“They’re called Sand Warriors, and I am not one of them.”
“What are you, then?” Marshen asked, wrinkling his brow.
“What am I?” I half laughed. “I’m the fucking servant, Marshen. Now I’m going back to my room and you should do the same. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
CHAPTER 58
“Iam going to ask you this one last time—are you sure you don’t want us to go to the Sand Castle and find Aegir first? We areliterallystanding on sand.”
“I’m glad you said that.”
Marshen exhaled. “You changed your mind. Oh, thank fucking Boreas, I was—”
“No, I’m glad you said that you will ask it thelasttime. Now, can you please go and ask them? Make sure they won’t try to rip us off. Feder said it shouldn’t cost us more than one piece of gold for the both of us.”
I rested my back against the wooden beam of one of the tents, munching on a red apple. The first hints of light had just crept into the sky, yet the stablemen and camel herders were breaking their backs getting their horses and camels fed and ready for their respective journeys.
Marshen managed to secure us a good deal. Not a very comfortable one, though, I thought, as I squeezed myself in between two chests, giving a small smile to the young girl sitting across from me. She seemed to be the same age as Sabi. Her hands, I noticed, were soiled, her fingers smudged in black soot that managed to make its way underneath her fingernails. Marshen compacted himself into a cannonball, his knees close to his chest. He gave a nod to the scruffy man sitting next to him.
Marshen and I were allowed passage on one of the wagons that was transporting goods to Jebel, and it seemed that we weren’t the only ones.
I cursed the sickness I felt whenever I tried to read while moving. It hindered me from reading the books I had purchased. It also left me with nothing to do but stare at my surroundings. Thanks to Scruffy, I was not the one who had to engage in long conversations with Marshen. And the good thing was that Scruffy seemed genuinely interested in what was coming out of Marshen’s mouth.
I was about to say something to the girl but stopped myself as I watched her take out a journal and a piece of black chalk from her bag. The girl lost herself in the drawing. The way she looked at it made each stroke seem purposeful, careful. She lifted her face every now and again, but only momentarily, unbothered by the stray locks of hair that fell over her face.
I couldn’t see what she had been drawing for the past four hours, yet I found myself hissing as I watched her tear off the page. Then I gave her a puzzled look as she extended her arm, handing me the drawing. My breath caught the moment my eyes landed on the art.
“Oh, wow! That’s me.” The girl nodded, her lips conveying a shy smile. “That’s absolutely wonderful! What’s your name?”
“I’m Macy.”
“Well, you are very talented, Macy. I’m Delia.” I handed the drawing to Marshen. “Look, Marsh, Macy over here drew it.”
“Cool! That looks exactly like you,” he exclaimed, returning the drawing. Excitement glowed on his face. “Can you draw me?”
“Sure. But you must stay put. I notice you move a lot, and there is barely any space around you.” My lips curved into a smile at her comment.
“I promise I will stay totally still. I’m Fae. We can stay very still if we want to, you know.”
I placed my drawing inside one of the books, making sure it wouldn’t crease. Marshen kept his word and sat as still as a white marble statue. He reminded me of a ventriloquist when he mumbled through clenched teeth and unmoving lips, “Are we done yet? My neck is hurting like hell.”
“Done?” Macy giggled. “We have to continue this tomorrow, it’s soon dusk and I’m not even halfway through.”
“Can I see it?” Marshen asked, making to lean forward.
But Macy moved the drawing close to her chest. “Uh-uh. You’ll see it once it’s done.”
The riders lined the wagons next to each other and prepared for camp. The other passengers—men, women, and children—scattered around.
Macy, I found out, was travelling alone. She was on her way to visit her mother, who would be waiting for her at the Troiyan station. I asked her not to leave our side. Who knew what kind of twisted people were journeying with us. I stayed guard while she relieved herself and she did the same for me.
I found that moment of seclusion as an opportunity to whisper something in Macy’s ear. So on our way back, I did. She giggled.
“Alittlebit more to the left,” Macy instructed. Marshen slowly turned his neck sideways, his gaze on the dunes peeking out along the grainy earth. He grumbled something about his stiff neck. “Stop. That’s it. Don’t move.”
Macy showed me sneak peeks of her drawing every now and then. Marshen also grumbled about that. Each time protesting that it wasn’t fair that I was the only one allowed to see its progress.
Hours later, a much-anticipated, “Andit’s done,” was heard.
