Maara was deep in a trance.
“She’s contacting other clans with deities,” Korbyn said. “I have asked your chief to send out runners to nearby clans without deities. Word is spreading.”
“What about your clan?” Liyana asked.
“After the midday sun has passed, I’ll leave,” he said.
Liyana felt a pang, but she nodded. She had no right to ask him to stay. “You’ll rejoin us?”
“That is the point,” Korbyn said, not unkindly.
She searched for something else to say. “Do you need help?”
“With my own clan? They’ll be intrigued by the idea of the clans stopping a massive army.” His tone was light, but she thought he looked worried.
“You don’t think we can do it?” Liyana asked. She had been so caught up with Bayla and then Raan and then her clan. . . . She hadn’t stopped to think about the impossibility of their efforts. Even with the united strength of all the clans, the empire’s army would still vastly outnumber them.
He hesitated before he answered. “I think we will need to be tricky.”
The empire does not have deities, Bayla said. We will even the numbers.
“If they were to attack with full strength . . . it would be ten to one, not in our favor,” Korbyn said. “We have to hope that they will not. If they underestimate us, we may have a chance.” He did not sound certain.
Liyana paced through the tent. She touched the tarp walls, walked between her family’s sleeping rolls, and picked up and then put down her father’s favorite teapot. Being here didn’t reassure her. She’d thought it would have. But soon all of this would be packed, and they would be on their way to face terrible odds. She thought of Pia and wondered if she was right about how ephemeral they all were.
“Done,” Maara said, opening her eyes. “It is time for me to rejoin my own clan.” She stood and stretched. “I will see you soon, Bayla. And Liyana.”
Liyana nodded.
Without any further discussion or any emotional farewell, Maara left the tent, and Korbyn and Liyana were alone. Or nearly alone.
“I have never liked good-byes,” Korbyn said. He leaned forward, and Liyana quickly turned her head. His lips brushed her cheek. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Her chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe. “Take care of each other,” he said.
Liyana nodded again.
She listened as Korbyn left the tent. Outside were the sounds of the clan packing the tents and preparing the goats for travel. Orders were shouted, and people whistled and laughed and chattered as if this were a trip to the fair.
He is mine, Bayla reminded her. This body may be yours. But Korbyn is mine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Emperor
The emperor drank water from his canteen as he surveyed the array of clan tents. He didn’t taste the water. The view was as bad as his scouts had reported. At least thirty clans had staked out sites, with more joining them every day.
He had marched his army across this wasteland without seeing one desert person. But here, a short march away from the mountains, he found them waiting for him, blocking his way to the mountains. He had no doubt that if he tried to bypass them, they would adjust accordingly. Their presence here was not an unfortunate coincidence. They were here to stop him.
He wondered if Liyana was with them, or if Bayla was.
“I had hoped to avoid any deaths,” the emperor said.
General Xevi grunted. “Your Imperial Majesty has inherited your father’s optimism. It is an admirable trait.”
“But not a realistic one, you believe.” He had hoped that during the journey, his generals would learn to trust him. The emperor caught himself before he sighed. Around them, soldiers were watching him for his reaction. He smoothed his face to project unconcerned interest.
General Akkon nodded his agreement.
“We outnumber them ten to one,” General Xevi said. “As you ordered, we have allowed their scouts to return unharmed. By now they must know the size of our force.”
The emperor heard the disapproval in his voice and ignored it. He had hoped the sheer size of his army would cause the clans to disperse. But instead the clans had pitched their camps as if this were a joyous festival. “Gentlemen, your recommendations,” the emperor said.
“Cavalry,” General Akkon said.
He was a man of few words. General Xevi was not. “Indeed. It will show our intent and our power. We hold the remainder of the army in reserve to emphasize our superiority, and we trounce the savages with one elite force.”
“The ‘savages’ could win,” the emperor pointed out.
“Extremely unlikely,” General Xevi said. “We have superiority of armament and training. If they had chosen their battle in an area of topographical variation, then I would say they’d have the geographical advantage due to their familiarity. But a flat plain? Their choice of location reveals their inexperience with battle tactics.”
“They have resources beyond sheer numbers,” the emperor said.
General Akkon grunted. “Bedtime stories.”
“Might I remind you of the horses, as well as the worm that terrorized our finest?” His pet magician had not captured all the deities. The ones who still remained in the Dreaming would not be a problem, but a few had reached their clans successfully. Add in the ones who escaped. . . .
“Luck,” General Akkon said. “A localized abnormality.”
“Look at these people,” General Xevi said. He waved his hand at the clans. His jeweled rings flashed in the glaring sun. “They are barely above animals, scratching their lives out of the sand. If they had access to special powers, they would have built cities! We would be facing an advanced culture with civilized tools and weaponry. As it is we are facing the equivalent of our ancestors. Let us show them what the modern man can do.”
“One strike with one elite force,” General Akkon said.
“Yes!” General Xevi said. “Shatter their naive belief in their own power. Teach them what it means to stand in the way of the Crescent Empire.”
The emperor thought about Liyana and pictured her as he’d first seen her, walking into his tent as if she owned it. He hadn’t seen her escape, but he’d heard about it. She had ridden on the back of that monster, the salt worm. She must have been magnificent. He wished he could have seen it. After the chaos had died down, he had not ordered pursuit. Looking at the gathering of clans, he wondered if that had been an error.
Mulaf had seemed so certain that it was Liyana, not Bayla. But Mulaf was not available now to lend his expertise. He had been unconscious ever since they entered the desert. The doctors had hopes for his recovery—they reported moments of alertness and said he often twitched unlike any coma victim they had ever seen—but they could not identify the cause of his ailment. In his moments of clarity, he was said to be in good spirits, even giddy. Regardless, the man was useless in the moment in which the emperor needed him. The emperor had no one of the desert to mediate. Still he had to try.
“We will parlay,” the emperor said.
“They will not listen,” General Akkon said.
General Xevi nodded vigorously and opened his mouth to expand on that sentiment.
The emperor interrupted him. “Slaughtering them is a poor welcome to the empire for our future citizens. Send messengers to issue invitations. Invite one representative from each clan.”
He returned to his tent to prepare his speech for the representatives, but he imagined saying each phrase to Liyana.
One by one the messengers filed into the emperor’s tent. Each held a folded parchment. Each handed the parchment to the emperor, bowed, and retreated without ever meeting the emperor’s eyes. A few sported bruises and broken noses. One limped. None spoke.