"Do you miss Maya?" I asked, glancing up at him.
"I miss all of them equally," he said. To my satisfaction, his face flamed, betraying him. He sped up the pace, brisk steps pulling in front of me.
I wish Maya had seen that.
We reached the outskirts of town to the sight of native men walking and working, a turmoil of wagons and wares. A caravan, soon ready to depart. And I just knew it: that assembly was my life, my goal, my everything.
A man stood at the center of the chaos, with lists rustling from a clenched fist as he vigorously pointed around him.
"Excuse me? Do you have room for two more?" A stone took residence in my stomach, as if I had eaten a big rock, and forth from it a myriad of butterflies took flight.
"Ah, miss, welcome. I am Rahid. This here is caravan to the royal city Aransis. You want to go?"
"Yes!" The butterflies disappeared all at once.
"It be a little late. You should wait for next, it leave in two days. Better, yes? No stress." Rahid bobbed his head as if to agree with his own statement.
"No! It has to be today." The people near us turned to look, and the man before me raised a black, bushy eyebrow. I forced my lips to lift and softened my voice, with my head tilted just so. "Please, surely you can fit us in?"
"Ah, miss, how can I say no to such beautiful face, eh?" He beamed, and I knew it would be okay, despite his nonsense words.
"Do I have a say in this?" Sir Sigve looked ready to rebel, arms crossed tightly like the furrows between his eyes.
"Please?" I turned my begging looks on him. "This is just another port town, after all. I want to see the capital!"
Bless Sir Sigve, accepting my eccentricity with relative ease. "All right, as you wish. As always." Did he sound a little bitter?
"Hey, lad!" Rahid's voice boomed across the yard.
A boy younger than me, deeply embedded in loads of leather reins and other gear, raised his gaze with a start and dashed over.
"You bring them camels. And rations for two." Rahid looked us over once more. "And equipment. Quick, quick."
The poor soul nodded, hurrying away.
Rahid turned, a solid grin in place. "You see? It be okay."
"Fine." Sir Sigve watched his pouch with sorrow. "It's decided."
With an outstretched hand, the man received his payment. His smile was surely meant to charm us. "Pleased to have you with my caravan." In the next moment, Rahid was gone, and we were left waiting.
Soon, two animals came trotting behind the poor child from before. "This is Rai." He relinquished the reins to Sir Sigve. "And this is Balt." The boy didn't quite look at me, and the skin draped across his cheekbones darkened as he handed me the reins. "He's young, but he will take good care of you, lady."
"Thank you."
"Lad! No time to loiter. You work!" Rahid's voice boomed from behind his important papers. The youngling cast us another glance before he fled—off to labor in the heat.
My camel was smaller than the rest. He had beautiful, flaxen fur, smoother to the touch than it looked. Balt seemed to possess a calm intellect—but perhaps he just was a creature of leisure and laziness.
His movements were strange to me, differing from a horse with big, quirky, and not quite balanced swaying, but I wasn't a bad rider, so I got used to it during the first hour. Sir Sigve seemed less inclined to enjoy the ride, his whole face scrunched in a scowl. Perhaps he preferred horses, or more likely, lamented moving further away from returning to Rimdalir. Still, the road was pretty straight and easily traveled, old and trampled down by a thousand feet. Chances were, you had to be a terrible rider to fall off.
Hogne would have hated it. I could envision him atop Odin, the kindest, oldest little pony in the stable, with too long legs clamped around the belly as they trudged after the other horses. Poor Hogne, how many times we had forced him to come with us. At least he was spared this particular ride.
The caravan consisted of two wealthy families, wearing finer clothes than Sir Sigve and I. Five merchants—real, unlike us—rode on camels alongside the wagons, three of them balancing impressive piles of headwear atop once-black hair. A guide led the party.
The dunes of sand, many times higher than us, branched out far off into an unending pale horizon. One of our local guides told us how wind moved the sand, shaping it into formations like long parallel bands or even stars. Yet in some places the ground was barren, with shiny pebbles and a cover of bigger stones as if man-made. But no, the guide told us, this was from the wind too.
The road seemed simple enough to follow, and I told our guide so. Yes, he answered, but even without wildlife and heat, there was danger in the very wind. If unlucky, sand would obscure the path until everywhere looked the same. He said that was why traveling with an experienced group was so important.
If the city had been hot, with salt and humidity hanging in the air, it was nothing to the direct, beating sun. Even the white shawl borrowed from the caravan helped little.
