for something else to hurl at the enraged bird. Saelin groped gingerly at a little recess in the rock behind him as the parrot continued her assault, but found nothing.
Nothing except Claria's chroniclave.
The parrots and his hunger forgotten, Saelin hunched close the stone wall and drew out the little bundle. He took his dagger to the neatly tied linen wrappings, and soon, before his astonished eyes, the little musical clock gleamed in the desert morning. Saelin grinned maliciously at the fine goldwork on the delicate hands, rewrapped the chroniclave, and stuffed it into one of the deep pockets in his robes.
Riolla would pay dearly for this little trinket. But he would have to sell at just the right time… Saelin began to count his kohli as he finally drifted off to sleep in the cool shade of the rocks, the squawk of angry parrots following him into his dreams.
Riolla finished her repast with relish, the effects of using the black pear! having finally worn off, and wandered over to the caves. Rtolla had traveled this route before, many years ago, on several caravans, but she had never taken time to explore the oasis' protective rock formations.
Not that exploration was her idea of fun. But today she was looking for a nice dark place, out of the heat, and the rock ledge above the spring offered the best chance of finding that.
'You there.' She motioned to a slave, just sitting down for the first time in hours. 'Go up there and look around. See if it's safe.' She pointed to the caves.
The slave stood, somewhat stiffly, and, hiding his pain and fatigue behind a mask of careful blankness, climbed the rocks to the first dark opening. Riolla waited impatiently below, never noticing the well-trampled grass and the broken, yellowed ore skull just inches from her feet. The Neffian swung himself inside the narrow mouth of the cave and disappeared.
Expecting to be swallowed in total darkness, the slave instead found the cave to be brightly lit. From some other opening, some sink higher up the rock wall, a shaft of sunlight poured in, illuminating his path.
And some recent footprints.
Intrigued, he batted the torn, dusty spiderwebs out of the way and cautiously crept down the narrow, smooth-worn passage. The walls turned, and he inched around to the right, hardly breathing. He was met by a pair of gray eyes and a machete.
'Doulos!' the slave cried in alarm, then instantly lowered his voice. 'You put the fear in me! Why are you here? Has you master dismissed you? Are you wanted? Does he hunt you?' The Neffian relaxed against the cool stone wall.
'Be hushed, Gahzi. Yes, I have run again. The master knows it not. Well, maybe by now. But he won't care. One less to feed, especially with the grain nearly gone. This is the last time, Gahzi. He promised to kill me if I left again.' Doulos put down the knife he held. 'But there is a reason beside looking for my brother Rafek this time. Look what I found.' Doulos pointed to the corner, where a man lay sprawled in the darkness.
'Who?' said Gahzi, his pale eyes narrowing.
'One of the diggers. He is fevered. 1 followed him from the city and took his knife. Gahzi, he is from the Circle. He is the one. Like the juma stories say.'
Gahzi shook his head in disbelief, then bent to check behind the man's ear, where the small tattoo of a blue circle showed plainly when Gahzi lifted a lock of Javin's sandy hair.
Gahzi stood dumbfounded for a long time, then finally said quietly, with great compassion, 'You are imagining what we all so desperately want, my friend. The juma are all gone, Doulos. The dream is gone with them. How are you feeling these days? Does your head still give you those terrible pains? Do you still see the visions?'
Doulos sighed and held up his hands. 'You see for yourself the mark and do not believe? I know what the others have always said of me, Gahzi. But here he is before you; this is no vision.'
Gahzi opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he heard Riolla calling from outside and below, demanding that he answer her.
'She calls. I think we are chasing someone, but I know not who. In our party, there is an assassin, very shoddy, and we four carriers. You know this place now belongs to the ores? A large party has passed here very recently: beware. Stay hidden. I have never seen you. Doulos, go home; leave this poor man to his own fate. It may be that Maceo will not kill you. Surely he knows of your troubles, of your pain.'
Doulos shook his head, smiled, and held up his hand in the farewell. 'What has the prince ever cared for another's pain? Especially a slave's. Swear to me that you will not give us away to the Schreefa.'
Gahzi nodded silently, returned the gesture, then ducked out the cave. 'Honored Schreefa, the caves are dusty and full of vermin,' he said, his voice a careful, vacant monotone.
Inside, Doulos smiled wider, promising to return the compliment someday. Riolla screwed up her face in disgust and went back to her chair, disappearing under the canopy.
When night fell, the Neffians awakened Saelin and took their positions under the chair, pushing westward, against the rising dunes and a stiff headwind.
When he was sure he heard them no more, Doulos went to the mouth of the cave and looked out upon the peace of the evening, the three sisters already riding high in the sky. It was time to go. Doulos crept over to favin's side. Where the opening in the cave had been lit by day, stars shone down now, bringing almost as much illumination.
Something glittered beside Javin's good hand. Drawn by curiosity, Doulos reached for the shining object and discovered he had in his hand an old book. He opened it carefully, alert for the moment of Javin's waking. The old pages, pale in the starlight, stood up stiffly from the spine and wafted to and fro with his breath. They crinkled a bit under his fingers as he traced the lettering. He sighed in disappointment; the words were too blurry to read, in a language he could not fathom. Just then Javin shifted in his sleep, and Doulos quickly closed the old book and replaced it, never noticing that the last page, lighter almost than the air, lilted away in the darkness of the cave and settled invisibly in a dusty comer.
'Wake up, Muje.' Doulos shook Javin's good shoulder gently, then waited for him to sit up and take the water he offered.
'Who are you? Where are we?' said Javin gruffly, his voice dry and husky. His hand had grown cool, the pain nearly gone. Beside him lay the evidence that someone had lanced the sting again. He smiled at the man-from his light, short-cropped hair and dark skin, obviously a slave-and took another long drink. 'Thank you. You have saved my life. What is your name?'
The Neffian smiled back. 'I am called Doulos.'
'Doulos, I am Javin. My other name is Argivian,' he hedged. 'You are a slave?'
Doulos lowered his eyes from habit. 'Yes. Muje, I have run. Please do not send me back. If I go back, my master will kill me.'
'I would not take you back, Doulos. Tell me-did you follow me from the city, or take up my trail even before?' Javin smiled.
'I watched you with the woman at the surgery. I came behind you from there,' Doulos admitted.
'Why?' said Javin.
Doulos looked at him and laughed, great puzzlement in his voice.
'Because, Muje-you are the true king of Sumifa, and all of Almaaz.'
9
The orcish war party, along with their odd guests, moved across the erg slowly for the rest of the day, and for three more days, Yob and his men seemingly oblivious to the heat. When Cheyne demanded they stop to rest in the shadow of a huge rock, hewn, so said Og, into the likeness of Rotapan, they grumbled until Og sang Yob's song again. The humans slept and ate, Yob demanded the song yet again, with Og wearily obliging, but also causing some of the rock to peel away from Rotapan's majestic brow and come crashing down on one of them. Og made a new verse of it and the others applauded obliviously. By the time the song was over, they had forgotten who had been killed.
Soon after, they were moving again. Cheyne was beginning to develop some respect for the ore leader,
