There were two ways a person could travel across the vast desert that blanketed Koraha. Either you hired a guide, who arranged everything and escorted you safely to your destination, or you signed up with one of the many caravans that crisscrossed the world. Hiring a guide cost an outrageous amount of osmiums so only the deep-level wealthy could afford it. The second option gave you two choices: you either accompanied the caravan as a passenger or you joined as a worker, the latter being the cheapest way to travel and the easiest way to blend in. Too bad it was almost impossible for Shyla and Rendor to travel incognito.
As a sun-kissed, she stood out. Her sun cloak’s hood helped hide her blond hair and kept the harsh rays of the sun off her chestnut-colored skin. However, she’d decided before this trip that she’d no longer worry about what other people thought of her. She hoped the citizens of Qulsary, the capital of Koraha, no longer believed that sun-kisseds must be sacrificed to the Sun Goddess right after birth. The new Heliacal Priestess of Zirdai already outlawed the abandonment of sun-kissed babies on the sands.
Thinking about the new priestess, Shyla grinned. Not only was the woman a sun-kissed, but she was Shyla’s mother. A pulse of love swelled in her heart. After years of thinking she had been abandoned and rescued by the monks, Shyla now had a family. Which she’d promptly left behind in Zirdai. Not because of her desire to travel. No. Because the King of Koraha had ordered her to report to him in person.
The knot in her stomach tightened and her gaze returned to Rendor. He too failed to blend in. At one hundred and ninety centimeters tall, Rendor was broad shouldered and pure muscle. And he was all hers. His solid presence helped steady her nerves, but couldn’t banish her fears completely.
What if the King had her arrested as soon as she arrived? There was nothing Rendor could do in that situation. She and her Invisible Swords did overthrow Zirdai’s Water Prince and Heliacal Priestess—two very corrupt and power-hunger people who deserved to be usurped. Unfortunately, two hundred and sixty-four people died during the defeat—many of them Shyla’s good friends.
Was the King worried her organization would set their sights on him? As far as she knew, he wasn’t a despot. He was over eighty circuits old and preferred to rule from a distance, keeping an eye on the cities through the monks. The King only interceded in a city’s politics when their tax payments stopped. Then he would send his legendary soldiers to deal with the problem. Otherwise, he seemed inclined to leave the cities alone, which had been unfortunate for Zirdai when it desperately needed his help.
To keep from fretting, Shyla concentrated on the fact that the King’s emissary had investigated the events leading to the change in leadership and had approved Jayden as the new Water Prince and Kaveri as the new Heliacal Priestess. Yet Shyla’s thoughts kept circling back to why did the King want to see her?
Perhaps she should be more concerned about the sun nearing the danger zone. They had usually found shelter by now. If they were caught on the surface between angles eighty and one hundred, they’d be cooked alive. A few of the drivers muttered unhappily as other members of the caravan exchanged worried glances.
Shyla scanned the pink sky, searching for flocks of velbloud. The fuzzy white creatures rose into the air about twenty angles before apex to escape the killing heat, remaining attached to the sands by their long tethers. Tethers she’d used once in desperation to ascend with them. If it hadn’t been for them and Zhek’s healing goo, she would have died and joined the Sun Goddess.
“Beacon spotted,” Yegor, Lota’s husband, shouted. The tension dissipated as everyone relaxed.
“‘Bout time, Yegor,” one of the drivers called in a teasing tone. “Thought you’d gone sand blind.”
“I wish,” Yegor shot back. “Then I wouldn’t have to see your ugly mug every sun jump.” Laughter rippled through the caravan as Yegor urged his gamelu team to pick up the pace.
Yegor drove the first wagon, which contained their two children. Actually, “contained” wasn’t quite accurate as the little boy and girl rarely rode inside, preferring to either cling to the sides, lie on the roof, or ride one of the gamelus—all of which had names given to them by the children.
Shyla squinted through the brightness. Good thing they hadn’t depended on her to find the tall obelisk that marked the entrance to a travel shelter. Even though they rose high above the dunes and had been built of black granite to contrast with the reddish-orange sands, they were still hard to find.
Lota led the caravan over to the beacon. As soon as they reached it, everyone burst into action. The gamelus were unhitched and brought over to the stone corral. They were given water and brought under the massive sun shade made from velbloud skin that the muscles erected. The gamelus were well equipped to handle the killing heat during the danger zone, however, due to the extra effort they expanded pulling the wagons, the shade allowed them to recover from their exertions faster.
Once the animals were settled, everyone climbed down the ladder into the shelter. Before joining them, Shyla scanned the horizon one more time, using the power of The Eyes to sense if there was anyone nearby. Not that she expected attackers to be hiding in the desert this close to the danger zone, but the shelter only had a single exit, and, if it was blocked, they could be trapped. When Shyla had mentioned this to Lota and the other guards, they shrugged it off, unconcerned about the possibility. Only Rendor had understood the danger.
Satisfied they were alone, she descended into the cooler air. It was a straight shot down, ending in a long rectangular chamber about seventeen meters underground. By the time she reached the bottom, the temperature had dropped to twenty degrees Celsius. She waited at the base of the ladder for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. The yellow glow from the druk lanterns hanging around the chamber were weak compared to the sunlight.
Once the black shapes inside the shelter solidified into people, Shyla nodded at Rendor, giving him the all-clear signal. He had waited nearby with his hand on his sword just in case. This habit of theirs amused the other guards, but they didn’t know what magic could do. They had no idea that magic wielders could hide under the sands or disappear inside a dune.
The chamber was about five meters wide by fourteen meters long and identical to every other shelter they’d stopped in since Zirdai. Cushions for sleeping and sitting littered the floor. A few long low stone tables lined the walls. There wasn’t a collection station. No one wanted to haul nasty-smelling buckets to the surface. Those who needed to relieve themselves were encouraged to go behind a sand dune before entering the shelters.
Shyla and Rendor headed to an empty sleeping cushion, weaving through the small clumps of caravanners. Some were already sprawled on cushions, others shared meals and gossiped, while a few rolled dice in order to pass the forty angles until the surface cooled to a safer temperature. Unaware that Shyla and Rendor had been involved in the turmoil in Zirdai, they didn’t pay them much attention. Only Lota and her husband knew the truth because Shyla wanted to be honest with the owner.
Once they reached the cushion, Rendor stripped off his sun cloak. Underneath he wore a sleeveless tunic. The soaked fabric clung to his well-defined chest. She relished the view as he wiped the sweat off his face, watching his muscles flex. Before he could catch her ogling him, she removed her own cloak.