by G. Deyke
~*~
The sun brings with it great heat when it rises, and it wakes me before Mel does. Before we break camp I call water again, so that we both may slake our thirst; the effort leaves me shaking. I cannot do this often. We must drink much, for we shall have no more water until nightfall.
We are surrounded on all sides by great sand dunes, so that even the Mountains are hidden from our sight. The limitless Desert stretches out around us. Our footsteps from the night before go every which way, so we can find no help there.
“Which way is Saluyah?” I ask again.
Mel gives a small shrug. “Which way are the Mountains, Arri?”
I shake my head and shrug.
She sighs. “Do you sense anything?”
I sense one of the dead-looking trees at some distance; it lives, though it is dark and leafless. I sense the tall, dark green cacti that grow straight upward. I sense a family of lizards on the other side of a great dune, where I cannot see them. I sense –
“There's a person, I think.”
“Where? How many? Is it our pursuers?” Mel's gray eyes look into mine intently. I shrink back a little and look away. Although Mel prefers to look at my eyes when she speaks to me, kretchin ought never to see the eyes of a noble, and I am always a little afraid to look her full in the face.
“Far away,” I say. “I can hardly sense them. It is not many... but it is too far to be certain.”
“Are they searching for us?” she asks again. I shake my head.
“I don't know. I don't think so. It's... moving farther away, I think.”
“Which way?”
I point.
“We shall follow them until we are near enough that you can count them,” she decides. “Perhaps, if they're no threat to us, they can point us to Saluyah.”
We walk. I fix my attention on the human life and lead the way, adjusting for it as it moves.
“There is only one,” I tell her at last. “They are alone, and I don't think they've noticed us.”
“Good,” she says, satisfied. “We shall ask this person where Saluyah lies.”
At last we are within sight of the lone stranger: a tall figure striding long-legged through the Desert, still distant but within our reach. If he sees us, he makes no sign of it.
Now that we have him in sight I relax my attention, and notice another life coming straight for us, quite fast. An insect, a lone insect, must have caught our scent. There is a part of me that remembers hearing that they usually travel in groups; but this thought is pushed from my mind by the force of my fear. “Insect!” I cry, in warning and in panic.
I fear the great Desert-insects. I fear them even when they are tame, mere pack-animals, harmless. And this wild one will eat us, perhaps even before we die; it will tear us apart; it will kill us. I know that they feed on travelers when they can, and this one will meet little defense. Mel has her little blue spells and her dagger, but I have nothing.
My oldest brother, Yuit, once tried to teach me what he could of hand-fighting. I learned slowly, and I did not learn well. He despaired of it well before I could defend myself. I tried to learn; but try as I might, I could not see from Yuit's stance how he would move, and I was unable to avoid his blows. And once he struck me I was too afraid to fight back. I ended up on the ground, curled up tightly against his fists and against all the world, and would not respond to his touch nor his voice; and there I remained, too afraid to move, until Silwen – my other brother – came and fetched me. After that I would not meet Yuit's eyes for weeks. In the end he had to be satisfied with giving me two simple instructions: to aim for the groin if I could, and to scream if I needed help.
But neither of these will help me here.
I whistle to Snake through dry lips, and take several backward steps. I will not run and leave Mel here, but I can be of no aid in this fight.
Mel draws her dagger, and she flings one of her little blue spells at the insect. It hardly seems to notice. I watch in fear: though she has her dagger, she has never learned to use it against an adversary with six long legs and powerful mandibles. I want to close my eyes against the horror of it, but I am too afraid. I must keep it in sight. At least, I must know when it is finished with Mel and wishes to kill me as well.
All at once a funnel of whirling sand sweeps in from my blind right side. It cannot be an ordinary sandstorm – it is too small, too fast – and the air is still all around me – but it is just as deadly. It kills the insect easily, and dissolves again into windblown sand.
I spin around to my right, seeking the source. All I see is the lone stranger. He has turned to face us, and is watching us without emotion.
“So, he is a conjurer!” says Mel as she straightens, deeply satisfied, and smiling as though the insect never was. “Haryin has indeed blessed me: he has sent me the last thing I need to complete my mission!”
The conjurer comes toward us, perhaps hoping to be repaid for his kindness, or perhaps hoping to see if we are uninjured; and we come toward him. He is a tall man, and thin, who stands very straight so that he appears even taller. His skin is brown, darker than mine and Mel's, and his hair is straight and dark, worn loose down his back. He looks almost like one of the Desert-folk; but there is something different in his face and in his dress, and I know that the Desert-folk never travel alone.
