White Sand

by Brandon Sanderson

  Lady Heelis sighed slightly. “Always the perfect trackt, Ais,” she mumbled.

  If only you knew, My Lady.

  “I understand that your operation today was a success,” Lady Heelis offered.

  “I lost six men,” Ais responded. “And five more have injures that will keep them from duty for months.”

  “Yes,” Heelis admitted. “But you captured a known murderer—you realize that Lokmlen has admitted to over a dozen assassinations besides the three trackts he killed.”

  Ais nodded.

  “Beyond that, the archers you captured were more than simple thugs. Several of them were wanted killers as well.”

  Ais betrayed no hint of surprise, but he hadn’t known about the archers. He had left to visit families before their interrogations.

  “A sound operation, Ais,” Heelis praised. “You couldn’t have known about the trap, and the casualties would have been much greater had you not broken the archers’s attack.”

  Ais nodded slowly. “Thank you, My Lady.”

  Lady Heelis leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “And this is just one of many such operations, Ais. You have quite a reputation in Kezare.”

  Ais eyed the stack of applicants to his band. “I only do my duty, My Lady,” he replied formally.

  “Oh Ais,” Lady Heelis said with a sigh. “When are you going to let me reward you as you deserve?”

  I deserve to be cast out, to be humiliated, Ais thought mournfully. If only you knew … “If you mean a promotion, Lady Taisha, I must decline,” he stated simply.

  Lady Heelis regarded him with calculating eyes. It was a piercing look, a look that saw everything, that climbed in his eyes and ran rampant through his brain. It threw open every hidden door and searched every secluded secret, leaving his thoughts in a confused jumble. Did she know?

  “Why?” the Lady Judge pried.

  No. No, she doesn’t know. She could not. “My reasons have been stated, Lady Judge.”

  Lady Heelis sighed. “I know you enjoy your work as a trackt, but I need you to do more. I want you at the head of a Hall, somewhere where you can teach others to do what you do.”

  A slight, uncharacteristic smile crept to Ais’s lips as he replied. “Trust me, Lady Heelis, the last thing you need is a Hall full of Aises running around.”

  “Trust me,” Heelis countered. “We could do much worse.”

  Ais considered the proposal for a minute in respect for her position. Then he shook his head. “I have some things I need to work through before I take any more steps, Lady Judge.”

  “And if you cannot work through them?”

  “I will die first.”

  Seeing his resolve, Heelis nodded in quiet agreement. “And that you just might.” She regarded him with those piercing eyes again, eyes that had led her to become Lady Judge. “I could command you,” she pointed out.

  “And I would follow your commands, Lady Judge,” Ais assured.

  “I know,” Heelis said with a sigh. “But I do not work that way.”

  “I know.”

  Heelis shook her head. “All right, Ais. But, if you refuse to rise to the rank of judge, then I have another job for you. I am taking you off of the Sharezan case.”

  Ais froze. Off of the case … ? He had worked for the last three years trying to implicate Nilto.

  “I see that you object,” Heelis noted.

  “I would never—”

  “Yes, I know,” Heelis interrupted. “You would never go against orders. I realize how much this case means to you Ais, but I have something more important for you to do. Besides, Ais. I worry about you. Perhaps it’s time for you to take a short break from Sharezan. My assignment will only take two weeks of your time, then you may return to chasing him.”

  Ais sat stiffly, waiting for her to continue.

  “You know of the judgement today?” she asked.

  “I do,” Ais replied. She could only mean one judgement.

  “This new Lord Mastrell is an enormous random factor. I still can’t decide if he will benefit Lossand or destroy it.”

  I have no such difficulty deciding, My Lady, Ais thought to himself.

  “I want you to go to him,” Lady Heelis explained. “Tell him that I fear for his safety, and want a trackt protecting him.”

  “He won’t believe that, Lady Judge,” Ais said. “Sand masters have little need of a trackt’s protection.”

  “He doesn’t need to believe it,” Lady Heelis explained. “He just needs to let you follow him—which, I suspect, he will do. Kenton is in little position to deny my requests—even one to put a spy in his midst.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Ais agreed.

