by Thomas Locke
“I should have done this long before now,” Hyam said.
“Sire, this is your wife’s—”
“Joelle is with the Elves,” Hyam said. “And we face danger on all sides.”
Meda slipped off her sword and belted Joelle’s into place. Gripping the pommel, she bowed tightly and said, “For the lady.”
Hyam nodded stiffly and turned around. Meda watched him stagger toward the perimeter, his distress a sunset shroud. She turned to Shona and jerked her chin. “Follow him.”
Shona rose and trailed Hyam over to where he stood watching the moonrise. He showed no surprise at her approach. At least he did not send her away. His distress turned his features craven in the dim light. They stood in silence for a time, then he turned and settled a hand on her shoulder before walking back to their mage-fire. Shona followed him, the feel of his hand still with her as she lay down and gave in to sleep.
The next day, Selim pushed the caravan harder still, explaining that the wells between them and Olom were chancy and often dried out during the summer, which was another reason why theirs was the only caravan trekking over the empty wastes. But Shona was growing accustomed to the trek and the heat. Her body no longer complained except in the day’s final hours. She rose each morning with renewed excitement over the adventure and the chance to share this quest with Hyam. She felt the old restrictions fading, the bonds between them growing ever stronger. This was a new world. New rules. New opportunities. It was only a matter of time.
Hyam started each day riding with Fareed and made no complaint when she joined them. Fareed spoke of the desert ways, of guiding by starlight, of the sun’s transition, of the small signals that a caravan master learned to read for danger and direction both. He showed them how to shift position from time to time, riding with one leg crooked over the pommel. How to study the horizon, searching for signs. He spoke of his own former master, a wretch who took pleasure in the small indignities that created such misery on the trek. He spoke of magic with the quiet fervor of one who had never thought he might find a purpose for this strange burden called life.
When Hyam’s attention wandered back to his absent wife, Fareed read the man’s mood and steered his camel away. Shona went with the young mage, as though the only reason she had joined them was to learn. She and Fareed then spent many happy hours talking spells.
Fareed disliked speaking about himself. But the empty reaches proved a good place for revealing secrets. Shona learned how he had pulled so far ahead of all the other acolytes that he threatened even some senior wizards. So Fareed had begun to fake mistakes. When Connell had invited him to help establish the Emporis magery, Fareed had leapt at the chance. Fareed liked and admired Connell. What was more, the master mage of Emporis took with them a caravan-load of spell-scrolls and a chest of gold to acquire more.
That was another reason why Edlyn was visiting the realm’s Long Halls, Fareed revealed. So Falmouth could become a repository for copies of spell-scrolls from other Long Halls. Just in case the darkness spread. Fareed spoke those final words with grim awareness. Just in case the darkness spread.
The next night, Fareed and Shona approached their two leaders, Hyam and Selim, and asked permission to practice magery with their new wands. Hyam and Selim responded with a pair of frowns, then asked for time to deliberate.
Eventually Hyam walked over and said, “It’s a good idea. But we can’t risk revealing our hand.”
“Selim has said we’re the only caravan out this time of year,” Shona pointed out. “If they are searching, we will be found.”
Fareed added,“If we don’t practice, how can we use them in time of need?”
Hyam nodded slowly. Shona liked how he gave their words such careful consideration, how he treated her and Fareed both as equals. “Look around you. What do you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Precisely. It is one thing to light campfires, another thing entirely to use your wands. We would light up the entire yellow realm with your spells. And there is something else to consider. These amulets might actually be hiding us from view.” Briefly he described how the orb had masked the crimson mage from both the Elves and the Ashanta. He went on, “We don’t know if it’s a spell or some innate trait of the orb. Or even if this power transfers to the miniatures.”
“But we can’t take that risk,” Shona agreed.
“Practice every spell you can. But hold off on connecting to the wands. For all our sakes.”
