Saysi glared up at me so angrily that for a moment I wondered if she planned to smack me in the stomach, which was directly in line with her angry eyes. Instead, she settled for spinning on her heel and stomping away through the sand, kicking puffs of the dry granules into the air with each step.
I finished cinching the saddle and duffel onto the big brown camel. Badswell pulled himself up onto the beast's narrow back, while Parnish and Rathentweed mounted the second camel. Deciding that I would start the day on foot, I took the reins in my hand and plodded after Saysi.
In the morning hours, the sand was still relatively cool against my bare feet. I fell into stride beside Saysi, following the course that Parnish indicated from his lofty vantage. The priestess said nothing, tugging her hand away when I reached down to try and take it in my own. Once again my emotions were more concerned than angry. She was clearly disturbed, and there didn't seem to be any way that I could get through to her.
As the hours of the morning progressed, the relentless assault of climbing temperatures began to take its toll. Waves of heat rolled across the sand, rising from the dunes, descending from the sky, increasing with each blast of the wind. The savage gusts of air were in no way refreshing. Instead, they were part of the overall searing onslaught. Sometimes stinging needles of sand swept along the ridges and crests of the dunes, coursing downward to strike with pinpricks of pain against every exposed inch of skin.
Those inches became progressively more elusive, however, as we pulled our robes tightly around ourselves, leaving the barest slits over our faces, gaps just wide enough to allow us to see. Each breath was filtered through a gauze of the cloth, but even so, grains of fine sand found their way into mouths and noses. Our eyelids were caked with the stuff, and a simple blink became a gritty, painful experience. I found myself postponing for as long as possible each momentary closing of my eyes.
Though in stature I towered over Saysi, my feet were as tough as a halfling's, and thus I was not terribly troubled by my steps over the abrasive surface. By midday, however, the sand was so hot that even our fur-covered soles became sore and sensitive to the searing granules.
Badswell announced that he needed to walk for a while, halting his camel and sliding from the saddle to stand on the scorching sand. His heavy boots, fortunately, would give him protection from the sunswept terrain, and I gratefully prepared to mount the camel in his place. Lifting Saysi by clasping her tiny waist between my hands, I hoisted her over my head to set her on the fore saddle at the camel's shoulders. Then I took the stirrup of the high mid saddle and pulled myself into position between the animal's humps.
The camel's gait was a lurching stagger that would have done justice to a blinded drunkard. Within minutes, my neck was sore, snapped back and forth as it was by each plodded footstep. Saysi, apparently numbed by her own confusion, sat quietly, holding on to the lip of her saddle and refusing to meet my eyes when I solicitously inquired as to how she was faring.
We stopped frequently to take sips of water from the large skins carried in the camel's saddlebags. The amazing beasts seemed unfazed by the heat, simply waiting patiently while Badswell splashed a thin trickle into his mouth. Smacking his lips, the big half-ogre handed the waterskin back to me, and I stowed it as we once again resumed our march across the trackless expanse of sand.
The late afternoon hours brought no relief from the heat. If anything, it became hotter than ever, as if the sinking sun were determined to sear us with its most savage rays before seeking inevitable banishment below the western horizon. Our course, guided as always by the wizard's sense of direction to the next piece of the rod, took us generally southward, so at least we didn't stare directly into that fiery orb as it drew near to setting.
Then, for the first time all day, I caught a glimpse of an irregularity in the featureless terrain: trees! A glimpse of green fronds peeked over the rim of a distant dune, and as we lurched over the next rise, I saw more and more of the leafy palms coming into sight.
"An oasis!" Parnish declared excitedly.
We all shared the wizard's anticipation. Even Saysi's eyes brightened as she looked ahead, watching as we came over the last dune to see a green-speckled valley spread out below us. The lowering sun reflected a haze of orange and red rising from an expanse of crystal clear water, as beautiful as any sight I'd ever seen. The camels picked up the pace, lumbering eagerly down the descending slope until they were striding through a fringe of tall grasses.
