Dragon Soul

by Danielle Bennett

  Instead, I kept my thoughts to myself and my camel did the same. It was an okay system, all things considered.

  Bless’d been riding somewhere in front of Thom and me for the better part of our travels—after it became pretty apparent that neither of us gave a shit whether the old kings of the desert were buried under all that shifting sand. Thom’s ass hurt too much—otherwise he’d’ve been eating Bless’s stories right up—but I just didn’t give a fuck.

  On the third day, we’d passed some kind of enormous statue, buried half-underground, that Bless said was back from the days when the government had been a monarchy instead of a democracy. In the moonlight it looked like a giant being swallowed in quicksand—some king no one cared about or remembered anymore—and I got a good kick out of thinking about how th’Esar’d shit his pants if he ever saw something like that. Too close to home for comfort. Wish I could’ve commissioned a fucking portrait.

  After we’d seen the first statue, we started to notice a lot more of them. Broken pillars, or half a head sticking out of the sand; sometimes no more than a piece of nose or a finger, but they weren’t regular old rocks, and we had the faculties to recognize ’em for what they were, now. It was like we’d somehow blundered into a forgotten city—and because we were only traveling at night, it felt all the more weird to be traveling through, riding our camels between dismembered body parts as large as the camels themselves.

  “Amazing what a change time can bring, isn’t it?” Bless remarked, the third night, when we were setting up camp in the shadow of a wall that was mostly rubble by now, pitted and pocked like a poor bastard’s dirty face. In fact, I’d known somebody who looked like that wall down in Molly a long time ago. “Not to mention a change in the government, eh?”

  There was something about his attitude that rubbed me the wrong way. I guessed it was mostly the way he seemed to think everything was better out in the desert, like leaving Thremedon had suddenly made him better than everyone else in it. There was no love lost between th’Esar and me, but even an idiot could tell he’d done well enough by his country, and people who acted like they were better than everybody else while digging dead people up outta the ground and selling the pieces off to the highest bidders didn’t exactly inspire feelings of affection in me.

  What surprised me—I mean really fucking knocked my boots off—was that Thom seemed to have picked up on it too. At least, he’d got some sand in his britches about something or other. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was having to sleep during the day and ride at night. Some men just weren’t made to be nocturnal; some of the boys back at the Airman’d had the same problem. I’d just have to keep an eye on my brother to make sure he didn’t turn into a knife-wielding maniac like Ivory on me, and everyone’d be okay.

  I didn’t have a spare knife to lend him, for starters.

  So it was shaping up to be one hell of a trip, each leg more tedious than the fucking last and no visible end in sight. To make my day fucking better, Bless’d slowed his camel that night to draw even with me. Sure, I’d done some bad things in my time, but nobody deserved to be saddled with this idiot.

  “If we keep to this pace, we should arrive at a proper dig site tomorrow,” Bless confided in me. I didn’t know why he was talking to me all of a sudden and not pretending I didn’t exist, like we both knew he wanted to. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his biggest fan had cooled his enthusiasm a little, worn down by so much traveling and so little to eat.

  “Huh,” I said, which wasn’t an answer so much as a grunt. He knew I didn’t give two shits about a dig site.

  “And,” Bless added quickly, “the Khevir dunes are only a matter of days away. Now, I know the rate at which we’re traveling has been very difficult for you, but doesn’t it soothe the sting somewhat to know that we’re very nearly at our goal? Of course, once we have reached the dunes, I imagine it will take us somewhat longer to comb them thoroughly for your magician, but the point remains that we are drawing very close to your destination.”

  “Right,” I said, grinding my teeth. He didn’t need to sound so fucking pleased about it. I’d already signed up for however many days in the desert it took to find that fucking magician, and I didn’t need some reminder that it was gonna be difficult. “Like I said, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do. And if you’re leading us around by the nose just because you think you can get away with it, I’ll make it so you’re just another statue out here. You got that, Bless?”

