Captain Rubai arrived just as the small group of tribals were exiting the bridge. The group of five riders consisted of three males and two females. One was obviously a healer since Matrea appeared none the worse for wear.
"Fan out," Dem whispered while stepping forward as Yanz and Telo unslung their spears and moved in opposite directions.
Ai exchanged glances with Tam and muttered curses; neither had brought their bows.
"How were you able to cross the bridge?" Captain Rubai, wearing leather armor and a black chainmail vest, turned toward Dem as soon as the group stopped.
"Will," Dem stated simply.
"Why did you return immediately? Did you bring anything out?" A woman dressed in green spoke from behind the Matrea. Her pale features appeared youthful but were reddened by the desert sun.
"Yes... Several bags of gold and jewels," Dem smiled lazily; his sharp senses told him that Huntmaster Dern and the Swiftwind Shaman were approaching.
Telo laughed. "Don't forget the dozen war horses you walked out with."
Dem nodded seriously. "Right, those too."
"You some sort of smart ass?" Captain Rubai's face grew taut, his teeth gritting painfully. Although the tribals were small in number, any conflict here would result in the entire Gathering taking up arms.
"Yes... I'm fourteen. The outer doors opened, but a few steps passed, another set of doors were collapsed; there was no way in and nothing except rock and sand."
Ai placed a hand on Dem's shoulder. "If you were watching, you know he was only gone for a few seconds. You also know that he didn't carry anything in or out."
"Where's your bow?" Matrea didn't realize who Ai was; all tribals looked the same in her eyes. Her eyes drifted over Dem, and a flicker of recognition showed. The youth was thinner than the others and shorter by nearly a head.
"Done staring?" Dem understood his best option was to show he wasn't concerned. The elements darkened his skin, his hair was trimmed shorter, and the corruption on his left arm was gone; other than his size and stature, he bore little resemblance to the street rat from the rooftops.
Matrea's eyes narrowed. "Where did you learn Sybasi?"
"I picked it up while on Masaat," Dem replied.
"It's a year of wandering that the tribal males undertake when they come of age." The healer told her group she had at least a minimal knowledge of tribal lore and customs. "My name is Ciara."
"Tuyaht," Dem replied as walking horses caught the group's attention.
Huntmaster Dern held his spear in one hand. His gaze swept over both groups before he motioned for his people to leave.
On the ride back to the Gathering, Ai chatted with Tam and Telo while Dem rode behind with the Swiftwind Shaman and Huntmaster Dern.
"You introduced yourself as Tuyaht?" The shaman's voice was steeped with humor.
Dem nodded.
Huntmaster Dern chuckled. "You basically said, I am the desert."
Dem would have laughed with them, but his sharp eyes caught the image of a dagger on his left wrist, and a glance showed him that his right wrist bore the same mark. He felt them the same way he felt the storage ring he wore on his finger. "So that's where they went..."
On the ride back, Dem considered keeping the Rat King's tomb secret until after the Gathering. The storage rings would be a massive boon to the Swiftwind Clan, but perhaps not sharing them would create issues with the other Clans.
The landscape changed quickly from desert to plains and then to wooded foothills. Dem glanced into the woodline; his sharp senses revealed the presence of a hunter-scout.
"With me, Dem." Huntmaster Dern pulled up at the ramada and handed his reins to the night watch.
Dem smiled at his group. "We'll catch up at the compound when I get done here."
Dem followed the Huntmaster to three large tents set up to form a small triangular family area. The former street rat was asked to wait with the shaman while Dern disappeared inside one of the tents.
Den smiled at the white-painted shaman. "When does the Clan Leader return, dosu?"
"Tomorrow something, they went on a wild boar hunt." The shaman sat near the centerfire and patted a cutting log next to her. "How did you get across the bridge?"
Dem shrugged. "I have no idea. Everyone else struggled to move a few steps past the sun while I strolled in without any resistance."
"Blood related for certain," the shaman decided. "That's the Rat King's Tomb, and you share his bloodline."
Dem rubbed his hands over the fire despite never feeling cold or chilled. "We're being watched," he said.
The shaman glanced at Dem, the newest member of the Swiftwind clan sensed things that no one else could. "Where?"
"East wood line, beyond the river... Dern is back." Dem replied moments before the Huntmaster exited a tent.
"This has been fitted to you." Dern handed Dem a black spear pressed with a covering of serpent skin. The last six inches of the blade were made of peculiar bronze-colored metal, and the blade and point were razor-sharp. "The metal is sky metal, donated by the Bearclaw Clan, and Yada did the snake skin pressing."
Dem hefted the weapon; having never used a spear, it felt cumbersome in his grasp. "Would you teach me the spear, Huntmaster Dern."
The shaman chuckled while Dern stared for a long moment before nodding.
"We'll work on spear training after Sybasi," Dern replied. "I want you to carry it everywhere you go."
A few moments later, Dem walked with the shaman back to his family's compound. "Did I ask something odd?"
The shaman flashed her white teeth. "Traditionally, spear training is passed from father to son. Women use the spear, too, but most of us favor the bow. Huntmaster Dern has three daughters; I think he hoped you'd ask but didn't want to bring it up."
Dem let the words slide by without commenting. Unexpectedly, he was forming close bonds among the tribals. Within a few days, he had nearly a dozen people he considered friends. That number would have seemed unattainable to someone used to living in a cutthroat world a few months earlier.
The shaman stopped outside of the Swiftwind family tent. "Can you find the spy without undue risk?"
Dem nodded. "What should I do?"
"Find out what they want and then act accordingly," the shaman scruffed Dem's hair and walked away without saying anything further.