“No,”she said, sitting back at his side.“Sure.I’ll stay.”
“Youdon’t have to.”
“Alreadyhere.”
Hehesitated.
“Whatdid I say,” Zaria said, “about thinking too much?”
“Sorry.”
“I’mright here.I mean that.”
“...I know.”
Theywatched the sunset.A deep red crawled through the dunes.Lightning flashedalong the distant storm.The cavern below, with all its bone and concrete androck, had long since fallen to shadow.
The airwas growing cold again.
Isaacremembered the day he had left his home.He had walked across Khador’s length,thinking the buildings seemed so much different from the mud of the streetitself, rather than the perch of his window.When he had reached the edge ofthe village, he had looked back, and he had seen Berith’s tower the same way acommon man would always see it—a spire of stone and brick, perched over thebank of a river, seeming to impale the foothills beyond.It was large andimposing, like the man himself.
Isaachad turned, and he had gazed along the road, and he had been amazed at the sizeof the world, amazed at the knowledge that his journey would take him farbeyond the horizon.All his life, he had imagined that, when he finally stoodat the crossroads, he would gaze long at the tower, wistful and conflicted.Hewould leave it only with a heavy heart.
Instead,when the moment came, he found himself barely sparing a glance.He had taken eagerly to the road.
Had itbeen relief in his heart, in that moment?
Had itbeen spite?
After meetingZaria, he had imagined that he would return.He imagined that he would throwopen the heavy oak of the door, he would greet his former servants, he wouldrun his fingers along the fence of the yard, he would smell the musty parchmentof the library, he would go to his bedroom and hear the creak of the rafters,and, in the end, when he had drunk his fill, he would speak his mind to hisuncle, he would look him in the eye, and, when he left for the final time, allthe memories would be closed in his heart.
Hewould never come home again.
Hecried in her arms until the moons were bright.
The topof the wreckage came faster than expected.
Zariawas scrambling up the sloping face of a boulder, managing to crawl more oftenthan climb.She reached the top, wincing at the rope burn in her palm, andIsaac could suddenly see the morning sunlight on her fur.It startled themboth.She turned to look, and her ears rose sharply along her head.
“Xotra’scunt!”
Isaacwiped sweat from his face.“Already?”
Her cacklinglaughter was the only response.
Shethrew the rope down for him.He barely had time to find his footholds while sheyanked him up the slope.When he reached her position, the cool shadow of themorning fell away, and the sunlight seared into his pinkened skin.He squinted,looking through the glare.
A fewboulders remained in front of them, but all the slabs were nestled so neatlytogether they could simply be walked and leaped across.Ahead, there was a lipof sand rising from the edge of the cavern wall, leading out into the long,smooth blankets that characterized the dunes of the Charnel Waste.The sandcurved like velvet, rising into slopes and hills.It stretched as far as hecould see, and the morning sun was already climbing above it all, bathing thesand to a searing heat.The air swirled and danced.
Zariaclapped him on the back.“What’d I tell you?”
“Alright,fine.”
“What’dI fuckin’ tell you?”
She ranand leaped across the boulders.Isaac picked his way carefully.When he reachedher, she was kicking up showers of sand, dancing in the pale orange light.Hercheers echoed loudly through the dunes.Despite himself, the corners of hismouth began to twitch into a smile.
All atonce, Zaria began to sing.
