It wasn’t until much later when the roads emptied that he left the back of the wagon permanently and moved beside Shadya. Andrasta remained in the wagon’s bed, refusing to take her eyes off the road behind them.
Sometime later he asked Andrasta. “Worried they still might come after us? Or just angry we had to leave the city?”
“Both.”
Rondel chose to distract them all with a suggestion of food.
Still on the dry, dusty road, they ate a meal of bread, dates, and olives, sipping on water between bites.
Once finished, he offered conversation. “Shadya, tell us more about this job.”
“Of course. I suppose I should start at the beginning.” The hint of a smile vanished as she cleared her throat. “My family has always been nomadic. We were traveling through the eastern edge of the Empty-Hand Desert near the Jabal Mountains. One night bandits attacked us.” She paused. “They killed everyone and stole everything of value. They burned the rest. One of the items stolen was of great importance. Something I must get back.”
“Why?”
“The why is not important.”
“It’s all important,” said Andrasta.
“No,” Shadya said quickly, her tone sharp. “It’s not. What. How. Where. Those things are important. My desire for the item is not.”
Rondel could sense Andrasta ready to protest and stepped in. “All right. We can respect that. Let’s start with the ‘what.’ What is this heirloom?”
“It’s a gold mask.”
“Something that can be worn over the face?”
“Yes.”
“At least it’s not something large.”
“When was the mask stolen?” asked Andrasta.
“Several weeks ago,” Shadya said.
“Then how do you know these bandits still have it? It could have been sold whole or melted down and turned into a hundred other items.”
“They still have it. There are wards built within the mask that I can track.”
“That should make things easier,” said Rondel.
“Easier. But not easy,” said Shadya. “They do have sorcerers in their group.”
Great.
Rondel took a deep breath. “Is this mission only about stealing the mask or is revenge also involved? Revenge isn’t something we really do.”
“We’ve killed people before,” said Andrasta.
“No. I’ve killed people before. You’ve slaughtered them.”
She shrugged.
“Besides,” Rondel continued. “There’s a difference between killing as part of a job and killing as the job. One is collateral damage. The other is assassin’s work. We aren’t assassins.”
“You won’t have to worry about that. Though I won’t shed a tear for any that die, I’m not after revenge. I just want the mask,” said Shadya.
“That must be some mask,” said Rondel.
“It is,” she said softly.
Something about distant tone in her voice sent a shiver down his back.
“Who are the bandits?” asked Andrasta.
Shadya hesitated. “They’re called Hubul’s Host.”
Rondel swore. “You’ve got to be joking!”
“As a foreigner, I’m surprised you’ve heard of them.”
“I’ve traveled all over Untan. I know the stories about Hubul’s Host.”
“I don’t,” said Andrasta in a way that meant someone should fill her in.
Rondel sighed. “Bandits don’t really describe them properly. They’re extremists, devoted to the father of the Erban gods named Hubul. Everything they do is done to serve him. They steal, kill, maim, and a whole lot more if you believe the stories—all because they believe it to be his will.”
“Not another cult,” muttered Andrasta.
“No. Not a cult. They’re more like a deranged family that operates as a mercenary company. Except they’re not really mercenaries. They don’t take contracts and everything they do is done only with Hubul in mind. And they are highly skilled.”
“How many?”
“Currently between sixty and eighty, I think,” chimed in Shadya.
“That’s a small mercenary company,” said Andrasta.
“The rumor is that they’ve trimmed the ranks as of late,” said Rondel, growing agitated at the prospect of meeting the group. “Only the best fighters are allowed to join. And that’s after proving their skills and devotion to Hubul are adequate.”
“Seems like some local king would raise an army and wipe them out if they’re such a threat.”
“It’s been tried before,” said Shadya. “Either those armies have trouble locating Hubul’s Host, or they simply never return. These are not small forces either. The largest to go off in search of the Host and never be heard from again numbered eleven thousand.”
“There’s actually a song about them.” Rondel said.
