by Anthology
But maybe there was more to the myth. The Map of the Ancients used the stars. The device consisted of three rings: a center ring of constellations, an outer ring showing the day of the year, and a middle ring of numbers that ranged positive and negative.
“What is this?” I touched the middle ring.
“Angle,” he said. Basr took a triangular-shaped device off the wall. “You measure the angle between the star and the horizon with this—it’s called a sextant. The Great Hold is here.” He tapped the center of the star chart.
The map looked very old and was made out of some sort of laminate material that gleamed in the lamplight. I touched the outer ring; it spun easily under my fingers. “Where did you get this?” I asked.
Basr had pulled a bottle out from the cabinet behind his head. He uncorked it with his teeth and took a long swallow. He offered the open bottle to me.
“My master had it when he took me on. He was a thief and worse…a bad person. Mean. I was just a kid, after all.” Basr was slurring his words. “He was going to ditch me somewhere out on the sand and make a run for it. I showed him.” He grinned up at me, those beautiful hazel eyes full of hate.
“You turned him in, didn’t you, Basr?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re damned right I did.”
***
“Where have you been?” Dimah demanded as I walked in the door. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“What? I had some business—”
I stopped short when she pointed to Shadow. For a second, I thought maybe my friend had passed while I was out, but then I saw his chest heave up in a long, slow breath.
“He shit in my house again. You should have taken him out before you left.”
I knelt next to Shadow. “Go to bed, Dimah.”
“But who’s going to clean up this—”
“Go. To. Bed.”
I cleaned the mess off the floor after she left. Even his shit was pitiful now, a dried up turd. More like something that might come out of a rabbit, not a mighty Water Finder like my Shadow.
I turned out the lights and curled up on the floor next to him, my hand on his rib-etched flank. He tried to lick my face, his tongue rough on my skin. All of him seemed dried out now. Used up.
“Easy, boy. It won’t be long now,” I whispered.
He thumped the floor three times. That was our signal in the old days: three slaps of his tail against my leg meant he’d found water.
When my own Gift began to falter, I was just past my thirty-second birthday. Ghadir had been gone for two years by that time and the two of us made a good living. Then one day, in the middle of a show, I just lost the feeling. The familiar sensation beneath the soles of my feet was gone.
I panicked. I began to shake like I’d been struck with fever.
The crowd went silent, watching me lose my cool. One minute I was all patter and flash and the next a quivering boy with stage fright.
Shadow’s bark brought me back to the moment. I wonder if he’d smelled the fear on me. He trotted over to me like it was all part of the act and took my fingers in his mouth, leading me forward.
I played along, desperate to recover the good will of the audience. “The water’s this way, Shadow? Is that what you’re trying to tell me, boy?”
“Yes!” the children chorused.
The familiar feeling returned to my legs, the tingle that told me moisture was near. When the clan diggers struck water, I hugged Shadow so hard he yelped.
That was the beginning of the end of my Gift. I still had it some days, but the feeling was inconsistent, and I was never quite sure if I’d be able to perform. But Shadow picked up the slack for us both. The act actually got better as I learned to recognize his cues and play off him.
***
I stayed on the floor next to Shadow all night, my head never more than a few inches from his. I watched his black nose quiver with each breath and when his filmy eyes opened, I met his gaze. I dripped water into his mouth with my fingers and stroked those silky ears that I loved so much. Toward dawn, he grew restless and I carried him outside into the early morning chill.
Still in my best Finder robe, I sat down in the dirt and watched Shadow make his halting way around the yard. He had dirt on his nose when he finally got back to me, and he was wheezing. I cleaned the crust of dusty snot off his face with the sleeve of my robe and gathered him into my lap. He curled up nose to tail, just like he used to do when he was a puppy.
Shadow closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
When the first rays of the sun touched our yard, I was still sitting in the same position. I tried to will the sun to go backward, to retreat behind the hill again and never come up.
