Panyat and Balkis turned to look, too, and saw a great curve-sided triangle with a rounded tip moving toward them. Balkis gripped Anthony's hand. “I have seen such a thing on a lord's crest—but it was on the back of a dolphin.”
“What is a dolphin?” Anthony asked.
“It is fantastical good luck!” Panyat cried. “The traders told me about them, but I never thought to see one! Step back from its path—but as it passes, leap and catch hold of that fin!”
They stood, waiting, as the huge fin rushed toward them. “What is it?” Balkis asked.
“A giant sandfish, and we can ride its back to our oasis!”
“Let us hope it does not mean to revenge its smaller cousins,” Anthony said nervously.
“I think we need not worry about that,” Balkis said. “It probably has a goodly number of them in its belly.”
The sand hissed as the huge fin sped toward them.
“Now!” Panyat cried. They ran and leaped to catch the huge fin. Anthony's fingers closed on it first. Balkis clung to him, then swept an arm around Panyat. He clung to her while he set his feet down, then sat, gaining a secure hold. “We are well aboard now, I think,” he said. “Anthony, have you a rope in your pack?”
“Of course,” Anthony said, “but I am reluctant to loose my hold on this fin.”
“Then, Balkis, would you dig out that rope and tie Anthony to the fin, so he can sit down on this creature's back? Then we can sit with him and hold onto his rope.”
“A good plan,” Balkis said, and did as he asked.
Pressing against Anthony while she cast the rope about the fin aroused the pleasant but frightening feelings that were quickly becoming familiar—and less alarming. Still, when they were all sitting on the creature's back, holding fast to the rope, there were only Anthony's eyes, shining in the moonlight as they gazed at her, and the admiring smile on his lips—and, of course, the moonlight itself…
Glad that Panyat was there, she tore her gaze away from Anthony's and asked, “How long should we ride this monster fish?”
“Until we come to the next oasis.” Panyat smiled into the breeze of the fish's passage, his hair blowing behind him. “It will certainly be quicker than walking—and far less tiring.”
Eventually they saw the oasis, far away on the eastern horizon. “Is that it?” Anthony pointed toward the palm trees, silhouetted against the reddening sky.
“It is indeed!” Panyat replied. “We would not have come to it for another day if we'd had to walk. Perhaps we should stay with this fish awhile longer.”
“How far is the next oasis?” Balkis asked uneasily.
“Only a night's travel—or half that, at this fish's speed.”
“If we had water,” Anthony said, “I would not hesitate for a minute.”
“Are you thirsty, then?” Balkis asked.
Anthony thought about it, then said, “No. It seems the water at that disappearing oasis has sustained me.”
Panyat pointed east. “The palm trees have sunk below the horizon.”
Balkis gazed at the flat sand stretching to the rose-colored sky and felt apprehension coil in the pit of her stomach. Still, the die was cast, so she said, “Let us drape our cloaks over our heads—and Panyat, do you sit in their shadow. If we are to stay with this fish, we must travel through the day.”
But the heat wasn't a problem after all, for the fish actually traveled faster in the daylight, stirring up a breeze that kept them cool. They chatted idly, comparing more tales and exchanging songs, and never thirsted, thanks to the magical oasis.
“Amazing!” Matt said, looking down at the beige waste below them. “You'd swear it was an ocean, with those waves of sand dunes rolling across it!”
“If they roll, they roll very slowly,” Stegoman said.
“Just a matter of rate,” Matt said. “Watch it in time lapse and you'll see it move like an ocean.”
Stegoman frowned. “What is 'time lapse'?”
“Watching it with time slowed down, so that its motion seems to be speeded up so much that a single day takes only a few minutes.”
“Ah. Another one of your spells,” Stegoman said, dismissing the matter.
His comment gave Matt pause. Could he craft a time lapse spell? Why not?
Better question: Why bother? But you never knew what spells might come in handy in this universe. Matt decided to try working this one out when they rested for the evening.
“There is a stripe of green ahead,” Stegoman said.