“Raise an army, or two
Hubul’s Host will laugh at you.
Raise a nation or two
Only then will Hubul’s Host consider you.
Come with your army
And Hubul’s Host will hide.
Come with your nation
And you will die.”
“So they only fight when they feel challenged. Otherwise they’ll hide because you aren’t even worth their time.” Andrasta grunted. “Sounds like my kind of people.” She frowned at Shadya. “If these people are so good, how did you escape?”
Rondel raised an eyebrow.
A fair point.
“I was away fetching water with my younger sister when the attack came. We ran back to camp when we heard the commotion. There was no way I could stop the Host and I had my sister to protect. So, we hid in the rocks. I had that warded blanket you hid under with me. I also made more wards in the dirt around us. It was enough.”
“So, your wards were strong enough to best these sorcerers?” asked Andrasta.
“I’ve always had a talent for warding and my skills have been improving. They also thought they had killed everyone. Alone, I can’t defeat them all. That’s why I need your help.”
“What happened to your sister?” asked Rondel. “Will we meet up with her?”
Shadya looked away, wiping her cheek. “No. The bandits left us no food, no camels or horses to travel with. My sister died of thirst as we walked to the nearest town. Turning rock into food and water cannot be done with wards.”
* * *
Andrasta rode quietly in the back, letting Rondel and Shadya continue to chat about an awful lot of nothing. She had tried to sleep, but soon gave up with the constant braying going on at the front of the wagon. Doing her best to block out the mindless chatter, she stared out at the unforgiving landscape of rock and sand. She knew of nothing that compared to the seemingly endless dead land of Erba.
It almost made her long for Juntark with its wild plains and lush jungles. Her home was a beautiful land forever tainted by those who inhabited it. She could live her whole life and be content to never return, but she knew she would eventually have to go back.
I have promises to keep.
She shook away those thoughts, focusing instead on the bleak, orange desert that seemed to glow under the sun’s harsh rays. She managed to spot small pockets of rock in the distance, sometimes enough to be considered a low mountain or at least a tall hill.
The rock formations were in many ways the life of a desert, usually housing small seepages, or if lucky, actual pools of water. In the interim, the only sign of life came from a cactus or small bit of ugly brush.
Andrasta hoped she might come across some desert animal when they stopped for the night. It would be good to have meat again. She needed something more than bread and fruit to regain her strength.
Rondel ripped out a belly laugh. Shadya snorted beside him. Neither offered to fill her in on the joke and for that Andrasta was glad.
She did not like the strange woman and liked her story even less.
This job didn’t feel like the ones she had grown accustomed to since leaving Iget. She and Rondel had stolen things, put the fear of the local gods in certain people, and participated in several other less-than-legal activities. In each of those cases, the work felt like business.
But this is something more. This is personal. And last time we did something personal, we nearly got ourselves killed.
Memories of The Blood Forest and the Cult of Sutek flooded her mind. She had accepted the offer of work from a noble’s son in Iget for selfish reasons at first. In the end, she found herself glad for the decision because of the good that came out of it. However, the aura that permeated off Shadya did not match the innocence or sincerity Jahi and his sister Dendera had exuded then.
Her arm brushed against her chest. She still wore the amulet Shadya had given them when escaping Zafar. With no one paying attention, she slipped it off her neck and stared at the designs, running her fingers over the seemingly random depressions chiseled within the stone. A part of her wanted to slip it back on, knowing it might serve some further use. But a stronger part of her compelled her otherwise. She hated to rely on sorcery too much to keep it.
She tossed it underhand out the back of the wagon and immediately felt better. The amulet landed softly in the sand. It dwindled in size as the wagon rolled on.
Andrasta cringed as Shadya giggled again. It sounded soft, like footsteps over fresh flower petals.
No one’s laugh is like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if she branded one of those wards on her tongue.
“What are you chuckling about?” asked Rondel.
Andrasta cleared her throat and wiped her face blank. “Just thinking.”
“Well, keep thinking. It would do you some good to laugh more often.”
