'Yes I do." Akeela moved toward the door. "I only wish I could explain it to you."
Graig shouted after him, "But you're no soldier!"
Akeela didn't reply. No soldier, he thought blackly. No Lukien .
'I will," said Glass. He smiled sourly. "I was wrong when I said you were nothing like your father, King Akeela. You can be a serpent sometimes, just like him."
Warden Graig stood up. "You're all very happy with yourselves, but aren't you forgetting something?
What about the queen, my lord?" 'That's your duty, Graig," said Akeela. He turned to his old friend. "I'm trusting her to you. Look after her while I'm gone. Make sure nothing happens to her. She mustn't die until Lukien returns, do you understand?"
Graig barely hid his anger. "My lord, you're her husband. You should be looking after her, not me."
'I would if I could," said Akeela, "but I have to go. It's the only way to defeat Norvor."
'Yes," said Graig disgustedly. "Trickery."
'It's necessary!" Akeela shouted. "Why can't you see that?"
'All I see is the change in you," replied Graig. His old face wrinkled crossly. "What happened to that young man of peace? Is he completely dead already?"
Embarrassment colored Akeela's cheeks. He said to Glass and Hogon, "Would you excuse us, please?"
Without a word the two noblemen left the council chamber, closing the door behind them. Graig remained seated, refusing to look at Akeela, who felt ashamed and hurt by his old mentor's disappointment.
'Graig, you have you to understand," he implored. "They think me weak. They all think me weak."
'Who, Akeela?" asked Graig. "Who are you trying to impress with this dangerous game? It's not just Glass, is it? It's not even King Mor. It's someone else."
Akeela stiffened. In all their years together, Graig could always see the truth in things.
'You're a very clever old man," said Akeela with a forlorn smile. "Is it so obvious?"
'Just to me, Akeela. I've known you a long time. I know when something's bothering you."
'I won't lose her, Graig," said Akeela. "Not to sickness, and Tears, a vast expanse of blistering sand.
The awesome sight crushed his already waning spirits.
'Great Fate, look at that," he said. "It's like an ocean." Figgis wore an exuberant smile. "Beautiful, isn't it?" "Beautiful?" said Trager. "Are you mad? How are we supposed to cross that?"
The old man's smile didn't wane. He gazed at Ganjor in a kind of happy homecoming. He had done a good job of guiding them this far, and Lukien was pleased. But he didn't understand the librarian's fascination with these southern cultures. During the days and nights of their long trek south, Figgis had taught them what he could of the Ganjeese, never tiring of his own tales. He had told them that the Ganjeese were a desert culture, like the Jadori, and how they were different from northerners. The hot climate made them quiet, easy-going people, never prone to wasting effort. Even their speech was simple, Figgis had explained, another means of conserving strength. No one of Ganjor ever used two words where one would suffice, nor spoke when a lack of words would do. They were a proud and ancient people, and thought themselves the center of the world. Lurians, Figgis had warned, would not impress them.
But Lukien didn't care about impressing the Ganjeese, and didn't plan on staying in their city more than a day. He needed to get to Jador, and that meant crossing the formidable desert. To do so they would need to trade their horses for drowa. Figgis had promised it would be an easy bargain to make, for drowa were everywhere this near the desert. If Lukien sniffed hard enough, he could smell their peculiar musk in the air. He had already seen some of the humped beasts on his way south. They were atrociously ugly and, according to Figgis, ill-tempered. Lukien didn't relish riding one across the desert.
'I'm exhausted," he said with a sigh. He took notice of the sun high overhead. "Come on. Let's get into the city before we roast. I could do with a bed for the night."
