Under the Crimson Sun

Following him back to the main gathering of the caravan-everyone was clustered around the slave trader’s stone cart, as it was the largest vehicle-Yarro started, “We don’t have much to pay you …”

“It’s okay.” Gan waved him off. “Just feed us something that isn’t jerky, and we’ll consider ourselves well compensated.”

Yarro did better than that. His own carriage had space for Gan and Rol’s pack, and all of the other carriages were willing to let one or both of them ride. Since they were charged with protecting the caravan, they rotated where they sat, each making sure that they had good sight lines for the land beyond where the caravan was.

Even with the caravan forced to move at the pace of its slowest member-in their case, the slave trader-they were making far better time than Gan, Rol, and Fehrd had been on foot.

It was small consolation, but Gan would take what he could get. With Fehrd dead, it was even more important that he reach Feena before Serthlara left Raam.

Early the following morning, just as the caravan was getting underway for the day, a messenger came riding through on an erdlu bound for Raam. Yarro provided him with information to post at the Raam caravan station, including his own name as caravan master and the roster of travelers who would be arriving there in a few days’ time. Gan hoped that Feena would see his and Rol’s names (the messenger refused to put Fehrd’s name, an insistence on brutal honesty that Gan had rarely encountered on the wastes) and make sure the emporium didn’t leave town until they arrived.

“I’m worried,” Yarro said at one point the next afternoon, “that the raiders will return to avenge their comrades.” They were both riding in Yarro’s carriage, which was taking point-the slaver, where Rol currently was, bringing up the rear. It was being pulled by a large crodlu with a particularly bright carapace that reminded Gan of Forna, one of the crodlus that Hamno cheated him out of in the frolik game.

In response to Yarro, Gan shook his head. “There are a lot of dangers out here, but I guarantee that won’t be one of them. Only four of them survived, and their leader, Zeburon-”

Yarro’s eyes widened as he interrupted. “The Iron Rider?”

No, Zeburon the tailor. Gan was barely able to restrain himself from saying that out loud. “He doesn’t take to failure very well. Honestly, they probably won’t even report back to Zeburon for fear of dying. It’ll be weeks before the other raiders even know that this bunch is mostly dead. By then, you’ll be long gone. Besides, they’re more than like to just stay away from this region for a while, if they lost this many people hereabouts. Zeburon’s more about profit than revenge.”

“So we’re safe?” Yarro sounded very hopeful.

Though it was tempting to agree just to assuage the man, Gan couldn’t bring himself to do so. “From the Black Sands, yeah, but there’s plenty more out here that’ll get you, believe me.”

“Yeah.” Yarro suddenly had a faraway look.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Gan said, “how did you wind up being a caravan master?”

“I’m not,” Yarro said. “Not in the guild, anyway. No, those bastards were charging ridiculous prices to lead us through the desert, but it’s a path I’ve traveled before in my youth. Besides, my brother used a caravan master to get to Urik once, and the man took them to Tyr instead, and then charged double to bring them to Urik. They’re charlatans, all of them.”

In fact, most of them were good at what they did, or they didn’t stay in the guild. Too many people depended on caravan masters to survive for the guild to tolerate incompetence or criminal activity.

Of course, Yarro’s brother’s caravan master might have forged his guild membership too. Either way, traveling without a proper caravan master was imbecilic. However, since Yarro was Gan’s and Rol’s client, he thought it would be impolitic to say so.

Instead, he asked, “Why are you headed to Raam?”

That faraway look got farther. “Let’s just say that my family’s health depended on us no longer remaining in Balic.”

Gan knew that look, and knew that he’d get no more specifics out of Yarro.

Not that he really cared all that much, he just wanted to talk about subjects other than the job at hand. That was the sort of thing that made the clients nervous, and it was easier to protect people who weren’t nervous.

Generally talking about personal things distracted them enough not to worry about, say, the huge sand creatures that could easily jump up and eat them all alive. However, it was equally obvious that Yarro had no interest in discussing why he was traveling through the wastes.

Luckily, he’d provided another topic. “I’m sorry, which ones are your family?”

Yarro’s face brightened, and he proceeded to point out his wife, his son, both daughters, and his “no-good” son-in-law, whom he only took along because his daughter insisted, and the son-in-law’s brother, who was “a much nicer boy-I don’t know why Fatma didn’t marry him instead.”

At the very least, Yarro wasn’t talking about how worried he was anymore. Gan just had to make sure he didn’t attempt that conversational gambit again before the journey ended, since the details Yarro provided were falling right out of his head. Gan had never had a good memory for such personal details …

Eventually, it was time for the evening meal. The food wasn’t great-most of it was overcooked mush-but it was a feast after subsiding on jerky for the better part of a month.

Rol, of course, didn’t bother. He loved jerky. Gan had been openly concerned-before the frolik game made it irrelevant-that Rol would have only provided jerky for the trip even if they’d had excess funds to spend on vittles.

Afterward, Gan sought out Rol, who was gnawing on a piece of jerky and chatting up one of the girls in the caravan. Gan had no recollection of which group the girl belonged to-besides Yarro’s family, and the slave trader, there were three or four other sets of people traveling together-but she was young, short, slender, and had darker hair, all typical for one of Rol’s potential conquests.

As Gan approached, Rol straightened and said, “Apologies, m’dear, but duty calls.”

“That’s quite all right,” the girl said breathlessly as she gazed up at Rol. “I feel so much safer with you here to protect me.”

She wandered off, and Gan just stared at her. “She does know that I’m part of the protection too, right?”

Rol frowned at Gan. “Stop whining, will you? Did you even talk to any of the women here?”

“No, because I prefer to take the job seriously.”

Shrugging while popping the last of his jerky into his mouth, Rol said, “Long as you take it more seriously than you do frolik.”

“Very funny.” Gan sighed. “Look, I think we should do night-guard duty. With the pyres last night, we didn’t really need to, but I don’t think the torches these people are using’ll be much use-”

“I was gonna suggest the same thing, actually,” Rol said, which Gan figured was a lie, but he let it go. “You want first shift?”

Gan was about to agree, then he looked over at the girl Rol had been flirting with. “No, you take it.”

Putting his large hands on his hips, Rol asked, “Why did you look at Tirana before making that decision?”

Impressed that Rol had actually gone to the trouble of learning her name, Gan asked, “Why do you think?”

“You think that if you’re on first shift, that I’ll spend the time you’re on duty with her, and never actually get any sleep, so that I’ll be too tired to properly be on watch for the rest of the overnight. Whereas if I take first shift, I won’t be free to flirt with her until the middle of the night, when she’ll probably be asleep.”

Nodding, Gan said, “That’s pretty much it, yeah.”

Rol grinned widely. “You’re not as dumb as you look. But then, you couldn’t be.”

“That’s certainly true.” Gan chuckled. “I’m going to see which carriage is willing to put up with my snoring.”

“Good luck with that,” Rol said with a chuckle of his own. “I’ll keep the place safe from anakores.”

Gan wandered off, trying to see where Tirana was staying. For some reason, he thought it might be amusing to sleep in the same carriage as her for his first shift …