Matt looked up, craning his neck and squinting. “I'll take your word for it, eagle eyes.”
“Eagles,” Stegoman said with disdainfully, “can see only a mile or so with any clarity.”
“Nice to associate with a superior breed.” For a dizzy moment Matt wondered what kind of country would select Stegoman for its national bird. He looked down and said, “But I can see a road, or some sort of track, anyway.”
“A road indeed, and a traveler on it,” Stegoman replied.
“Traveler?” Matt squinted and made out a dark speck. “Great! Let's drop down and ask him if he's seen anyone today.”
“I suppose we must,” Stegoman sighed, and banked into a downward spiral. “I assume I should land out of sight.”
“It would help,” Matt said, “though I don't think he's going to have too much doubt about where I came from.”
Stegoman put a dune between himself and the traveler, then Matt hiked around the sandy hill. The traveler stopped as soon as he saw Matt, and waited, staff in hand but not leaning on it. Matt was automatically on his guard—the traveler had to connect him with the monster that had just flown overhead, but he looked neither frightened nor awed, only stood and waited. Also, he didn't seem to be fazed by the heat, but now that Matt was down and out of the wind of Stegoman's passage, he was already drenched with sweat and wilting.
Coming close enough to make out the traveler's features, Matt shuddered. The face was triangular, gaunt, snub-nosed and beardless, with a strange sheen to the pale skin and a hard glitter to the unwinking eyes. They stared, but without curiosity—or any other feeling Matt could detect. It made his skin crawl.
Still, politeness was an obligation, Matt told himself, then smiled and raised a hand in greeting. “Hail, traveler! May your journey be peaceful.”
“And yours,” the traveler answered with an oddly breathy voice. “What do you seek, stranger?”
“A young woman,” Matt said, “a friend of mine, a former traveling companion.” He waited for the suggestive comment, but when none came, he went on, even more uneasy. “She's about this high”—he held a palm up at shoulder height—“golden skin, black hair, last seen wearing white and gold robes.”
“I have seen her.” The traveler lifted his staff, turning to point toward the south. “She sojourned in a valley some distance yonder. There are two other valleys between, both of which hold little people. You must pass them and go to the third.”
“Thanks!” Hope sprang, and Matt felt as though a weight had lifted off his shoulders; he'd been more worried than he'd let himself realize. “Was she … was she free? Happy?”
“Quite happy, so far as I could see, and quite friendly with the folk who dwelled there,” the stranger said. “As to being free, she seemed to like the valley and had no desire to leave.”
Suspicion stabbed at Matt, but he forced a smile and said, “Thanks. That's a huge relief. We'll go check it out.”
“You should not arrive at night, or the people there will be wary,” the stranger warned, “nor should you arrive in early morning, for they will be ill-tempered while they labor in the fields. But they stop to dine at noon and will then be more welcoming.”
“Awfully nice of you to give us such great tips,” Matt said slowly, though his brain was racing, seeking motives. He grinned, stepping forward quickly, hand out to shake. “Can't thank you enough.”
The traveler gave his hand a hard-eyed stare, keeping his own palms deliberately on his st
aff, then lifted his hard glittering gaze to meet Matt's—and something flickered there. “You are welcome. Surely we of the road must aid one another.”
“Surely we must.” Matt lowered his hand, turned away— and lashed out a sweeping ankle-high kick.
It caught the traveler by surprise. He fell with a raging sound somewhere between a hiss and a roar—then froze, staring up the bright length of Matt's sword blade, feeling its tip poke his throat. “This is rude thanks for my courtesy.”
“If it was courtesy. Stegoman! Help!”
Wings cupping thunder, the dragon was beside him, bellowing, “What moves?”
“Nothing, and I want to keep it that way. Hold him down, will you?”
At that the stranger writhed, trying to squirm away from the blade, but a huge claw descended, pressing into his chest. “Keep still,” Stegoman rumbled, “for I have but to shift my weight, and you will be pinned to this road.”
The traveler froze. Matt flicked his sword-point, untying the belt and opening the stranger's robe.