The next day Shona and Fareed began using their quirts as wands. They spun the spells and weaved the required designs. They created ribbons of power that streaked the dry desert air. But neither Hyam nor Selim objected. Over and over they practiced the spells until Shona knew both the words and the gestures by rote.
Once Shona asked about Fareed’s family. He grew very sad at that and spoke a few words about desert bandits who had seared their village with mage-fire when he was five. Then he turned away and rode alone for the rest of that long afternoon.
That evening they came upon another well, the first since Lystra. They cooked another well-water stew. Otherwise they existed upon hard bread, dates, olives, dried beef, shriveled apples, apricots, and tea. Endless cups of tea, poured from tall bronze kettles with delicate stems embossed in silver. These pots were the first items to be unpacked and the last to be lashed into place. Shona thrived on the steamy mint draughts. They erased her weariness and revived her. As did the quiet moments after sunset.
When everyone but the night’s watch bedded down, and Hyam stepped beyond the camp’s perimeter to stare over the empty vista and watch the moonrise, Shona joined him. It was almost enough to share in these private moments. Even though her yearnings remained unrequited. Even though it was the absence of another woman that drew them together. Almost.
The next afternoon an uncommon wind blew up from the south. The currents ate at Shona with a low moan that drilled into her mind. The sand bit her skin, hot as ash. Selim rode the caravan’s entire length, ensuring all his animals were safe and Hyam’s company knew to knot kerchiefs over their noses and mouths and ears. Selim assured them the wind was nothing, a mere foretaste of what the late summer would bring. Shona did not speak because her throat was raw from the effort required to breathe. The wind caused a subtle shift to all her discomforts, a gradual invasion of pain. For the first time she understood the drovers’ silent stillness around the campfires, the ingrained need for impossible patience and endurance. After a time she actually drifted into sleep, as though her body took the only escape it could.
Then Selim whacked Shona’s leg with his quirt, jerking her awake. “Your animal’s natural response to the wind is to stop and turn its back to the storm. If you do that, and we lose you, you die.” He rode beside her for a time until he was certain she was both awake and aware of the danger. Then he rode on.
The evening tea had never tasted so fine, an elixir she could not get enough of. The camp was blanketed by a grit that worked into everything, including her cup. She ate because Meda ordered her to. Her brain felt stuffed with the same silt. When Hyam rose and walked beyond the camp’s perimeter, she almost left him alone. But she forced her aching body to rise and walk over. She could feel herself rocking slightly from side to side as they stood in silence. Every now and then her muscles quivered, a tight spasm that rose from her feet to her forehead. She heard her breath rasp down her overtight throat. When Hyam turned and thanked her with the customary hand on her shoulder, she was uncertain whether she had the strength to walk back to her pallet.
That night Shona dreamed of the witches.
Shona was back in the Lystra palace keep, only now every shadow held the specter of doom. Her exhaustion was such that she could not force herself awake. She drifted from one pillar to the next, chased by wisps of deadly crimson smoke and women who laughed from the joy of the chase. The sultry vixens mocked her all night, saving the worst for the dawn, when they captured her. But they did not devour her as Shona had fea
red. Instead, they welcomed her. She realized in a flash of terror that she was one of them.
The dream’s horror added to the next day’s trek. When the wind rose again that afternoon, Shona heard the witches’ laughter drift in every acrid blast.
29
The journey from the red hills to Olom took fourteen days. The wind blew for six. They stopped at three wells, but at the second, the leather-covered wooden lid had not been lashed down properly and the well had filled with sand. Selim roundly cursed the last caravan master who had come this way. Then he led them on, through the night and the next day, until even the most docile of beasts groaned with exhaustion. But they made the next well at dawn on the third day, and the lid was in place. Hyam and Selim and Fareed shifted off the cover. They all watched and waited as Selim dropped the leather bucket. Even the animals seemed to hold their breath. The well was so deep the rope hummed over the stone ledges, on and on it fell, until they heard the faint splash.
The caravan ran the well dry. The final buckets came up almost half full of mud. Selim fed these to the animals, using every drop. He assured them water would seep in and refill the well before the autumn caravans began.