Now that we are closer I can see the man's face: his eyebrows are thick and low; his jaw is square, with a thin wisp of beard; his hands are large, and wearing several rings, and one of them is resting lightly on the hilt of a sword.
His eyes are dark, and his gaze as he looks us over is oddly contemptuous. I am grateful to the man for his help, so I waste no thought on it, and even Mel pays it no heed: perhaps she is so glad to come upon a conjurer this easily, before we even arrive at Saluyah, that something so little doesn't concern her. She hastens to introduce herself.
“Well met,” she says; “I am Melianarrheyal. And you are?”
I wonder for a moment why she introduces herself by name and not by House, and I almost ask her; but then it occurs to me that perhaps she does not want the man to know she is a noble. I hold my tongue, ashamed that I almost spoke.
“Ty,” says the man, then looks to me. “You?”
“That is Arri,” Mel says impatiently. “Now – Ty – you seem a skilled conjurer. Is your talent with elementals alone, or can you summon demons as well?”
“Both, but that little whirlwind hardly means that I am skilled. You could do with some perspective.”
Mel bridles at this. “Are you, then?”
He shrugs. “Skilled enough.”
I have often heard it said that conjury is a rare talent, but it only seems this way because a conjurer without training cannot use his talent at all, and only those who are wealthy or have a very strong talent have training; so there are many conjurers who go unnoticed. My brother Yuit might have been one, but he knows none of the symbols they use to control their power. He has no talent he can use.
“We are on a mission,” Mel is telling the man, “and we require the skills of a conjurer. If you would join us, I have gold enough to repay you. You may consider the offer a thanks for killing that insect.”
“I have no interest in your mission.”
Mel's eyes narrow, and the shadow of a smile crosses her face. Not for nothing have I known her these many years – I can see that her interest is aroused. She will do all she can to bring the man to join us, now. Mel loves a challenge.
“Have you no liking for gold? Is there truly nothing you desire beyond your means?”
“I have gold enough for all I need,” he says, shrugging again. “Of course, if you must be rid of it, I would not object to lightening your load.”
She does not respond to this, but says instead: “Without your help we are lost. If such an insect attacks again we shall surely perish. If we are to hire a conjurer in Saluyah, we must first arrive there safely.”
“If you plan to reach Saluyah, you'v
e been traveling in the wrong direction,” he says.
“Then we need your guidance as well! Without it, we shall be lost to the Desert. You would be condemning us to death to leave us here.”
“Interesting.” His lip twitches in a slight smile, so like Mel's that I shudder and whistle to Snake. “I'm sure the scavengers of the Desert would thank me for your deaths.”
Mel changes her tactic, seeing he is not to be moved by pity. “You say you are a skilled conjurer – how skilled? Might I find your equal in Saluyah? The service I require may be difficult to perform. Perhaps you are the only one who can help me. I have great confidence in your talent, and little in those Saluyah's conjurers have to offer, for I have never seen theirs at work.”
“What is this service, then?” There is no interest in his voice.
“I require a demon,” Mel says, “in order to exact vengeance upon a woman in Saluyah. A simple thing for a conjurer as skilled as yourself.”
“And who is this woman who has so wronged you?”
Mel looks away from him, unsure for the first time. “I do not know her name,” she admits. “But that can be found easily enough. She is the woman who led astray my betrothed and bore him a child. He is Kerheyin, of House Lithuk, and a man of sound morals and good judgment who could not betray me willingly. I am certain the woman charmed him, and I have sworn she will die.”
“And how often have you met this man of sound morals?” He sounds almost amused.
Mel draws her chin up high. “Never yet,” she says, “and I have had no need to. But we shall wed the winter after next, and I will have his honor and mine restored before that time.”
“Oh? How long has it been marred?” Is that interest in his eyes? No, it cannot be.
She shrugs. “My servants seemed sure the child must be two or three years old.”
This is new to me, and I am taken aback. The child must have been born quite shortly after Mel was betrothed; had she known then, I am certain her parents would have withdrawn the betrothal straightaway. To think that the key to her release was always so near at hand! But now, of course, Mel knows that she and Kerheyin belong together, and she does not wish to end her betrothal but to save it.
“A noble bastard in Saluyah,” Ty muses, and as I hear the words I know at once that I have heard them before. But I can't remember where.