Andrasta glanced over at Shadya. Out of the public eye, she had once more removed the veil covering her face. It wore a grin. Andrasta sneered. “There seems to be enough childish behavior going on without me contributing to it.”
Shadya gave Andrasta a look that resembled genuine embarrassment. She faced the front of the wagon.
Rondel mumbled something and faced forward as well.
Andrasta rolled her eyes.
The ride turned quiet without conversation.
She couldn’t be happier. Within moments, she slept.
* * *
Hours later, Rondel still silently cursed his partner for her earlier behavior.
You’d think she’d show a little gratitude for all that Shadya’s done for us.
So consumed in that pastime, he almost failed to notice Shadya easing the wagon down a gradual slope which led to a watering hole completely hidden away from the road. It amazed him how well the wagon moved over any surface. Shadya said the wards helped the wagon to traverse such uneven ground.
He took in the eerie red glow of the setting sun as it spread over the jagged sandstone surrounding their campsite for the night. With the temperature dropping to something reasonable, Rondel could appreciate the beauty of the desert brought on by the evening light.
It reminds me of the paintings we saw in the museum.
Shadya gestured to the pool of water covered in shadow by a high, stone ledge. “To the right is a path that leads to a small enclosure where the pool narrows. It’s an ideal spot for one to clean up after a day of travel.”
“Good idea. Please. You go first.”
Shadya’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. It’s custom for men to—”
“I understand custom. You would be doing me an honor to see to your own needs first.”
“Athar and the wagon—”
“We’ll see to your camel,” he said, speaking for Andrasta. “After getting us to safety, it’s the least we can do.”
Shadya bowed her head. “Thank you.”
Rondel helped her from the wagon. She whispered something in Athar’s ears that the camel actually seemed to understand based on a subtle shake of its head. Afterward, she gathered a small bag of her things and disappeared behind the rocks leading to the narrowed pool. He fought an urge to follow.
“I wonder what you could possibly be thinking about.”
Rondel turned slowly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Andrasta climbed out the wagon with a snort. She began to stretch. “You know exactly what I mean. I’ve seen that look from men many times. And quite a few times from you when a woman catches your eye, though it’s usually fleeting. Nothing as intense as what you’re wearing now.”
“Are you trying to say that I want to sleep with her?”
Andrasta bobbed her head as she unhitched Athar. “I wouldn’t care if that was all you wanted. But I’m worried there’s something more brewing between you two.”
“Now what’re you talking about?”
“We’ve been out of prison for over a year. For someone with the reputation you had as a minstrel, I would have thought you’d have made some attempt at taking a woman to bed by now, but you haven’t. That’s what, nine years since you’ve been with one? Or is it ten now?”
Rondel scowled, not liking the direction of the conversation. “Perhaps.”
“That’s a long time for any man to go, and you’ve made no move to even buy a whore when you’ve had the chance.”
“You know that’s not my style. Besides, you’ve never made a move to sleep with anyone either.”
“We’re not talking about me. My point is, I think you want more than just to sleep with someone. And Shadya seems to be the one that’s finally caught more than just your eye.”
“What
are
you talking about?”
“You tell me. I was out for a day while you two just sat around and talked. And then the way you’ve joked and laughed since I’ve been awake. It isn’t normal in the Erban culture for a woman to speak and laugh so freely with a strange man.”
Rondel chuckled. “You make it seem like we’re a couple of love-struck teenagers.”
She shrugged.
“This is ridiculous.” Rondel grabbed the camel and walked it to the water, turning his back on Andrasta, so she couldn’t see the reddening in his cheeks.
“Is it?”
I don’t know. So what if it is? I’m a grown man. What did Aritophul say in his philosophy? ”Every man is looking for someone to spend their life with, but many don’t know it until they meet her.”
Maybe that’s me. I recall here and there wanting something more than what I used to get from women. It just never grew past that tug because one never truly appealed to me. Perhaps, I do want something more. I may have even found it.