One merchant, darker by far than the rest of us, was generous with his blinding white smile. In good spirit he was unmatched—although it was an easy feat in the company of grave men and delicate ladies. His songs weaved into the silence from the very start, in a language I couldn't comprehend. The sounds he made followed a rhythm which never got boring, filling me with sorrow in one moment, yet spurred forth happiness and laughter in the next. Unlike anything I had ever heard, it exceeded any folk music or great skald—northern poet—of Rimdalir.
The merchant let one last tune fade into nothing as we reached our first resting site, a tiny spot of sudden blue and green. My first oasis.
The water was alluring, glittering like a sapphire encased by the desert. As we sprawled on the ground, the refreshing sights stressed hours in sweltering heat and whipped sand. I wanted that water so badly. To fall in, feel it against my skin, and swim in it—let it soak me and finally evaporate from my body in the sun. I looked at Sir Sigve, and he seemed all but ready to jump in himself—until he glanced my way.
"Don't even think about it."
"Fine." I buried my face in my arms, exhaling. The caravan guide placed my share of rations in my hands, and other needs occupied me. But there was one thing I couldn't resist.
Kicking off my shoes and stockings, I sat down by the edge with water swirling around my legs. The revered gentlemen and ladies in our company widened their eyes, and while the men turned away in embarrassment, the women whispered with scandalized, condescending delight, looking down their noses at me. The kind of people to be almost but not quite nobility, rich but not powerful, always judging others to put themselves apart.
It seemed bare feet were scowled upon in Hikari. But if I could be of help and serve as easy entertainment, it was fine with me. I had the pleasure of a cool sensation sweeping against skin, and dried meat and fruits to fill my wailing stomach.
With lunch over and the sun lowering from its highest peak, I once again mounted Balt. When we left the oasis, none of us were hungry or thirsty anymore, but only I was refreshed. Those eyes of condemnation turned to envy.
Most of us were not used to traveling in the desert and felt the heat, the trip taking its toll. Except for brief conversations which I—the crazy waterhole girl—was not privy to, people were silent. Sand-watching had been exciting for the first three hours. Maybe even the fourth. Not the tenth, and one thing was for certain: Sir Sigve was no help. I nudged Balt forward, catching up with our guide.
"I'm impressed by Hikari so far. You thrive in such tough conditions."
"Thanks, miss. We do our best, we do. These can be harsh lands, aye, but they are our lands. And we have an excellent king," the guide said with his rolling Alltongue, looking through his black curls up at me.
Quenching a sigh, I plastered on a smile. I had hoped he would tell me about their customs, not politics. "I saw much trade back in Fiar. Such peace and prosperity would not be possible without a good leader."
"Aye," the guide said. We walked on in silence, one comfortable, one decidedly disappointed. Well, this trip was of my own choice, and I would just have to resign myself to boredom. The guide started talking again. "In truth, we have kind neighbors."
Ah. More politics. "Yes," I agreed, thinking Mother and Maya would have been proud of my excellent politeness.
"But it be some disturbance of late," the guide continued, looking like he was conversing with the sandy road rather than me. "Unrest in Tolona . . . only a rumor though." The man glanced over at me. "Ah, nothing to worry miss, nothing to worry at all. You be fine."
So, he did remember I was there.
Sadly, he lost all interest in speaking after that. I had nothing to do but trot along atop Balt, and all too soon I was too hot, anyway. The huge dunes didn't really help. Rather than sheltering us, I could imagine disaster hiding behind them, ready to devour me any second. Swallowing, I glanced around before drying off my clammy hands on the dress. As I steered Balt to walk beside Sir Sigve again, the feeling receded. My fantasy always had this tendency to run a little wild, but I reined it in right along with Balt. With a sour soldier on my left and such a down-to-earth creature under me, I grounded myself.
The journey continued through the day, with nothing more exciting than the occasional protruding rock or the screech of a scrawny bird flying above us. No incidents. When the sky took on a dark, violet-blue hue, we saw lights in the distance. It was a small assembly surrounding a bigger oasis—our destination for the night. Crafty plants: spiky cacti, bushes, grass—even some trees—made up the lush island around three springs. These people had created a home here, a tiny spot of life in the middle of a sea of sand. Though, if need be, they only had a day's trip to reach Fiar.
These surroundings gave an illusion of a sheltered wilderness. My shoulders eased up. Apparently, the owner liked her guests clean and the floor sand-free, so we did a quick wash up in a hut. A sign that read: The Thirsty Traveler greeted us, and as I stepped inside the inn, I finally relaxed, untangling even the teeny knot resting in my stomach.
There was nothing here to give me sickness-inducing nightmares.