exhausting and she was lightheaded. Her vision fading, she grew dizzy and fell to the sand.
Standing before the fountain, where before had been nothing more than sand and rock, Vertook was in awe. No power could have been more moving to him than to bring water to the desert, no feat more seemingly unachievable. All his life he had waited for this moment, waited for some event to prove his life had meaning. Now that he had witnessed that event, he realized his entire life had been wasted, wandering from one dried up hole to another. For him, nothing would ever be the same. The things that had meant the most to him in life, besides his wife and his horse, suddenly were meaningless. All that mattered now was to serve Catrin, to protect her so that she might bring water to all the world.
He made in a moment a decision that should have been agonizing, yet it was surprisingly simple. 'Harat!' he said without taking his gaze from the water. Only a moment later, he felt Harat by his side, sensed the calm determination and sense of honor that had always marked him as a leader. Without saying a word, Vertook untied the sash that looped over his left shoulder-passing directly over his heart. He'd taken reassurance from it many times, knowing that the sash of the leader would protect his valiant yet frail heart. Now he no longer needed it, but even more, he could no longer uphold the responsibilities that came along with the sash. Remaining silent, he handed the sash to Harat, who hesitated to take it. Vertook thrust the sash into Harat's hand, his final command as tribal leader. Harat took a step back, placed his hand over his heart, and when he bowed down, tears fell from his eyes.
As Harat walked away, Vertook pulled his gaze from the fountain long enough to watch the man who would now protect and guide those he loved. Tears fell from his own cheeks as he released the responsibilities he had worked so hard to obtain. Harat placed the sash underneath his garment, as of yet unwilling to reveal Vertook's wishes. He walked quietly through the crowd as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and Vertook breathed a mighty sigh of relief; he had chosen well.
Not far from where Vertook stood, Chase, Strom, and Osbourne gathered.
'When she said to dig, I wasn't expecting… I mean…' Strom began, but he just trailed off and shrugged.
'I know,' Chase said. 'I can't believe it either.'
'How did she know?' Osbourne asked, looking at the fountain. 'How does she do these things?'
'I don't know,' Chase said. 'I don't understand any of it, and I really want to. This whole thing just keeps getting bigger, and I don't know where it'll stop.' He knew he should try to be more positive for the sake of the others, but he couldn't help but speak what was on his mind. 'I just don't want to see Cat get hurt. You know how she is.'
'The first time I ever met her,' Osbourne said, 'she was all dirty and scraped up from catching one of our pigs that got loose. The pig was nearly as big as she was, but she carried him all the way across the field to bring him to us. Looked like she took a tumble or two on her way too. She cried 'cause she thought he was hurt.'
'I met her at Master Jarvis's lessons,' Strom said. 'She always looked sad and fragile after her mom died.' His words were met with silence heavy with emotion.
'I know I've said this before,' Osbourne said without looking up, 'but I'm really sorry about your mom and Catrin's mom and Strom's dad. I wish they didn't die.'
Chase kicked the sand in front of him. He chastised himself for letting a tear gather in his eye. The pain should be forgotten, he thought, those wounds long since healed, but they were not. When he noticed Strom struggling with pain of his own, it made him feel no better.
Osbourne shifted his weight from foot to foot in the uncomfortable silence. 'What do we do now?' He asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.
Chase put a hand over his growling stomach, 'I think we should try to track down some food.'
Chapter 18
Of all the varied life forms on the planet Godsland, the pyre-orchid is the most curious, only blooming in the wake of forest fires.
Catrin opened her eyes for a moment, adjusted the pillow beneath her head, and pulled soft blankets over her shoulders. The morning air was cool, and she closed her eyes to drift back to sleep when voices awakened her. When she became fully aware, she noticed her surroundings. She lay on a light, fluffy bed with a similarly made pillow, which she guessed were both stuffed with down.
A small tent, made of sheer material, shaded her. The breeze passed through the fabric, but bugs could not. It was artfully made and was doubtless the finest the Arghast had to offer. Still dressed in the clothes she'd lived in for days, she was in desperate need of a good bath. Pushing back the tent flap, she walked out into a bright glare that momentarily blinded her, and she heard the sudden murmur of many hushed voices. When her vision cleared, she found all of the Arghast watching her intently. She was not sure what they expected, but their stares were intense and disconcerting. It took some time for her to decide what to say to the assembled crowd, and what came from her mouth was the plain truth.
'If I could trouble someone to help me, I am quite hungry. Is there any food left from the morning meal?' she asked almost timidly. The activity resulting from her request was astounding, and it seemed they all felt compelled to try to help. Some men scrambled to set up a small table; others made a comfortable seat for her from several large cushions, and still others erected a makeshift sunshade made of the same material as her tent.
She sat at the table and waited. People began to approach her with a lavish array of foods. Women were now part of the group, some in typical female clothing and others dressed like the men. Catrin had seen no women the day before and was surprised to see them now. The crowd was now nearly double the number she recalled. Men and women offered fruits, meats, breads, and one elderly man brought her more of the drink she remembered Vertook had given her. Catrin recognized him from his castigation of the tribal leaders, but he gave her a kindly smile.
'What is this drink?'
'Desert mist,' he responded with a wink. 'How to make is secret, something only spoke in private. We speak alone soon, yes?'
'Yes, of course, and thank you.' She paused to take a sip of the desert mist. 'What are you called, sir?' she asked.
'Called Aged Goat by most,' he said with a toothless grin, 'but true name is Mika. You call me Mika. Yes?'
'Indeed, Mika, I will,' she responded warmly, and Mika retreated through the masses. Catrin had never been served in such a way, and she found it disquieting; it felt wrong to accept their generosity, to be selfish and indulgent, but it seemed just as wrong to refuse their gifts.
Her hunger sated, she wanted a nap, but more than that she desperately wanted to get clean. As if someone were reading her mind, several women approached Catrin with soft towels and scented soaps. One motioned for her to follow and walked toward the towering fountain Catrin had created. She was delighted to see a pond forming outward from the fountain, and she hoped it would continue to grow. She envisioned a lush oasis nestled in the valley, full of life and vigor-a jewel in the desert.
Two women unfolded a large, thick cloth, which they held up for privacy. Catrin took soap that smelled of
