Their need was almost too much for him. No one had ever needed him before—Kenton’s worries had always been confined to himself. He wasn’t accustomed to people depending on him, to looking for him for support.
They need order in their lives. His own words from before returned to him. Something familiar.
“What are you all looking at?” Kenton asked, trying to make his voice as light as possible. “Shouldn’t you students be in classes right now?”
“Classes?” one of the acolents asked. “But, the teachers are all dead.”
“I see some Diemfens and fens before me,” Kenton replied. “They’ve been through the classes; they can teach as well as an undermastrell.” Kenton searched through the crowd, picking out likely subjects. “Mlaidon and Derr, you take the first year acolents. The students will be able to tell you where in their lessons they were.”
The group of sand masters looked at one another with trepidation. However, Kenton continued to talk, calling off names and giving assignments. Slowly, the confused sand masters let themselves be organized back into classes. As they did so, Kenton saw some of the paranoia Drile had fostered begin to dissolve—the Diem had been through so much chaos during the last few weeks, its members were glad for any reminder of the way things had once been.
“I never thought I would see you organizing classes … or organizing anything, for that matter,” Eric mumbled, swaggering over as Kenton directed groups of sand masters, sending some to teach, others to clean, and others to help Dirin look for ladders.
“People change,” Kenton said with a shrug.
“That they do,” Eric admitted, watching sand masters scuttle around. “Dirin’s been filling me in. It looks like you have quite the fight ahead of you.”
“Drile’s apocalyptic words were out of place,” Kenton said, turning away from the sand masters for a moment, “but he was right about one thing. These two weeks were given out of spite, not out of patience. The Diem doesn’t have much of a chance.”
“Just the kind of odds you like, mastrell,” Eric noted, emphasizing the title. “I thought old Praxton would die before he gave you a sash.”
“He just about did,” Kenton noted.
Eric paused, then he chuckled lightly. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay around. I have a feeling these next two weeks are going to be very interesting.”
Kenton smiled. Eric was different, but the soul of his friend—the earnest boy that always tried to make everything come out all right for everyone—was still there. “There is no one I would rather have on my side than you, old friend.”
Eric smiled ruefully. “You never know. You yourself said that people change. You may realize you find me annoying.”
“I already realized that,” Kenton said with a laugh.
“Well, if you’re certain, then I’ll have to graciously accept your offer.”
Kenton smiled—then he paused. “Wait a minute. You were asking me if you could stay. How did that turn into a ‘gracious acceptance’ on your part?”
Eric winked with a smile. Then he turned to Dirin. “Now, where’s this breakfast you mentioned?”
#
Khriss made it all the way to the end of the shadowed alleyway outside of Lonzare before the light grew too much for her. She stepped directly out into the sunlight, getting a brief glimpse of people passing on the street, before she closed her watering, pained eyes. With a sigh she put on the dark glasses.
“How do you stand it?” she asked as Baon joined her on the street.
“It doesn’t even really bother me anymore,” he replied, scanning the street. “It hurts for the first little while, but your eyes adjust. You could do it if you really tried.”
“Maybe next time,” Khriss mumbled/
“You people are strange,” N’Teese said.
“So you’ve mentioned,” Khriss replied. The phrase was quickly becoming one of the girl’s favorites.
N’Teese shrugged.
“All right. Where are we going today, duchess?” Baon asked.
Khriss paused, looking over the street. Khriss had chosen to wear one of the dayside robes Acron had purchased for her. She liked it much more than the ones she had bought earlier—it was obviously meant to be tied at the waist, and it wasn’t so thick. Over all, it was much more comfortable.
“Well, we tried the three most powerful,” Khriss mused. “I guess we’ll have to visit one of the less-influential Taisha, and hope they know something or can get us into see someone more important.”
“You’re not tired of being rejected yet?” N’Teese asked with a sigh.
“You just do as your told,” Khriss told the girl. She was beginning to doubt that there was a single person on dayside who understood the concept of respect.
