Read Online D & D - Red Sands by Paul B. Thompson, Tonya R. Carter - Free Book Online Page B

harder. Already the troopers had found secreted bales of silk, jewels hidden in water gourds, and slaves not wearing owner's bracelets. All this to avoid the sultan's taxes, and in the current situation, Fu'ad could do nothing about it.
    The caravan master approached, his tiny turban perched atop his broad face. "Is there anything else the excellent captain would care to see?" he said.
    "I've seen quite enough," snapped Fu'ad.
    "Then we may continue on, worthy sir?"
    "When I give you leave!" The caravan master bowed deeply and rubbed his hands on his robe. He bowed and backed away, finally turning and shouting something harsh to his teamsters in his native dialect.
    Marad rode to his commander. "There is no sign of the prisoners," he said. "No one in the party has seen them either, sir."
    "Or no one admits seeing them," Fu'ad said in a low voice.
    "Yes, sir."
    Marad lingered, waiting for his captain's next order. Fu'ad surveyed the milling pack of horses, donkeys, camels, and men. "Where are they, my brother?" he said. "How could four people on foot have outdistanced us?"
    "Perhaps they were disguised in one of the earlier caravans we searched," offered Marad.
    "No, I cannot believe that. They are a distinctive band: a yellow-haired man, a nomad woman, a Fedushite woman, and a priest with a bare poll. No disguise in the world could shield them from me."
    A donkey brayed and bucked when a heavy basket of trade goods was piled on its back. The driver clucked and whirred his tongue to calm the beast, to no effect. The wicker hamper fell to the ground and burst open, spilling beads and brass bangles on the road.
    "Set these buffoons on their way," Fu'ad said. "We'll waste no more time with them."
    "Very good, sir. What is our destination, if I may ask?" said Marad.
    Fu'ad squinted into the setting sun. "We go on to Rehajid."
    Two columns of Invincibles swung into their saddles in unison. Their peaked helmets blazed like torches and the dying wind billowed their cloaks. The caravan cleared the road to allow the lancers to pass. The Faziris looked ahead to the blood-hued horizon.
    "I don't believe there is an oasis," Nabul said. His robes were undone and trailed forlornly behind him in the dirt.
    "Oh, be still. All you do is complain," said Uramettu.
    "How much farther do you think it is tojulli?" asked Marix.
    "Two, three leagues," said Jadira.
    "So far? I thought we'd come at least twenty from Omerabad."
    "Omerabad," sighed Nabul. "Meat. Bread. Wine!' Uramettu poked him with the butt end of her spear.
    "The desert of the Red Sands misleads you," Jadira said. "One walks and walks and walks, and it seems you've surely reached the edge of the world. But I've kept count of our steps, and we've walked no more than seven leagues."
    "At least the air is cooling," said Tamakh.
    "It will get cooler still. By false dawn tomorrow, our breath will be mist."
    Marix hitched the Faziri breastplate up from his narrow hips. "I've always wanted to see the edge of the world," he said. He picked up the pace, and the rest fell in line behind him.
    They topped a long ridge of blown sand. The sun was sinking fast, and the west wind had awakened. Jadira loosened her headdress, then shook her hair and lifted it off her damp neck.
    Marix looked into the setting sun. "Now I understand why these are called the Red Sands. The ground looks like it is made of new copper."
    "Or blood," said Nabul glumly.
    A notch past sunset, stars began to appear. Tamakh hailed his first glimpse of the Fire Star.
    "There's Agma's Daughter," he said.
    "In Dosen, we call that star the Wanderer, as it meanders across heaven in a yearly course," said Marix. "What do your people call it, Jadira?"
    "Just 'Fire Star.' Our elders mark the seasons by it, and others, by methods kept secret, divine the future from its movements."
    Nabul twisted his head to see the much-discussed star. As he did, he lost sight of his floppy robe. He tripped on the front hem and pitched forward. Rolling