course.” She flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I will leave you to your work.”
“Ginger—”
She nodded formally, then wheeled her horse around and rode toward the end of the caravan. She felt like a fool. If she kept making such mistakes, he would rue the day he ended up saddled with her. But saints, she dreaded the thought of living in the same house with his former betrothed, especially if Darz was often like this, so distant and preoccupied. She kicked her horse into a gallop and sped past the end of the caravan, her robe billowing out behind her.
After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and slowed her horse to a walk. It wasn’t Darz’s fault. He had never asked for a wife; Heath and Harjan had forced her on him. She knew other men who didn’t talk to their wives. Perhaps, because he held her so close at night, she read more into his interest than existed.
In the ten days they had been traveling, thoughts of Sky Flames had haunted her. She couldn’t believe they had sentenced her to die. Darz expected her to demand vengeance, but that felt hollow. She wanted justice. She wanted the elders to know what they had done was wrong and abhorrent. She wanted them to have no choice but to face the truth, now and for as long as they lived. That would mean more to her than any act of revenge.
The power to exact vengeance simmered within her, ready to erupt. She had never before comprehended her ability to do violence. Calling forth the killing spells of fire had left her feeling ill, but if she ever was that desperate again, she might again evoke that dark power. It was within her, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. She turned away from revenge because she feared herself more than those who had wronged her.
Ginger brought her horse around and headed for the caravan. It had moved ahead, and it would take a while to catch up, but as long as she had them in sight, she wasn’t worried. She valued her freedom out here in the vast desert.
After a few minutes, a man came galloping back to her. She wasn’t sure who; without a comparison to others, she couldn’t tell if he was large enough to be Darz. As he drew nearer, though, she thought it was him. It wasn’t his size so much as the way he held himself, as if he could command the world from horseback. She thought he was probably a cavalry man. He wouldn’t talk about his military service, though. If he hadn’t been willing to go back to Quaaz, she would have wondered if he were a deserter after all.
As he reached her, the man reined in his horse, and it stamped its hooves, impatient. “Never come out here alone!” he bellowed. “Gods only know what could happen! Stay with the caravan!”
That was definitely Darz. “Don’t yell,” she said, rubbing her ear. “I hear you fine.”
“Someone could pick you off the desert,” he thundered. “Just like sand-cats prey on stragglers from the goat herds. Ba-zing! You’re gone.”
Ba-zing? She tried not to smile, because he was obviously upset. “I’m sorry.”
He spoke more quietly. “You worried me. You shouldn’t let yourself be separated from the others.”
She hadn’t meant to trouble him. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Good.” He rode with her toward the caravan. “Why were you angry with me before?”
“I wasn’t angry.” She felt at such a loss. “My whole life has been turned around and spilled out until I have only the unknown. And you. But the only time we do anything together is at night.”
“It’s good,” he said, his voice warming.
“I need more.”
“More?” He grinned. “You’ll wear me out.” He didn’t sound at all displeased with the prospect of his imminent exhaustion.
Her face heated. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You are my wife. It is what a man does with his wife.”
“You can talk to me, too.”
“I do!”
“But you say so little.”
Frustration leaked into his voice. “Women talk a great deal to one another. All this gossip and such. I am not a woman.”
“What do you do when you have to command your men?” she inquired, exasperated. “Grunt?”
“That’s different.” His voice lightened. “They at least do what I tell them.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she recognized his tone. He was teasing her. “They have my sympathy.”
He brought Grayrider in as close as he could to her horse and leaned over to her. “If you bedevil me,” he said in a low voice, “tonight I will find a suitable way to return the favor.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. He would undoubtedly tickle her mercilessly, which he had discovered made her laugh and struggle. “Darz, it is you who bedevil me.”
“Hah! I will see you tonight.” He took off then. They had reached the caravan, and she rode in back while he ranged ahead. She wondered who he thought could threaten them out here. She could see for leagues in every direction. Spears of rock jutted up in places, but it was mostly flat ground. It wasn’t as dry as the area around Sky Flames; they had passed a river this morning, and tonight they would camp at a real lake.
