Mai was asleep right up against the rock, curled on her side, head pillowed on a rolled-up blanket. Even in sleep she was lovely; a little thin and pale because of the rigors of the journey, but unwilted. Captain Anji sat against the rock beside her, not touching her but with a proprietary interest in her presence. His eyes were closed, and he breathed steadily and slowly as though asleep, but his eyes snapped open as Shai neared. He put two fingers to his lips: Silence.
Quietly he rose and gestured for Shai to follow. His faithful attendants, Sengel and Toughid, padded after them, staying at a discreet distance. They walked to the edge of the shade, a cruel line between shelter and death.
Anji indicated the camp. "Is there a problem?"
"No. I was just wondering how Mai is holding up."
"She is stronger than she looks. It's hard to see because her beauty blinds, like this sun."
The sun did blind. The heat made a man light-headed. "Do you love her?"
"You talk too much." Anji wiped sweat off his brow with the back of a hand. "If there is nothing else, I'm going to rest again. I recommend you do as well." But as he turned away, he paused, squinting south into the dusty haze.
A scout stationed atop the rock whistled thrice. Men scrambled up, weapons drawn, bows ready. Many fell back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, while others ran for the horses.
"Hold!" cried Anji.
Chief Tuvi echoed him. "Hold! Hold!"
The wind moaning over the huge rock was the only sound. The horizon along the south glowered, all black.
"Sandstorm," whispered Shai, washed with a rush of faintness. His legs buckled, but he caught his weight on the rock face beside him.
Tuvi was already giving orders as Anji strode away from the outcropping and, conferring with two scouts, tested the direction and strength of the wind. The soldiers shifted the herd around to the sun side of the rock, opposite the prevailing wind. The horses moved with restless vigor, stamping, neighing, mares nipping as geldings were forced in close. Tents were raised. Spears were thrust deep into the sand as supports for larger windbreaks of silk-as strong as steel, so it was said-and canvas. Some men clambered up into the outcropping itself to take refuge in holes and overhangs. The two wagons were tipped over and arranged in a square with cloth fastened over them, to protect the water and other supplies. Mai knelt, with Priya beside her, and crawled into the shelter of one of the wagons. Farther away, Mountain shepherded the slave bearers into the safety of a tent.
In the lee of the rock the wind wasn't as strong, so Shai circled, staying as close to the rock as he could, until he came to a low ridge, the tail of the outcrop, on which he could lean. He stared toward the south as the haze grew thicker and he began to breathe dust into his lungs. The old stories told of the zaril-dar, the black storm, that swallowed whole cities in a single night. As the wind rose in intensity he heard voices on the wind, calling to him.
"Shai! Shai!"
Ghosts always seemed to know his name.
"I don't know you," he said into the wind, not fearing to speak out loud since no one was near enough to hear him. "Why do you call for me? What do you want?"
"I am looking for my husband. Have you seen him?"
"I don't know your husband. I'm sorry."
"Have you seen my sister? My lover? My child? Can you help me find the one who poisoned me… who abandoned me… who betrayed me. .. so I can get my revenge?"
"I can't help you," he said to each in turn. "You're dead."
Their voices laughed and wept. They knew they were dead, but they were so angry; they just couldn't rest.
The wind had loosened his covering veil. He tightened it, but sand leaked in nevertheless. The light dimmed, died. He could barely see the outlines of the camp behind him, horses and men hiding behind cloth and inside wagons, hunkered down in the hope that the storm would not bury them. He was the only man visible.
"How bad is the storm?" he called as the ghosts swirled past him on the wind. "Will it kill us, too?"
Some were kind. "The heart of the storm lies south of here, where the demons walk. It's moving east and south, not north."
Most laughed cruelly, pale forms teasing him as they flashed past. "Dead! Dead! Dead!" they cried, as if in mockery of Ti. "It will crawl right over you and eat you all! Hai! Hai! Hai! Unless you have magic to shift it. To survive, you must offer a sacrifice to the demons!"
So many ghosts! Had they all died out in this wasteland, like that skeleton hung from the post to mark the boundary of the Wailing Lands? Did spirits congregate here because of some innate quality in the land? Or were they, like he, only passing through?
Who was lying and who telling the truth?
"Shai! Can you hear me?" The old familiar, beloved voice came from so close, just at his shoulder.
"Hari?" He clutched at rock, almost falling. "Hari! I can't see you!"
"Help me, Shai." It moved away into the storm.
"You're dead."
"Help me! Find my bones, Shai. Release me from this torment. Bring me home. I can't rest."
He staggered along the ridge of rock, having to use it for support because of the battering wind. He could barely see an arm's length in front of his face. Wind pummeled him as he stumbled after it. "Hari! Wait!"
Out of the storm, a solid figure emerged, and grabbed him. "Shai!"
He'd not realized the wind screamed so loud that another's voice, even shouting, might sound like a whisper. This was no ghost, whose voices need not compete against earthly noise, but rather Captain Anji, materialized like a spirit out of the howling storm
"Back to camp! If you wander out here, you'll die."
"But I heard Hari-I've got to go-"
"Demons ride this wind. They're the ones tempting you. Come back!"
Shai was not weak. He had found solace in carpentry since he was a child whittling scraps into fantastic animals, and he fought now, breaking free of that grasp.
A white-skinned figure walked out there, moving into the black storm, unbowed by the terrible wind. The wind pressed her clothing hard against her front, revealing a woman's form. Her pale-gold, shining hair streamed like a banner, unbound, and it seemed that she had wings with the silver gossamer fineness of a moth's, dazzling as they rippled. Nay, those were not wings. That was cloth, a vast cloak driven by the wind, enveloping the pale figure, swallowing her, before he could see her face. He stepped toward her, drawn by a malevolent yearning.
"Wait!" he cried. "Who are you?"
"Shai!" A hand caught his belt and tugged him backward. He strained for an instant against that grip, but Anji's will subdued him, as did the abrupt realization that he was half choking on all the sand filtered through the folds of cloth wound around his head. He stumbled in Anji's wake. The vision was lost. Demons walked abroad, beautiful and deadly. His heart was hollow, sucked dry.
Anji shoved him into the shelter of the wagons and crawled in after him. Within, the air was stifling, thick with dust but breathable. Men coughed. One lit a lamp.
"Ah, there you are, Captain," shouted Chief Tuvi, who was holding the tiny lamp cupped in one palm. The light shrouded the cramped cavern made from carts and cloth. Wind thrummed in the canvas, rumbling like thunder.
Mai reached out, eyes wide. "Shai. Anji! "
Anji crawled over to her. Before he could quite arrange himself cross-legged beside her, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, shaken but not weeping. Priya sat quietly, head bowed, lips moving in her singsong prayers, but if she was singing out loud the wind's howl drowned melody and words. Anji encircled Mai with one arm, leaving the other free near his knife. He shut his eyes, seeming content to endure the storm and even death in this pleasing manner.