N’Teese groaned quietly, but she didn’t object again. “All right, which one this time?”
“Who is left?” Khriss asked.
“Well, there’s the Lord Admiral. He’d probably see you, but I can guarantee he won’t be sober at the time, so he probably won’t be of much help. The Lord Artisan is kind of powerful, but he’s also really busy. He has dozens of smaller groups in his profession that demand a lot of his time. The Lord Mason doesn’t live in the city—he just appoints an emissary for each Council to vote for him. That only leaves the Lord Farmer. I guess we could go see him.”
“Farmer?” Khriss said with a frown. That didn’t sound very impressive. “What about that other group, the one you mentioned yesterday. The Mastrens?”
“Mastrells,” N’Teese corrected. “Well, I suppose we could visit them. I don’t know how much help they would be—apparently they’ve got a new Lord Mastrell, and I don’t think he’s going to be around very long … .”
Khriss frowned, looking over at Baon.
The warrior shrugged. “Sometimes new leaders are more flexible than old ones,” he offered.
Khriss nodded. “We’ll go see these mastrells, then.”
N’Teese shrugged, and then dashed into the crowd with her characteristic vigor. After a day of using the girl as a guide, Khriss still had a difficult time keeping track of N’Teese. She just had to move in the direction she had seen the daysider go, and hope that N’Teese would reappear often enough to keep them from getting lost.
They moved toward the dock area of Kezare, and once again Khriss was glad for Baon’s presence. His deep black skin and powerful build was enough to clear them a path through the crowds. N’Teese found them a boat—apparently these mastrells lived outside of the city—and Khriss gratefully left the press of people behind to climb onto the quiet vessel.
As they rowed, Khriss was left wondering what kind of situation she was getting herself into. N’Teese seemed apprehensive for some reason, and she had implied that these mastrells were some sort of religious figures. So far, the only religion she had seen on dayside was that of the Kershtians. Cynder and Acron were still arguing whether their worship of a ‘Sand Lord,’ an incarnation of the sun, was monotheism or animism. If these mastrells were religious figures as well, that probably meant they were opposed to the Kershtians. What kind of people could compete with a group that made up such a large part of dayside’s population? Would she find some kind of cult, clouded in secrecy? N’Teese’s reaction to them seemed to imply something like that—she was frightened of them. Perhaps they would turn out to be some sort of racial supremacists. That would explain why N’Teese disliked them—she obviously had some Kershtian blood in her.
Eventually they reached the other side and N’Teese led them down a well-traveled road. Their destination was obvious—a large stone structure that dominated the mostly-flat landscape. It was bigger than any Khriss had seen on dayside, a blockish monstrosity of a building that looked more like a prison or a fortress than a dwelling. Her apprehension grew as they got closer—visiting a farmer was looking more and more appealing.
“Here we are,” N’Teese said, pausing on the road. She was uncharacteristically subdued. ??
?I’ve never actually been inside before.”
Khriss quite nearly turned back. Her curiosity, however, wouldn’t let her. She knew that if she didn’t go in now, she’d be left wondering about the place so much that she wouldn’t be able to sleep for days.
“All right,” she said, striding forward. “Let’s go.”
N’Teese followed, as did Baon, who, as usual, wore an open-fronted dayside robe with one of his tight cotton shirts and sturdy trousers underneath. His hand stayed noticeably close to his side, where one of the pistols lay hidden in a trouser pocket.
Even Khriss could tell that, despite its imposing air, the building wouldn’t make much of a fortress. For one thing, it didn’t have any doors. The front had a large gate-like opening, but there was no way to close it off. There weren’t any guards either. They were able to climb up the front steps and enter without seeing a soul.
Inside was a lavish-looking hall with tapestries and murals. Oddly, the floor was covered with a few inches of sand. There was too much for it to have blown in—it had been placed intentionally. Though there were numerous footprints in the sand, no one was in the hall either.