  “Watch him, Ais,” Lady Heelis continued. “Follow him and see what kind of person he is. All I know of young Kenton is his impetuousness and his hostility toward authority, and neither are things I would find attractive in a Taisha. Report back to me on what you observe and tell me your opinion.”

  “You realize what my opinion of him will be, My Lady,” Ais noted.

  “I know, Ais. Your hatred of sand masters is well known—but so is your impartiality when it comes to the Law. Your job is to observe him as a trackt, not as a Kershtian. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  Heelis nodded, rising. “I trust you, Ais. Perhaps more than anyone else in the Hall. Keep an eye on this boy of a Lord Mastrell for me.” Heelis paused on her way to the door. “Oh, and Ais,” she said. “Go home and go to sleep.”

  “But my paperwork—” Ais objected.

  “Can be done another time, Ais. It is possible, despite what you think, to work too hard. If you still feel guilty, then consider my request an order.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Ais replied, standing formally as she left.

  #

  Ais strode through the streets of Kezare, his senior trackt’s cape fluttering behind him. Occasionally he would see a trackt in the crowds and they would nod to each other respectfully. The crowds were smaller this time of day, and many shops sat closed, their frontings and signs taken down, their doors shut while their owners slept. Still, the city was busy. Unlike a smaller village, where people tended to sleep at the same time, Kezare’s huge population pushed its occupants toward sleeping in shifts.

  Ais’s thoughts were fretful as he walked. He had just lost his second, and now his band would have to continue their hunt for Sharezan without their leader—for a few weeks at least. It wasn’t a large setback, but Ais resented it nonetheless. Once again, justice was hampered because of the sand masters.

  Lady Heelis’s assignment officially made this day one of the worst in Ais’s life. Not that he disagreed with her logic, or even her assignment of Ais to the duty. The Lady Judge was wise—she had her reasons for what she did. Still, however, Ais couldn’t help looking at the next two weeks with a feeling of sickness. He avoided sand masters whenever possible, but now he would have to spend nearly all of his time with one.

  And, of course, this assignment would do little to help his reputation amongst Kezare’s Kershtian population. Maybe Lokmlen was right, he thought to himself. Maybe I am a traitor. Maybe I’ve been fooling myself all this time, justifying my violation of the Sand Lord’s laws.

  It was a debate he’d wondered about many times. He had yet to come to a valid conclusion.

  With such dark thoughts on his mind, Ais approached his house. The building he called home lay far away from Kezare’s business district, in a place where land prices were more reasonable. Here the buildings were pressed just as closely together, but few of them were taller than a single story. In such an area, even a trackt could afford a house of his own—assuming he had been saving for two decades, as Ais had.

  He walked quietly up the steps. It was dark inside. Empty. He pushed open the door.

  “Papa!” a tiny voice exclaimed.

  Ais looked down with surprise as a small form shot out of a side room and ran toward him.

  “Melly
,” he said sternly. “You should be in bed.”

  “She waited up for you,” his wife’s voice explained. He looked up as Mellis followed her daughter into the room. Tall and thin, Mellis had the lighter hair of a Lossandin. Her face was rectangular, and her features what other men might have called plain. To Ais, however, there was no face as beautiful.

  “She finally fell asleep,” Mellis explained, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “But she is such a light sleeper … even the sound of the door closing woke her up.”

  “Did you stay up late?” Ais asked his daughter with an iron face.

  “But daddy,” the little girl protested softly, standing before him sheepishly, “I was scared you wouldn’t come home.”

  Ais looked down at his young daughter, trying to retain his scolding expression. He failed.

  The iron in his face melted every time he gazed upon little Melloni. Ais’s scowl slowly melted into a big smile, and he scooped the little girl up into his arms and walked toward her bedroom. There were only two people on the continent who had ever seen that smile, and both of them were with him now.

  He leaned to kiss his wife as he passed, and placed Melly onto her soft, sand-filled mattress. “Little KanLisht,” he whispered, using Melly’s Kershtian name. “I am home now, so stop worrying. Go to sleep. You must be exhausted.”

