Sands of Memory

by Melissa McShane

  The road spooled away northward into scrubland, not true sandy desert, but still arid, the ground hard, cracked white clay that would be blinding when the sun fully rose. Scruffy gray-green bushes clung to life within those cracks, drinking up water not visible on the surface. A few gnarled trees, equally dusty, spread low branches in wide canopies that would provide scant shelter in a few hours. Birds chirped and twittered, swooping from tree to bush and eating Sienne didn’t know what. Insects, maybe. It was hard to imagine anything living out here, despite the birds.

  “It is a few hours before we reach true desert,” Vaishant called out. “Then we will make our journey between havens. They are…places of refuge, yes? With water and shade. The pakhshani use them too. Though at this season we are unlikely to see them. They travel north, where it is cooler.”

  “Is that a polite way of saying we’re crazy for making this trip now?” Alaric said.

  Vaishant laughed. He had a nice laugh, hearty and open. “The desert is not a friendly place at any time. You will see this. God teaches us that no journey is without risk, because it is in the journey we are made to change. A bird who fights free of the egg is a bird strong enough to fly one day.”

  “And hardship makes us strong?” Kalanath said. There was an edge to his voice that surprised Sienne.

  “Do you disagree?” Vaishant said. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

  “I do not think looking for hardship is good. That is what those who worship God as destroyer think. I would rather not have fled. I do—did things I wish I had not because I must.”

  “And yet you are the man you are because you do these things. Because of all you have endured. What would you give up if it meant losing who you are now?” Vaishant’s voice was gentle, but he didn’t look at Kalanath, riding well behind him.

  Kalanath scowled, but said nothing. Sienne said, “It’s not just the bad things that shape us, it’s everything we experience. Wouldn’t you rather have known you were Kalanath’s father years ago, and not missed all those years?”

  She knew immediately it was a mistake. Kalanath’s silence spread outward from him until it encompassed all of them. Vaishant’s back went rigid. “At least in that I had no choice,” he said, so quietly Sienne almost couldn’t hear him. “I could not even suspect…”

  “I’m sorry,” Sienne began.

  “There is nothing to be sorry for,” Vaishant said, and lapsed into silence again. Sienne, her face flaming, caught Ghrita’s mocking eye and cursed herself. Of course Vaishant had regrets, and most of them he couldn’t do anything about. It was none of her business.

  They rode on. The sun rose, turning the grays and browns of the wasteland a dozen shades of white. Sienne developed a headache from the reflected glare almost immediately. There was nowhere to look to relieve the brightness. Even the sky felt bleached to near-whiteness, as pale as Alaric’s eyes but more merciless. Sweat pooled beneath Sienne’s arms and breasts and trickled down her back. She took a drink of cool water and tried to come up with reasons to be grateful. She wasn’t walking, that was something. She wasn’t alone. She had plenty of water. It was an adventure. That last made her want to laugh. How quickly the adventure had palled.

  By the time the sun rode highest in the sky, they’d left the road behind and were well and truly surrounded by sand dunes. Vaishant and Ghrita directed them in erecting the tents. They were bigger than the ones the companions usually used on a job, with many poles that held up the heavy canvas and sides that rolled up to allow the desert breezes to cool their occupants. Sienne laid out rugs over the sand and sat down next to Alaric. It was too hot for cuddling, but he took her hand and held it loosely in his. “Still glad you came?” he said.

  “We’ve barely been out here half a day. It’s too early to complain.”

  “True. It’s all so different, though. The land, the desert…even our goal. I’m trying not to be too hopeful. What if we reach Ma’tzehar, and there’s nothing there?”

  “Then we figure out the next step. But there will be something. I’m certain of it.”

  “I’ll lean on your confidence.” He looked so exotic, dressed in desert robes, that Sienne wished they were somewhere cooler and more private. She settled for squeezing his hand and reveling in the smile he gave her in return.

