“Sadly, it is not good.” I turned to look at him. His amber eyes lifted from the thin sheaf of paper. “News of the kidnapping has leaked from the castle. Aelir has spoken to the people in order to try to calm the masses, but his speech has had little effect. The noble houses are calling for all Sandrayans to be imprisoned.”
“That is asinine!” I snarled, striding over to stand near him. “There is no proof that this plot was birthed by a Sandrayan. There is proof that one of our own, a mainlander, was fully involved.”
“Yes, well, it is easier to rile the people against an enemy that does not look like you.”
The urge to break something was strong. “Yes, you are right,” I had to confess, dropping down to sit beside him as the parrot tore at the hunk of bread held in its right foot. Crumbs fell to the floor. “I realize the people know nothing of our mission to free the twins, but what good will throwing all of your people into the dungeons do?”
“None, but once the bloodlust is bubbling, common sense boils away. We need to make good speed to reach the Blood Fens. Lindal, my secretary, states that Aelir and Le’ral are standing strong against the nobility, but the people on the streets are growing restless. Small crimes against people of green and brown skin are on the rise.” He lifted his gaze from his note. “We must ensure that we are successful in reaching and rescuing the children or the whispers of war will begin. I am positive that our vahasi and your king wish no such thing, but they can only hold out against the calls of the people for so long. Years of diplomacy are already unraveling.”
“Then we will ride hard through the night,” I said firmly.
Teryn nodded. His sigh was heartfelt. “Yes, that we will. Let me reply to this missive. On the plus side, the distraction ship has arrived at the port of Padana. So that ruse seems to beworking, as there is great interest being shown in all the dark corners of the capital. Rumors have it. So yes, let us eat and rest. Once the sun sets, we shall meet up with our rides and head out.”
I gave his shoulder a squeeze as the weight of our rescue mission grew that much heavier. Not only were two young lives now at risk, so too were possibly hundreds more if violence broke out on the streets of Celear.
THE NIGHTS IN THE BLACK SANDSWERE MAGICAL.
The steeds we had hired were not.
“Are we sure there are no horses available to rent?” I asked for the fifth time, Teryn already seated on the back of his quadoth. Mine, a sour-looking beast, stood in the street, chewing on a cud as it gave me dark looks.
“Horses are not as capable on the stretch of the sands that we must cross. You will find that riding a quadoth is quite enjoyable. Very similar to a horse.” Teryn gave his one-humped ride a soft pat that made its long lashes flutter. “Climb into the saddle. Time is of the essence.”
Knowing he was right, I did as told, ignoring the eye roll from the woman who rented these sandy creatures. She chortled rudely.
“Come up with authority. Throw your leg over the hump. Sit down.Mainlanders.” She waved a hand at the beast kneeling on the cobblestone road. Around us, people came and went, many casting amused looks and whispers at the milky mainlander trying to mount his ride. Once I had my foot in the stirrup, I threw my leg over and around and sat down. The quadoth got to its feet, heaving me forward and back. I clung to the saddle horn, adjusted myself, and then nodded at Teryn. He smiled sweetly, seated on his beast with his legs crossed andwrapped around the saddle post. He looked the expert while I looked…well, like a fool.
“I am ready to ride,” I announced with bravado. The fat woman tittered as we rode off, my body unfamiliar with the odd motion of the quadoth under me. It was irregular. Not at all like the measured gait of a horse.
“Do not try to fight the ride,” Teryn called over his shoulder as we picked our way along narrow streets with round dark windows in every home. “And do not try to control your beast as you would your horse. Quadoth are notoriously stubborn. Your mount will follow mine. Remain calm, and if your quadoth frightens, just simply speak to it in soft, peaceful words as you would to your horse. You will see how pleasant it is once we leave the city.”
“Pleasant, yes, I am sure that is the word I will use.”
It was not the word I used to describe riding a quadoth. The beast, whose name was Razgol, which Teryn had explained meant pretty flower, was, in fact, not a pretty flower at all. Razgol was a bitter root branch with horrid thorns. She kept trying to reach back to bite me. She tried to veer off the path that Teryn’s lovely ride, Petarh, which meant gilded star, was leading her through. Every small bush that we passed, she wished to sample. When I would tug on the reins attached to her halter, she would make an unholy sound and whip her head about on her long neck to try to sink her teeth into my thigh. She urinated frequently, squatting down without warning to send me lurching backward. Surely she was doing that to send me to the street so that I would crack my skull open. My words to her were neither soft nor peaceful.
“She is picking up your nervousness,” Teryn called to me a dozen times.
A small dog darted out in front of us as we reached the outskirts of the port town of Yaza Kee. The pretty flower that I was sitting on did her very best to stomp the scruffy mutt into a puddle of pomegranate pudding. Thankfully, the dog was small and fast, so it was able to avoid the wide, padded feet.
“I am trading this monster in for a cow at the next settlement,” I huffed after a long battle to get my quadoth back in line with Teryn’s, which waited patiently for us. “I will ride the cow.”
Teryn laughed heartily as I rode up beside him as Razgol tried her best to bite the placid Petarh on the haunch.
“Imagine the songs the bards of Celear will sing when they discover that the bronze warrior rode a cow through the desert,” he said between chuckles.
“Better a cow than this hellspawn,” I replied, taking a moment to gaze at the rising view of a small mountain range. Now that the city was behind us, the Rajaz Mountains rose into the inky black sky. A hundred thousand stars winked down at us. Once we rode out of the city under the cover of night, the air grew cooler. The cobblestone streets fed into dirt roadways. Spindly trees and bushes populated the landscape.
“That is a beautiful sight,” I confessed as we eased into the steppe regions of the main isle.
“Yes, the Rajaz are holy mountains,” Teryn said and nodded to a small convoy of riders on quadoth entering Yaza Kee. “The goddess Shamsira spoke to her people from the highest peaks, bidding them to follow her teachings of love, faith, and magick. While the range is small compared to the Witherhorns that our yeti and dwarven friends call home, they are just as magnificent.”
“Yes, they are amazing,” I agreed, my ride finally calming. Perhaps it was because I was settled in for the long ride atop her. It seemed they were much like a horse in many ways and unlike a horse in many ways. “Will we be crossing them?”
He slowed so that I could come abreast. I held the reins tightly to avoid a bite to his quadoth from mine. He peeked at me, gold eyes aglow, from a slit in his robing that he had artfully wound around his head. Mine had come undone during my struggles with the pretty flower beneath me.
“No, we will be skirting them, keeping to the savannahs at the base. We shall ride to the east and then cut into the desert on the other side. There is a small settlement before the sands begin in earnest. The oasis will be a short respite. With Shamsira’s blessing, we may begin our trek over the Black Sands desert tomorrow night if we keep at pace.”
That was a surety. We must make haste. My weakness during sea travel had already cost us time that we did not have to spare. I prayed my steed would behave well enough to get us to the other side come daybreak. If not, a cow/quadoth trade would be imminent.