Water mirages rippled across the sands, obscuring details. The robes everyone wore out here were the same color as the desert. It made a person hard to see from far away. That was true for the colors worn by the Jazid nomads, too, among the rocks. Unsettled by the thought, she spurred her horse closer in to the caravan.
They reached the oasis in midafternoon, as the sun slanted long rays across the sand. Cook, the man who prepared their meals, had told her to expect only a small lake, but it was more water in one place than she had ever seen. Cliffs overhung it on one side, and a waterfall cascaded down them. She sent thanks for this haven to the dragon as he descended in the sky.
They weren’t the only ones at the lake. It was exciting to see groups from all over Taka Mal, from solitary travelers to another caravan as large as theirs. Riding past them, Ginger felt like a wide-eyed child on festival night. All too soon, she had to dismount and help set up their camp. She unloaded supplies with Cook. On her first night with the caravan, she had prepared supper for her hosts, and afterward Cook had asked if she would do the meals with him. She was glad to have a skill she could offer in exchange for their letting her and Darz accompany them.
Before they started cooking, she wanted to clean up. Darz was busy checking the other groups at the lake, so she asked Cook if he would mind doing guard duty. He came along good-naturedly, telling her rowdy jokes and terrible puns, and helped her find a spring in a pocket of rocks above the lake. He waited outside the enclosed area, positioned so he could see her as he blocked the view of the pocket to anyone else. Kneeling down, she washed her face and hands. The water was bliss. The air had a different smell than in Sky Flames, with a sweet scent of jasmine. Standing up, she stretched her arms—
Someone yanked her backward. It happened so fast, she had no time to shout. He clamped his hand over her mouth and pinned her arms to her sides with his other arm. She rammed her elbow into whoever was behind her, and he grunted.
“Hurry up,” someone said.
As she fought, someone came around in front of her, his features shadowed by the cowl of his charcoal robe and masked by a dark scarf. He was a wraith without a face, inhuman in robes that blended with the rocks.
He pressed a wet cloth over her face. Caught off guard, she gasped in a breath. A cloying smell saturated her senses, sickly sweet. He kept pressing the cloth…She couldn’t breathe…
17
The General
A continuous
bumping shook Ginger awake. She opened her eyes into the dim interior of a wagon. It resembled those used by the gypsies who wandered the borders between Jazid and Taka Mal. She lifted her head, then groaned as vertigo hit her.
She was lying near the front on a pile of carpets woven in blue and gold, with red accents that in her dazed state looked far too much like blood. Blue canvas walls enclosed the wagon. Its roof was patterned in gray-and-charcoal triangles, with red tassels at the edges that bounced as the wagon jolted. She couldn’t have been out long; daylight sifted through the canvas walls, and she didn’t think she had been unconscious long enough for night to have come and gone. The light had the aged feel of late afternoon rather than the freshness of dawn.
One of the nomads was sitting on a bench several feet away, deftly sewing a hole in a shirt despite the unsteady ride. His hood was pushed off his head, and the scarf hung down around his neck. He had sharp features, with small pox scars marking his skin. Black stubble covered his jaw. Another nomad was sitting across from him, a giant man with tangled black hair. He held a whetstone in one hand and a dagger in the other. He was staring, however, straight at Ginger. The hairs on her neck prickled.
“She’s awake,” the giant said. His voice was so deep, it seemed to boom even though he spoke at a normal volume.
The man stitching his shirt glanced at her. “So she is.”
“Where are you taking me?” Ginger asked. She sounded like she felt, thick and dazed.
The stitcher narrowed his gaze at her. “You’ve given us a lot of trouble.”
“I don’t even know who you are,” she said. “How could I give you trouble?”
He didn’t answer; he just went back to sewing. She pulled herself up to sit cross-legged on the rugs. Bile rose in her throat, and she willed her stomach to settle. When she felt steadier, she said, “What did you do to Cook?”
The stitcher shrugged. “Nothing.”
She clenched her fists in the carpet. “You didn’t kill him, did you?” She had grown to like the plump cook and his bad puns.
He smiled slightly, the barest lifting of his mouth, his attention still on his repairs. “I told you. We did nothing.”
The Fire Opal Page 19