We are the weak ones, he thought. The ones who never belonged here in the first place.
"Mist-gathering yet again?" Kaneth emerged out of the darkness, coming from the direction of the tents.
"More or less."
"Taquar is getting to you, isn't he? His poison is insidious-corrosive, nibbling at the edges."
"I thought you agreed with him."
"Oh, I do. Doesn't mean I love him, though. Or that we have the same goals. I just want to live, that's all. I want the Scarpen to survive. Taquar wants something more."
"Power."
"I suspect so. He puzzles me, though. Why is being a highlord not enough? I sometimes think there is something unnatural about him, Rith. As if all we see is the person acting a part-farsighted leader, future warrior, indefatigable lover. Never the real man. Sometimes I think he will be the salvation of us all-and sometimes I think he will destroy not just us but everything we stand for and everything we hold in trust."
"I thought you liked him."
Kaneth snorted. "Taquar is not a man one 'likes.' " Admire? Yes, often. But like? Never. The intricacies of his labyrinthine mind are beyond me. Don't underestimate him, my friend."
"I never have."
"And remember that just because you dislike him, that doesn't mean he is wrong and you are right. We are near the end of our journey, and we haven't found anyone that has the potential to be a stormlord. You are going to have to think more seriously about-"
"We have found hope, Kaneth. Those twelve minor water sensitives we sent back to Breccia for training, for a start."
Kaneth was dismissive. "Potential reeves at most."
"You can't say that about the other six we have with us still." He had hope for them. The most talented he had placed under his protection, closely guarded by his own personal guards at all times.
"Hmm, they have responded well to our training, I will admit," Kaneth said. "Possible rainlords, yes, but a stormlord among them? I think not, Rith. And in the meantime, your father could be on his deathbed."
"Blast you to a waterless damnation, Kaneth! Can't you keep your sand-rasp of a tongue still?"
"You'll hear only the truth from me. Whatever you think of me now, I am still a friend. The best friend you'll ever have."
"Watergiver help me."
"Now, that is not nice." Kaneth sounded hurt. "Oh, and one thing more," he added as Nealrith walked off. "Watch your back. As my old granny used to say, what use is a kiss on your lips if your back is clawed?"
Nealrith faltered, but he didn't turn around. He knew exactly who Kaneth was warning him against, and it wasn't Taquar. He headed for his tent. "You have a funny way of treating your friends, Kaneth Carnelian."
Kaneth spun around to face the speaker: Ryka, on her way to the main tent from her own.
"Would you rather I sounded like a mealy-mouthed woman?" he asked. "Speaking sugary-sweet platitudes to her friends until they believe everyone loves them?"
Her eyes glittered in the dark. "There you go again, denigrating women. For someone who professes to know so much about us, you're an expert at reducing us to ciphers."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."
"You rarely have. What makes you think women are mealy-mouthed? Look at us female rainlords for a start. Laisa? She delights in nasty insinuation. Highlord Moiqa is as blunt as a miner's pick and prefers hammering out honesty to compliments. And I have a reputation for preferring fact over fancy. Then there's Anqia, over in-"
"By all that's wet, I was hardly saying all women are mealy-mouthed!"
"You implied it."
"Don't put words in my mouth that I didn't say."
"I don't have to. You can sound like an idiot without any help from me."
He gritted his teeth. "Blighted eyes, Ry, what do I have to do to show you I am not as rotten as you would have me smell? Have I been visiting every whore between Breccia City and here, or even flirting with settle girls? Have I once sneaked out of my tent at night to be pleasured by some matron who likes the idea of a rainlord in her bed? You're not blind-you've seen the number of opportunities I could have seized. I can even tell you the name of the settle whore right here in Wash Drybone. Her husband, the settle's drunk, just offered me his wife."
"Are you trying to tell me you haven't bedded a single girl since we left the Scarpen Quarter?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am."
"I don't believe you. I saw that hussy with the curls sneaking under the back wall of your tent back in Quartzgrain Settle-"
"I tossed her out. She didn't come at my invitation."
"And then there were those identical twins in Dopstik. They were boasting all over the settle that they'd shared your bed."
"I doubt it, because it didn't happen. If you heard a rumour, I suspect it referred to Taquar. I know he was eyeing them."
"I don't trust you, Kaneth. And anyway, if you haven't bedded anyone at all this trip, it's probably because you don't fancy Gibber women with their dark skins."
"Don't be ridiculous. The shade of her skin has nothing to do with a woman's bed skills or her desirability!"
She rolled her eyes.
Inwardly he cursed himself. Was he totally incapable of saying the right thing? Or even the sensible thing? He wanted to call after her as she walked away, but he wasn't sure what to say. That he had not bedded another woman out of respect for her? That as the days passed, he found her more and more desirable?
He suspected that if he did, she would throw it back at him, saying that abstinence had made him desperate. That any tent would do in a sandstorm. Or she would say that he wanted her because she was unattainable, that what he wanted was the victory, not the person.
Sighing, he wondered if any of that was true. All he knew for certain was that as he watched her now, her neat hips swaying beneath the loose weave of her traveller's trousers, he desired her with a longing he had rarely felt for any woman anywhere. Shale did his best to obey his father.
He did not go near the main settle the next day, and he stayed away from the rainlord tents erected in the bab groves. When Rishan sent his son Chert to the shanty huts outside the settle to tell them all they were to come to the rainlords' main tent for testing, Shale felt his stomach turn to palm mash-and stayed at home.
When Mica came back, he questioned him closely about what had happened.
"Nothin' much really," Mica said. "We all went into the tent one at a time. There was all these bowls. One of them rainlords asked me to put my finger on the lid of each, then say if it got water inside."
"What did yer do?"
"Told the truth, of course! Said I didn't know. I mean, there was water all right, I knowed that, but which of them bowls had it? I dunno. So they said I could go. Hey, Shale, there's one woman who's-who's-salted wells, she's as beautiful as-" Lacking words to describe her, he traced curves in the air. "She's the best thing I ever laid eyes on. Better than ten full dayjars in a row."
Shale wasn't interested. "Come on, Mica, have sense! Did they say why they was doin' this test? Are they, um, are they lookin' for me? Did I do somethin' awful bad just 'cause I knew the rush was comin' down that day?" And 'cause I know things 'bout water other folk don't know-like where to find it?
"I dunno. They wasn't goin' t'tell me what they's doin' here, was they? Just said it was a test, and there was nothin' to be afraid of. They seemed all right."
Shale sat down on the bedding and put his head down on his arms. "I'm frit, Mica. One of those men saw me. He'll remember and know that I didn't come for the testin'."