by Siobhan Muir
Aristotle’s response consisted of a horsey snore and Iliana smiled as she chewed on a piece of dried meat. Her gaze drifted over to the men sleeping a few feet away. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done…and I didn’t even choose to be here. Her arm took that moment to remind her she’d been injured and she sighed as she remembered the first aid kit.
Fix your arm and pack your things. More than likely, they’d have to leave in a hurry again, and she didn’t want to leave anything behind. Especially with an army tailing us. What a strange place to be, worried about an army and trusting men she barely knew.
Guess that’s not so different than Hollywood. Except Brandon wasn’t Taggart Crowe, and Ahmad looked more like a Saudi businessman. Something about the guy gave her the heebie jeebies. She didn’t trust him, though he’d done nothing to earn her suspicion. Still, her gut warned her to be careful around him.
But Brandon’s not so bad. She figured they could be friends given the right circumstances. She respected him and even liked his smart-ass humor. And he’s not bad to look at, either. As if looks played into anything in this world.
Sighing, she finished cleaning her wound and packed up her things. She leaned against Aristotle and kept an ear perked toward the east, listening for the sounds of men on horses.
Chapter Five: “Thick as thieves…”
The ride to Sandur went easily, but convincing her body to move took all of Iliana’s willpower. They entered the city a few hours after dawn and relief cascaded through her at the sight of civilization. Any civilization. Hell, it’ll be nice to hear voices other than my own. Brandon and Ahmad made for boring travel partners.
She suspected Ahmad didn’t trust her much, but the feeling remained mutual. Brandon hadn’t said anything more than a grunted greeting when they got moving. She’d been grateful no one came upon them while they rested, but she wished they could get out from under the threat of pursuit.
The city of Sandur radiated in a wagon wheel pattern. Large sandstone buildings stood in the center surrounded by smaller, meaner structures. A wall encircled the city and guards, more for crowd control than defense, manned the outer gates. Iliana’s costume mirrored the uniform on the guards, who appeared more bored than vigilant. Ahmad and Brandon rode on without acknowledgement of any familiarity, and she followed, her nervousness subsiding.
“We will resupply for the push to Ros Torach.” Ahmad directed them toward the marketplace. “We’ll rest here a night and set off early tomorrow morning. Do not dally. We’re not out of Knalland yet.” He shot Iliana a suspicious look. “Will you be continuing on with us to Ros Torach, desert crawler?”
She didn’t think he could add more venom in his voice if he tried.
“Yes, I have business in Ros Torach.” She met his gaze without flinching. She had no idea what she’d do in the coastal city of Torhaine, but better to figure it out there than be left here in a hostile country she knew nothing about. Torhaine at least sounds friendlier, and their army isn’t after us. Yet.
Ahmad grunted, but said nothing else. Her gut told her to watch her back around him, but for now she had to follow along until she could decide what to do. I’ve already missed my filming start date. I don’t think I’ll be getting home any time soon.
They wound their way around the circumference of the city, encountering the market stalls half-way. The scents of livestock and cooked meat mixed with the overwhelming clamor of animals bellowing and vendors hocking their wares. Despite the cacophony, the business conducted seemed to be controlled chaos and she marveled at the ebb and flow of the populace through everything.
The scents flooded her nose and she reattached the silk scarf over her face just as they stopped to walk the horses through the stalls. Iliana had seen markets like this in photographs from National Geographic magazine, but the experience left her gawking. Good thing I’m wearing the veil or I’d look like a country bumpkin in the big city.
She had no idea how she’d pay for her supplies, but she hoped some sort of opportunity would present itself. She followed docilely along after Brandon and Ahmad, watching them work the vendors to their advantage. Ahmad bought grain for the horses, dried meat and fruit for their meals, and some sweet date bars for energy along the way. Brandon secured some breads and salted butter kept at room temperature. It smelled somewhat rancid, but he explained it came from camel and lasted much longer than cow butter.
She wanted to replace the essential oils she’d used in Kyram’s kit, and sniffed at the salves in apothecaries’ booths. Some smelled familiar, but she couldn’t read their labels and chose not to take a chance on them. Maybe the next place will have writing I can read. I hope.
Despite the multitude of people in the market, she saw very few women, and of those she saw, none negotiated with the vendors. They just pointed to items and let their male companions do all the work. Several of the vendors had called out to her to come see their wares. I must look like a man to them. She found that rather gratifying, but left the business dealings to the others who knew the rules better.
Brandon arranged for them to stay at a clean hostelry with whitewashed walls and an asymmetric roof. She thought it oddly shaped until she realized the roof faced north, leaving most of the building in the shade during the hot part of the day. The stables for the horses boasted clean straw and well-nourished stable hands. Aristotle seemed pleased with the accommodations and remarked on the wealth of this inn given the accommodations for their visiting horses. She let some of her tension fade.
They shared a silent meal in the common room of the hostelry and she made sure to only use her right hand to handle the food. She didn’t know if this place held the same standards as the Islamic peoples of her world, but she didn’t want to piss anyone off. Better safe than sorry.
