Читать книгу The Blue Eye - Ausma Khan Zehanat - Страница 16

ARIAN FOUND THE OTHERS ON A RIDGE ABOVE THE SUPPLY DEPOT, where most of the camp was asleep. A handful of guards were near a small armory, another one asleep at the foot of a trio of camels. The Nineteen had grown confident to leave so few here, but it was more likely that they had dozens of similar depots dotted about the desert.

“Wait here,” Khashayar told them. He disappeared down the ridge.

“How did you know to call the aesar?” Sinnia asked.

She hugged Sinnia close to her, the warmth of the contact easing the chill of her encounter with Najran. “From those stories you told me of your childhood. Those tales of warriors who crossed the Sea of Reeds to summon up the firewinds.”

“Those were fables,” Sinnia muttered, aghast. “That was quite a risk.”

“Surprising, I know,” Arian teased. “Given our adherence to only proofs we can see.”

A pause. Then Sinnia’s bold grin. She squeezed Arian harder.

“Wretch.”

Arian smiled too. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

She noticed Wafa staring at the pair of them, mildly indignant that the Companions had found anything to laugh at in their near escape.

She stroked a hand through his curls, kissing the top of his head.

“Don’t be frightened,” she reassured him. “Have faith in Khashayar.”

Wafa snorted in disgust, which she apprehended as his general disgust at men of every stripe, save for the Silver Mage. At the thought of Daniyar, her spark of amusement subsided. The depth of her longing for him remained acutely painful.

She took a sip of water from her waterskin, then offered it to Wafa, meeting Sinnia’s eyes. Using the language of the Citadel, she told Sinnia what had happened in the valley.

“Twice now, I’ve been unable to kill Najran.”

Sinnia’s eyes swept the supply camp for signs of renewed activity. There was no sign of Khashayar, a black blade against the night.

“Najran is the Shaykh’s sayyid. He wouldn’t have risen as high as he has if he wasn’t uniquely gifted.”

Arian’s exhalation was a sigh. “Perhaps. But I failed to kill him with the Claim. I split the Registan with my voice and killed dozens of Ahdath at the Clay Minar. And together, we held off the One-Eyed Preacher. How could Najran have resisted the compulsion of the Claim?”

“There is no compulsion in faith,” Sinnia reminded her.

Sinnia was right, but it was beside the point. The real question was whether Arian had now encountered someone more powerful than the One-Eyed Preacher. Like the Nizam of Ashfall, Najran was a whisperer who had the ear of power. How far did that power extend? Could there be something to the Nineteen’s numerology—a hidden message contained within the arithmetic of the Claim? If there was, why had Najran then denied the power of the Nineteenth revelation? Why had he dismissed the story of the Adhraa as a story of the Esayin?

She had a more practical concern, as well. How long would the veil of fire hold before Najran tracked them again?

“Let’s go.” Khashayar’s gravel-edged voice. He’d crept up to them without a trace of noise.

Sinnia hissed in surprise. “You’ll be the death of me, Khorasan. Next time give us a warning.”

A corner of his mouth jerked up. “That warning would come with blood that I’d prefer not to spill.”

The words might have softened his image as a member of the Zhayedan, but when Sinnia scanned the supply camp again, she saw that the guards lay dead upon the ground.

“What of the others in the tent?”

“Don’t ask.” He pulled both of the Companions to their feet, easier now with physical contact. A camaraderie was building between them; neither woman rebuked him. Keeping his voice low, he added, “I’ve damaged their armory and spoiled their food supplies, though I set some aside for our journey. The camels are ready. I can add your packs to their load.”

Arian and Sinnia helped him load their supplies, careful to divide their waterskins evenly between their three mounts. Unlike Sinnia, Arian hadn’t ridden a camel before. Their strong smell and snorting breath came as a surprise, as did their long, thick lashes. Camel spiders scurried around their hooves. Arian suppressed a shudder. Wafa shrank back from their dun-colored mounts, his expression frightened and forlorn.

“Do you want to ride with me, boy?” Khashayar offered. Wafa shook his head with a scowl that bordered on rudeness. He clung to Sinnia’s hand, making his preference clear.

“So this is your thanks for the way I carried you across the desert. Ruffian.”

Khashayar’s grin flashed against the darkness. He boosted Arian up onto her camel, swinging into his seat with easy masculine strength. Arian kept pace with him, Sinnia and Wafa at his other side. It took them some time to adjust to the swinging gait of their mounts, but Khashayar rode without difficulty.

“You’ve done this before,” Arian observed.

“Training,” he answered briefly. He wouldn’t tell her more. The Zhayedan protected the secrets of their army.

“We should make for the Gulf of Khorasan. If we cut through the gulf, we’ll be at the court of the Negus much sooner than we planned.”

A sharp shake of his head. “I overheard the guards.” Faint contempt in the words. The Zhayedan wouldn’t be so careless discussing their plan of battle. “The Nineteen hold the Gulf. They’ve set the ports ablaze, which means there’s no safe place for us to cross. We’ll cut southeast, travel overland, skirt the far edge of the Rub Al Khali. Then we can cross the Sea of Reeds. If we journey south on the water, we’ll be able to make up some time.”

Arian considered his plan, conscious of what he’d chosen not to say.

“If we take the longer road, by the time we reach Timeback, Ashfall may have fallen.”

A grim twist of Khashayar’s lips. “Not as long as there are Zhayedan left to fight. I have my orders from the Khan. I won’t allow myself to fail them.”

Too tired to argue with his Zhayedan stubbornness, Arian subsided in her seat.

He glanced over at her, his gaze skirting the shadows under her eyes, dropping lower to the pale curves of her mouth.

“You should rest, First Oralist. I can lead the camels while you sleep. We’ll be easier to spot come daylight.” He reached for Sinnia’s lead too. “You as well, Companion. Neither of you have rested since your arrival at Ashfall. Nor long before, I suspect.”

Sinnia snatched back her lead with a sinuous twist of her shoulders. “I can manage.”