obviously.” Hakiim scratched his ankles till they bled. “There’s nothing here but scorpions and sand fleas.”
“Even the genies aren’t dangerous anymore,” continued Reiver, “unless you’re swallowed by Memnon’s Crackle, where the sand sizzles and pops and swirls like quicksand. More dangerous are the hatorithe sand crocodiles, or the two-legged crocodiles like the Penumbrannar raiders, or the little things you might step on: snakes, werespiders, poisonous plants. There are night spirits like banshees and spectres and ghasts”
“Stop!” ordered Amber.
Hakiim looked around repeatedly, as if the desert might explode under them. “Maybe we should sleep in the boat,” he said, “moored out in the river.”
Reiver hid a smirk. “A whale or a kraken could burp and swallow”
“Enough! There are no whales in the river. Still, I’m disappointed. A holiday should be an adventure.” The daughter of pirates stood, dusted her seat and trousers, tugged on her pack, pointed her capture noose, and said, “Let’s continue south. It slopes down. Maybe there’re caves or something.”
She marched across the flagstone road and crunched on shale. The young men followed. Reiver checked their back trail and said, “Keep the tower in sight. It’s our only landmark, and we don’t have a compass.”
“You do so,” Hakiim chuckled. “A solid gold one stuffed down your shirt!”
“That’s a sailor’s compass,” Reiver grinned. “It only works at sea.”
They walked. Shale squeaked underfoot, and pebbles clicked on rocks, then soft sand made them sink to their ankles. The landscape dropped and grew more jumbled. In the shadows of knee-high boulders grew al-fasfasah grass, thorn bushes, and stunted tamarisk trees. These tiny oases made homes for jerboas, red foxes, and horned lizards. In clusters of sprawling Calim cactus lurked red spiders and sand squirrels. Somewhere out of sight a burrowing owl hooted.
Sun filled the sky at their left, so the travelers tugged down folds of their kaffiyeh to blind that side. A mile or more from the road, the sand hardened and curled into frozen waves. Amber stopped at a lip, careful lest it crumble, and shaded her eyes. Still descending in sandy cataracts, dunes fanned away in jagged humps toward wind-scoured stone, until the horizon dipped into a huge valley or ancient sinkhole.
“No caves,” said Reiver.
“No nothing,” said Hakiim.
“Still, it’s lovely in a desolate way,” offered Amber. “See how the land changes colors, as if someone’s lowered a lantern? We’d better return to the road, thoughwhat?”
A tremor rippled under their feet, as if a heavy cart was passing by. Reiver suddenly froze, sweating. “I just remembered another danger of the desert.”
“What?” barked Hakiim.
The earth trembled, a shiver that buzzed to their knees.
“There’s something behind us,” Amber squealed. She jumped and spun in place but saw nothing. Only a breeze caressed them. “What is it?”
“Those rocks”
Reiver never got to finish. Sand rippled as if whipped by the wind. The desert floor bulged upward like a volcano bubbling. The bulges elongated and burst.
Amber, Hakiim, and Reiver spat and blinked as sand sprayed in their faces. They only glimpsed the source: sand-colored bodies stippled with black and brown spots, longer than horses, mouths like barrels rimmed with teeth like jagged glass, each tooth wiggling like a finger, gaping mouths that could swallow them whole.
As one, the three companions turned and jumped down the steep slope. Amber plowed sand with her heels, hopped up to run, almost pitched head over heels, and squatted on her rear. She skittered, bumped, rolled, and slid downward faster than she liked, but she didn’t dare slow down.
A sandborer burst out of the slope beside her like an arrow through a bale of hay. Thunderherders were something Amber had heard of around the slave corrals, and those were only rumors, not
“Even the genies aren’t dangerous anymore,” continued Reiver, “unless you’re swallowed by Memnon’s Crackle, where the sand sizzles and pops and swirls like quicksand. More dangerous are the hatorithe sand crocodiles, or the two-legged crocodiles like the Penumbrannar raiders, or the little things you might step on: snakes, werespiders, poisonous plants. There are night spirits like banshees and spectres and ghasts”
“Stop!” ordered Amber.
Hakiim looked around repeatedly, as if the desert might explode under them. “Maybe we should sleep in the boat,” he said, “moored out in the river.”
Reiver hid a smirk. “A whale or a kraken could burp and swallow”
“Enough! There are no whales in the river. Still, I’m disappointed. A holiday should be an adventure.” The daughter of pirates stood, dusted her seat and trousers, tugged on her pack, pointed her capture noose, and said, “Let’s continue south. It slopes down. Maybe there’re caves or something.”
She marched across the flagstone road and crunched on shale. The young men followed. Reiver checked their back trail and said, “Keep the tower in sight. It’s our only landmark, and we don’t have a compass.”
“You do so,” Hakiim chuckled. “A solid gold one stuffed down your shirt!”
“That’s a sailor’s compass,” Reiver grinned. “It only works at sea.”
They walked. Shale squeaked underfoot, and pebbles clicked on rocks, then soft sand made them sink to their ankles. The landscape dropped and grew more jumbled. In the shadows of knee-high boulders grew al-fasfasah grass, thorn bushes, and stunted tamarisk trees. These tiny oases made homes for jerboas, red foxes, and horned lizards. In clusters of sprawling Calim cactus lurked red spiders and sand squirrels. Somewhere out of sight a burrowing owl hooted.
Sun filled the sky at their left, so the travelers tugged down folds of their kaffiyeh to blind that side. A mile or more from the road, the sand hardened and curled into frozen waves. Amber stopped at a lip, careful lest it crumble, and shaded her eyes. Still descending in sandy cataracts, dunes fanned away in jagged humps toward wind-scoured stone, until the horizon dipped into a huge valley or ancient sinkhole.
“No caves,” said Reiver.
“No nothing,” said Hakiim.
“Still, it’s lovely in a desolate way,” offered Amber. “See how the land changes colors, as if someone’s lowered a lantern? We’d better return to the road, thoughwhat?”
A tremor rippled under their feet, as if a heavy cart was passing by. Reiver suddenly froze, sweating. “I just remembered another danger of the desert.”
“What?” barked Hakiim.
The earth trembled, a shiver that buzzed to their knees.
“There’s something behind us,” Amber squealed. She jumped and spun in place but saw nothing. Only a breeze caressed them. “What is it?”
“Those rocks”
Reiver never got to finish. Sand rippled as if whipped by the wind. The desert floor bulged upward like a volcano bubbling. The bulges elongated and burst.
Amber, Hakiim, and Reiver spat and blinked as sand sprayed in their faces. They only glimpsed the source: sand-colored bodies stippled with black and brown spots, longer than horses, mouths like barrels rimmed with teeth like jagged glass, each tooth wiggling like a finger, gaping mouths that could swallow them whole.
As one, the three companions turned and jumped down the steep slope. Amber plowed sand with her heels, hopped up to run, almost pitched head over heels, and squatted on her rear. She skittered, bumped, rolled, and slid downward faster than she liked, but she didn’t dare slow down.
A sandborer burst out of the slope beside her like an arrow through a bale of hay. Thunderherders were something Amber had heard of around the slave corrals, and those were only rumors, not
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