  After a few hours in which Sienne napped fitfully, Vaishant had them break camp, and they moved on. It was hot enough that Sienne couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been if they’d kept traveling instead of camping briefly. Waves of heat radiated off the horizon like a distant lake, and she found herself looking forward to the desert winds Chakhran had warned them of. She didn’t want to discount the effect of being scoured by sand, but a breeze would be nice.

  When the sun began to slip behind the horizon, Sienne started looking to Vaishant for the signal to halt. But they kept going until after full dark, despite the moonless night. Sienne made magical lights that didn’t do much to dispel the darkness; in fact, the lights made the darkness outside their circle deeper and more impenetrable. The air cooled, and kept cooling, until Sienne felt chilly despite her several layers. She was grateful for the warmth of her head scarf and the horse’s body heat. They hadn’t brought fuel for a fire, which would have meant hauling twice the load, and Sienne had seen the sense in that. Now she regretted the lack.

  “Shelter, and then food,” Vaishant said. He dismounted, but instead of going to the pack horse to unload the tent, he led his horse forward into the darkness. Sienne jogged her horse’s ribs to follow, and came up short as a squat gray building loomed out of the shadows ahead. She got down and walked forward, feeling as if the thing had appeared by magic and might disappear the same way if she weren’t cautious.

  Vaishant returned, without his horse. “Come, come,” he said. “The haven is unoccupied. It is just us.”

  Sienne gathered her lights into one place and sent them to hover over the building. It looked like a squared-off clay brick, with small ventilation holes surrounding the roof and one larger hole for a door. Sienne ducked to enter—Alaric was going to have real trouble—and found herself in a room that looked like it went the entire length of the building. There were no furnishings, and the walls were unpainted, giving it the appearance of a prison. Two interior doorways opened on darkness, but when Sienne investigated, she found nothing but two smaller rooms just as bare and unappealing as the first.

  “We sleep here,” Vaishant said, startling her. “Cook outside. I will light a fire and you will unload the horses.”

  Sienne nodded and went back to where her horse stood. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see a structure that might be a stable and a fire pit where Vaishant crouched. Beyond those was the low, humped shape of a well. She led her horse to the stable and set about removing her saddle. Beside her, Dianthe said, “This isn’t what I expected when he called it a haven. I was thinking more along the lines of a desert oasis like they have in stories.”

  “I suppose that was never very likely, huh?” Sienne said with a smile.

  “It could happen!” Dianthe said, laughing.

  “What could happen?” Alaric said, leading his horse up beside them.

  “Magical desert oases,” Dianthe said. “Cool ponds under palm trees.”

  “Scorpions in your boots,” Alaric said. “Sand in your—”

  “Go ahead, ruin my fantasy,” Dianthe said.

  “What, you don’t think this place is beautiful even without ponds and palm trees?” Alaric unfastened his horse’s saddle and set it on the ground. “And it smells so fresh. Though some of that is the rice Vaishant is cooking.”

  “Real Omeiran desert cuisine,” Sienne said. “All part of the adventure.”

  When they’d finished unloading the horses, Vaishant had produced a meal that smelled deliciously of spices and coconut, served over soft, sticky rice and eaten with cold flat breads. “They should be hot, but that takes time,” he said.

  “It’s wonderful,” Dianthe said. �
��I’m never so hungry as when I’m in the wilderness.”

  “Travel is indeed a fine spice,” Perrin said. He helped himself to another piece of bread and conveyed a dripping morsel to his mouth. “Though spice is also a very fine spice.”

  Sienne kept an eye on Kalanath. He ate steadily and in silence, responding only with nods when addressed directly. He didn’t meet Vaishant’s eye and sat as far from the man as the fire would allow. When he finished, he stood and said, “I will wash tonight.”

  “Oh, I can do that, Kalanath,” Sienne said.

  “I would like to.” He held out a hand for her tin plate. She handed it to him and watched him walk away in the direction of the well.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Alaric said in a low voice.

  “He’s probably just tired,” Sienne said, horribly conscious of Vaishant listening.

  “He does not like me,” Vaishant said.

