by Glenda Larke
Jasper and Rubric exchanged worried glances. “We have no reason to think it won’t work.”
“You’ve no reason to think it does, either, unless someone else has tried it before.”
“Rubric?” Jasper asked.
“I’ve no idea.”
“And,” Ryka continued, “I don’t much like the idea that Terelle could be at the mercy of Laisa and Senya. If Laisa gets her claws into Terelle, she has a hold over you.”
“I’d rather trust a scorpion in my bed than Lord Laisa somewhere in the same city as me,” he said, “but do I think she would hurt Terelle? No. She knows what Terelle and I can do together to bring rain, and she is far too much a rainlord to want to jeopardise that. A drought would hurt her personally, and Laisa likes her comforts. The main reason she released Taquar was to force me to work with him to bring water. Thanks to Rubric and Umber, that’s not necessary. Secondly, in Amberlyn, she and Taquar already have the perfect way to control me.” He paused, then added, “I sent two sky messages; one to Laisa, the other to Taquar. They were simply worded: If Amberlyn dies, so do you.”
He frowned unhappily. “Senya is another matter. She—she is not rational. However, Umber knows all about that and he will keep an eye on Terelle. He’s delighted to find he has a relative he actually likes. And you know, Ry, Terelle is very capable of looking after herself.”
“That’s true,” Rubric said. “As we in the Verdigris family found to our cost.” His smile gleamed at her out of the darkness.
“Why didn’t you bring her here?” Ryka asked.
“Do you think it’s safer here?” he asked.
She didn’t reply.
He added quietly, “I needed someone there to help Jade and Umber, and I didn’t want to bring her into the midst of a war in the Red Quarter.”
War? Is that what he and Kaneth are calling it now? She hugged Kedri tighter. “So what are you going to do about the three of them—Laisa, Senya and Taquar?” The teacher in her was intrigued: this thoughtful, mature man was the same lad who had once wrestled with his feelings of incompetence? And here she was, not offering advice now, but asking what he was going to do.
“For the time being? Nothing. My personal priority is to keep Amberlyn safe. And, ironically, probably the best way for me to do that is to do nothing.”
It almost killed you to say that. Watergiver damn, but it’s hard to believe rational arguments when your heart is involved. I know what you’re suffering, Jasper…
“She has the same nurses she’s had since the day she was born, so she’s likely to be content. I don’t expect her to be ill-used by Taquar for no reason; that’s not his way. His cruelties always have a purpose.” In the dim light she could see no change in his expression, but the tone of his voice was as cold and unforgiving as a stone bitten between one’s teeth.
“I once promised Nealrith that I would look after Senya,” he said a moment later. “But I don’t think that’s possible. Or even something I want to do. So I’ll leave her to Lord Laisa’s care.” He gave a grim smile. “A just punishment for Laisa, perhaps. Terelle will show Umber where all the maps and coordinates are for the Scarpen stormbringing. Cottle Chandler, the seneschal, has my instructions to offer them every aid. Laisa might be highlord, but I’ve sent personal orders to my guard there to refer all orders to Chandler.” He paused, his face clouding. “As long as Taquar gets his water without having to work for it or pay for it, he will be content—for a while. And so my priority as Cloudmaster has to be elsewhere, not with Amberlyn.”
“Here.” That was Kaneth, injecting the word into the conversation as fact. “Your priorities are here. You have to deal with the dunes first.”
Jasper nodded. “You’re walking a fine line between disaster and maintaining what you have. Ravard will find you here eventually. It’s inevitable.”
“Of course.” Kaneth shrugged. “I’m surprised we’ve gone undetected this long. We’re building up our forces hoping to match his, but it’s too slow. Sandmasters and tribemasters fear Ravard too much to support us openly. So Ravard commands many more men than we do,” Kaneth continued. “And we’ve had to devote a lot of our energies to bringing water to the northern dunes.”
“At least you won’t have to do that any more now that Rubric and I are here,” Jasper said. “Two stormlords, one rainlord”—he nodded at Ryka—“and you, a man with the ability to move the sand beneath their feet. I think we can tip the odds in our favour.”