“There,” Baon whispered, pointing straight ahead. The room’s back wall had a passage in it, and on the other side Khriss could see daylight. Either the building was ridiculously thin, or it had a courtyard in the middle. There were voices echoing through the hallway.
Khriss took a deep breath and apprehensively began to walk forward. In the courtyard, a crowd of people stood talking, mostly in small groups. Some rushed toward other parts of the courtyard, where different groups stood, and others seemed to be arguing about something. Khriss frowned. They all wore robes, which was common enough on dayside. The robes, however, weren’t tan or gray like most she had seen—they were bright white. She’d only seen one robe bleached so colorless.
“That’s him,” N’Teese said, nodding.
Khriss followed the gesture. There, standing in an authoritarian manner as he directed the movement of the different groups, was a man of average dayside height. He had his back to her, but there was something familiar about him. Then, someone moved, and she noticed the golden sash tied around his waist. At that moment, he turned absently, and Khriss got her first look at his face.
Khriss nearly fainted in shock. Fortunately, she was too angry to pass out.
“You!” she screamed, feeling herself grow red with rage. She sputtered for a moment, unable to force any words out, so she finally just said “You!” again.
Kenton looked up with surprise. His eyes widened slightly for a moment, then he smiled. “Hello, Khrissalla,” he said in accented Dynastic. “How have you been?”
“I … You … Shella!” she finally snapped. “You lied to me!”
“Well, you didn’t ever actually ask me if I was a sand master,” he said with a shrug.
Khriss ignored the comment. “How dare you!” she said, stalking forward. A few younger men with white robes wisely moved out of her way as she approached. “After I saved your life! After I let you travel in my presence! You … liar!”
Kenton sighed, reaching into his robe for something. “I don’t have time for this,” he mumbled, pulling out what appeared to be nothing more than a handful of sand.
Suddenly, the sand flashed brightly—like silent gunpowder. Khriss, who had nearly reached the scoundrel, jumped in surprise, yelping quietly. She froze, amazed, as the sand rose out of Kenton’s hand, moving of its own volition. It bent in the air, snapping down to the ground. Two more snakes of glowing sand rose from the sand below, gathering around Kenton’s feet. Then suddenly Kenton launched into the air, a trail of brilliant grains streaming below him.
Khriss’s jaw drooped as she watched, stupefied. Kenton soared through the air to land on a third-floor balcony.
“That’s … .” Khriss mumbled
“It’s sand mastery,” N’Teese said with a frown. “Why are you so surprised?”
Khriss shook her head, still disbelieving. “How did he do that?” she asked. “Wires?”
“I don’t think so,” Baon said, apparently still a little tense. “It looks like we found your sand mages, duchess. I guess that is what our friend was hiding from us while we crossed the desert.”
Her mind refused to accept such a ridiculous notion. There was, however, one thing she was certain of. Kenton had lied to her. Her earlier anger began to return, and she turned sharply, looking over the courtyard. A couple hundred white-robed forms stared back at her. Khriss ignored them as she found what she was looking for—a couple men were placing some ladders along the closest wall—the one Kenton had chosen to fly up. One of the ladders led to the second floor, and a second hung between a second floor balcony and one on the third floor.
“Come on!” she snapped, stalking toward the ladders. Baon followed with a look that almost seemed to be amusement.
She moved past the confused workmen, pushing them aside and climbing up their ladders. She got about halfway up before looking down and realizing her stupidity. The dayside wind was blowing through the courtyard, threatening to topple her off the ladder. She began to feel disoriented before she noticed something. The wind was whipping her robe flagrantly, and while Baon stood holding the ladder with respectfully downturned eyes, the two men below were staring directly up at her.
Khriss blushed furiously. “Tell them to look away!” she demanded of N’Teese. The indignation was just enough to motivate her to keep moving. She reached the second floor balcony safely, though her heart was fluttering faster than her robe. Baon arrived at the top of the latter a moment later.
“The girl says to tell you that you’re crazy, and there is no way she’s climbing that latter.”
