Under the Crimson Sun

Belrik game, for example. The nobleman screwed Lyd over, so it was simple: they would screw him back. They took a thousand gold and a hundred copper off him, gave Lyd a chance to start over, and the bastard would spend months digging in the wastes for a nonexistent treasure where-if the desert could be trusted-he’d get eaten by something with big teeth and chronic indigestion.

Regardless, forcing Komir to sit around the carriage with his sister, his parents, Feena, Zabaj, and Tricht’tha just meant they’d be going around and around and around for hours without actually doing anything. He was seated at the head of the carriage, near the reins of the crodlus. The mounts weren’t even hooked on yet-they were off at the stables being watered and fed before their journey to wherever they were going next. However, the carriage was packed and ready to go, awaiting only a decision as to what their destination was.

Komir liked it better when Shira and Torthal simply ran things. They told everyone what to do, and that was the end of it.

But they were aging, and they both thought it was important for Komir and Karalith to be able to make decisions for the emporium in the future.

Which meant that every decision had to be examined and discussed and dissected.

“It is possible that they went on purpose,” Tricht’tha said with a chitter of disapproval.

“No, it isn’t,” Zabaj said sternly. “They would never travel with a slaver.”

“They would if the slaver hired them,” Torthal said quietly. “That is what they do for a living. And from what you and Feena were told, they were already protecting the caravan.”

Karalith shook her head. “Because it was on the way to Raam in any case. Gan even mentioned Feena to the caravan master. They were intending to come here.”

“Perhaps they’re running a game on the slavers,” Shira said. “I wouldn’t put it past either of those two to try something idiotic like that and leave Feena twisting in the sand.”

Komir finally spoke. “Why not just go to Urik and find out for ourselves? We have to go somewhere, why not there?”

“We’re far better off heading to Tyr,” Torthal said. “King Hamanu’s insane.”

Snorting, Komir asked, “Which makes him different from every other sorcerer-king how, exactly?”

Ignoring him, Torthal continued: “Besides, Belrik might have friends in Urik.”

Tricht’tha chittered something in Chachik, then said in Common: “It’ll be weeks before he even realizes he’s been gamed.”

“You hope,” Zabaj said.

The thri-kreen glowered at the mul. “I know.”

“Really? How?”

Komir smiled. He knew where Zabaj was going with this.

“I’ve been in this hunt for half my life,” Tricht’tha said haughtily. That much was true-by the standards of the short-lived thri-kreen, she was an old hand at the game, having been involved with the emporium for four years. “I know how the prey thinks, and this one bought into it. He won’t even consider the map to be false until he’s been out digging for weeks.”

Zabaj smirked. “Exactly.”

With a grateful look at her lover, Feena said, “I know my brother, Tricht’tha-as well as you know the game. And I’m telling you, he and Rol are prisoners of those slavers.”

Torthal scowled. “They’re not close enough for your mind-magic to work.”

“It has nothing to do with that, Father,” Komir said before Feena could defend herself. “You’re always telling us to trust what we know. Well-Feena knows Gan. And so do I. If he agreed to meet Feena, he’d have tunneled through the sand to get here. I’m with her and Zabaj, they were kidnapped.”

“And so what if they were?” Tricht’tha spoke up again. “We’re not their keepers.”

“He’s my brother.” Feena glared at the thri-kreen with her ice blue eyes. “But fine, if you don’t want to help, then I’ll travel to Urik myself. I’m sure I can find a caravan headed that way.”

“We saw one posted at the station,” Zabaj added. “The two of us will take that.”

Shira tut-tutted. “Come now, Feena, don’t be ridiculous. We can’t let you go off on your own like that. You’re one of us, and we look out for our own.”

“So’s Gan.”

At that, Shira’s face soured. “Hardly. And Rol and Fehrd certainly aren’t.”

“Fehrd’s dead,” Komir said bluntly. “And that alone is cause for concern. Besides which, Lyd isn’t one of ‘our own,’ either, but we risked getting blackballed in Raam forever, and possibly getting arrested, just to help her out.”

Torthal raised an eyebrow. “There was profit in that one.”

Komir glared at Serthlara. “A few hundred gold isn’t worth what we risked to game Belrik. But Lyd’s friendship was. Are you all going to stand here and tell me that Feena’s blood tie with Gan is less powerful than Lyd’s with us?”

“Yes,” Shira said bluntly. “We chose Lyd as a friend, and she’s been there for us in the past. We’re stuck with Gan.” Zabaj opened his mouth to speak, but Shira wouldn’t let him finish. “However,” she added quickly, “that doesn’t mean that Gan is unimportant. And, if it comes to that, it’s been a few years since we gamed a slaver.”

Torthal nodded. “That alone is worth the trip.”

“Very well, then,” Shira said with the utmost reluctance. “We’ll go. Let’s try to find out anything we can about the slaver who took them before we go.”

“Not us,” Feena said. “They know us there now.”

Komir hopped off the carriage. “I’ll do that.” Anything to get away.

Karalith smiled and rolled her bracelets up her arms. They always fell back down again, and Komir had spent most of his life to date wondering why she did that. “I’ll go with you.”

“Good,” Torthal said. “Be back by sundown.”

As they walked away from the bazaar-which was in shutdown mode, with all the merchants packing themselves up, and occasionally indulging a last-minute customer who just had to have one last item-yes, I know you packed it up, but could you please pull it out for me? — Komir stared over at his twin sister, who was the same height as he. “You didn’t participate much.”

She shrugged. “No point. We were going to Urik no matter what, I just didn’t feel like going through Mother and Father’s motions.”

Komir sighed. “This was another of their life lessons, wasn’t it?”

In a fair impersonation of Torthal, Karalith said, “ ‘Can’t just make a decision, child, you have to understand it.’ Gan is family-that’s all that should matter. But they decided to play devil’s advocate just so we’d all understand why we’re doing what we’re doing.”

“Well, they do have one point.”

Karalith stopped walking and glared at her brother. “You’re even more sick of their nonsense than I am.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Komir nodded emphatically. “But not every family member of someone in the emporium is going to be worth saving. I think they wanted us to make sure it wasn’t automatic in case someone’s related to a ne’er-do-well.”

“Gan is a ne’er-do-well,” Karalith pointed out.

Komir shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s our ne’er-do-well. And he’s a good guy, honestly, he just doesn’t shut up. If he could stay quiet-”

“And Rol could stop sleeping with anything that moves …”

With a grin, Komir said, “Yeah, they’d be a force to be reckoned with.” The grin fell. “I still can’t believe Fehrd’s gone.”

Karalith scratched her chin with her index finger. Komir leaned in to pay close attention, as Karalith generally did that when she had a good idea. “Yeah,” she said, “but Feena said that the two of them didn’t talk much about