The men’s determined silence kept Iliana locked in her head. What would happen when they finally reached the coast? Beyond the name of the city, she knew nothing about it. Given the uneasy partnership they had going now, most likely they’d split up. Which leaves me where?
She let her gaze rove around the room and stifled the urge to shake her head. The rules to the game were different here. She shot a look at her companions, but both concentrated on eating. No help there. If nothing else, she’d be with Aristotle. Maybe he’d give her some direction.
She’d nearly finished her spicy rice dish when Ahmad wiped his face and stood up. He scanned the room then fixed his gaze on her for a few seconds before turning to Brandon.
“I have some business to attend to, Crowe, but I’ll return this evening after sunset. We should leave before dawn.” He shot another look at Iliana. “Your services aren’t needed, desert crawler, but you can come with us to Ros Torach.”
Ahmad turned smartly on his heel, striding for the doorway and street beyond before she could answer. Well, okay, then. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Brandon, but her companion shrugged and returned to his own meal.
“Friendly guy. I don’t know how you can stand to be around him when he talks so much.”
Brandon snorted and wiped his mouth with his arm. “I don’t work with him for his conversation skills.”
“Why do you work with him?” She stacked their platters to make it easier for the serving woman to take.
“He’s an expert at getting into things.” He stood and she followed him up to their rented room.
“What sort of things?”
Brandon didn’t answer until they’d closed the door behind them. Iliana sat down on one of the two beds in the room and pulled her boots off. She hadn’t developed any blisters, but her feet felt gritty from all the sand. She yearned for a bath, but she didn’t trust her companions enough to be that vulnerable.
Brandon leaned against the window, scanning the street outside. “Cellars, locked doors, vaults. Things of that nature.”
She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, surreptitiously checking for her belt pouches and sword. “He’s a safe cracker? A thief?”
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Brandon nodded. “One of the best who knows the Knalish pretty well.”
“Why would you need a thief who know the Knalish?” Before he could answer, she held up her hand. “You know what? I don’t want to know. I’m just getting you across the desert and that’s it. The less I know the better off I’ll be.”
“You’re not even curious?”
Iliana snorted. “Of course I’m curious. But you know what curiosity did to the cat.”
He tilted his head with a half smile. “Actually, I don’t. What did curiosity do to the cat?”
“Killed it.” She rubbed her hands over her face as he chuckled. She tried not to enjoy the way his eyes danced or the happy sound of his laughter. He’s not Taggart Crowe. “Did you guys steal something and that’s why the army is after you?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“I don’t want to know specifics, but I do want to know if they think I did it, too.”
Brandon nodded as he retreated to the other bed. He reached down to one of his packs and opened it as he sat on the mattress. He pulled out some oil and a cloth before retrieving his sword and working on the blade.
“Do they think I’m part of this little escapade?”
He merely raised his eyebrows at her from across the room.
“Great.” She shook her head and dragged one of the wooden chairs over to the window. “Accomplice by default.”
“Would it help to know we’re grateful?”
She grunted her disbelief. “Speak for yourself. I don’t think Ahmad feels that way.”
“He does, though he may never tell you.”
She sealed her lips around her thoughts on that score, but turned her gaze to the city streets outside. The sun sank in the west and the lantern lighters slowly illuminated the wagon wheel of the town. She wondered what business Ahmad had without Brandon, but shoved the thoughts away. I really don’t want to know any more about him than I have to. The guy had more warning flags than a football game and she’d learned to listen to her gut, especially when it came to enigmatic men. If Hollywood taught me anything, it’s to watch my back around guys like that.
Below her, a few prostitutes plied their trade out of sight of the guards who patrolled the streets. That’s probably the “business” Ahmad’s attending to this evening. She shouldn’t think so meanly of the women making their living selling their bodies. What makes me any different as a Hollywood actress? Just because she didn’t like Ahmad didn’t mean she should deride the ladies. She shot a look at Brandon as he cleaned his sword and dagger blades. The steady sound of the oiled cloth sweeping over the steel soothed her worries and relaxed her body.
She stretched her arms overhead, but stopped short when the bandage around her arm pulled at her wound. Ugh, I should clean it. The last thing she wanted to do was fool with pain, but it wouldn’t heal if she didn’t keep it clean. No pain, no gain, right?
She rose from the window and filled a washing bowl with water. She dug through her saddle bags and retrieved the little first aid kit before sitting down in her chair again. Taking a deep breath, she slowly unwound the bandana. It came off easily until the last layer took the scab off her arm.
She whimpered involuntarily and tears sprang to her eyes as she pulled it away. Brandon looked up, his gaze assessing, but didn’t stop rubbing the blade with the oiled cloth. She dropped the bandana into the water and rinsed it out. The blood promptly turned it a deep red and more oozed from her wound. Despite its soreness, it didn’t look infected. Thank God. Touching the wound again made her hiss and the sound of the cloth against the sword stopped.
Brandon crouched in front of her, his expression concerned. “With your permission, Iliana, let me help you with that.”
“I just need to clean it and get more lavender oil on it.” She blinked away the tears and gritted her teeth until the pain settled back into a dull throb.
“Let me help.”
“What are you going to do?”
