“I never really loved you,” I said.
She leaned into me until her breath tickled my ear. “I know. That’s why I made other arrangements.”
Two of the men frog-marched me through the streets while the third ran ahead to let Tarkon know we were coming. The performance oval was silent when I was pushed inside. Tarkon occupied his normal place with Basr seated on the rug next to him. Dimah sashayed her way across the sand, her silk dress flowing like a sheet of water, fully aware that every eye was on her. She folded both hands across her chest and bowed to her clan leader in a formal greeting. She even mustered up a tear. A murmur ran through the crowd at the sight of the moisture.
“Tarkon, I bring you sad news. Polluk, my mate these last two years, has lost his Gift. I found him trying to flee your camp. He had stolen a map from Basr’s wagon.”
“It’s a lie!” I said. “That map is an artifact from the Water Finder’s Temple—I was going to return it. He’s the thief!” I leveled a finger at Basr.
“This is true?” Tarkon asked the new Finder.
“No, that map was passed to me from my master. I didn’t steal any—”
“Tarkon,” Dimah interrupted. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said Polluk, your Finder, has lost his Gift. He’s nothing but a slave now. We already collared him for you.”
Tarkon’s eyes were a washed-out blue, like the sky when it’s filmed over with high cirrus clouds. He squinted at me. We’d never had much in common, but I sensed a hint of sympathy in his gaze. At least I thought I did.
“The only thing I’ve lost is the trust of a woman who said she loved me,” I said in a loud voice. “Nothing more.”
Another whisper murmured through the crowd. This was more excitement than these people has seen in years. As one, they crowded closer.
Dimah stamped her foot and crossed the sand with her hand raised.
“Enough!” Tarkon was on his feet. The old man moved faster than I would’ve expected. “There’s an easy way to solve this. You say your Gift is intact? Wonderful, then give us a new Find, Polluk, and you can be on your way with my blessing. As for the map business, you Finders can sort that out on your own.”
I shook off the men holding my arms and drew myself up to my full height. “Two conditions, Tarkon.” I touched the collar at my neck. Even now, I was having a hard time breathing—not because it was too tight, just because it was there. “One: take this off me now.”
I stepped closer to Dimah. Her cheeks were flush with color and her eyes widened as I drew near. Her hand slid across her belly. “And two: if—when—I make this Find, you put the collar on her.”
Tarkon’s eyes shifted from my face to Dimah’s and the crowd leaned in, holding its collective breath. Tarkon nodded. “Take off his collar.”
The sting of steel left my skin and I drew a deep, cleansing breath of the night air. Normally, at the beginning of the Finding ceremony, I would feel a tingle of anticipation, a sense of where the water was hiding. But I felt nothing. I knelt and washed my hands with sand, pretending to whisper a prayer but really stalling for time. Sweat broke out on my neck.
“We don’t have all night, Finder.” Dimah’s voice prodded me, with all the venom a scorned woman could muster. I bit my lip. I should’ve run when I had the chance.
I stood and smiled with a confidence I did not feel. Nodding at a few of the clansmen, they averted their eyes. So that’s how it was. Only Roseth, the bartender’s slave, met my gaze. I winked at her, and she forced a smile across her pale face.
There would be no schtick tonight—this was life or death. My life or death. Whatever happened in the next few minutes, they were never putting that collar back on me. I walked to the center of the oval and spread my arms. I let my eyes close and forced myself to relax. Just one more Find, that’s all I needed, and then I’d drive off into the desert alone.
A hush settled over the crowd, the tension in the chill air like the frayed string of an instrument about to snap. I let them fade away, melt into the background. It was just me and the water, searching for each other. The words of the Finder’s Prayer slipped from my lips as I turned.
Nothing. Not even a tingle in the soles of my feet. Fighting the panic, I kept turning, repeating the chant:
Mother Earth, the Source of all,
From your bosom flows Life.
I call on you to show me—
A burst of laughter interrupted my meditation. I opened my eyes. “Tarkon, how can I perform a—”
Some joker had thrown a dog into the ring. No more than a pup, it was all legs and ribs. A steel collar had worn an open sore onto the back of her neck. “You forgot your dog, Finder,” someone called. The crowd laughed. I’d played audiences my entire adult life, and that wasn’t the kind of laugh that portended good things for me or the dog.
A rock the size of a hen’s egg sailed into the ring and struck the dog in the side with a dull thud. The animal whimpered and slumped to the ground.
“That’s enough!” I strode to the side of the creature and knelt down. The dog couldn’t have been more different from my Shadow. He’d been short and squat with a waddle to his step; she was tall and thin with long legs that made her appear to be moving even while standing still. Shadow had long silky ears and a squat nose, while she had a long, tapered muzzle and short, pert ears. She was bone-white, but when I brushed my hand across her flank a thick layer of white dust sloughed off. Underneath her coat was the color of sand.
Her molten brown eyes pleaded with me. I saw another missile flying in, and I blocked it with my back. I scarcely felt the sting of the stone.
I gathered the dog into my arms. She was light, like lifting a pile of sticks. I pressed her against my chest. “You’re safe with me.”
And that’s when it happened.
The call of water roared up from the earth and into my body. My knees burned like they were on fire and I nearly dropped the dog from the overwhelming sensation. Another rock clipped my shoulder as I staggered to my feet.
“Stop!” I roared. “And follow me.” I waded into the crowd, kicking bodies that didn’t get out of the way soon enough. I used no pretense, no showmanship. No schtick. The call of water was like a string pulling me forward. I marched out of the camp and into the desert, carrying the dog, heedless of whether anyone followed. The moon rode high in the night sky, casting a silvery sheen across the landscape as I strode up and down the dunes.
“It’ll be okay,” I whispered to the dog. She tucked her long nose into my armpit and fell asleep.
I stopped and turned. My would-be judges came staggering and out of breath behind me.
“Dig here,” I said.
I named the dog Honey.
After her collar was removed and she was given a bath, her coat was revealed as a rich amber color. Given the size of the Find I’d made, Tarkon didn’t argue about giving a dog a bath. To his credit, he didn’t say much of anything at all.
He found his voice at the feast as he begged me to stay. I looked around at the same clansmen who only hours before had been ready to stone a defenseless dog to death and sell me to the slavers. Now they toasted me with full glasses of clear water.
I told Tarkon to eat sand.
In the euphoria following my huge Find, Dimah and Basr fled in his wagon. Still trying to curry favor, Tarkon offered to send a hunting party after them, but I said no. They deserved each other. Besides, they left the Map of the Ancients and the sextant behind. That was more than a fair trade for the likes of Dimah.