Impossible.
The word triggered a memory. You said the same thing when I reached out to Valek to help meagainst Roze’s mental probing. Perhaps there is something connecting us that you haven’t encountered?
Perhaps, she conceded. Come, join us. It’s too late to send you home. And you can’t go back tothe Keep without me to help you against Roze’s wrath.
With that sobering thought, I told Kiki to find the campsite. She felt glad, though, when we reached Topaz. He grazed with the other horses near the camp.
I removed Kiki’s tack, rubbed her down and made sure she had enough food and water. Reluctance and sore muscles made my movements slow.
When I finally joined Irys in the small clearing where they had stopped for the night, she only asked me if I needed dinner. I glanced at the others. Leif stirred a pot of soup cooking over the flames. He wore a neutral expression. Cahil’s hand now hovered near his sword handle; he seemed more relaxed about the night sky. He grinned when he met my gaze. He was either glad about my arrival, or was anticipating the entertainment from the reprimand I was certain to receive from Irys.
Instead, Irys lectured Cahil and me on the proper way to interact with the Sandseed Clan members.
“Respect of the elders is a must,” she said. “All requests are to be made to the elders, but only after they invite us to speak. They don’t trust outsiders and will watch for any sign of disregard or any indication that you are spying on them. So don’t ask questions unless given permission and don’t stare.”
“Why would we stare?” I asked.
“They don’t like to wear clothes. Some members will dress when outsiders are visiting, but others won’t.” Irys smiled ruefully. “Also they have a few powerful magicians. They aren’t Keep trained, they teach their own. Although a few of their younger magicians have come to the Keep, seeking to enhance their knowledge. Kangom was one of these, but he didn’t stay at the Keep for long.” Irys frowned.
Unfortunately, I knew where he had gone from there. He changed his name to Mogkan and started kidnapping children, smuggling them into Ixia.
Before Cahil could voice his questions about Mogkan, I asked Irys, “What about the Sandseed magicians that stay with the clan?”
“They call them Story Weavers,” Irys explained. “They hold the clan’s history. The Sandseeds believe their history is a living entity, like an invisible presence that surrounds them. Since the clan’s story is always evolving, the Story Weavers guide the clan.”
“How do they guide them?” Cahil asked with concern.
“They mediate disputes, help in decision making, they show the clan members their past and aid them in avoiding the same mistakes. Very similar to what the Master Magicians do for the people of Sitia.”
“They soothe a troubled heart,” Leif said, staring into the flames. “Or so they claim.” Then he stood abruptly. “The soup’s done. Who’s hungry?”
We ate in silence. After we arranged sleeping areas for the evening, Irys informed us that we would be on the road for one more night before we reached the clan’s dwellings.
Cahil wanted to make a night watch schedule. “I’ll take the first shift,” he offered.
Irys just looked at him.
“It makes sense,” he said in his defense.
“Cahil, there is nothing to fear. And if trouble heads in our direction, I will wake you long before it arrives,” Irys said.
I hid my smile as I watched Cahil pout. I wrapped my cloak around me against the cold night air and lay on the soft sandy ground of the clearing. I checked with Kiki. Everything okay?
Grass sweet. Crunchy.
Bad smells?
No. Nice air. Home.
I remembered now that Kiki had been bred by the Sandseeds. Nice to be home? I thought of Valek in the Snake Forest, and hoped he had regained some of his strength.
Yes. Nicer with Lavender Lady. Peppermints? Hopeful.
In the morning, I promised.
I gazed up at the night sky, watching the stars dance while waiting for sleep. Kiki’s view of life sounded right. Good food, fresh water, an occasional sweet and someone to care for. That’s what everyone should have. A simplistic and unrealistic view I knew, but it soothed me.
My thoughts, though, drifted into strange dreams. I ran through the plains, searching for Kiki. The knee-high grass grew until it reached above my head and impeded my forward motion. I pushed through the sharp blades, trying and failing to find a way out. My foot snagged on something and I fell. When I rolled over, the grass transformed into a field of snakes and they began to wrap around my body. I struggled until they immobilized me.
“You belong with us,” a snake hissed in my ear.
I jerked awake in the weak light of dawn. My ear tingled from the dream snake, and I shivered in the cold morning air, trying to shake off the horror of my nightmare.
Irys and the others milled around the small fire. We ate a breakfast of bread and cheese and saddled our horses. My muscles had stiffened during the night, and they protested each movement. By midmorning, the sun warmed the land and I shed my cloak, stuffing it into my backpack.
As we traveled, the soft ground turned into hard stone and the grasses thinned. Small sandstone outcroppings sprinkled the area. By lunch the outcroppings rose higher than our heads, and I felt as if we rode inside a canyon.
During a brief stop, I noticed streaks of red on a pair of sandstone pillars some distance away. “Tula’s attacker had something red under his fingernails,” I told the others. “Could it be from here?”