He gave her a dry smile. “I’ll clean it and put some of this on it.” He held up a round earthen vial she’d seen in the marketplace.
“Did that come from the apothecary’s stall?” When he nodded, she frowned. “What is it?”
“It's a medicinal salve for healing wounds and keeping them clean.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve used it a few times. Just trust me.” He pulled the cork on the vial and a stringent, medicinal scent filled the air. “It’ll help.”
She bit her bottom lip. “All right.”
“First, let’s see if we can clear some of the dried blood.”
Brandon set the salve down and squeezed out the extra water from the bandana with a frown. “You said you had lavender oil?”
“Yes, I found it in Kyram’s saddle bags. He had a small—” She interrupted herself with a hiss as the bandana snagged on the edges of the gash when Brandon wiped it. “Oh, glory, that hurts.” More tears started in her eyes, but she blinked them back.
“Sorry. It’s proving stubborn.”
“Yeah, I don’t know anyone else like that.”
He chuckled as he wiped away the last of the blood. “It looks fairly clean and healthy. The lavender must have done its job. Now I’ll add the salve and that should do it.”
“Will it hurt?”
“At the beginning, but it’s made with something that deadens the pain. Just a little bit more.” He picked up the vial of salve. “Ready?”
“Can I say no?” He grinned as she nodded. “Yeah, ready.”
Excruciating fire lit up her arm as soon as he touched the salve to it and she groaned as her jaw tightened until she thought her teeth would crack. She sweated a few moments until the pain dissolved like an artist erasing a pencil drawing. It only twinged a little when Brandon pulled some bandages out of his saddlebags and wrapped her arm snugly. Iliana sagged with relief.
“Feel better?” He smirked at her as he recorked the vial.
“Trick question, right?” She gave him a grateful smile. “Yes, much better.”
“Good.”
He patted her thigh and handed the salve to her. “Keep that. It’ll help it heal along with your lavender oil. You’ll have a scar to tell stories about later, but the salve should keep it clear of infection.”
“Thanks.” She tucked salve away in one of her saddlebags as he returned to oiling his blades.
“You're welcome.”
She watched his sure motions for a short time before she gathered her courage. “Brandon, can I ask you a favor?”
He snorted. “You mean beyond binding your arm? I don’t know. It might cost you extra.”
“Heh. Ever the mercenary.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. “But I’d figure out a way to pay you for this.”
For a moment his hand and his expression stilled then his gaze skittered from her head to her feet and back. “What did you have in mind?”
“Would you be willing to teach me a few things about sword fighting?”
Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, that wasn’t it because he laughed with relief. “Oh, sword fighting. Yes, I could probably do that.”
“Why? What did you think I meant?” She suspected, but she wanted to hear him say it.
“Well, the way you said it, and…” He waved the cloth at her body. “I thought…”
“What, that I wanted sex from you?”
He grimaced and his cheeks turned rosy. “Yes.”
“Honey, you’re a handsome man and I’m sure you have many skills, but right now survival trumps pleasure.” She hoped her relaxed response would set him at ease. “I’m flattered you thought I wanted sex, but I think we need to know each other better before that happens.”
He rubbed the back of his neck with a surprised smile. “You think I’m handsome?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard it from lots of women.”
“None that I haven’t paid first.”
>
“Oh.” Iliana let a giddy smile curl her lips. “No payment necessary. Compliments are free.”
His cheeks remained rosy, but he cleared his throat. “So, sword fighting. You said you’d pay me to learn?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Don’t you pay your experts to teach what they know?”
Brandon resumed rubbing the oil on his dagger blade. “Yes, but usually it’s at a school or fellowship. Not an individual.”
“You’re the only one I know right now and I’d like to learn.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want to repeat the experience I had at the oasis with the Knalish army.” She shuddered. “I know the rudiments of sword fighting, which is why I didn’t die first thing, but I don't know enough to defend myself against a real fighter. If Ahmad hadn’t come along, I’d have been a pin cushion.”
He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that warmed her more than she expected. “Your phrases are unusual, but they invoke great images.”
“Thanks, I think.” She grimaced. “So would you be willing to teach me?”
Brandon finished with his blade and sheathed it, setting the oiling cloth aside. “I’m curious why you don’t have more ability. But I suppose if you’re truly not from here, you wouldn’t.”
“You still don’t believe I’m not Kyram?” Iliana sighed and rubbed her face. “Glory, I don’t think there’s any way to convince you if you haven’t seen it by now. Please, Brandon, I really need your help if I'm going to survive here. I’ll even pay you for your expertise.”
“No need for that.” He waved her off. “Call it an exchange for your help getting across the desert. Ahmad and I would never have made it without you. I’ll teach you what I know about sword fighting for the remainder of our trip across the Karobis.”
“Thank you.” Some of her concern drained from her shoulders and she rolled the joints to loosen them. “Speaking of which, what are you going to do after we make it to Ros Torach?”
He shrugged. “I’ll go wherever the adventure takes me. I plan to sell the items I liberated from the Knalish vault, then who knows? I usually don't make future plans until I get to my destination because I don't know if I will even make it there. The world's too unpredictable.”
