On that note, they dismounted and made camp in a shaded sward just off the path leading up to the nearest village on the ledges above. In a few days' time, they would be in the waste to the south, and much more than gold coins and bronze shields was at stake.
Chapter 11
No Chepnoi would join the expedition into the desert — not after Gord told the mountain warriors that it would take them out of sight of the Grand-suels. That is death, Gray-Lion,' said the Chepnoi hetman solemnly. 'Even if one stays close to the safety of the mountains, a storm can bury you alive in minutes. To trek out of sight of the peaks is to invite death in many ways, but surely from being smothered by ash — never a week passes without the wind blowing that powder into a scouring fury.'
Achulka took the lead at this point and tried to shame his mountain-dwelling kinsmen. 'You have stout silken covers and hollow poles for that. What is a little dust storm when one is safely burrowed beneath the very stuff you fear? We will find enough water, surely, and much treasure too! Old women and young boys might fear the dangers of the Ashen Desert, but are you not Chepnoi warriors?!'
'We will live to fight, thank you,' the hetman replied laconically, not even taking the nomad's response as insulting. 'All but crazed ones shun the interior of the Ashen Desert.'
'Then we men of the Thuffi, plus Farzeel and his woman, are crazy,' Achulka said with a sneer.
'Yes, you are,' was all the Chepnoi chieftain said in reply. That was the end of the discussion.
The mountain folk would not go with them, but they did cooperate in other ways. For a price, they provided the travelers with provisions, gear that would help them negotiate the ash and dust, and they allowed Gord to make a copy of their sketchy map of the Ashen Desert, which vaguely marked out some of the land's major features and indicated the location of the City Out of Mind. Whether or not this latter aspect of the map — or any part of it — was accurate, Gord had no way of knowing. But he supposed the information was better than none at all.
Gord and Leda remained confident and determined despite the Chepnoi leader's negative words. However, the Thuffi nomads grew glum after hearing what the hetman had to say. Even though the prospect of wealth was a strong motivator, the warnings about deadly storms and lurking death from their mountain-dwelling kinsmen had severely dampened the enthusiasm of the five warriors. When Gord paid in silver for what they had obtained from the Chepnoi, the young adventurer took the opportunity to hand each of the Al Illa-Thuffi several nobles, too — all he had remaining, in fact, with Achulka getting the odd extra silver piece. That brought cheerfulness from the steppe horsemen only for a brief period.
'Why not just loot the ruins off to the east?' Achulka suggested, indicating a spot marked on the map. 'We know there is much wealth remaining in that place, there is only slight peril in the journey we must make to get there, and we can keep the mountains easily in sight for the whole distance.'
'Those ruins must have been visited by many over the years — but the treasure is untouched where the two of us intend to go,' Gord said in counter to that plan. He didn't know that for a fact, but he was quite willing to stretch the truth to keep Achulka and his men in the group, for now that the Chepnoi had given him a clear idea of what had to be faced, it seemed unlikely that he and Leda could succeed without the help of the nomads.
Achulka was in no mood to argue the issue. He shook his head, then sat tight-lipped with his arms folded across his chest. Gord tried taunting the Thuffi leader, just as Achulka had done earlier with the Chepnoi hetman. 'If you five no longer desire such riches, and if you have decided that the Arro-den charms I would give you no longer have power, then perhaps you should stay safe at home with… those who are not daring.'
Achulka lowered his gaze, remained silent, and was getting more sullen with every passing second. Clearly, the man would not be influenced by a tactic that had failed to work when he had tried it. Things looked bleak… and then Leda spoke up.
'In my mind,' she said bitterly, 'there is one kind of man lower than a coward, and that is a hypocrite. I listened to you cajole and insult the leader of these mountain people, which was fine. But now, by your inaction, you are proving yourself to be an empty shell — one from which words flow, but which contains nothing of substance. It is easy to talk about being courageous, isn't it, Achulka?'