  “I’m okay, daddy,” the girl protested, but a stern look from her father convinced her to pull the sheet over herself and lie down. Ais kissed her on the forehead and walked out, closing the door.

  “She insisted I let her stay up,” Mellis said with a sigh. “Every time I put her in bed she would sneak out and watch at the window.”

  “She doesn’t seem to be the only one who refuses to go to bed at a decent time,” Ais said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, noticing her tired eyes. She looked fatigued, tired beyond the late hour. Something was bothering her.

  “How did it go?” Mellis asked, speaking before he could.

  Ais simply shook his head, opening the door to their room and walking in. “We got him,” he finally replied.

  Mellis smiled.

  “Unfortunately,” he continued, sitting on their own sand mattress, feeling the fine grains give beneath his weight, “there were complications.”

  Mellis looked at him questioningly, and Ais turned tired eyes to her concerned face. “Jedan,” he finally said.

  “Oh, Ais!” Melloni caught her breath. “What happened?”

  “A trap,” he said as she joined him on the mattress. “They had archers sealed off behind a false wall. They caught us by surprise—wounded nearly half of my men.”

  “Are you all right?” she asked with anxiety, fingering the hole in his cape.

  “A cut in my palm, a wound on the side of my leg,” he replied, knowing full well she wasn’t asking about bodily wounds alone. “Nothing important.”

  “And Jedan …”

  “It is a hard job, Mellis. People die.”

  She frowned, obviously disbelieving his cold-hearted facade. For some reason, Mellis was the one person from whom he could never hide his feelings.

  Ais unbuckled his uniform and slid it off. “I’ll be fine,” he said, undoing his twin Kershtian braids then pulling on a loose robe and sitting back down with a sigh

  “You’re tense,” Melloni noticed, rubbing his back.

  “I’m always tense,” Ais said, lying down on his stomach to enjoy his wife’s ministrations.

  “That’s the truth. You need rest, Ais.”

  He didn’t respond. His eyes had fallen on the floor beside the mattress. A dark piece of paper, folded in thirds. Mellis must have felt him grow tense, because she looked over with a sharp intake of breath.

  “You read it,” he accused, reaching for the piece of paper as he realized the reason he had sensed fatigue in his wife’s face earlier. She must have been crying.

  “I …” Mellis said quietly. “Oh, Ais. I couldn’t help it.”

  Ais glanced down at the note. It was just like the rest. I enjoy our game, Ais, it read. You gamble your family—I fear I have little to bet in return. It was signed with Shaerezan’s symbol.

  Ais gritted his teeth, crumpling the paper, feeling the anger rise within him. There was another reason he needed to catch Sharezan—a reason more powerful even than the Law.

  “Melly isn’t the only one who is scared, Ais,” his wife whispered in a quiet voice.

  Ais sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “He is only trying to scare me,” Ais explained. “The underground maintains a measure of civility—it kills trackts, not their families.”

  “Are you sure?” Mellis asked, shooting a look toward Melly’s room.

  No, Ais admitted to himself.

  “What if she’s right, Ais? What if you don’t come home one day? Jedan didn’t.” Melloni spoke the words softly—not accusingly, just fearfully. She had never asked him to leave the Hall—both of them had been older when they married, and both were set in their ways. She knew he wouldn’t leave the Hall, just as he knew she would never act as unassuming as a Kershtian wife.

  Ais didn’t answer. He just continued to hold his wife, feeling her silent tears drop on his arm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, bang. Thump, thump, thump, thump, bang. Thump, thump, thump, thump, bang. Thump, thump, thump, thump, bang.

  Khriss groaned, trying to shut out the noise. Baon was exercising again. Unfortunately, it was more of a reverberation than a sound, and it continued to annoy her no matter what she stuffed in her ears. With a groan, she rolled off her bed and stumbled to her feet, groping for the door in the darkness. She stumbled out into an equally dark hallway and walked over to the door beside her own, which she proceeded to bang upon with a vindictive fist.