  We were passing by a huge stone forearm as I said it, set flat against the sand, with its palm turned up. The imagery didn’t escape Bless because ’Versity students were usually good with that kinda thing. He swallowed, then shook his head, still trying to pretend like I didn’t get to him. We both knew how true that was, too.

  “My dear fellow,” he began, and I would’ve taken my knife out then, desert guide be damned, if Thom hadn’t shouted.

  I whirled around, ready to fucking flay him alive if he’d gone and done something stupid like falling off his camel again, but he hadn’t. In fact, he looked pretty okay, save for the fact that he was staring at the arm like he thought it was real or something.

  “Thomas?” Bless asked, in that snotty voice of his, like a mother whose child was misbehaving.

  “I…” Thom blinked, then lifted a hand to rub at his eye. “I thought I saw someone. A man. Standing just above the wrist.”

  I looked, but there hadn’t been anyone there a minute ago, and there sure as Molly-shit wasn’t anyone there now.

  “Oh, Thomas,” Bless said, shaking his head. “I am so sorry. This change from diurnal to nocturnal’s been very difficult on you, hasn’t it? Perhaps you fell asleep for a moment, and dreamed it up? It’s happened to better men; don’t let it get you down.”

  “I didn’t fall asleep,” Thom insisted, though he didn’t sound entirely sure of himself. “I wasn’t even feeling tired.”

  “Well,” I said, sliding off my camel’s back, “only one way to be sure of that.”

  I hated to stop. It only made me feel like we were wasting time, but Bless seemed ready to write off whatever Thom’d seen as a dream, and you could bet your boots that whatever Geoffrey Fucking Bless did, I’d do the opposite.

  Besides, Thom was a Mollyrat. If he was going to shout because of anything, it wasn’t going to be some stupid dream. You learned quick enough not to shout in your sleep down in Molly, and even if Bless didn’t know better than to call my brother a liar, I sure as shit did.

  I stalked up to the arm, sand crunching beneath my feet. Behind me, Thom hit the ground with a thump and came racing up to follow me like he was some kind of hunting dog and I was his master.

  “Get back on the fucking camel,” I growled, hoisting myself up onto the broken stone thumb. “If there is anyone here, I don’t need you slowing me down.”

  “I wasn’t dreaming,” Thom said stubbornly, scratching his arm. “These damn sand gnats…If I’d thought it was a mirage, I’d never have disturbed everyone like—bastion fucking damn it, Geoffrey!”

  There was a flurry of action, and all of it happening in the fucking dark. I’d been good at seeing in the dark once, but I’d gone soft as fucking mud since then. Didn’t do me any good now to think about it. All I knew was that all of a sudden we weren’t alone in the desert, the night wind blowing in my face and the sand billowing up from someone else’s movements. Thom straightened up quick—his instincts weren’t bad when his thinking wasn’t getting in the way—and I swung down from the hand just in time to see three men dragging Bless from his camel.

  If this was a dream, it was a pretty fucking vivid one.

  Thom started toward them and I could’ve killed him on the spot, reaching out instead to haul him back by the collar. I shoved him behind me and pulled out my knife.

  But that wouldn’t do any fucking good either, because we were already surrounded.

  If Bless hadn’t’ve been there—if it’d just been the two of us�
��maybe I’d’ve been able to react a little faster; maybe I wouldn’t’ve let such a simple strategy pin us down so easy.

  But there was a saying down in Molly, and it went like this: could’ve, would’ve, should’ve.

  “Don’t fight!” Bless was saying. “Don’t fight!”

  My eyes were at least getting better at seeing in the dark again after all this night traveling. The moon came out from behind a cloud and I could see everything pretty well, in fact, and I took stock of the situation as quick as I could because I didn’t much trust anyone else to be able to. About fifteen men—maybe a few more—had come up on us, quiet as you like, closing me, Bless, Thom, and our other men in like we were somebody’s present. There was a man holding a knife to Bless’s throat and he snarled something in Bless’s ear.

  “What’s he saying?” I demanded.

  “He says that if you do not put that knife down,” Bless choked out, “he intends to cut my throat.”