I refused to look down as the light sharpened the gloom around me. Instead, I begged every god I could think of to give me a few more moments with my Shadow.
I never shed a tear over Shadow’s passing. I just let the weight of him rest heavy in my lap, let his body drain of warmth against my thighs. The settlement had just begun to stir when I stood up with Shadow in my arms.
I needed to move swiftly now. For both of us.
Shadow had lost so much muscle mass I was able to tuck him under one arm and mostly hide him with my robe. On the way out the back, I picked up a shovel and slung it over my other shoulder.
The desert in the early morning is beautiful. The sun at a low angle highlights the sand but leaves pools of mysterious darkness. The clean, chilly air even holds a hint of moisture. I walked in a straight line north for maybe a kilometer, then gently set down Shadow’s body and dug.
It was over in a few minutes. I said my last goodbyes and heaped the sand on him. I knew it was foolish to avoid the reclamation process, but Shadow didn’t belong to the clan, he belonged to me. On the way back to the settlement, I made sure to obliterate my tracks. By the time I made it over the second dune, even I couldn’t have found Shadow’s body.
Dimah was serving Tarkon chai tea when I returned to the tent. Her eyes took in the dirty robe and the dusty sandals, but she said nothing. The clan leader might have been old and frail but his mental faculties were still there.
“Where’s the dog?” Tarkon asked. He had a wheezy voice. Sand lung, they call it.
“Gone.” I had to blink back tears. It was the first time I’d said it out loud.
“So you’re just back from the reclaimer?”
I accepted a cup of chai from Dimah and said nothing.
Tarkon set his gray-whiskered chin. “We need a new Find, Polluk. You’ve put me off long enough and the clan is worried. I want you to do it today.”
I shook my head.
Dimah intervened. “Polluk would be happy to do it, Tarkon. Maybe in a few days. He’s just lost his dog…”
“Today. If you don’t want the job, I’ll give it to the other Finder. He seems eager enough.”
“He’ll do it,” Dimah said. “Today at sundown. Count on it.”
Tarkon was barely out the door before she whirled on me. “What’s the matter with you? This is our chance to take him down. He’s practically begging you to take over.”
“Sit down.”
“I will not sit down. You need to—”
“Sit down, Dimah.”
She lowered herself to the ground carefully, her eyes watching my face.
“Do you love me?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I have something to tell you.”
Her hand went to her belly when I told her the truth about my Gift and Shadow. She took the half-drunk cup of chai out of my hand and sucked it down in one gulp. As her eyes flicked around the tent, she twisted her fingers together.
“But you said it comes and goes, so you might be able to get a Find today, right?”
“It’s possible, but I have a better plan.” I told her about the hunt for the Great Water Hold.
“That’s not a plan, Polluk, that’s suicide. I’m pregnant and you want to go chase a
myth?”
“There’s a way, but I need your help.”
***
I watched Basr leave his wagon and head for the center of the settlement. I let dusk settle a little more firmly around the camp before I approached his vehicle.
It had taken some persuading to get Dimah to agree with my plan. The Map of the Ancients turned the tide in my favor. I showed her the information about the Great Hold I’d collected already and described how Basr’s map would lead us right to the greatest Find in all of history.
From that point, she’d taken over. While I took a nap, Dimah met with Tarkon and the other clan leaders to explain how my recent loss left me unable to perform the Finding ceremony, but that I would offer to pay Basr to take my place. She even met with the young Finder to arrange for his services. All I had to do was steal the map and meet her at the wagon. By the time they finished digging on Basr’s Find, we’d be long gone.
I stood when I heard the sound of cheering from the center of the settlement. The Finding ceremony had started. A dull ache of loss settled in my chest when I heard the crowd noise. At this early point in the show, Shadow and I would be doing our mimicking bit designed to draw the children in.
Sand shushed under my sandals as I made my way to Basr’s wagon and deactivated his alarms. The interior was as dim and messy as it had been the night before. I imagined I could smell traces of Dimah’s perfume from when she’d been there that afternoon.
