“I shall crawl if I must “Anthony insisted.
“That would not be good for you,” Balkis told him. “Your clothes are worn thin as it is.” She managed to prop him up against a huge boulder that rose out of the sand like an exclamation of surprise.
It was only a minute or two before Panyat brought the waterskin back, bulging and wet. Balkis gave it to Anthony, but after a single swallow, he gave it back to her. “Strange—it had the taste of cherries.”
“Strange indeed!” Balkis drank a single swallow too, then handed it to him again with wide eyes. “Stranger still, my drink tasted like a pear!”
Anthony took another mouthful, swallowed, and said, “Pomegranate.”
Balkis took back the skin, drank, and said, “Lemon.”
“I pray you, do not drink too deeply!” Panyat said, alarmed. “A horse in the caravan did that, and he foundered!”
“I have no wish to become sick from too much water after too little,” Balkis agreed. “Only one more.” She drank, raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Mint!”
Anthony took the skin and rolled his last sip around his mouth as he handed the skin back. “Almond. What manner of pool is this, friend Panyat, that changes flavor with every sip?”
“Whatever kind it is, it is welcome,” Balkis said, but she hid misgivings. She pressed the waterskin back into Panyat's hands. “You must keep this for us awhile, my friend.”
Panyat took it reluctantly. “I cannot understand how this oasis came to be here. I do not remember one where the water was so various in flavor.”
“Perhaps it was only that we took so much longer in coming to it,” Balkis offered.
Panyat shook his head and pointed to the boulder behind Anthony. “That was not there on my last trip—not in the sixth oasis or in any other. I saw several like it as I rode with the caravan, but none were anywhere near an oasis.”
Balkis felt a chill down her spine, but she forced a smile. “Perhaps some djinni took pity on us and made it for us.”
“Perhaps,” said Panyat, “but if so, he must have stolen away the oasis I thought to reach two nights ago.” His expression became somber/'Either that, or I have lost my way and know not where we are, or where we are going.”
“You have not lost your way,” Anthony assured him. “I have watched the stars as closely as you have. The North Star is still before us, and at midnight, if I lift my left arm straight out from the shoulder, my fingers still point at the Archer.”
“I thank you, Anthony.” Panyat looked relieved, “It would seem this oasis is magical indeed.”
“Magical or not, I feel as though I am made of sand myself, so encrusted is my skin,” Balkis told them. “Avert your eyes, gentlemen—I mean to bathe.”
“That will be mean to me indeed,” Anthony sighed, but he turned to look out at the sunrise and said to Panyat, “Is it not amazing how the brightest stars may still be seen even in the sun's glow?”
“That is why we call that one the morning star.” Panyat pointed. “We call it the Apple Maiden.”
“My folk call it Aphrodite, for the goddess of love,” Anthony replied, and they engaged in an earnest discussion of astrology while Balkis went down to the pool, took off her robes, scanned the water anxiously for snakes and, not finding any, waded in. The water was a blessing on her skin, and as she luxuiated in the bath, her thoughts drifted to the puzzle of its presence. She wondered who had really ordered her kidnapping, and if someone else had intervened to send her to Anthony. If so, the kidnapper might have filled the fifth oasis with snakes to stop her, and her invisible guardian might have directed their steps to this, an oasis Panyat hadn't known.
Her skin was parchment drinking up moisture, but she knew the sun would rise to bake her in minutes, so she stayed only long enough to wash away the dust of the trip, then came out, wrapped herself in her outer cloak, and told Anthony, “You may bathe now.”
“Do I smell so strongly as that? But I know I must.” Anthony made no request for privacy, but Balkis gave it to him anyway, feeling almost prim as she resisted the temptation to peek. Truth to tell, the thought also frightened her a little.
She ignored it and discussed their route with Panyat, guessing at landmarks that of course would have been buried by shifting sand during the last year. It was only minutes till Anthony rejoined them, again decently clad, though he grumbled, “Not much use to sluice the dust from my body, when I cannot purge it from my clothes!”
“Perhaps we shall find clean garments at the desert's edge,” Balkis cajoled. “For myself, I feel remarkably refreshed.”
“So do I, to tell the truth.” Anthony stretched and sighed with pleasure, then froze, frowning. “How odd! I look within myself and find no hollow. I am no longer hungry, though I have not eaten!”
“Perhaps you have drunk too much, after all,” Panyat said nervously.
“Perhaps,” Balkis agreed, “or perhaps this water is more blessed than we think. My appetite, too, is sated. Come, let us fill our skins. If this water has such virtues as it seems, we must take as much as we can!”
They filled the skins, then lay down in the shade of the boulder and slept deeply and well, then woke in the twilight—and stared about them in disbelief. It was Anthony who spoke it first. “Where has our oasis gone?”
The sand stretched wide and empty for miles around.
CHAPTER 19
Balkis looked about her, wide-eyed, upon awakening. As she recalled, they had come to another oasis, bathed in it and drunk of its tasty water before going to sleep. “Has someone taken us from it while we slept?” she said now. “I see no palm trees, no pond, not even a puddle!”
“But I see the rock.” Anthony looked up at the boulder in whose shade they had slept. “It is the same as it was last night.”
Balkis looked, too, gave the stone a long and searching examination, then nodded. “You speak truly. It is the same.”
“Could someone have moved both us and it?” Panyat asked.
“Not without waking us, unless they wielded mighty magic,” Balkis answered.
“Less magic than it took to make the oasis disappear?” Anthony asked.
Balkis looked sharply at him, but he had not spoken in sarcasm—his face was open and confused. She considered the matter. “No, it would have required more magic,” she said, “but not of a kind to wake us.”
“How is that?” Anthony was befuddled.
“If someone created the oasis by magic,” Balkis said, “all they would have to do, during the day, was let that magic fade, to cease supporting the illusion.”
“If that was an illusion,” Anthony said, “it was a most convincing one. I can still feel the water on my skin and taste its various flavors.” He frowned. “Though an illusion would explain the changes in its taste. Still, I am no longer thirsty—nor hungry.” He held up his waterskin to demonstrate—then stared at it. The skin was as flat as slate.
“Strange,” Panyat said nervously. “I did not know this oasis, and now it has disappeared. I think I would like to be gone from this place. Come, let us be off to the next oasis as quickly as we may.”
“Quickly indeed,” Anthony concurred, “and let us hope it is there, and real!”
They set off following the north star, shuffling their skis through the sand more quickly than usual. Illusion or not, the pond had renewed their strength. They traveled quickly.
Someone else traveled even more quickly.
About midnight, Anthony looked back to see if he could still spy the boulder where they had spent the day and yelped with dismay. “What is that which cuts the sand and comes toward us?”