“Another of my kind!” Stegoman hissed, but the traveler hissed back and a forked tongue flicked out.
Matt saw a lean, sinuous body covered with iridescent scales. It had two arms and two legs, but nonetheless seemed more reptilian than mammalian, possibly because it had no genitalia. A bright circle winked on its chest, a medallion held around the creature's neck by a leather thong.
“You're as much snake as man,” Matt said. “Who sent you here?”
“Monkeys chatter,” the traveler hissed, “but they mean little.”
Matt whipped his sword in a half-circle ending with the point at the creature's throat. “Snakes mean treachery. If you don't want an early molt, you'd better tell me your mission.”
“Only warm-blooded fools would think molting a threat.”
“Don't be too sure you can grow a new skin,” Matt cautioned. “Who told you about this girl I mentioned?”
“You did, blind fool!”
“Enough of this game,” Stegoman rumbled. “He will tell you nothing but more insults. Let me lean on him.”
The stranger only hissed defiance.
“I think we might induce him to cooperate,” Matt said, and chanted,
“Once to every man and nation
Comes the moment to decide.
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood,
For the good or evil side.
New occasions teach new duties;
Time makes ancient good uncouth;
You must speak and fully answer
From your knowledge of the Truth.”
He didn't think Lowell would mind his patching verses from separate poems—after all, they dealt with the same topic.
“Now,” he said, “who sent you?”
The traveler's lip writhed with scorn as it opened its lips— then its eyes went wide with shock as its tongue moved without its control and its voice said, “Kala Nag has sent me.”
“What mission did she give you?”
This time the traveler clamped his jaws shut, his throat and face swelling with the effort of holding the answer in—but it burst out in hissing: “I am sent to stop the soul of destiny who could be her only serious impediment to conquering Prester John and his realm.”
“An ambitious goal.” Mart's eyes narrowed. “Why does she wish to conquer him?”
Again the struggle, again the bursting answer. “Because Prester John alone prevents her conquest of the rest of the world.”
“She isn't modest in her expectations, our Kala Nag,” Matt said. “Am I the soul of destiny? Is that why you tried to stop me?”
“Nay. You could aid the destined one, but you yourself are not.”
Matt frowned, trying to puzzle out the cryptic comments, but sure they were true, and all the snakeman knew. “How will you know this soul of destiny?”
“There will be two traveling together,” the snakeman answered, as though the words were torn from him. “For the aid you might give them, you must be stopped.”
“Two?” Matt demanded. “Is one the woman of whom I told you?”
“Yes!” the snake screamed in torture.
“And the other?”
“The other is also young, is—” Then its hissing tore into a scream as its whole body burst into flames. An instant later it went limp, clearly dead, as inert as a log, though the blaze continued, consuming robe and skin.
Matt drew a shaky breath. “Well, that's one way to stop somebody from talking.”
“A most gruesome way,” Stegoman said, his voice hard, “though quick, at least.”
“Yeah, the pain didn't last long at all. Still, if this is how Kala Nag rewards the followers who fail her, she must be as cold-blooded as her name.”
“You know its meaning, then?” Stegoman asked.
“From a story I read when I was a kid,” Matt said. “It means 'Black Snake.'”
“At least now we know what we seek,” Stegoman said.
“Yeah.” Matt turned away from the impromptu pyre and climbed backup to Stegoman's shoulders. “Somehow I doubt we'll find Balkis in that third valley to the south, Stegoman, and I'm very wary of landing there—but we'd better have a look, just to make sure.”
“It should not take long,” the dragon agreed, “and I am eager to be back in the clean air.”
“Cool air, too.” Matt wiped a hand across his brow. “How could that snakeman stand the heat?”
“He has cold blood, as do I,” Stegoman reported, “though I think he would have sought the shade in an hour or so anyway.”
“Yeah, this furnace sun would fry a stoker,” Matt said. “Let's seek a bit of breeze, shall we?”