“Fine,” Khriss snapped, eyeing the second latter. It had been tied directly to the balcony’s banister—it looked stable, but …
Baon stepped forward, climbing on the latter to test its weight then hoisting himself up the rungs to the third floor. Well, you can’t back down now, she thought with a sigh. Trying to remember just how angry she was with Kenton, and trying to forget what the wind might show those below, she stepped onto the latter and began to climb. She kept going, rung after rung, not looking down, until Baon reached down and grabbed her under the arms and easily lifted her onto the third floor balcony.
Khriss closed her eyes, breathing deeply for a moment. Then, she carefully stoked her fury back up to its former inferno. “How dare he lie to a royal duchess of Elis!” she declared, and stalked into the room beyond. The door was open, and she entered an inner hallway, counting down three doors—the number of balconies between the one she had taken and the one Kenton had landed on. She needn’t have counted—Kenton stood leaning against the doorway of the third room.
“Now, Khrissalla, you really should calm yourself,” he warned.
She continued to march froward, staring directly at him.
“Um, Khriss?” he said, growing a little bit nervous.
She didn’t stop. She even added a slight growl of anger for effect.
“We’ll talk when you’re feeling better,” he mumbled, ducking inside and slamming the door.
“Baon!” she ordered. “Break it down!”
Baon raised an eyebrow, then reached forward and turned the knob, pushing the door open.
Khriss blushed for a moment then stalked into the room.
Chapter Fifteen
When he heard the door open, Kenton rolled his eyes with a sigh of exasperation. He reached into his sand barrel, preparing to leap off the balcony and retreat to the courtyard below.
“Wait!” Khriss demanded. “We need to talk.”
Kenton relaxed, lowering his sand. Perhaps she was finally calming down.
Khriss stalked through the room until she was standing on the balcony directly in front of him, whereupon she proceeded to slap him soundly.
“Ouch!” Kenton said, dropping his sand and reaching up to massage his cheek. “That’s talking?”
“You’re a sand mage!” Khriss accused, ignoring his protest.
“There’s that word again,” Kenton said, leaning back against the banister. His cheek still hurt. “What is a mage, anyway?”
Khriss fumed for a moment, then folded her arms. Kenton couldn’t help noticing that she had found some new clothing. Her deep red robe was cut like a man’s—it was the kind a rich merchant would wear to a formal occasion, a robe meant to be used indoors, rather than withstand the heat. Not only was it scandalously thin, but once again she had pulled it tightly around her waist and tied with a man’s sash. The combination of thin material, form-accentuating sash, and low neckline was very distracting.
Finally, Khriss spoke. “A mage is the same thing as a wizard, or a sorcerer,” she informed. “Someone with mystical power.”
Kenton frowned. “I’m nothing of the sort,” he replied. “I am a sand master. Wizards and magicians are for the superstitious—charlatans that prey upon the foolish.”
Khriss snorted. “I’m not certain what kind of tricks you use, but … .”
She trailed off as Kenton called his sand to life, sending a ribbon over to fetch his qido, which sat on a cupboard nearby. He brought the qido to himself and squirted some of its water on his hand, then rubbed it on his still-aching cheek. Then he picked the qido back up with his ribbon, and swung it in Khriss’s direction.
“Thirsty?” he asked nonchalantly.
The darksider stared at the bottle with amazed eyes. She walked around the bottle, studying the glowing ribbon that held it. The ribbon’s front clutched the bottle and its tail extended back to Kenton’s hand. She poked the bottle, bent down to look up at it, and eventually waved her hand overhead.
“Where is the string?” she demanded.
“What string?” Kenton asked with amusement. She had apparently forgotten her anger now that her curiosity had been engaged.
“The string you’re using to hold it up,” she mumbled without much conviction. She studied the ceiling for a moment, growing increasingly pale in the face. Finally, she turned around and walked to one of the chairs in the center of the room. “I need to sit down,” she mumbled.