against the constraining boredom, but she never said a word to the man–discipline. An unearned hatred for him began to simmer, the way he stayed calm, his maddening silence, and the ever-present question he wouldn’t let her ask. Why?
She became thirsty and she drank careful measures of water, hunger came as well and she ate the bitter redroot, the cycles of eating and drinking counting away the time as the storm kept a constant vigil outside the cave. At times, she wondered if she’d die here, a hostage to the elements. Once again, she closed her eyes to sleep.
When Lexi blinked her eyes open, she saw the red light of the sun illuminating the rocks outside, the howling monster of sand and dust gone. A glance around the cavern revealed that the man had disappeared, though the supplies remained in place. Anxious to be outside, she made her way through the narrow opening.
Wind whipped her robes, forcing her to don her veil against the rough sand. The fat, red sun hung above the horizon where it always did, but with no muddy band of dust below it. She spread her arms and spun around, rejoicing in her freedom from the prison of the cave.
A sharp clank of metal came from behind some rocks, and she made her way over to investigate. Somehow, the man had reassembled the mast and sail. How did he do that himself? Despite her curiosity, she knew not to disrespect him with unrequested questions.
“You need to learn how to work the skiff quickly, the storm delayed us and there is little water to spare,” he said. “You only need to travel shadow-wise with the wind, it won’t be difficult.”
He showed her how to raise and lower the sail, how to angle the boom, and how to steer the front ski. At the clan-hold, only boys learned about sand skiffs–girls didn’t need to. Lexi drank in every word of the forbidden knowledge.
As she worked the levers to control the front ski one more time, his eyes locked onto hers and he spoke with deliberation. “Do you remember what I’ve taught you? Be sure, your life will depend on it.”
Lexi nodded.
“Then go fetch the supplies; you will leave now.”
When she returned, the man pulled a pouch from one of the baskets, and then squatted down to load water-skins and food. Lexi watched him decide how much to take, sorting out the supplies for them both. Once done, he stuffed one pile into his pouch.
He stood and pointed to the skiff. “Place the rest in the front seat. Go directly shadow-wise. You will see rocks like this.” He gestured toward the nearby spires. “But it covers a much larger area. There’s an old clan-hold there and the well may produce enough water for a person, maybe not.”
Lexi wished he sounded more confident. Again, she wondered why he had come for her and, with the hope he’d sense the question in her eyes, she peered up at him. They stared at each other for a long moment, the flapping of robes in the omnipresent wind the only sound.
“Your father, your true father, was my brother. He saved my life once.” He turned toward the great red ball of the sun, and started his journey back to the clan-hold.
Lexi wanted to ask more, she knew nothing of her true father–the one put to death shortly after her birth. The questions burned in her mouth, but she bit her lip and stayed quiet–she couldn’t disrespect her savior. Instead, she climbed into the skiff and pulled with all her strength on the rope that raised the sail.
The wind caught, and she glided across the sand. “Yeeeeeeyaaaaah!” she cried as the might of the sky pushed her over the dunes. Despite her grim prospects, she found herself grinning in the excitement of her freedom. Free. Free to soar the desert to anywhere I like.
She kept to the man’s instructions. Her skiff may have given her limitless possibilities, but her freedom wouldn’t last long without shelter and water. Time vanished in the expanse of the world and the unchanging light of the sun. Lexi didn’t need a timemaster’s bell however, her water acted like grains in a time-glass. Like a slow-stalking razor cat, fatigue crept up on her as well, making her eyelids heavy. She fought back; taking time to sleep would only make her use more water.
Finally, she had no choice but to rest, and she lowered her sail. With no place to shelter, she slept inside the skiff and hoped that no desert predator would happen across her. When she awoke, she took another sip from her dwindling water-skin and raised the sail again to be swept away on another timeless journey.
After two more sleeps, she saw something on the horizon. Rock spires? She angled the sail to edge the skiff’s course toward the hopeful sight. The formations grew with agonizing slowness as she glided closer. When fatigue threatened her once more, she ignored it. I’m so close. She started to blink her eyes against the creeping sleepiness, and the world broke into disjointed slivers.
Everything tumbled, her body tossed like sand in a storm. She heard snapping and splintering wood before finding herself face down in the sand. A half-dozen paces away, the skiff lay on its side, the mast broken and one of the outriggers sheared off. Further back, she saw the small patch of rock she must have hit in her sleep.
With care, she got to her feet. Her right shoulder felt stiff and gave a dull pain when moved, but otherwise she felt only aches that no doubt would turn to bruises. No worse than one of my father’s lashings.
I need to find the water. Her mind put priorities in order with the same thoughtless pragmatism that governed performing her chores. Something small and dark sat atop the sand some distance behind her. She hurried over and saw her water-skin, but a little dark stain next to it made her stomach shrivel. A rip in the side had let the precious liquid bleed away. No water.
A chill slithered down her skin, leaving hairs standing on end. Lexi suppressed the rising panic, losing her head wouldn’t do any good. She turned toward the rock formations in the distance and started to walk. The hot wind pushed her along as she took one exhausted step after another. Ahead, the spires loomed huge in the red light of the stationary sun. Her throat turned dry and she could taste blood on her cracked lips as she trudged ever closer. Keep moving.
Chapter 2: Old Tom