When night came, the giant sandfish did not slacken its speed, and Balkis asked, “How many more oases before the northern edge of the desert?”
“I have watched two pass us and fail astern,” Panyat said, “so I calculate that only one remains.”
Anthony gave a start, then looked about him at the empty sands. “The more fool I! I was so enwrapped in talk that I never noticed.”
“Nor should you have,” Panyat said, “for you did not know their distances. The last oasis was three days' journey from the edge of the desert, but this sandfish is going quickly now, very quickly. I think we might do well to stay as long as it travels northward.”
“A good thought.” But Balkis frowned. “I begin to thirst”
Before Panyat could answer, the fish began to turn. Balkis gave a yelp of surprise, thrown backward by the curve. Anthony tightened his hold on the dorsal fin and seized her wrist. Panyat went tumbling over her, though, and disappeared into the night with a cry of alarm.
“To him, quickly!” Balkis cried, and leaped off the sandfish. Anthony followed her, then ran to catch up as she sped back to the Pytanian.
“I am well, I am well!” Panyat protested, sitting up and brushing off sand. “My apologies, my friends—my clumsiness has lost us our steed.”
“I think that it is well for us.” Anthony pointed back along their trail.
Looking, Panyat and Balkis saw the great dorsal fin curving away, turning southwest, running back into the barren dunes.
“Why would it go back so suddenly?” Balkis asked, wide-eyed.
“It feeds upon the lesser sandfish.” Panyat blanched at the thought. “That must be why it was coming north across the waste—because it had exhausted the shoals in the south, and fortunate we were to catch what we could before it came. Now, though, it has eaten all it can find here, for we have come too close to the northern edge of the desert for the small fish to swim. The giant must go west to find fresh prey.”
“But if that is so,” Balkis said, “our crossing is nearly done!”
Panyat faced north and inhaled deeply. He exhaled and said, “I think you may be right. Let us walk while we may.”
They strapped their sand-skis on again and shuffled through the night. Balkis was feeling even thirstier now, but managed not to speak of it—one g
lance at Anthony's face showed that he was feeling it, too. She hoped they would soon find an oasis, if not the edge of the desert itself.
Through the darkest part of the night they traveled, speaking less and less as thirst sapped their energy. Finally, Anthony brought out a wineskin and offered it to Balkis. She stared. “From whence came that?”
“From Piconye,” Anthony answered. “Do you not remember? Their king gave it to us as a parting gift.”
“How welcome it is now!” Balkis said fervently as she took the skin. She squirted a few sips into her mouth, swallowed, then coughed and held it out, eyes bulging, hand at her throat. “Tay … take it, Anthony, but only a swallow!” she gasped, her voice hoarse. “It is terribly strong!”
“I had forgotten that.” Anthony's face turned tragic. “Forgive me, sweet companion!”
“I shall thank you instead,” she rasped, “for it is better than nothing—though not by much! Sip at it, Anthony. We shall surely make that last!”
Anthony drank, and they shuffled onward, following Panyat, who watched them with troubled eyes. Now and again they would stop and share a sip or two of brandywine, but the skin was still almost full when Balkis realized that she was hearing a distant roaring sound, had been hearing it for some time, but that it had grown louder so gradually that she had not remarked upon it.
“The river!” Panyat cried. “Hear you that sound? It is the river that flows into this sandy sea!”
Balkis stared. What manner of river made so much noise? Was it one huge waterfall?
“Then we have come to the end of the desert?” Anthony asked hopefully.
“To the end of the sandy sea, at least,” Panyat said. “There is more desert between the seashore and the mountains, but it is far less harsh than this, and has more frequent water.”
“That will be a blessing, certainly.” The mere thought of water seemed to revive Anthony. “Come, Panyat, let us see this river of yours!” He set out at a quick pace.
Panyat looked up at the note of his voice and cautioned, “There is not much water there.”
“Not much water?” Anthony stared. “How can there be a river without water?”
“Because it has many rocks,” Panyat told him. “Come, you shall see for yourself.”
The Feline Wizard Page 22