Soon the palms rose around us, casting merciful shade and cloaking us in a cocoon of cool, moist air. The scents of fragrant blossoms filled the air with lush perfume, while insects buzzed lazily along the fringe of cool water.
It was with a sense of profound relief that we halted the camels. By the time I slid down and assisted Saysi and Rathentweed from their high saddles, Badswell already had his boots off and his feet immersed in the water, while an expression of serene, almost ecstatic pleasure softened the edges of his broad face.
Only Saysi's mood remained worried and tense as she stared around fearfully, even at me. I stood protectively near her, looming high over her tiny form, determined to defend her from any and all threats, including the delusions of her own madness.
CHAPTER 18
A RIDER FROM THE PLANES
We feasted on dates, citrus fruit of varied and tangy flavors, and roasted fish, the latter netted from the pond by Rathentweed with an ingenious strainer system of his own invention. During the few minutes while the rest of us set up our camp, the industrious gnome collected no fewer than a dozen plump panfish from the crystalline waters of the spring-fed pool. Though reeds and lilies enclosed much of the shoreline, the gnome found a sandy spit extending into the water; he claimed that the fish were so thick they all but jumped into his nets.
Even the air seemed cooler around the oasis. Though logic suggested that the breeze was the same harsh wind that had scoured the desert all day long, something about the surrounding greenery, the fragrance of many thousands of blossoms, and the moisture of the life-giving oasis changed that abrasive current into a pleasant, balmy breath of air.
Only Saysi's mood darkened what would otherwise have been a delightful meal. She remained sullen and silent, casting frightened glances up at me every time she felt my eyes upon her. When I tried to talk about mundane things, such as the food or our sleeping arrangements, she was disinterested to the point of rudeness. Shifting to a discussion of our beautiful surroundings, I was startled when she burst into tears, leapt to her feet, and ran from our little circle to disappear amid the brush of the oasis.
"Best let her cool down a bit, young fellow," Rathentweed counseled when I rose to follow her. "She's obviously not used to traveling. Even the most seasoned adventurer can find the steady change of scenery unsettling. Perhaps she feels a touch of homesickness."
Privately I was skeptical. After all, Saysi had never displayed anything remotely resembling homesickness before. Too, I had a hard time picturing the fussy gnome as much of a "seasoned adventurer," and this couldn't help but make me suspicious of his opinions. Still, there was a kernel of wisdom in there somewhere, enough so that I acknowledged that this might indeed not be the best time to go talk to her.
Instead, I stayed with the others and ate like a horse. My brawny legs crossed beneath me, I gathered fronds of palms on my lap, tucked my loose-flowing robe around me, and concentrated on the food. As I devoured bite after bite, I couldn't help but admire the strapping muscles of my arms. Stroking my fingers over my square, firm chin, I pondered the tufts of fur on my bare feet, wondering at the incongruous note; they were the only part of my body that didn't look as though they belonged to the mighty warrior I knew myself to be.
By the time we had finished our splendid repast, however, Saysi had still not returned, and I decided to seek her out. Walking across the lush grasses, making my way between lofty palms, I marveled at the display of heavy blossoms, watching as fat bumblebees dipped and danced from one to the ne
xt.
I found the little priestess sitting at the bank of the pool, watching fish weave between floating lilies. She didn't meet my eyes as I came up beside her, but she scooted to the side as if to offer me a place to sit. Flopping to the ground, I let my bare feet trail into the water, relishing the cool wetness on my fur-covered toes.
"Look at your feet," she said calmly after a few moments of this soothing balm.
I did. They were good feet, if a little large. The tufts of fur common to many halflings were smooth and silky, and as I had many times before, I wondered how it could be that humans and dwarves and so many other creatures felt compelled to restrain their feet within shoes or, even worse, heavy boots.
"They're halfling feet, aren't they?" Saysi asked pointedly.
"Of course they are." I was willing to humor her. In fact, I was glad to hear that she had now controlled the tremors of anxiety that had quavered in her speech before.
"But now look at you," she said quietly, looking up as I, even while relaxing casually, loomed over her. "You're not a halfling anymore!"