That was all it took. Leda's scathing words, coupled with Achulka's attraction and admiration for her, turned his thinking around. The nomad leader lifted his head to meet her steely gaze, then turned for a brief, hushed conference with his cohorts. When he looked at her again, it was with a combination of respect and anger in his eyes. 'I am glad I have never met any of your people, warrior-woman,' Achulka said in a dry tone. 'If your men fight as well as I suspect you do, and if their tongues are as pointed, then they are surely more fearsome than a band of Arroden warriors in the charge. We will come, and may the fates be kind to us all.'
Gord was a bit taken aback by the whole affair. Using words the likes of which he had never before heard her utter, this beautiful and mysterious woman had accomplished something he could not do. Just what was this warrior-woman, anyway?
After several more days of traveling through mountain passes and then along the craggy fringe that bordered the Ashen Desert, the seven treasure-seekers bade farewell to the Chepnoi men who had accompanied them this far. As part of the bargain Gord had struck with his silver, the mountain tribesmen would care for their horses and gear for three months. By then, if they had not come back for their property, the whole would belong to the Chepnoi. It was a fair enough arrangement, under the circumstances. Gord hated to part with Windeater, but the powdery wastes were no place for horses, even the finest of stallions.
The travelers wore white tunics and robes, so that the heat of the desert would be reflected away from their bodies. They each carried their own provisions and other needed materials in large backpacks. They walked on strange, flat shoes made of woven-leather strips held fast in circular frames of tough wood. Each held a long, hollow pole with a little shoe at one end and a plug in the other. With the shoe end down, the pole could be used for support and balance while walking. By reversing it, the pole could be used to test the depth of the dust.
The shoes were large and strong and distributed the wearer's weight over a good-sized area. But the Chepnoi had warned the group about places where the powder was so fine that even their dust-walkers, as the wood and leather shoes were called, would prove insufficient to keep a man above the surface. To sink was to be smothered and dead within a minute or two, as the tiny abrasive particles would fill ears, mouth, and lungs immediately. By temporarily removing the shoe and the plug, each pole could be used as a breathing tube if someone found himself being covered. This tactic would only succeed if the user also had time to bind small pieces of finely woven silk over both ends of the pole to serve as filters. Even this would not assure survival, but any chance was better than none.
Each of them carried a cocoonlike tent — bulky, but light, and absolutely essential. The only way to survive in a serious storm on the Ashen Desert was to get below the surface, out of the wind. Otherwise the flying particles would tear cloth from body and flesh from bone, in as little as a few minutes. The proper procedure was to take off the dust-walkers, get oneself and one's equipment into the sack, and then hop up and down in the powdery stuff. This would cause one to sink, and as this occurred, the cloth was pulled higher and higher about the body. Once a person had worked himself down to below the surface, the pole-tube came into play — along with prayers that the storm would not pile up a dune of dust and ash that was higher than the tip of the breathing device.
The heat was terrific, and although he did not like the look of them at first, Gord was soon glad for the white garments that swathed him. The Chepnoi had directed Gord to take his group along a route that was not the shortest path to the City Out of Mind, but was in all likelihood the safest. Because of the rolling terrain of what was once the Suloise Empire, there were places where the dust was fairly thin on top of the old landscape — and others where it was so deep as to be immeasurable or even impassable. So Gord took their advice, which was to go east for a short time to begin with, keeping the mountains on their left shoulder until they became accustomed to moving on the dust and otherwise coping with the environment.
Gord saw evidence of life in the wasteland almost as soon as their trek had begun. Of conditions farther out, he was not sure. The evidence of strange plants and small life here at the edge of the desert, however, made him suspect that tales of the area's absolute desolation were not wholly accurate. Then, when they came upon an actual pool of water, his suspicion became a known fact.
Dark-leafed plants grew low around the place where the blackish water spilled forth and ran into the powdery ground to the south. Here and there, wherever some crack or fissure permitted, trees and other normal-looking