Kaneth grinned at him. “Now that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear.” He clapped Rubric on the back. “Welcome to the dunes, my lord. We need you.”
Ah, Ravard, why wouldn’t you listen to me? Ryka thought. They plan your death, and it could so easily have been otherwise.
“Someone’s coming at a run,” Jasper said, even as Kaneth was saying, “Something’s wrong.” They both scrambled to their feet, looking in the same direction.
Ryka strove to feel what they did, but as usual she was the last to sense anything. A moment after she became aware of a running man, Cleve jogged up out of the darkness. “Could be a problem,” he told them, panting. “It’s Guyden. Rode out at dusk.”
Jasper looked at Kaneth in question.
“A youngster from Scarmaker,” Kaneth said. “We restrict coming and going to prevent betrayal. What happened, Cleve? In the Quartern tongue, please.”
The man looked embarrassed. “Everyone’s attention was on your visit. The guard on duty at the canyon entrance said Guyden gave a plausible reason: he had to make sure you’d left no tracks on your way in. Thing is, he never came back. They didn’t realise he had no right to leave until their stint of duty was over. I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Doesn’t sound good,” Jasper murmured.
“How long ago was this?” Kaneth asked Cleve.
“Four runs.”
“Any point in following him?” Jasper asked.
“Could you sense him?” Kaneth asked him.
“I can’t pinpoint someone who’s had a start of four sandglass runs! An armed troop, maybe, but not a single man on a single pede.”
“Then no, there’s not much point. One person taking care not to leave tracks?” Kaneth shook his head. “I’ll send a small fast band including a water sensitive after him, but I suspect they won’t catch up. He’s well on his way to Dune Watergatherer, I’ll bet.”
“Not just a runaway?” Jasper asked. “You think he’s a spy?”
“Of course he is! Probably my father’s son,” Cleve said, and his voice was riven through with bitterness. “My half-brother. Islar. Why didn’t I see it? Right age, and Vara didn’t think he looked like the lad he said he was. Ravard sent him! That treacherous water-waster—”
They all stared at him in shock.
Finally it was Jasper who spoke. “It seems we both have interesting brothers, then, Cleve. A mistake to underestimate either of them.” He must have been delivered a heavy blow with the news, but his tone never wavered. “We’d better assume Ravard will soon know where to find us, how to get in here, and every detail of your camp, strengths and weaknesses.”
Kaneth turned back to Cleve. “Double the guards from now on. Send out two pedes and ten men, a water sensitive among them. If they haven’t found Guyden by the time they cross the Hungry One, they’re to return. I’ll be along in a moment to discuss plans. Rubric, go with Cleve. You may as well learn as much about God’s Pellets as you can.”
The two men left, Cleve already launching into a description of the camp’s defences while Rubric listened.
Kaneth turned to Jasper. “Seems your arrival was opportune.”
“Seems our arrival prompted this Guyden to action!”
“Possibly. I liked the lad.” Being Kaneth, he shrugged and moved on. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re back, Jasper. Glad enough not to slaughter you for risking your life in the first place, crossing the border like that. Tomorrow I’ll need to alert our dune allies. Can you write some cloud messages for us?”
“Certainly. Just remember that they can be seen by everyone, not just those you want to tell. I’ll need any maps you have.”
“I’ll get them. And another lamp.” He disappeared inside the tent.
Jasper looked at Kedri on Ryka’s lap. “He’s grown so much. I’ve been thinking of him as a baby, and here he is walking.”
Kedri promptly scrambled off her lap and crawled to Jasper’s feet. He hauled himself into a standing position. “Up!” he said imperiously. “Want up!”
Jasper grinned and lifted him into his arms. “Leadership qualities, definitely.”
“A despot in the making, you mean.”
“Far too much charm for that.”
“A charming despot. The worst kind. He’s a stormlord, you know.”
He thought she wasn’t serious. “How can you possibly tell that at this age?”
“He moves water. For a long time I couldn’t be sure, but I am now, and Vara agrees with me. We have to watch him like an eagle to make sure he doesn’t play with it.”