Abruptly, he says: “Good. Then I shall be your guide and bodyguard for one gold in seven days, and I shall summon your demon for twenty gold – all in advance – and if you should decide that you need a conjurer's power for anything else, I shall require ten further gold before I do more.”
I have never had the coin to hire a conjurer, so I do not know how steep his price is. Mel agrees instantly, though perhaps that is only because she is glad that she has won her game with him. She counts out one-and-twenty gold and pays him at once.
He does not swear to our mission – he is bound by gold alone. I hope it is strong enough a binding. At least he seems to know in which direction to travel, for he strides into the Desert with purpose; his long legs allow him to take long steps, so I must hurry not to fall behind. Mel adjusts her own stride to better match his, and either she finds it easy or she masks her difficulty well.
We walk a long time, following our new guide. Several times I see him drink from a skin looped into his belt. I envy his foresight. I whisper this thought to Mel, saying we might buy such a skin for the return journey; she doesn't respond at first, but at last she says, “Perhaps,” and falls silent again. I hope I did not offend her. No doubt she thought of this without my help.
One day as we walk I become aware of a sea of life before us, and at last we crest a dune and I see the source below us: a vast field of small round cacti I haven't seen before, with a reddish undertone to their skin, and with thick black thorns as long as my thumb. They grow profusely and in disorder, and a faint but unpleasant odor surrounds the area.
“Stay back,” warns our guide, and he alters his course to skirt the field.
“What are they?” I ask, forgetting myself. This is the most life I have felt in one place since we entered the Desert, and it is so strong that I am not sure whether to be glad or afraid.
“Does it matter?” Mel asks. I suppose it does not, and I hush, shaking my head. Ty answers me all the same.
“Myrkhin,” he says. “In the Desert tongue, 'stench-plant'. If they are ripe, they burst when touched; and if they grow overripe they will burst without aid.”
I shudder at the thought of their thorns propelled into my skin; but Mel has voiced her disdain for the subject, so I say nothing, and swallow my questions.
Even so, Ty continues to provide curt explanations for the life of the Desert, not only on this day but also on those that follow. “Sakhin – 'water-plant' – a very good source for water, so that you must not die of thirst, although you find it so difficult to call water; and edible flesh,” he says of the tall dark cacti covered in long, light thorns; and Mel takes to cutting them open whenever we pass them. When she has slaked her thirst I too may drink, and I am glad of the water in this parched land. The severed portion I carry until nightfall, and add it to our poor soup. It does not taste of much.
Of the dark, leafless trees he says only: “Pikhin – 'wood-plant',” from which I guess that they have no use, except for firewood.
He tells us too that the scavenger-birds which descend each night to eat the offal from our meal are held sacred by the Desert-folk; but he gives them no name.
Once we come across a cloven track like those left by steeds' hooves. “Are there steeds in the Desert, then?” Mel asks.
“No,” Ty answers: “these are ryntar tracks. They are similar in some ways to your steeds, but I know of no one who has tried to tame them.”
“Let us hope they lead our pursuers astray,” Mel says, and I hope.
Whenever we stop for the night, Mel hunts for a lizard or rabbit (though these are rare, this far into the Desert) for supper, and I call water and forage for the sakhin plants to provide even the smallest bit of flavor. Neither of us is always successful, but we do not use the food she packed unless we must. Ty makes his own meals. Sometimes he hunts, or forages, but always alone, and he neither shares his food nor asks to share ours.
At first I find him interesting, for he knows much of the Desert and is an able guide, though he is also arrogant and seems to regard even Mel as an unfortunate burden. She is naturally irked by this, and soon enough it becomes clear that she dislikes the man. Although she seemed eager enough to flatter him when they first spoke, she does not speak to him now unless she has reason to; nor does he speak to her without mocking her. He mocks us both. There is derision in his voice, and bitterness, always, as though our every action was a personal offense – and yet he does not seem to resent us. He looks at us with mild scorn, nothing more.
When we have a moment alone, Mel confesses thoughts of releasing him, and hoping for a more courteous conjurer in Saluyah; but she still holds that Ty is the best conjurer she has seen, and that she would not do with any but the best. Also she is glad to save some time, now that she must no longer seek out a conjurer once we reach the city.
So we are left with this one, discourteous though he is; and because Mel has made her distaste for him clear, my interest quickly gives way to dislike.