  The thumping stopped. A moment later a sweat-covered Baon opened the door. “Duchess?” he asked. “You’re up early.”

  “I know,” she said angrily, blinking drowsily at his room’s light. “What are you doing in there? Blasting off gunpowder charges?”

  Baon snorted, smiling slightly. “I was exercising,” he responded, wiping his brow with a cloth.

  “Well stop it,” Khriss snapped, slamming the door in his perky face. She stumbled back toward her room and flopped back down on her bed—a move that proved to be rather unintelligent. Though the bed looked like one from darkside, raised high off the ground and with posts surrounding it, there was one major difference. The mattress wasn’t filled with soft down—it was filled with sand.

  At first, she’d assumed she was wrong. Who would fill mattresses with sand? It was ridiculous. Unfortunately, she had made no mistake. The mattress was only filled about half way, so the sand had room to move and fit to one’s body. Still, it was incredibly uncomfortable—even if Acron did think the entire concept was ‘delightful.’

  At least the second layer of cloth that wrapped around the mattress was soft. I never did find out what the daysiders use to make cloth, her sleepy mind thought. I’ll have to ask Kenton. Oh wait, he abandoned me. I’ll have to ask N’Teese.

  Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried to fall back asleep, her body refused to comply. She heard Baon’s door open, followed by retreating footsteps. Eventually the thumping began again, further away this time.

  Khriss sighed, rolling onto her back and trying to avoid getting up. In her opinion, mornings were best treated by sleeping through them. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get herself to fall back asleep, and so grouchily forced herself out of bed a second time.

  Yawning, she wandered over to the wall and pulled the cover off the water-globe hanging on it. The room was immediately bathed in a very soft light. The luminescent grundlefish inside rose to the top, assuming she was going to feed them. Khriss found a small can of fish pellets on the side of the wall and sprinkled a few inside, watching the two fish—about four inches across each—nip at the food. Their translucent skin glowed bright yellow, and she could see their diminutive skelet
ons inside. At the bottom of the globe there were a few plants with long, thin leaves which waved in the current created by the swimming fish.

  Khriss shook her head, moving to the room’s other three water-globes, removing their coverings as well. She didn’t know how someone had managed to get living grundlefish across the Border Ocean. Their water had to be changed every day to keep them from dying, and they couldn’t live in salty seawater. Still, they were here, and she was thankful. On this side of the world, the heat of torches or even lamps would have been unwelcome.

  The grundlefish light was soft even by darkside standards, but she was used to it. The nobility favored the fish, probably because of their expense. She sat down beside her vanity and regarded the monster that was her hair, then began to brush.

  Her room felt odd. It was almost Elisian—pieces of it felt very familiar. The bed, for instance, with its long posts and drapings was nearly the same as her own back on darkside. Yet, like most things in the house, it was slightly amalgamated with pieces of dayside. It could be seen in the mattress, the room’s lack of windows, and even the brush in her hand, which had a carapace handle.

  No, she couldn’t forget where she was, no matter how much this room resembled darkside. Her home was an entire world away—all she had to help her were two professors, a spiteful guide, and a bodyguard who seemed annoyingly prone to thumping lately. It wasn’t very encouraging.

  Of course, she did have reason for optimism. Gevin was probably still alive—at least, he had arrived in Kezare alive. But, that had happened years ago. Why hadn’t he returned to Elis? What could possibly be holding him to dayside?

  Her hand froze. What if he’d found a girl? Some Kershtian beauty that had captured his heart? He could easily have forgotten about the shy, bookish girl that had been his betrothed … .

  Khriss cast such speculations aside, brushing her hair with renewed vigor. Gevin was a flirt, true, but he wouldn’t so easily abandon his commitments. He had come to dayside with a purpose, and he knew that the Dynasty squatted drooling on Elis’s borders. His brother Barden might be Elis’s heir, but Gevin was its heart. The people loved him, and relied on his leadership. It would have taken a monumentous event to keep him from returning to them in a time of such need.