The Parched sea

Ruha grabbed the collapsed skin and tried to pull it from beneath the camel, hoping it still contained a few cups of water. Kadumi moved to her side and lifted the dead camel's back enough for the widow to withdraw the skin. There was perhaps two quarts of water remaining in the bottom.

Lander joined them a moment later. 'What happened?' he asked, eyeing the dead camel.

'Exhaustion,' Ruha explained. She handed him the waterskin. 'Drink.' It was a command, not a suggestion.

The Harper accepted the skin and carefully lifted it to his lips.

'It's time,' Kadumi said, removing the waterskins from the side of the camel that had not fallen to the ground.

'We'll stop here for the night.'

Ruha ran an appraising eye over the other four haggard beasts. They all stood on wobbling knees, their flank and shoulder muscles quivering.

'We can go no farther,' the witch agreed.

Lander took the waterskin away from his lips and passed it to Ruha. 'Time for what?' he asked.

'You'll see,' Kadumi explained, moving to the head of the line. 'Help me unload the camels.'

While Kadumi and Lander unloaded the first camel, Ruha allowed herself a few swallows from the skin. The water was awful stuff, hot and stinking of its container, but it refreshed her regardless of the taste. When she judged she had drunk about a quarter of its contents, she passed the skin to Kadumi and helped Lander unload the other camels.

After they had stacked their nine remaining waterskins together, Kadumi milked each of the live camels. He extracted less than a gallon, but Ruha was grateful to have that much. Exhausted camels did not produce much milk.

As Ruha laid out their beds, Lander eyed the meager bucket of milk. 'You and Kadumi have the milk tonight,' he said. 'I'm not hungry.'

'You're a terrible liar,' Ruha observed. 'But don't worry. There will be more.'

Lander raised an eyebrow. 'There will?'

'Of course,' Kadumi answered, picking up the waterskin they had salvaged from the collapsed camel. 'Tonight, we shall have a feast.'

The Harper grimaced.

'What's wrong?' Ruha asked.

'I'm not sure that I'd call any meal in this desert a feast.'

'Perhaps we shouldn't call it a feast,' Kadumi admitted. 'Still, our bellies will be full.'

He went to the string of milk camels, then selected the three weakest and led them away.

'Where's he going?' Lander asked.

'Those camels are too weak to continue,' Ruha answered.

'So what's he going to do?'

'Kill them,' Ruha answered, surprised at the Harper's foolish question. 'Help me water the others.'

She went to Kadumi's mount and removed a large skin bucket, then was surprised to see that the Harper had not followed her. Instead, Lander was staring after Kadumi with a dismayed expression. Leading Kadumi's camel toward the stack of waterskins, she said, 'Lander, hold the other camels. I don't want to get trampled when I start watering.'

Ruha allowed each beast to drink two full skins, a total of about eight gallons per animal. For a camel, it wasn't much water, but she hoped it would be enough to get them to the Sister of Rains. The last skin of water she saved for herself and her companions. Without milk, they would need plenty of water over the next two days.

Kadumi returned just as dusk fell. The rich odor of blood clung to him, and he carried a full waterskin over his shoulder. Ruha poured the milk into the same bucket from which she had watered the camels, then took the warm waterskin from Kadumi and also poured its dark contents into the bucket.

Lander regarded the whole operation with an expression of disgust on his face. 'Is that what I think it is?'

'Blood and milk,' Ruha confirmed.

She scraped a handful of salt off the ground and crumbled it into the concoction, then used her jambiya to mix it all together. When she was satisfied with its consistency, she dipped Kadumi's bakia into the bucket and handed the wooden cup to him, then did the same for Lander.

Kadumi drained the cup in a single swallow, then smacked his lips. 'Still warm.'

'You must be mad,' Lander said, pouring his back into the bucket. 'What's wrong with a little camel meat?'

Ruha snatched his cup from his hand and refilled it. 'Eating meat makes you thirsty for days,' she snapped. 'Drink this-you won't get much else.'

When she thrust the cup back at him, the Harper stared at it in disgust.

'What's wrong?' Kadumi demanded, passing his cup back to the widow. 'This is good.'

Lander glared at the boy for several moments, then lifted the cup to his lips and drank it down in one long gulp. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and pushed the cup back at Ruha. 'Another,' he said, struggling to keep from retching.

'That's more like a Harper,' the widow said, smiling beneath her veil.

Lander and Kadumi managed to drink four more cups before the Harper began to look as though he would be ill. When they gave their bakias to Ruha for a fifth refill, she said, 'I think you've had enough. If you vomit, it'll take half a skin of water to replace the fluids you lose.'

'Bless you, Ruha,' Lander gasped, turning toward his bed. 'I'll take the second watch-I hope.' He collapsed onto his side and lay there in a fetal position.

The following morning, there were clouds in the sky. They were high, ashen things that hid At'ar's face, but did little to lessen her fervor. If anything, the heat seemed thicker and more acute.

The trio broke camp quickly then resumed their journey, Lander still pausing at odd intervals to search their back trail. The trio passed the morning in weary silence, the overcast day providing relief from At'ar's glare but not from her heat. The scenery never changed. The basin stretched on endlessly, its tablelike surface shimmering pearl-gray in the overcast light. The flat, gray-white terrain did not vary even a foot in elevation, and Ruha felt as though she were riding across an immense cooking pan. The sky remained drab and ashen, the bands of silvery light streaking the clouds the only variation in the monotonous panorama.

In late morning, purple veils began to drift down from the clouds. At first, the sight of the distant rain lifted the trio's spirits, but as the shower moved toward them, it became apparent that the rain was not reaching the ground. The hot air rising from the salt flats was changing the water into vapor long before it reached the desert floor. Ruha cast one forlorn glance at the shower, then shook her head and kept her attention fixed on the crusty ground beneath her camel's feet.

Both the clouds and the shower vanished with the arrival of afternoon. Once again the basin was a glistening sea of salt and the sky a blue canopy. A shimmering lake appeared on the horizon. Ruha knew the distant water to be nothing but a reflection of the sapphire sky, but the mirage was unbearable. Most of the time, she was conscious of her thirst only as a constant discomfort that kept her from swallowing. With the blue lake on the horizon, she could think of nothing but the half-full waterskin. Her thirst became a raging fire, and she had to fight every moment to keep from opening the waterskin and drinking until she burst.

By evening a line of indigo mounds floated on the waters of the mirage, and Ruha realized they were closing on the edge of the salt flat. She told Kadumi to steer their path toward the largest of the dark-colored pyramids.

Encouraged by the sight of the mountains, they rode well past dark, not stopping until the ground began to rise and the footing became unsteady. The trio finally made camp in the bottom of a dry gulch and even found enough dried brush to make a fire-although they had nothing to cook on it.

The next morning, they rose with the dawn and saw that they were camped in the foothills at the base of a small mountain range. To the west, the mountains themselves rose five thousand feet into the sky, forming a jagged wall of gray rock. Their dun-colored slopes were dotted with dark spots that could only be plants.

Ruha pointed at the large peak she had told Kadumi to use as a landmark yesterday. 'The Sister of Rains lies