"What?" I was taken aback. "Of course I am. You yourself just said so when you looked at my feet!"
"Stand up." Saysi rose while I studied her. Standing beside my sitting form, her eyes were even with mine. When she planted her hands on her hips, I knew that she was stubbornly determined that I follow her instructions. With a heavy sigh, I obeyed.
Her head, with its framework of pretty copper curls, came barely to my belt. "Now do you see what I mean?" she asked. "You're as tall as any human—I daresay taller than most of them."
"So?" Her words were giving me a headache again, but I tried to follow the line of her reasoning. "Lots of halflings are kind of tall."
"Not like you." She gestured at my arms, at the cords of sinew that bulged beneath my skin, rippling as I moved.
"But Saysi..."
She looked up at me, bravely blinking back the tears that started to swim in her eyes. I looked at those soft brown orbs, remembering things about her: the soft and voluptuous curves of her feminine body, the coy way in which she had resisted—fortunately, not always successfully—my kisses, the sweet smile that had lighted up my life in the months we had been together.
With those memories, an explosion of burning guilt surged upward in my mind, searing through my head like a lance of agonizing pain. What had I been thinking? How could I have entertained romantic thoughts toward one so sweet, so pure, so... so small? With a groan, I slumped back to the ground, refusing to look at her.
"Kip..." I felt her tiny hand on my strapping arm, and despite my effort to pull away, she retained her grip with surprising strength. She didn't say anything more, and I told myself that she couldn't have known about my dark desires.
"No... I'm all right. Thanks," I said weakly.
Of course, Saysi would no doubt find a proper halfling mate... marry someday, perhaps bear children... but why did that prospect fill me with such mournful sadness?
"We don't have to talk about it anymore," she said quietly. "I can see that things are... different, for all of you. Maybe it's my amulet, or my faith in Patrikon that puts things into a clearer light. But let's just remember that we're friends. We should help, not hurt, each other."
"You're right," I agreed, my headache already beginning to fade. "Friends forever..." But why did this pledge feel so empty, as if I needed something more?
"Look there!" she declared suddenly, pointing across the water toward the red-lit horizon toward the west.
At first I thought she had spotted a small cloud, a lonely wisp of vapor in the clear evening sky. A dark object rose like an inverted cone, perched upon a point and looming some distance into the air. Upon further examination, however, I saw that the thing was moving, advancing with surprising speed.
"Is it a tornado?" The resemblance was undeniable, but even as I asked the question, I discounted the possibility. The sky was otherwise clear, with no signs of any kind of storm brewing.
As it drew nearer, I began to hear sounds, like a strong wind blowing in the distance, listened to from a position of shelter. The swirling shape was indeed a cloud of sorts, for the piercing rays of the sunset actually passed through the cyclone, casting it in fiery translucence.
But the inverted cone moved with startling precision, clearly under firm control. The cloud spun along the crest of a nearby dune, kicking up a plume of sand around its base, behaving like nothing so much as a fast chariot pulled by strong, eager horses. Indeed, twin shapes reared before the tornado, wispy manes flowing in tendrils of cloud, and it seemed that there were steeds pulling hard in their traces. The ethereal animals guided the tornado-like shape, now descending from the heights of the sandy ridge, gliding swiftly closer.
Remembering the painting in Parnish Fegher's library, I felt a growing, awe-inspiring belief that this was a wind duke, riding the cyclone of his chariot. I was not surprised to see that the comparison was truly apt, for this chariot did indeed bear a passenger. A tall figure, ebony black and sternly regal in posture, stood alone atop the cyclone. The whirlwind reached the greenery of the oasis, passing between the palms, setting the long grass to waving back and forth. Yet the effect of the winds seemed controlled and very local, for the tops of the palms didn't flutter to anything other than the steady evening breeze, nor did the grass that was more than a few paces away from the whirlwind's base.
The cloud spiraled across the surface of the glowing water, splashing ripples into a wide wake without losing a bit of its steady speed. I could see the passenger clearly now, and the sight confirmed my initial deduction. A tall, manlike figure, with skin as black as ebony and a grim, even haughty demeanor, stood tall and straight atop the whirling cyclone. Like his skin, the vaati traveler's beard and mustache, his long, tightly curled hair, were of perfect blackness.