Jasper looked at her in shock, then smiled delightedly. “Is that normal for a stormlord? To develop skills so young?”
“No. He’s just a precocious brat.”
“I think that’s the best news I’ve had in half a cycle.” He swung Kedri up over his head and the boy chuckled. “You are our future, my lad. A cloudmaster in the making.”
“More, more!” crowed Kedri, but then caught sight of Kaneth inside the tent. “Down! Want Dada. Dada play!”
As he toddled off, Jasper turned back to Ryka. They stared at one another in silence for a long while before he spoke again. “Tell me I did the right thing, coming here first.” His voice was ragged with grief, with remembered horror.
“You did the right thing.” She whispered, as if to say the words too loudly would be to make them untrue.
“Then why does it feel so bad? Sandhells, Ry, I love them both so much I’d die for them without a second thought. I swore I’d take care of them. And all I’ve done is send Terelle into danger and allow Amberlyn to remain in the hands of my greatest enemy. I want to tear Taquar in two with my bare hands. I want to trample him into the ground. I want to hold my daughter, I want to see her smile once more. And what do I do instead? Come here to fight my brother who was once my only friend and protector. It all feels so blighted wrong.”
“Mica had a number of chances to change direction. This is his choice.”
“Is—is he a bad man, Ry?”
She looked down so she didn’t have to see the pain in his eyes. “No. But bad things were done to him. Some people come out on the other side of horror better men; others don’t. Mica coped by becoming a man called Ravard. Mica’s never coming back, Jasper. I’m sorry. I didn’t hate him, you know, even when I hated what he did to me. I’m sorry for him even now. He saved my life several times, at cost to himself. He was prepared to raise my son as his own. But he was warped by his past. He just…” She hunted for the right word. “He just couldn’t see the world as other people do.”
“Now people will die so needlessly because of his choices, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
“You can’t.”
She looked at him then, and wanted to weep.
The next morning, Jasper asked Ryka to take him and Rubric to the top of the highest of God’s Pellets. He needed to develop a feel for their surroundings, and to climb the steep-sided, rounded hump offering the best view to the south was one way to do that. Some of the twenty-two hills surrounding the valley were connected to others; some were separated by narrow canyons. Eight of these canyons led into the central valley, many others were dead ends, twisting and turning until they gradually became narrower and narrower and finally petered out.
The highest knob was the favoured lookout; from the top it was possible to see both Dune Koumwards to the south and Dune Burning View to the north. It was a long, hot climb via ladders and roped steps, and the final stage was inside a natural pipe hollowed out by ancient forces.
“I have an idea that climbing down again is going to be even harder than coming up,” Rubric remarked as they emerged into the sunlight close to the two sentries on duty.
Jasper unrolled the map he had stuffed into his small pack and anchored it with some pebbles. When the sentries came in to look, he scolded them and sent them back to their watch. They couldn’t afford to be lax, not now. “So, Ry, where are we?”
She tapped the map. “Here. We’re looking out towards Dune Koumwards, which has no tribes of its own. It’s an exceptionally tall dune, otherwise you might be able to see the peaks of Singing Shifter on the other side.” She added, for Rubric’s benefit, “Ravard’s dune, Watergatherer, is the seventh one to the south. If none of our men can overtake Guyden, it’ll take him several days to get there, and presumably a few more for any attacking force to prepare. So we have some time to perfect our defences. Our men are blocking up most of these entrance canyons at the moment.”
“How?” Rubric asked.
“Stones, traps, drop nets, stakes, deadfalls. We have sentries on top of every high knob, and water sensitives on pedeback patrolling all the way around. Unfortunately Guyden had plenty of time to explore and find out which canyons are dead ends and which ones go all the way through to the valley.”
“Even if we had enough food, we don’t want to hunker down here,” Jasper said. “We need to defeat Ravard, not be cowed by him.” He was aware of Ryka’s sympathetic glance and ignored it. He found it easier to say Ravard, rather than Mica. He could pretend that way, pretend that the sandmaster was not the brother he’d once loved. “We will ride out after him.”
