Night Bird's Reign (57 page)

On the other hand, why not?
Veil’s life had ended two months ago, when Kalil lost a war against Siorn and came up short on the reparations.
And yet, I’m still here. Might as well make the most of it. What’s the worst that happens:, I die in the desert?

She permitted herself a tight, sarcastic grin and went about stripping the bodies. She acquired a white cloth robe, suitable for desert wear, from Mahmata; it was a bit used and had a bloody hole through the middle, but Veil felt she wasn’t in a position to pick and choose. From Silel, after a brief internal struggle, she took shoes—real bound-leather shoes, better by far for loose sand than the sandals Veil was wearing. The two biggest water skins - which Bali had been carrying - she hoisted over one shoulder. The little canteens that everyone had carried she drained, drinking until she squelched at the edges. There was no food—presumably the stranger had taken it. Veil shrugged.
If I live long enough that food becomes an issue, I’ll have gotten farther than I expected.

She hesitated over the last item. It seemed pointless, really—there wasn’t a human for miles and miles , except for maybe the stranger, and there were no animals in the high desert. Nevertheless, she finally unstrapped Vosh’s short sword and slung it awkwardly over her other shoulder. It was only a piece of pointed steel, but it made her feel better.

That left one last choice to make.
Which direction to go?

Two options presented themselves. She could backtrack, heading west toward the Red Hills and home. That did not sound promising—the hills themselves were rife with bandits and rebels, and soldiers hunting both. Not to mention it was at least two weeks’ walk through the high desert that way.
And if I turned up again at Kalil’s door, what would he do? Probably chastise me for being disobedient and sell me to the next caravan that passed by, counting himself lucky to get paid twice for the same girl.
Veil’s memories of her father were understandably colored by recent events, but, even in the past, Kalil had not been the kindliest of men. Not that he’d been particularly cruel, either—he didn’t have time, with seven wives and uncounted children to manage, and there had been nannies and tutors to dispense the punishments. But she remembered him as distant, and cold.

Still, she hesitated. There was someone at home who would welcome her.
Kyre.
He was her truebrother, sharing both a father and a mother, born almost two years to the day before her. He’d cried, a little, when Kalil announced that she was to be sold. Afterwards, as she’d sat on her bunk in stunned silence, he’d kissed her lightly on the cheek and told her not to worry.
Kyre would be happy to see me.

The other choice was south. The trail was clear enough, for the moment, a line of footprints running straight as an arrow across the sand. The first wind would obliterate them, but the baking air had barely stirred. The stranger had gone that way.

Bali had been heading vaguely south, she knew. There were oases, and little towns where you could buy water. She’d searched his body for a map, but either the slaver had navigated by memory or the stranger had taken it; probably the former, since Bali was—had been—only barely literate. Go south far enough, and the desert ran out. The city of Corsa was out there, somewhere. Every vile, nasty story Veil had ever heard had been set in Corsa; apparently the place was populated entirely by slavers and pirates, and operated beyond the reach of Khaev law.

It was ultimately curiosity that helped her to make up her mind.
One man against seven.
Her memories of the fight were confused, a blur of blood and flashing steel, but she remembered the stranger. All in black, and he’d moved like a phantom.
He won’t last, in the heat. He’ll have to rest. I can catch up with him, and he has the food.
He’d killed everyone, even the women and slaves.
He didn’t kill me.
In all likelihood, he hadn’t even noticed her—Mahmata had fallen on top of her, and Veil had fainted.
But, still...

The sun had climbed higher, and the sand was getting hot. Veil struggled to her feet, water skins clonking heavily against her breast, and started south.
One step at a time, one foot after the other.

J
UST AFTER MIDDAY
, when the sun was at its hottest, she finally caught sight of him.

The air felt like it had been cooked, so dry she could feel her skin cracking every time she moved. It was like the inside of the bakery, back home, when she was standing next to the oven and feeling the waves of heat it threw off; except here the oven was the whole world, and she couldn’t duck outside the hut for a quick break. Everything Veil wore—her new boots, her flimsy shirt—was soaked in sweat.

Her burden felt heavy, so heavy. Taking the sword had been a mistake. Just carrying the water was hard enough; the sword flapped against her back at every step, as though chastising her for her errors. She couldn’t summon the energy to reach back and get rid of the damn thing, either. It would have meant putting everything down to rearrange the straps, and if she stopped walking, Veil was certain she wouldn’t start again.

The dunes went on forever. At the crest of each one, she felt as though she could see to the end of the world—the desert receded eternally to the blue-hazed horizon. Only on her right, in the east, was anything else visible: the dim shapes of the Cloudripper range rode like ghosts on the edge of vision.

By chance, she crested a dune at the same moment he did. A tiny black ant, ten or twenty dunes ahead, crawling across the boiling sands. Veil stopped and shouted herself hoarse, trying to get his attention, but if the ant shifted in its progress she couldn’t see it. She spent the next hour damning him in every way she could think of, coming up with creative torments the spirits of the Aether could subject his soul to before devouring it utterly. She saw him again a couple of hours later, a bit closer than she remembered—this time, when she shouted, the distant speck definitely paused for a moment to look back at her. Then he continued on his way, unconcerned. Veil rasped her tongue over cracked lips, took a swallow of precious water, and started down the dune.

ISBN#1932815147

Silver

Price $14.99

Fantasy

September 2005

www.bloodgod.com