The Map of the Ancients was exactly where I’d last seen it. After removing a few screws, the map was mine. I snagged the sextant from the wall, draped a rug over the map, and hurried through the deserted streets of the settlement to the enclosure where I kept my wagon.
The dark headlights glinted in the light of the stars but the interior of the tent covering my wagon was pitch black. In the distance, I heard the crowd laughing and clapping. It certainly sounded like Basr knew his stuff. Good for you, kid.
“Dimah?” I hissed. “Are you there?”
“I’m here.” She stepped out of the inky blackness in a gray silk dress that shimmered silver in the starlight. She had one hand on her belly as if to protect our child. “Do you have it?” she whispered.
“Yes.” I dropped the rug and held the map up for her to see. The numbers on the ring and the star constellations were painted with some sort of glow-in-the-dark ink. “Look at that,” I breathed. There was no doubt now; this was definitely the Map of the Ancients.
“It’s wonderful.” Dimah placed her hands on either side of my face and kissed me. Hard. When she backed away, she left a smear of moisture on my cheek.
“Dimah—”
They came at me from three sides. I tried to toss the map to Dimah but she let it fall to the sand. I took a hard right cross on the chin and went down. Two more men grabbed me and slammed my back against the ground.
A halo of silver hung in the sky over my face.
“No!” I shouted.
But it was too late. The ring descended, rough hands lifted my shoulders off the sand, and I felt the chill of bare steel against the flesh of my neck.
“Wait!” I screamed. “I want to talk to Tarkon.”
The sound of the collar snapping shut was like a rifle shot in my ears.
One of the men laughed. “Tarkon has another Finder. He doesn’t need—”
Dimah pushed the man aside. “Our Finder said he wants to talk to Tarkon, so let’s take him to see Tarkon.” Her face was a mask in the darkness, just the glint of her eyes and the whiteness of her smile. Not a nice smile.
“I never really loved you,” I said.
She leaned into me until her breath tickled my ear. “I know. That’s why I made other arrangements.”
Two of the men frog-marched me through the streets while the third ran ahead to let Tarkon know we were coming. The performance oval was silent when I was pushed inside. Tarkon occupied his normal place with Basr seated on the rug next to him. Dimah sashayed her way across the sand, her silk dress flowing like a sheet of water, fully aware that every eye was on her. She folded both hands across her chest and bowed to her clan leader in a formal greeting. She even mustered up a tear. A murmur ran through the crowd at the sight of the moisture.
“Tarkon, I bring you sad news. Polluk, my mate these last two years, has lost his Gift. I found him trying to flee your camp. He had stolen a map from Basr’s wagon.”
“It’s a lie!” I said. “That map is an artifact from the Water Finder’s Temple—I was going to return it. He’s the thief!” I leveled a finger at Basr.
“This is true?” Tarkon asked the new Finder.
“No, that map was passed to me from my master. I didn’t steal any—”
“Tarkon,” Dimah interrupted. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said Polluk, your Finder, has lost his Gift. He’s nothing but a slave now. We already collared him for you.”
Tarkon’s eyes were a washed-out blue, like the sky when it’s filmed over with high cirrus clouds. He squinted at me. We’d never had much in common, but I sensed a hint of sympathy in his gaze. At least I thought I did.
“The only thing I’ve lost is the trust of a woman who said she loved me,” I said in a loud voice. “Nothing more.”
Another whisper murmured through the crowd. This was more excitement than these people has seen in years. As one, they crowded closer.
Dimah stamped her foot and crossed the sand with her hand raised.
“Enough!” Tarkon was on his feet. The old man moved faster than I would’ve expected. “There’s an easy way to solve this. You say your Gift is intact? Wonderful, then give us a new Find, Polluk, and you can be on your way with my blessing. As for the map business, you Finders can sort that out on your own.”