Parnish, Badswell, and Rathentweed had obviously noted the arrival of the whirling wind, for they emerged from the grove to join us at the bank of the pool. When he caught sight of the regal figure standing atop the spiraling cloud, the wizard uttered a gasp of amazement, then fell to his knees, pressing his face to the ground in a gesture of utter devotion.
"Kneel, fools!" he hissed to the rest of us. "Kneel and show homage in the presence of a wind duke!"
The command in the wizard's voice was too assertive to ignore, and furthermore the newcomer's arrival was so spectacular that we naturally shared the awe that was so vibrant in Parnish Fegher's voice.
Nevertheless, I was not so overwhelmed as I knelt that I didn't keep an eye on the whirlwind as it swept across the waters of the pristine pool and came to rest on the bank beside us. Like a wisp of smoke borne away by an evening breeze, the cone of swirling air and its magical, ethereal horses dissipated, vanishing into the atmosphere after slowly, gently, lowering the tall passenger down to the ground.
"Rise, mortals," he said, in a voice that was deep with resonant power, yet calm and direct, full of dignity and compassion. "I thank you for the honor you display, but it is you yourselves who are truly worthy of esteem."
"Great lord, your arrival is a blessing beyond any of our hopes," declared Parnish, slowly lifting his face from the ground.
I was somewhat taken aback by the sight of this powerful wizard bowing and scraping like the most miserable of serfs. At the same time, I took the example as a cautionary note, reasoning that anyone who could fill the magic-user with such awe must be a person of power, influence, and stature. Remembering my reading, I wondered if this was a wendeam, one of the wind duke outcasts who traveled among the worlds, constantly tracking the whereabouts of the Rod of Seven Parts.
Rising, stepping protectively before Saysi, I studied the vaati traveler. He was taller than I, nearly equal to Badswell in height. Though his body was slender, his black skin moved with supple, almost fluid grace as he bowed, gesturing smoothly with his right hand to include us all in his greetings. He carried a long pole of smooth wood in his left, leaning on the staff with casual
ease.
Somewhat startled, I realized that the visitor was virtually naked, except for the thin strip of a leather belt, from which several pouches and scabbards dangled. I thought of him as a male, no doubt because of his voice, and the full beard and mustache that encircled his chin and cheeks. However, because of his nakedness, I saw, with a twinge of embarrassment, that his body seemed utterly sexless.
Only then did I notice a trailing formation of floating lights, like bubbles of shimmering gossamer, each containing a bright firefly. These specks of illumination bobbed and dipped in the air, forming a small circle around the wind duke's head. I counted about a half dozen of the obviously magical baubles, which reminded me of a will-o'-the-wisp that had once almost lured me to doom in the depths of a fetid swamp. Nevertheless, there was nothing threatening in the appearance of these magical lights; instead, they seemed more like loyal followers, even bodyguards, of the wind duke.
As the vaati traveler stepped closer to us, the bubbles of light bobbed along in precise formation, maintaining a vague halo about the fellow's tall, proud head.
"I am Arquestan," he declared, bowing again. "I have watched you, wizard, and know your efforts on behalf of law. You should realize that your staunch labors have not gone unnoticed in the Valley of Aaqa."
"My Lord Arquestan, I am overwhelmed and certainly unworthy of such praise," declared Parnish Fegher, with another gasp of awe.
"Please do not be. Every world needs its heroes, defenders of truth and law. These times are fraught with peril. Even with all your efforts, and the courage and righteousness of your brave companions, danger lurks very near, and our success is far from assured."
"Do you know where we are?" asked Saysi boldly.
"Aye, my lass, daughter of Patrikon. You are one who sees the truth, even as chaos grows. To answer your question, this is the Oasis of the Planes, and it is fortuitous indeed that, through the shifting dunes of chaos, you have all survived to reach here."
The Rod of Seven Parts Page 21