  “Tell him to go ahead,” I said. “I don’t give a leaping fuck what the hell he does to you.”

  Bless looked troubled at that. “Surely you don’t mean it,” he said. The man holding the knife pressed it a little closer in under his chin and Bless made the most wonderful sound, like he couldn’t breathe, and also like he was shitting himself a little.

  “You pass on the information yet?” I asked. “Go ahead and tell him there’s no fucking deal.”

  “That will not be necessary,” someone new said from behind us, and I whirled around, knife at the ready, to make sure they didn’t think they had the drop on us.

  I didn’t even need the moonlight to tell me this guy was their leader. Just the way he held himself made it clear, and on closer inspection the way he was dressed sealed it. His hair was longer and his face was pretty intense, and he was looking at me the way th’Esar liked to look at me—so I knew he was probably some kind of royalty. Instinct could do a lot for you in a pinch like this one.

  “You are not from these parts,” my friend the desert king said. It was real convenient that he could speak Volstovic, because that meant we didn’t have to use Bless as a go-between.

  “Yeah, that’s about right,” I said.

  “And this man, I think, is a robber,” my friend went on, gesturing at Bless. “I do not know you, but men who consort with robbers are usually robbers themselves.”

  “I’ve picked a few pockets in my time,” I told him, “not that it’s any business of yours what I’ve done.”

  “Picked a few pockets?” My friend paused to contemplate this—the phrase obviously confused him—and I had to do my damnedest not to laugh. I wasn’t used to being circumspect or negotiating. Maybe I should’ve let Thom talk—but I was the one with the knife, which meant I was the one who did the talking. At least for now, anyway.

  “To eat,” I said, making the appropriate gesture for eating with my free hand. “Money, for food. But that was a real long time ago.”

  “But you travel with this,” my friend said, and spat into the sand.

  I grinned. Now, that was something I could get behind. On a whim, I gathered up a mouthful and spat into the sand after him. “Me too,” I explained.

  My friend looked puzzled for a moment, like my actions confused him. Good; there was still a chance we could get the element of surprise back and not get sliced open like lunch in the desert because of Geoffrey Fucking Bless robbing other people’s cultures blind in the name of learning, or whatever excuse he was currently using.

  “Who are you?” my friend asked finally.

  “You first,” I said.

  “Rook, I really think—” Thom began beside me, but my friend held up his hand.

  “I am not embarrassed to give my name,” he said. “I am Kalim al’Mhed of the Khevir al’Mheds.” Behind me, I heard Bless make a choking noise; I didn’t think it was from anyone slitting his throat clean in two, which was a pity. “See?” Kalim al’Mhed of the whatever al’Mheds confirmed my suspicions. “Your friend knows me.”

  “Hey,” I said. “That pussyfoot isn’t my friend.”

  “Pussyfoot?” Kalim repeated.

  I gestured to my dick and then expressed, with my thumb and forefinger, the universal sign for very fucking small. Kalim took my meaning immediately. I could officially say that talks in the desert were going pretty well.

  “You travel with a common thief,” Kalim told me. “We call him rakhman. This means…‘pussyfoot,’ in your Volstovic language?”

  “Yeah, rakhman,” I agreed, butchering the pronunciation, but nevertheless completely getting my point across. “That’s what he is, and we’re only traveling with him because we have to.”

  “And you are?” Kalim asked politely.

  “Uh, I’m Rook,” I said. “Of the Mollyrat Rooks. No titles.”

  “Well, Mollyrat Rook,” Kalim went on, “I do not like this man behind you. Should I kill him?”

  Thom made a slight noise of disapproval. I looked down at him, wondered how many throats he’d seen slit in Molly, and sighed.

  “Sure, if you have to,” I said. “If he’s insulted your mother or dug up your great-grandfather or something. But don’t do it in front of my brother.”

  “Rook, really,” Bless tried to say. Then he stopped real short, on account of somebody holding a knife to his voice box. I was liking Kalim better and better the more I got to know him.