I shook off the men holding my arms and drew myself up to my full height. “Two conditions, Tarkon.” I touched the collar at my neck. Even now, I was having a hard time breathing—not because it was too tight, just because it was there. “One: take this off me now.”
I stepped closer to Dimah. Her cheeks were flush with color and her eyes widened as I drew near. Her hand slid across her belly. “And two: if—when—I make this Find, you put the collar on her.”
Tarkon’s eyes shifted from my face to Dimah’s and the crowd leaned in, holding its collective breath. Tarkon nodded. “Take off his collar.”
The sting of steel left my skin and I drew a deep, cleansing breath of the night air. Normally, at the beginning of the Finding ceremony, I would feel a tingle of anticipation, a sense of where the water was hiding. But I felt nothing. I knelt and washed my hands with sand, pretending to whisper a prayer but really stalling for time. Sweat broke out on my neck.
“We don’t have all night, Finder.” Dimah’s voice prodded me, with all the venom a scorned woman could muster. I bit my lip. I should’ve run when I had the chance.
I stood and smiled with a confidence I did not feel. Nodding at a few of the clansmen, they averted their eyes. So that’s how it was. Only Roseth, the bartender’s slave, met my gaze. I winked at her, and she forced a smile across her pale face.
There would be no schtick tonight—this was life or death. My life or death. Whatever happened in the next few minutes, they were never putting that collar back on me. I walked to the center of the oval and spread my arms. I let my eyes close and forced myself to relax. Just one more Find, that’s all I needed, and then I’d drive off into the desert alone.
A hush settled over the crowd, the tension in the chill air like the frayed string of an instrument about to snap. I let them fade away, melt into the background. It was just me and the water, searching for each other. The words of the Finder’s Prayer slipped from my lips as I turned.
Nothing. Not even a tingle in the soles of my feet. Fighting the panic, I kept turning, repeating the chant:
Mother Earth, the Source of all,
From your bosom flows Life.
I call on you to show me—
A burst of laughter interrupted my meditation. I
opened my eyes. “Tarkon, how can I perform a—”
Some joker had thrown a dog into the ring. No more than a pup, it was all legs and ribs. A steel collar had worn an open sore onto the back of her neck. “You forgot your dog, Finder,” someone called. The crowd laughed. I’d played audiences my entire adult life, and that wasn’t the kind of laugh that portended good things for me or the dog.
A rock the size of a hen’s egg sailed into the ring and struck the dog in the side with a dull thud. The animal whimpered and slumped to the ground.
“That’s enough!” I strode to the side of the creature and knelt down. The dog couldn’t have been more different from my Shadow. He’d been short and squat with a waddle to his step; she was tall and thin with long legs that made her appear to be moving even while standing still. Shadow had long silky ears and a squat nose, while she had a long, tapered muzzle and short, pert ears. She was bone-white, but when I brushed my hand across her flank a thick layer of white dust sloughed off. Underneath her coat was the color of sand.
Her molten brown eyes pleaded with me. I saw another missile flying in, and I blocked it with my back. I scarcely felt the sting of the stone.
I gathered the dog into my arms. She was light, like lifting a pile of sticks. I pressed her against my chest. “You’re safe with me.”
And that’s when it happened.
The call of water roared up from the earth and into my body. My knees burned like they were on fire and I nearly dropped the dog from the overwhelming sensation. Another rock clipped my shoulder as I staggered to my feet.
“Stop!” I roared. “And follow me.” I waded into the crowd, kicking bodies that didn’t get out of the way soon enough. I used no pretense, no showmanship. No schtick. The call of water was like a string pulling me forward. I marched out of the camp and into the desert, carrying the dog, heedless of whether anyone followed. The moon rode high in the night sky, casting a silvery sheen across the landscape as I strode up and down the dunes.
“It’ll be okay,” I whispered to the dog. She tucked her long nose into my armpit and fell asleep.