'That would be a nice change," said Trager sourly. The lieutenant drew a hand across the sweat on his brow. He was a fit G, fanjor glistened like gold in the sun. The long trek south had finally paid off for the weary trio, and now they were rewarded with the sight of the city, perched on a sea of sand that stretched out endlessly beyond it. Sunlight made the dry earth seem to shimmer, and the breeze carried the smells of Ganjor, the first human habitat the travelers had seen in days. They had passed through Farduke and Dreel, avoided the principality of Nith, had slept in the forests of Dalyma and followed the Agora River, all to be led to this ancient crossroads.
To Lukien, who had never before ventured further than Marn, Ganjor seemed a remarkable ruin. The city reeked of age, even from a mile away. He could see the tall walls of Ganjor's fortress, nowabandoned. The funerary temple rose above the streets in a golden dome, just as Figgis had described.
On the south side of the city grew olive groves, making do with the little rain that fed the harsh soil, and from the east came the trading caravans, well-stocked with goods and laden with dark-skinned children.
A second, less-traveled road came from the north, bringing visitors from Dreel and Marn and, on rare occasions, Luria.
Lukien reined in his horse, pausing in the shadow of the city. He removed his neckerchief and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. The southern sun had toasted his fair skin. The tips of his ears were burned red. He looked past Ganjor to the Desert of 'See? Those robes are called gaka. They keep out the sand man, but the journey had wearied him. He turned to Figgis, saying, "Lead the way, old man."
Figgis started off in a trot toward Ganjor. Lukien and Trager followed close behind. The city beckoned them, and Lukien felt his mood lighten. His ears quickly filled with the sounds of the bustling crossroads, and as they approached he could clearly see the white towers dotting the city, poking up from the thousands of squat, closely-spaced buildings of brown brick. Golden domes and silver spires with keyhole windows graced the ancient skyline, throwing sweeping shadows into the streets. The road widened as they reached the city outskirts, opening like a mouth to swallow them. Lukien swiveled in his saddle, suddenly enraptured by his surroundings. He had been many places in his many battles, but he had never seen anything like Ganjor. He slowed, eager to see it all. Even Trager seemed enamored by the city. The clay walls of ancient structures rose up around them, and the wide street quickly choked with travelers and the stalls of pottery and silk merchants. Barefoot men sat in clusters around small tables, sipping drinks and tossing dice, while others worked diligently with looms and hawked passersby to buy their weavings. White-faced monkeys like the one Figgis had left behind in Koth were everywhere, perched happily on the shoulders of children and shoppers, and exotic smells from cooking stalls suffused the air. Lukien's stomach rumbled at the aromas. He saw a boy eating chunks of meat on a stick and wondered where he could get one of his own. Trager pointed at the boy.
'Food, Figgis," he said. "Get us some."
The librarian scowled. "Manners, Lieutenant. You're not in Koth anymore, remember."
'I'm hungry!"
'Yes, we all are. Just calm down and don't make a spectacle of yourself. First we have to find a place to stay for the night. And we'll have to get clothing."
'Clothing?" asked Lukien. "What do you mean?"
'For the desert," said Figgis. "We can't go across like this. We'll have to dress like everyone else, in gaka." He pointed to a group of men, all similarly garbed in long white robes and head dress.
^reflect the sunlight. They'll keep us cool."
1.
"Cool?" Trager laughed. "Wrapped from head to toe like that?
You're joking."
'Do you think they'd wear it if it didn't work?" asked Figgis. "Believe me, they've lived here long enough to know what they're doing. We'll have to wear gaka or we'll never make it."
'And a guide," Lukien reminded him. "What about that? We'll need someone to guide us to Jador."
'All the shrana houses have guides, Lukien, don't worry. We'll find someone to take us."
'All right, what's a shrana house?"
'Like a tavern, you might say. Shrana is a popular drink here. It's a hot liquor made from roasted beans. You'll see people drinking it all day long."
'Hot drinks, hot clothes; what's wrong with these people?" snapped Trager. "Don't they feel the bloody sun? What are they made of, leather?"
'You'll learn, Lieutenant," said Figgis."Come. Let's find a place to rest."
