Dukasti nodded, standing against the weight of sand that had accumulated around them during the storm. “Perhaps, if Aer wills it, we will survive the march to Igesia.” The sun, no longer blocked by the sand and dust, beat at them with the force of a smith’s hammer.
Chapter 40
Thick smoke ascended from Dukasti’s pitch-covered torch to paint a black smear against the sky, like a forewarning of disease. Collectively, they scanned the horizon in all directions, searching for Igesia’s response.
“The longer it takes him to see our signal, the farther away the sanctuary of Oasi is,” Dukasti said.
Pellin nodded. What Dukasti hadn’t said was what they would do if they were still too distant from Oasi for Igesia to see their signal at all. There was no need to say it, of course. If they couldn’t attain Oasi in what remained of the day, they would die.
“I see dust,” Elieve said, pointing.
“That’s good,” Mark encouraged, “but we’re looking for smoke.”
“Dust?” Dukasti asked. “The storm should have scoured the air.”
“There,” Elieve said.
Pellin shifted to look, scattering droplets of sweat into the sand at his feet. Dukasti sighted along her arm, squinting against the glare. “It’s faint.”
Allta nodded. “And it’s headed our way. Horses.”
The plume continued to approach and a few moments later two riders crested the dune to the southwest of them—leading a train of horses. “I know these men,” Dukasti said. “They are the yaqiza, the guards for the Honored One.”
“Were they expecting us?” Pellin asked.
“No,” Dukasti shook his head. “I mean, yes, they knew we were coming to Oasi, but that doesn’t explain the horses.” He looked at Pellin, his expression inscrutable. “There are too many.”
Within minutes the guards had covered the distance and stood before them. “Greetings, friends and strangers alike,” the man in front said. Except for his coloring, he could have been Allta’s twin. “We are commanded to see you to Igesia.” The guard nodded toward the mounts. “With haste.”
They mounted and headed back over the dunes. The other guard, only slightly less imposing than the leader, rode close to Pellin, offering water. Pellin unstopped the leather skin and poured, though the bouncing stride of his horse caused him to spill half of it down his shirt. The spots of fatigue swimming at the edges of his vision receded.
“Thank you,” he said.
The guard accepted the skin with a smile. “The desert is a beautiful, but cruel companion, even for those accustomed to the southern sun.”
Pellin nodded. “Sometimes such a companion is necessary company for a time. In the far north, they say the same of the bitter snows of winter.”
The guard’s eyes, an azure that spoke of water rather than the sky, widened. “Truly? I have heard of such a thing, though it is difficult to credit.” He smiled. “I am Rafiq, Eldest One.”
They crested a dune that stood a bit higher than the rest and came in sight of Oasi. It was smaller than Pellin had expected, but in its midst, he could see a thick clump of palm trees that signaled the presence of water. He could just make out a small building shrouded by their foliage, its walls as white as effort could make them. Men, dressed in clothes that matched those of their guards, worked to remove thick hides from the grates covering the windows.
They descended, the horses quickening their pace at the sight of water and rest. When they dismounted, Igesia’s guards posted at their sides, weapons drawn.
“What is the meaning of this?” Dukasti asked. “Do you not recognize me, Rafiq?”
He nodded from his place beside Pellin, but the weapon remained in his hand with the point still tilted toward Pellin’s midsection. “Of a surety, Watchful One. The Honored One will explain.”
In the aftermath of the storm, a breeze wafted through the main room of the building. The center of the floor cradled a man whose appearance served to make Pellin seem almost young by comparison. Wrinkles and fissures had contrived to turn his face into a living parody of withered fruit, and bits of stubble, white as snow, littered the creases of his chin, struggling into view from beneath the thick cloth that served as his head covering.
But his voice cackled with glee when Pellin entered, and he motioned them all forward with a trembling wave of his hand. “Come. Come, my friend. You have tidings for me—yes?”
Pellin nodded and took a place on the carpet opposite Igesia. “And questions, Honored One.”
“Ah,” Igesia laughed. “And you’ve brought my heir with you,” he said with a nod toward Dukasti.
“Me?” Dukasti shook his head in denial. “I am the youngest of us, Honored One.”
“Yes, yes, and still impetuous,” Igesia said, “but Aer and circumstance do not bow to the traditions or dictates of men.” Without bothering to explain further, he motioned for Mark and Elieve to sit next to Pellin. “Let me look at you, young ones. Ha. The fig desires to view the apples.” He smiled. “This one is a bit green yet,” he said as he looked at Mark. He turned to Elieve, growing serious though his voice remained light. “And this one has a spot.”
The guards moved toward Elieve with the blurring speed of the gifted, and thin cries came from her as she clutched Mark’s arm.
“Did I tell any of you to move?” Igesia snapped in his old man’s cackle. “Withdraw. Now!”
“Honored One,” Rafiq demurred, “your life and safety are in our care.”
“If you think so,” Igesia said, “then you know nothing of Aer. Perhaps He does not want me to be safe, Rafiq.” His head shook on the end of his neck. “Look outside if you still doubt. There is still an hour of light left to us. You’re frightening the girl.”
When they withdrew, he motioned to Elieve. “Come, my child. Come here.”
Pellin thought she might refuse. Frightened, she would hardly concede to leave the protective circle of Mark’s arms, but with hesitant movements she inched forward until she came within Igesia’s reach.