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Dianthe said.

  Vaishant shook his head. “We are not father and son in the usual way. He does not like me taking his mother’s time. And he thinks I have no right to him. To his affection.”

  “Three days ago he didn’t know he had a father,” Alaric said. “He needs time.”

  “Some things don’t happen no matter how much time you have,” Ghrita said, stretching out her long legs.

  “You don’t know that,” Sienne snapped.

  “I’m not saying this is one of them,” Ghrita replied, unperturbed by Sienne’s tone. “Just that you can’t compel love.”

  “You ought to keep that in mind,” Sienne said, rising. Ghrita smiled at her with that mocking expression Sienne had come to hate.

  Vaishant rose as well. “We will leave at first light,” he said. “Rest well. I must pray now.” He walked away out of the circle of firelight and disappeared to view.

  Sienne collected plates and carried them to where Kalanath had drawn water and was scrubbing the plates with handfuls of sand. “Let me help, it’ll go faster,” she said. Kalanath only nodded.

  They scrubbed for a while in silence. Sienne breathed in the cool night air and felt the tiredness of the day’s travel seep into her bones. “I’ll sleep well tonight,” she said.

  “I think I will dream. I do not wish to,” Kalanath said.

  “I didn’t think you could control it that well.”

  “I cannot. But I can feel it when a dream is coming. And I have dreamed every night since we arrived in Omeira. Always dreams of something coming, something that watches. Something I do not see.”

  “That sounds unpleasant. Can we do anything?”

  “I think not. But I am glad you care.”

  She caught his sidelong smile, and it relieved her mind. It was enough to make her say, “About Vaishant…”

  The smile vanished. “What about him?”

  “What do you think he wants from you?” It wasn’t what she wanted to ask, which was Will you ever see him as your father? But it felt like the right question.

  Kalanath relaxed. “I do not know. I think he wishes for those lost years. He does not have other children and believed he was incapable.” He grimaced. “My birth was miraculous for him as well, I think.”

  “I get the feeling he doesn’t know how to be a father. But…I think he’s trying. Does that matter?”

  Kalanath sat back on his haunches, a plate forgotten in his hand. “I did not feel I need a father, all my life,” he said. “I do not want one now. It is that he loves my mother, and they are one. I am not a part of that one. I should not be angry at her happiness, but I am. I feel anger, and guilt, and shame, and I do not like to look at him because I remember all those things when I do.”

  “He’s going to be with us for weeks, Kalanath. You can’t not look at him that whole time.”

  “Can I not?” He smiled to show it was a joke. “He is not a bad man. I will learn what I want from him, and then it will be easier. But I do not know if I will ever call him Father.”

  “I think that’s up to you,” Sienne said. She collected the plates and added, “I hope you’re wrong, and you don’t dream tonight.”

  “It is my hope also,” Kalanath said. “I think I will sit outside for a while.”

  Sienne nodded and carried the plates back to the fire, which Dianthe had banked for the night. Alaric still sat there, watching the embers. “Did you talk to him?” he said.

  “He’s struggling. And he’s been dreaming again. But I think he’ll be all right.”

  Alaric drew her down to sit next to him. “It’ll be a very long trip if some of us aren’t speaking to the others.”

  “He knows.”

  Alaric kissed her, a light gesture that rapidly became something more serious. Sienne put her arms around him and kissed him back, tasting the spices of the meal and breathing in the musky scent that was his alone. “Damn,” she said when he released her. “No privacy.”

  “We could ferry back home for the night and return in the morning,” Alaric said, his eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, that’s tempting. But you know if we started doing that, it would destroy morale.”

  “Morale, yes. We wouldn’t want to do that.” He kissed her again, his lips giving his words the lie. Sienne sighed, then slid her hand between their mouths. Alaric kissed her palm once, then hugged her and stood. “This is going to be a damned long trip.”

  Sienne nodded. Between Kalanath’s moodiness, Ghrita’s antagonism, and the complete lack of privacy, it was going to be a very long trip indeed.