  “We will put him to trial,” Kalim said finally, something struggling to show itself on his face. Emotion I couldn’t understand, but it was obviously killing him not to order Bless put down right then and there, which at least was something I could understand very well.

  “You’ve got my blessing,” I said. “But we’ve got nothing to do with this. New to the desert and all that. We’ve got somebody we’re looking for, so—”

  “I am sorry,” Kalim said, and he had the decency to actually look it. “But I cannot let you go. If you are associated with this man, then we must also take you into our custody.”

  Great, I thought. I knew that heading into this with Bless was gonna come back and bite me square in the ass, sure as piss after a night of drinking.

  “Well, I’m sorry, Kalim,” I said. “Because I can’t let you do that.”

  “I understand,” Kalim said.

  “So let’s settle this man to man,” I told him, and indicated my knife—universal symbol for knife fight, I was guessing.

  “Rook,” Thom said quietly. He didn’t sound like he was pissing himself, so he was doing all right as far as I was concerned.

  “Keep the fuck back,” I said, since apparently that was something he was having trouble with all of a sudden.

  “This is your brother?” Kalim asked, looking over at Thom like he’d only just noticed him.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s him.”

  “I see,” Kalim nodded. “Well, I will have to be sure not to slit your throat in front of him, either.”

  Thom sucked in a breath, but I just grinned because Kalim was a man who was speaking my language—and I didn’t just mean Volstovic. He said something sharply in desert talk and his men fanned out—they were pretty well fucking trained for a group of nomads—and formed a loose circle around us. I cracked my neck. This was an arena that required no translation; I’d have wagered it was the same in any country. No one left the circle until the fight was over.

  I’d just have to hope I’d made enough of an impression on Kalim and the Khevir al’Mheds that they wouldn’t want to play for keeps.

  Kalim shed the cape and cowl he’d been wearing and drew out his knife. It was a mean-looking thing, with a curved blade and a pale handle that looked like it was made out of some kind of bone. I wasn’t any kind of enthusiast when it came to blades—I’d take what got the job done, thanks—but even I could tell this thing was special. Hoped it wasn’t human bone, though. That was just messy.

  “If I lose,” I muttered to Thom, while someone scurried forward from the circle to take Kalim’s discarded
overrobe, “give up on Bless, you got that? Gotta make some compromises. You take care of yourself and don’t try to stick your neck out for that pisser. He’s not worth it.”

  “You don’t really think he intends to kill you?” Thom asked. He seemed pretty fucking calm on the outside, but I could hear his voice tightening underneath.

  “Nah,” I said, tossing him my best grin. It was all teeth. “Besides, I’m not gonna lose. That’s some real impressive confidence you have in me.”

  “Rook,” Thom began, and then, a lot more quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it, “John…”

  “Get back in the fucking circle, Thom,” I snapped, like he was three fucking years old again and wouldn’t listen to a damn thing I said. Then I turned away, passing my knife from one hand to the other to get a feel for the weight of it. At least this time what I’d said took. He walked back slowly to stand between two of Kalim’s men, and not near Geoffrey, I noted, which was funny as hell. Maybe he was listening to me after all.

  “Can’t we just be reasonable about all this?” Bless asked, gurgling softly when the man holding him made it clear that now was the time to shut up and shut up good.

  Kalim spat in the ground rather than answering him, which I thought was a pretty fair answer, all things considered. I did the same. It was good for diplomatic relations.

  “Among my people, we have a tradition,” Kalim said, turning to me again. “When a man is not fighting to prove his innocence, and between men who have no blood quarrel, we end the fight when first blood is drawn. It is an understanding that the man who bleeds will abide by the wishes of the victor. To attempt to do otherwise would be dishonorable.”

  “So even though you’re not going to slit my throat and I’m not gonna beat you to a pulp, whoever lands the first scratch gets to call the shots, is that what you’re saying?” I asked, just to be clear we were on the same page. I didn’t trust him—it went against all my instincts as a Mollyrat to trust a stranger in a fight, especially when I was fighting by the stranger’s rules—but I was kinda almost inclined to want to trust him, which was throwing me off.