Figgis led them through the crowded streets, gingerly maneuvering his horse past throngs of carts and people. Most of the folk were Ganjeese, olive-skinned and dark-haired, but there were northerners in the mix as well, and the knight recognized the crests of Norvor and Dreel in the crowd, carved into the sides of battered wagons that had chosen to trade this far south. They were a welcome sight to Lukien, who was quickly feeling foreign among the southerners. But he didn't feel unwelcome, for there was a curious easiness about the Ganjeese, as though they had seen it all and outsiders held little interest forthem. Curiously, most of the people crowding the streets were men, but there were also women sprinkled through the crowd. All wore robes similar to their male counterparts, and all had a veil of black cloth covering their faces, so that only their eyes could be seen.
'The woman all cover themselves," Lukien remarked. "Why, Figgis?"
The librarian smiled. "Because Vala has told them to."
It was another of the scholar's riddles. "Vala? Is that thei king?"
'No, not a king. Remember ? They are called Inai ka Vala."
'Ah, so Vala is one of their gods?"
'Not a god, Lukien. The god. The Ganjeese and the Jadori worship only one deity, whom they call Vala. It is the will of Vala that women cover themselves."
'But why?" Lukien spied the women in the street. Young and old alike were hidden behind dark veils.
'The Ganjeese believe that men and women should be modest, and should not show their bodies. This way, they can be judged on their skills and intelligence, and not by the way they look. Women in particular must be modest, and not be flirtatious or corrupt a man. The holy book of Vala instructs women to guard their modesty, and not display their beauty to any but their husbands."
Trager laughed. "You hear that, Lukien? That's what the veil is for-to keep sniffing dogs like you away!"
'Still," said Lukien. "It seems unfair. This would never happen in Luria."
'No," agreed Figgis. "But then what's in Luria to believe in?" The librarian regarded Lukien. "Do you have a god, Lukien?"
Lukien thought for a moment. He had never really considered the question. Growing up in the streets hadn't given him much time to ponder such things. As a Lurian he had his pick of religions. He could believe in the Fate as Baron Glass did, or the Great Spirit of Reec or the serpent god of Marn. But to him they all seemed empty, without truth.
'I believe in this," he said, patting his sword. "And I believe in myself. Other than that, who knows?"
'That is the answer of a Lurian," said Figgis. "And it won't win you any friends here, I assure you.
These people are devout. Say whatever you wish, but do not criticize their beliefs. If you do, they will kill you."
'Figgis, I intend to say as little as possible to these people," replied Lukien. "I just want to get back home as soon as possible."
They rode in silence until the road widened into a village now converted into an open market. Lukien was stunned r the'market. He had never seen such an exotic array of goods, t even in Koth. A young boy with a colorful bird perched on s shoulder caught his attention, as did a shapely young lady alking unhurriedly through the square. His eyes followed her.
ke the other women, she was dressed in long white wraps that trailed behind her, but he could make out the curve of her body beneath the robes, and a trace of dark hair falling beneath her veil. She held a basket in her hands, full of bread. Two small boys scurried after her, but to Lukien she didn't seem old enough to be their mother. In a moment she disappeared through a beaded curtain, entering one of the buildings.
'There," said Figgis, pointing in her direction. "That looks like a shrana house. I'll go in and ask around, see if I can find us shelter for the night."
'And food," added Trager. "Before we all collapse."
'And a guide," said Lukien. He looked at the entrance to the shrana house. "Shouldn't we go in with you, Figgis?"
'No," said Figgis. "Stay outside and watch the horses. There's a lot of thievery in this city. If we lose the horses we'll have nothing to trade for drowa, and it's a long walk across the desert."