  10

  The second day was exactly like the first: rising early, camping mid-day, sleeping at another of the havens. This time, they reached the haven before sunset, but Vaishant called a halt anyway. “We will sleep rough soon enough,” he said. Sienne, lying in the darkness on the hard floor of the haven’s shelter, thought it was more than rough enough.

  Talking as they rode through the desert heat was exhausting, and Sienne spent the next few days daydreaming, her mind ranging far from the brutal heat and unending sand. Kalanath had said once Omeiran temples were all mostly identical, so she pictured the Ma’tzehar temple like the one in Chirantan, but run-down and neglected, maybe with its garden courtyard desiccated by the sun and sand-scoured air. When she got tired of that, she imagined being back in Fioretti, and then in Beneddo, which led her to think about the Deluccos and wonder if Alcander had found a solution yet.

  Sometimes she rode beside Perrin, the two of them riding as was customary at the center of the group, and occasionally tried to strike up a conversation. His responses were terse, and eventually she gave up. She couldn’t help watching him, though. He made the strangest faces, smiling for no reason and then furrowing his brow in thought. Sometimes he drew his scarf up over his mouth when there wasn’t any wind, and Sienne was sure he was concealing a laugh. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity, she said, “Perrin, what’s so funny?”

  He startled, glanced at her, and said, “I did not realize…it is not a joke I can share without a great deal of explanation.”

  “You looked like you were telling yourself a funny story.”

  “Close. I was speaking with Cressida, and she was telling me of something Noel did yesterday.”

  “I didn’t realize you had that blessing again.”

  Perrin smiled. “I have had that blessing every day since we left Fioretti, unasked for but marvelously welcome. It is…” He ducked his head. “I did not know how much I longed for my wife until I was reunited with her, even in this small way. Averran has been generous beyond anything I could have imagined.”

  “That’s beautiful. Are you…reconciled?”

  He shook his head. “It is not an easy thing, gaining forgiveness. We each said and did things that wounded the other terribly. Much of what we speak of concerns our children, and our daily routine—nothing of deep or abiding interest. But I have hope that when we meet again, we may have learned to forgive each other. And…is it too optimistic of me to say I can i
magine us a family again?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  Perrin sighed. “For now, I continue to be grateful for Averran’s intervention. And pray that your brother will be successful. It would break my heart to lose them again.”

  “We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  He looked off into the distance. “I hope you do not regret that promise…what, I wonder, is that?”

  Sienne looked where he pointed. A large gray boulder, scoured to a matte finish by the relentless winds, emerged from the sand some hundred feet away. Patches of sand near it were darker than the rest, making interesting swirls that relieved Sienne’s sun-blinded eyes. “That’s strange,” she said.

  At the head of the line, Vaishant waved to them, gesturing to stay wide of the stone. “Is it dangerous?” Sienne asked.

  She hadn’t spoken to anyone in particular, but Ghrita, riding behind her, said, “Scorpions may nest in the shade of such rocks. There’s no—”

  An earsplitting wail shook the air, and something big and sand-colored erupted from the ground near the boulder. It shook itself, sending sand flying, and raced toward them.

  Sienne whipped her book open to force and read as rapidly as she dared. The thing looked like a giant lizard, but with too many legs, all of them digging into the sand and sending up great gouts of it as the lizard ran. Its oversized head bellowed a challenge. The horses’ shrill cries of panic mingled with its wail until Sienne wished she dared cover her ears.

  Force leaped from her when the thing was only twenty feet away. It smashed into the creature, making it stagger, and then Alaric was there, sword in hand, with Dianthe running to the side to take advantage of the distraction. Alaric’s first blow glanced off the beast’s pebbly hide, but the second bit deep into its left foreleg, sending black blood streaming. It howled again, and reared up on its hind legs to strike. Fierce claws raked at Alaric, who leaped back and nearly fell into his horse, whose reins Vaishant held. The divine yanked on the reins, dragging the panicking horse away. Alaric regained his balance and struck again.