“Fight somewhere on the dunes? Wouldn’t we lose the advantage?”
We? Sweet waters, he’s almost one of us already.
It was Ryka who answered. “Up to a point, yes. We have assets in two stormlords, a rainlord and Kaneth. And all they have is water sensitives. But we have only four thousand armsmen here. Out on the dunes I have no idea how many we can count on. They make promises, but who knows? Dune Watergatherer has about eight thousand fully trained, disciplined battle-experienced warriors on their own dune and could probably muster or coerce several thousands more, all experienced, from other dunes. And I’m not counting the camp followers—the lads or old men who look after the pedes, the slaves and so on.”
“Ah. The odds suddenly don’t look so good.” Rubric was pensive. “So why not wait and ask for help from the other quarters as ye did before?”
“We tried,” Ryka said, her expression wry, “immediately after the battle at the Qanatend mother cistern. They turned us down. To most Scarpen folk, Reduners are the enemy. All of them.”
“Those who came to help us from the Gibber suffered terribly,” Jasper added. “They died, they were injured, they lost their pedes. I’d never ask them to come again. Never. We sent them home with all we could afford to give them, but the Scarpen folk were not as generous as I hoped.” He waved a hand at the plains and Dune Koumwards. “We’ll fight out there on the dunes somewhere. Two armies, Ravard’s and ours. And we’ll win because to lose will mean that this war will have to be fought over and over again, with the Reduners wanting random rain and trying to kill every water sensitive and rainlord and stormlord we have. I want peace on the dunes. A lasting peace.”
“And how will ye bring that out of war?” Rubric asked. He sounded more puzzled than critical.
Jasper’s heart thumped unpleasantly fast. I don’t know. Damn you, Rubric, you have a talent for asking the wrong questions. “I have no idea. Right now I have to write some sky messages to all the dunes asking the men of other dunes for their help. It’s a beginning.”
“Islar’s back.”
At last! Ravard, seated at the communal table between the tents, looked up from his breakfast at the warrior who had brought the message. “Bring him here,” he said, careful to sound unhurried and calm. When Islar came, he eyed the water on the table before he even appeared to notice h
is sandmaster. Wordlessly, Ravard handed him the water skin. “Drink,” he said. “And eat. Then tell me all you know. You’re a welcome sight.”
Once Islar began his story, Ravard marvelled. God’s Pellets was a hollow circle of hills and not solid as they had all supposed? The rock itself blocked their water-sensing powers? And there was water there. Endless water! Truly a dune god’s miracle.
The worst news was the arrival of Shale. Jasper. He hadn’t expected that. The last he’d heard, his brother had been in Breccia playing at being the saviour of the land. Why the waterless hells did he have to interfere in Reduner affairs? If only he’d decided to stay in the Scarpen, their paths need never have crossed again.
Having to contend with a stormlord was going to be tough. At least the rebels had only two rainlords: Ryka—and Uthardim, with his additional strange talent for moving sand. When Islar mentioned there was one other dark-skinned stranger in the party, he decided it was doubtless just another Gibber grubber, probably a friend of Shale’s.
Over the course of the day, Kher Medrim, in his capacity as Warrior Son, set in motion plans to call up dune warriors, while he himself teased still more information out of Islar. How many warriors did Kaneth have? What weaponry did they possess? How many pedes? How could they enter God’s Pellets? Would it be better to trap them inside or entice them out?
He already knew sky messages had been sent. Those that had been read didn’t make sense. It didn’t take him long to realise Kaneth had already communicated some kind of code to those dunes he knew would support him. With the arrival of the Cloudmaster, he had an easy way of sending a coded message. At a guess, he was calling for an assembly of their forces somewhere or another.
That evening, he told Islar and Medrim that he was declaring Islar his Master Son, as he had promised.
Islar, his dark eyes gazing at the sandmaster with a steady arrogance, said, “It’s my due.”
“Careful,” Ravard said, glowering at him, “or you’ll be thinking your prick is too big to fit in your trousers.”