Read Online The Waterless Sea by Kate Constable - Free Book Online

she stared down at the hypnotic rise and fall of the muscles on the hegesu ’ s back.
    Mica took up her chantment again, and the dry air blew stray tendrils of hair across Calwyn’ s nose and mouth. Her clumsy headdress, so different from Heben’ s neat turban, began to fall down, and impatiently she wound it up. She would have to ask Heben to show her how to hold it in place. The jolting of the hegesu made her stomach churn. She slid off its back, like Halasaa, and began to walk. The shifting sand dragged at her feet like glue. Heben was right; the padded feet of the animals were better suited to the terrain. But if she didn’ t walk, she’ d go mad.
    She kicked out against the long robe that hung down to her ankles. It was impossible to walk when a curtain of heavy cloth struck against your knees with every step! She struggled on for a time, but at last she could bear it no more, and returned to the queasy sway of the hegesu .
    She looked ahead at the tall silent figure of Heben, upright and easy on his mount, as he moved steadily onward, a little way in front. Since they left Teril, he had barely spoken a word. Did he regret bringing them here, to this dry bright place where they did not belong? Perhaps because she sensed that his gallant manners concealed a lack of respect, she did not feel at ease with Heben. But then, she had never known any young men before, except for Darrow, and that was different. And Halasaa, of course, and that was different again. But if anything happened to Heben, how would they survive? Already they had walked so far that she could no longer tell which direction led back to the sea. This would be an easy place to die, she thought, and despite the heat and the sweat that made her clothes stick to her back, a chill ran through her.
    It was late in the afternoon when Heben came to the crest of a dune, and stopped. He slid off his hegesu , his robes billowing about him, though he stood as still and stern as a pillar of stone. In that moment he reminded Calwyn of Darrow, and she felt the familiar pain that stabbed her every time she thought of him.
    â€˜Heben’ s sorry he brought us here,’ Calwyn murmured to Halasaa.
    He sees how helpless we are here. Halasaa’ s face was grim. He knows that our lives rest in his hands.
    â€˜Then we must show him that we’ re not helpless after all!’ said Calwyn.
    Behind them, Mica shouted, ‘Cal! Cal! Race you to the bottom!’ The younger girl hurtled by with a gleeful shriek, running full tilt and dragging her reluctant hegesu , which let out a high-pitched squeal of disapproval. She flew past Heben, tripped over her cumbersome robes, and rolled to the foot of the dune in a laughing, breathless heap.
    Heben followed more sedately, a frown creasing his face. ‘If you please, it isn’ t wise to run. You will make yourself too thirsty.’
    Calwyn trotted down the slope and helped Mica to her feet. ‘He’ s right, Mica. We must be careful.’
    But Mica let out a furious cry. ‘Oh no! My waterskin!’
    She had worn the bag, fat with fresh water, slung across her back, and she’ d landed on it with all her weight. The skin hung limp; the precious water seeped away, a gleaming puddle absorbed by the sand. Then it was gone, and only a patch of damp showed where it had been. Calwyn shot a look at Heben; he had an expression of horror on his face.
    â€˜I’ ll sing up some ice,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’ t worry, Heben, we can replace it with chantment.’
    His face recomposed itself into its customary polite, distant look. Clearly he didn’ t believe her.
    â€˜If Darrow was here, he could mend it,’ lamented Mica, turning the empty waterskin over in her hands. ‘See, it’ s the seam what’ s split. The skin ain’ t torn at all.’
    Heben examined the bag and tossed it back to Mica. ‘I can stitch it,’ he said dismissively, and