Lukien was about to agree when he saw the most amazing creature emerge from the crowd. He stopped his horse just outside the shrana house, staring as the beast rounded the corner. A huge, reptilian head wrapped in leather tack stared back at him, its two black eyes blinking beneath membranous lids. It had four legs and a long, slender tail, and was as tall as a horse but much broader across, its muscles bunching beneath its scaly skin. There was a rider on its back, robed in crimson and black, his facehidden behind a cloth wrap. Dust and sand clung to every inch of him. Lukien's horse noticed the creature and snorted in alarm. * . "Great Fate," Lukien gasped. "What is that?"
'That," said Figgis, "is a kreel." The librarian got off his horse as the beast and rider approached, moving with a graceful gait toward them. Too stunned to move, Lukien and Trager simply watched the kreel in disbelief. They had talked about the great lizards during their ride south. Figgis had said they were not to be feared, but seeing one close up made being afraid easy. Lu-kien's hand fell instinctively to his sword. The crowd outside the shrana house parted as the lizard sauntered near, but they did not-seen! surprised or frightened by the creature. Figgis smiled as if a stray dog was approaching.
'Beautiful, isn't it?" he said. "It's been years since I've seen one."
The kreel and its rider noticed Figgis and stopped before him. The rider's dark eyes studied the old man.
'Uh, Figgis, I think you should get out of its way," Lukien suggested.
But the librarian held up his hands towards the man and beast in a gesture of peace, then began to say words Lukien didn't understand, speaking with effort as he pronounced the words.
'Jadori?" Trager guessed.
Lukien shrugged. He didn't know Jadori from Ganjeese, nor any other of the strange tongues he heard around him. But re-markably the rider seemed to understand Figgis. There was no malice in his eyes, only a sort of surprised humor. Figgis struggled with the language, pausing in long stretches between each sentence as he groped for the right words. The rider waited patiently, amused by the old foreigner.
'Figgis?" probed Lukien. "What are you doing?"
'He is from Jador," said Figgis. Childlike exuberance shone on his face. "And he understands me!"
'Yes, all right," said Lukien. "Just be careful what you say to him." Lukien slid slowly off his horse and went to stand beside Figgis. He whispered, "Remember why we're here."
'Of course I remember." Figgis smiled at the Jadori, then began to speak again. The man nodded. "He says he has come for trade," said Figgis. "He's only just arrived from Jador."
'Will he be staying long in the city?" asked Trager. "Maybe he could take us back with him."
'I'm afraid not. He says he will be going east from here. We don't have the time to wait for him."
'Agreed," said Lukien. "Then we'll find a guide in the shrana house."
Figgis kept talking to the Jadori, asking questions. The man answered each one, patiently waiting for Figgis to form his sentences, and when he spoke he did so slowly, making sure the old man understood.
Figgis had told them during the journey that the Jadori were peaceful people, gracious in every way, and now that seemed true. The rider didn't even have a sword, and his great reptile seemed as docile as a pony. It lowered its head onto the sandy ground as its rider spoke, oblivious to the conversation.
'Come on, Figgis," growled Trager. "What are you going on about? Hurry up."
Figgis ignored the lieutenant. He exchanged smiles with the rider, who then got down off his kreel and looked at Lukien and Trager. Amazingly, he bowed to them. Not knowing how to reply, Lukien bowed, too.
'Lukien, he is thanking you for looking after his kreel," Figgis explained.
'What?"
'We are going into the shrana house. I'll buy him a drink and find out what I can about Jador. I told him you'll be outside looking after our horses, so-"
'So you thought I'd look after this big lizard? Are you mad?"
Figgis tried to cover Lukien's anger with a smile. "Easy," he said. "I won't be long, and the kreel won't be any trouble. I told you-they're peaceful creatures. Just stay out here and look after it, all right? Make sure the children keep away." Figgis turned toward the beaded curtain, parting it for his new friend. "I'll bring you back something to eat."
'Figgis!"
The librarian disappeared into the tavern with the Jadori, leaving Lukien and Trager with the kreel.
The two soldiers looked at each other, aghast. The kreel had closed its eyes and laid its giant head in the sand. Its broad back rose and fell with easy breathing.