On the tenth day they entered low hills that closed in and blocked a rising wind. That evening they observed a sunset veiled by whistling ochre streaks far overhead. Now and then the silt drifted down like a mockery of rain.
The next day the hills rose to become yellow mountains. They trekked down a long, narrow valley between two steep ridgelines. The ground remained flat and the ridges trapped the heat. Shona felt fire in her throat with each breath. But Selim pressed on, grimly impatient.
Then the first of the beasts came into view.
A monster identical to the one that had attacked them in the empty vale appeared on the southern ridge. Shona was the first to cry a warning, though making the sound hurt her throat.
Meda drew the Milantian sword and sprang from the camel’s back. The behemoth was even larger than the one that had attacked them in Ellismere. Shona pulled her wand from its makeshift sheath beside the saddle and slipped down to stand alongside Meda. In the space of two heartbeats they were joined by Alembord and Fareed. Hyam stabbed the earth with his dagger, spoke the Milantian spell, and began drawing a shield circle large enough to encompass the entire caravan.
“Hold!” Selim steered his mount around them, staring down in genuine consternation. “The beast is not your foe!”
“Not yours, perhaps.” Meda’s words emerged in a tight snarl. “But we know better.”
Fareed pointed and croaked, “There is another.”
And there was. Then the two were joined by a third. The monsters slipped from giant tunnels and waved their horrid snouts in the desert sunlight. They seemed to pay the caravan no mind. Men swarmed about them while others entered the circular caves and emerged with great loads on their backs.
“But . . .” Selim waved his quirt at the high ridge. “Those are golems! They harm no one!”
Hyam slowly straightened. “Those beasts are twins of the fiend that attacked us in Ellismere.”
Selim gaped down at them. “This is true?”
Hyam sheathed his blade, walked over, and unslung the leather waterskin from his saddle. His hands shook as he drank, then he passed the skin and asked Selim, “Why does this surprise you?”
Selim slid from his saddle, clearly needing to inspect Hyam more closely. “Because not once in centuries has a golem ever attacked a man. Not ever!”
Meda said doubtfully, “I see no sign of aggression.”
“Because there is none!” Selim gestured at the empty valley ahead. “The name of this city, Olom, is the name of these beasts. They are why we are here! They mine, we profit.”
Up high on the ridge, the first golem approached a stone-lined corral built into the plateau. The great head with its petal-like mouth dipped down and emerged holding an entire live sheep. The animal’s bleats pierced the dry air as the golem bit, squeezed, killed, and swallowed whole. The two other beasts shouldered up alongside and took their own animals. Three times the heads dipped and captured and raised and swallowed.
Selim let them watch for a while longer, then insisted that they remount and continue. Hyam and his company cast nervous glances at the monsters on the ridgeline, but did as Selim said. As the caravan started forward, Shona and the others watched first one and then the other golems turn and lumber back into their circular tunnels.
The steep hills to either side were lined with numerous tunnels now, so many they could not have been counted. Two hours later they rounded a bend and faced Olom. The city’s wall was a primitive structure of yellow mud brick and fire-hardened cane spears. It filled the valley from side to side, punctured by massive gates. A tinny trumpet-blast greeted their appearance. Faces and spears appeared along the ramparts. Selim gave them no notice whatsoever. He halted Hyam and his company by the central gates and directed his assistant drover with a series of swift hand gestures.
As the caravan plodded past, Selim pointed north and said, “My holdings lie in a hidden valley beyond the city.”
Hyam clearly understood the trader’s thinking, for he spoke so that Selim did not need to. “If the golems attack, we don’t want to put you and your clan at risk.”
“But I offered you my clan’s hospitality.”
“And we will hopefully have an opportunity to enjoy it. But not now.”
Selim exhaled his worry. “The city will offer you greater security.” He turned to Fareed and asked, “You know the Oasis Inn?”
