Sandstorm

by Christopher Rowe

  The slaves of the mote peered at one another, and at the Calishites, but stayed quiet. The voice that answered was Shaneerah’s. “You may take the slaves, earthsouled,” she said. “No, I offer even more. We will leave, my husband and I, and any others who want to come. But you are giving us nothing. My husband is Azad the Free. We are his freedmen. We have no chains you can break.”

  Her voice carried strangely, and Cephas realized it was because she was moving as she spoke. She appeared behind the lectern and put one arm around her husband’s shoulder. Ninlilah and Ariella shadowed her.

  Cephas said, “Not all chains are forged of steel, Shaneerah.”

  Azad had withdrawn so far into himself that he reminded Cephas of those first bad months Cynda had before Elder Lin’s healing began to bring her back around. Shaneerah was the very opposite of Lin, her hate pure and undiminished.

  “We have no chains you can break,” she repeated, and led her husband away.

  Corvus joined Cephas at the podium as the last of the cables was drawn back in. Down in the canyon, Whitey and Melda supervised the newly freed slaves of Jazeerijah in rolling the canvas onto a wagon-mounted frame. The master clown believed there was enough of the sailcloth for a big top and two sizable side tents.

  “Your formula didn’t get all the bloodstains out,” Cephas said, watching the work.

  “Stains we can see and chains we can’t,” said Corvus. “Your cousins in Argentor will be impressed by all this symbolism.”

  Cephas smiled with sadness, thinking of Sonnett’s and Lin’s disappointment with him. “More impressed than they are with my plans, anyway.”

  Corvus clicked his tongue. It was not the sound he used for laughter, but a lower, hollower noise he had sounded more and more often in the last months. Cephas had still not decided exactly what it indicated, and he wondered if the kenku knew himself.

  “They will not countenance violence, and we must not ask them to. But if you mean to take an active stance against slavery to complement Acham el Jhotos’s plans of centuries, and the Janessar plans of secrecy, then you must use the tools you have. My sword. Your flail.”

  Cephas laughed. “I think I might make use of other tools of yours than just your short sword, old friend. I have arms and armor for this fight that the pashas cannot imagine.”

  Light came up from below. The cookfires were being set among the wagons of the circus, and Whitey’s family and the other circus folk set aside their work.

  Corvus stared out over the Island of the Free, where the freedmen who had not followed Shaneerah deeper into the mountains were pulling down the last of the old buildings under Tobin’s enthusiastic direction.

  The twins and Ninlilah were spending the night with Grinta and her Bloody Moons, cementing their unlikely alliance, so it would be a quiet night in the canyon.

  The kenku almost spoke aloud, but Ariella joined them, reaching her arm around Cephas.

  So Corvus spoke to himself, and only to echo the earthsouled. “Arms and armor they cannot imagine, my friend. That they cannot imagine.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The person who I most wish to acknowledge and thank is the creator of the gaming products Lands of Intrigue and Empires of the Shining Sea, novelist Steven Schend. This book literally would not have been possible without those fantastic treasure troves of worldbuilding.

  Neither would the book have come about without the efforts of my most excellent real agent, Shana Cohen of the Stuart Krichevsky Literary Agency, or of my shifty fake agents, Holly Black and Gavin Grant of Black/Grant, Limitless Liability Corporation. Erin Evans guided this book from proposal to final draft and her editorial vision and direction were clear, precise, and otherwise invaluable. I’d also like to thank editors Susan Morris and Nina Hess for their contributions during the editing and publication process.

  And thanks, too, to my fellow adventurers: Shane Arnold, Gwenda Bond, Suzanne Burton, Jon Caudill, Jerry M. Chaney II, Rodney Cheek, David Hanks, Robin Hanks, Karl Kleane, Nathan McConathy, Melanie McConathy, Bob McKinley, Brian Melton, Corwin Mollett, Jason Mollett, David Murrell, Jesse Nau, Jeff Neagle, Anthony Pitman, Chad Patterson, Casey Smith, Matt Spradling, Cory Stafford, Pen Waggener, Russ Walker, Steve Wall, Tom Walsh, Nick Warner, Mark Watson, Bill Wible, Denise Wible, Sarah Wible, Doug York, and Andrew Young. The game is afoot!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Christopher Rowe’s stories have been printed and reprinted in English and a half dozen other languages in publications around the world. He has been a finalist for the Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy, Theodore Sturgeon, and Seiun (Japan) Awards. He lives in Lexington, Kentucky with his wife, the writer Gwenda Bond, their dogs, Emma and Puck, and their cat, Hemingway. This is his first novel.