“Very well, sahib. It was where Kasim stayed.”
“Go there, say I ask that you be given the best rooms.” To Hyam he went on, “It is a good enough place, one my family secretly owns.”
“We need to press on,” Hyam replied.
Selim swept his quirt to halt further argument. “The route ahead will make the journey from Emporis appear a garden stroll. Take one night. Rest and eat and prepare.”
The Oasis Inn was far grander than Shona had dared hope. Crude exterior walls opened into a vast courtyard filled with sparkling fountains and the singing of caged birds. Countless servants in ballooning trousers and colorful vests salaamed a welcome and ushered them into a private alcove where six rooms opened off a garden all their own. But the greatest astonishment were the baths and three underground pools, one each for men and women and families.
The rock walls were painted with idyllic scenes of an easier life than this desert city had ever known. It was Shona’s first proper bath in almost three weeks. Her hair was cemented into a roan helmet and resisted her fingers. Shona scrubbed and rinsed and scrubbed again, then slipped into the perfumed water heated to one degree off painful.
Meda joined her a few minutes later and sighed her way into the pool. “I have dreamed of this for days.”
“My muscles have forgotten what it means to relax,” Shona said.
“Such pleasures almost make the road worthwhile.” Meda lolled with closed eyes. “My sweetest dreams are often of such places.”
Shona had a rare opportunity to inspect Meda. The woman’s arms and shoulders and neck all bore scars. “What a life you have known.”
“I chose my fate. I stand by my decision. It was right for me. The cost is simply part of the life.” Meda rolled her head so as to fasten Shona with a hard gaze. “There are few actions that bring greater satisfaction than knowing the right choice and taking it.”
Shona knew there was a hidden message. She knew Meda would not say more. But the heat and the muted lighting and the solitude made this a chamber for secrets. “You don’t think I know what I want?”
“Oh, you know all right.” Meda closed her eyes once more. “It’s the cost I’m wondering about.”
She wanted to deny it. Deflect the conversation. But she was drawn forward. “Does everyone else know?”
“Selim, definitely. Alembord, most likely, though he would like to deny it. Fareed, hard to say. He hides his thou
ghts well.”
“And Hyam?”
“Hyam. There is the question. My guess is, he is just now learning to look beyond his distress.”
Shona hesitated, then said, “Tell me of the cost.”
Meda was long in replying. “When I was a young conscript, my count used a badly wounded veteran to teach us squires how to handle a blade. We were barely in our teens, full of vinegar and certain we would live forever. The count never said anything, nor did our instructor. But we saw the cost and the risk. And when the banquet fires were lit and the goblets raised in fiery toasts, the count made sure our table included several hard-bitten veterans. They spoke of battles, and the loss of friends, and the horrible spectacle of holding an ally while they bled out and breathed their last.”
Shona felt her breath constrict in her throat, as though she had been transported to that very table, looking down its length and watching as Meda played the role of that battle-hardened expert. Shona knew this woman, this friend, spoke with her best interests at heart.
Meda went on, “I can’t say whether the worst fate awaits you. But in such times, when the blood sings and you hear glory’s call, you can become blind to the risk. You might only see the prize. What you long for. The success and the glory. It’s important to understand that the coin of life holds two faces. Examine the risk. Then choose wisely how to spend the coin.”
30
Selim joined them for dinner, which they took in the small courtyard. Beyond the guard ensuring their privacy, a few patrons gathered at a table by the fountain. Otherwise the inn was silent.
Meda asked, “Your inn is always so empty?”
“Not like this,” Selim replied. “Not in generations.”
“What has changed?”
“That is part of the mystery we must discuss.” Selim gestured to servants who hovered beyond his guard. They rushed in, cleared away the remnants of a very fine meal, and departed. “The history of Olom is the history of our bond with the golems. There are other places where desert gemstones can be found. But only here is there an oasis, with underground springs that have never gone dry. Enough water to fill our baths and turn our fields green. And the fields must grow, because we must raise sheep.”
