D & D - Red Sands (18 page)

The stream bubbled out of a layer of pink-veined granite. It cascaded down to a wide, shallow pool bordered with ferns and moss-painted stones. The banks on each side were covered with hundreds of tiny flowers, each consisting of four fat, snowy petals surrounding a golden head. Jadira sank into the deep bed of flowers. Nowhere, not even the vale of A1 Mirah, could compare to the simple, affecting beauty of this spot.

She leaned over the water. Her thin face, tanned by the sun and tautened by the wind, smiled back at her. Jadira let clown her headdress and opened the neck of her robe. She dipped a hand into the pool. The water was cold. She put her head back and let droplets run through her hair. Closing her eyes, she poured another handful into the hollow of her neck.

yes. Beautiful.

The words came unbidden to her mind. Jadira opened her eyes. No one was near.

"Uramettu? Is that you?" Her voice sounded flat in the perfect air. Unnerved, Jadira dropped the first waterskin in the pool and forced the neck under. Bubbles gushed out.

Beautiful one. Speak to me.

"Who—who is it?"

Look into the pool.

Jadira bent over. Her reflection was there. Her lips said,
Look, beautiful one.

Jadira had not spoken.

Stay here. Rest. I, your reflection, will go in your place.

"What do you want. . . must go . . ." She was tired, so tired. How good it would be to lie down in the ferns and sleep. No worries. No dangers. No difficult choices of life, death, and love.

Sleep. I will go to your companions, 'l'hcy shall know me as they know you and I shall love them as you do.

Jadira reclined in the green fronds. Iwo hands took out the filled waterskins and carried them away.

"On guard!"

The blunt tip of the Faziri scimitar wavered. Parry— cut! Hilt high to the shoulder. Slash right, loop cut left. Back to guard and hold. Overhand whirl and cut—

"Be careful, will you? \ou're going to hurt somebody with that thing," said Nabul. Marix turned on one heel and brought the blade down with both hands a whisker's length from a sprig of cedar he'd thrust in the ground. With one deft movement, Marix shaved all the greenery from one side of the sprig.

"You were saying?"

"You're bold with a bush. How would you do against a real man with a real sword?"

Marix slipped the scimitar back into its scabbard. "Time will tell," he said. "Unless you care to practice with me now." Nabul clucked and spat.

Jadira came down the hill, stepping cautiously over the shifting ground. She balanced a skin of water under each arm. Marix went to help her. He took one skin and offered a hand to guide her down.

"Thank you," she said warmly. She leaned heavily on his arm. Her headdress was down around her shoulders and her robe was parted past the base of her neck. A blush of pale skin showed there.

"I found a marvelous spring," she said. "The water is so clear and cold!"

"Let me have some," Nabul said.

She dropped a skin at the thiefs feet. The spout popped open and a cold jet sloshed on Nabul's legs.
"Ai,
what's this? My anointing?" But Jadira's eyes were on Marix.

"Bring a cup. I'll pour you a libation," she offered. The young nobleman looked at her curiously, but went to the donkey pannier and got one of the tin cups they'd acquired at Julli. Marix blew grit from the cup and handed it tojadira. She squeezed the waterskin firmly, directing the narrow stream into the cup.

She held it out to him. "Drink." Marix tried to take the cup, but Jadira maintained her hold. "Drink," she said.

His blue eyes followed her brown ones intently as the cup came to his lips. Marix's hand closed over Jadira's. Something tangible passed between them, something silent and powerful. Cold water trickled down Marix's throat. When the cup was empty, she lowered it. The gap between them narrowed. Jadira leaned closer, her hand to Marix's cheek.

"Is there water?" said Tamakh, popping up from his blanket. His voice shattered the stillness. Nabul, who had witnessed the sharing of water, shook his head like a drunkard.

"All those days in the desert and
now
I'm going off my head!" he said. Jadira turned away from Marix and refilled the cup. Tamakh scratched his belly.

"What a restful place this is," the cleric said. "You know, this would be a fine place for a sanctuary to Agma."

"Wouldn't that disturb the spirits who already dwell here?" said Jadira.

"What spirits?"

"Surely you must know, Holy One, that wherever sun, earth, and water exist to give life to plants and animals, there also will be spirits."

"Well, yes, that's basic theology," said the priest. "I was wondering why you choose to put it that way— 'disturb the spirits who already dwell here'?"

She laughed lightly. "How else would I put it?"

Marix rubbed his eyes and inhaled deeply, like a man awakening from a long sleep. "I wouldn't drink the water, Tamakh," he said. "Its kick is stronger than Nar-sian wine!"

Tamakh sniffed his cup. He dipped a little finger in and licked the drop off. "Hmm, mineral water," he remarked, "but I detect no soporific quality." He tilted his head back and drained the cup. "Ahh!" Marix and Nabul watched the priest for signs of giddiness. When he merely sat back down and took another long drink, they gave up.

Jadira settled herself close to Marix. Whatever else the

water did, it certainly had warmed the nomad woman. Tamakh studied her for a moment. There was something in the air, almost like the presence of the confined efreet.

He pulled a long ravelin from the hem of his toga and knotted it. "Who will play?" he asked. The others looked at him, puzzled. Tamakh worked the loop of thread between his hands, then presented the results to his friends. "Cat's cradle," he said.

Nabul grinned. "I am the best cradle player on Naaki Street." He and the priest were soon apparently engrossed in back and forth manipulations of the string.

"Is your mind clear now?" Jadira said to Marix in a private tone.

"It is. Jadira, I—" He struggled for an easy phrase. He could find none better than "I love you, Jadira."

"It pleases me to hear you say that."

"Does it? But I thought you said it could never be."

"Is a mortal heart a thing of stone? If we measure our lives by the happiness we experience, why should we settle for less than a full cup?"

He stared. "You sound like a court poet."

"Forgive me. I do not mean to cloud the air with words."

"They were beautiful words." He bent to kiss her, but she put a finger to his lips.

"Not here," she said, slanting her gaze at Tamakh. "Let us walk a ways."

Nabul presented the Prophet's Coffin to Tamakh. "Aha!" he said. "Make something of that!" While the priest pondered the web of string, Nabul watched Marix and Jadira stroll off together.

"The journey has finally brought them out," he said.

"Eh? What?"

"Our friends have discovered each other at last," said the thief. He gestured with his shoulder. "There, see?"

Tamakh looked. His eyebrows bunched together as he Irowned. "Odd," he said.

"To a priest perhaps, but not so odd to less spiritual folk." Nabul wiggled his bound hands. "Come on, Holy One, don't stall. Play or admit defeat."

Tamakh hooked his little fingers on two strands, pulled them apart and stuck his remaining fingers underneath the side of the 'coffin'. He lifted the arrangement off Nabul's hands and tightened the string.

"Success!" he said, but the string slipped off his thumbs and went slack. Nabul laughed triumphantly, lamakh didn't notice. He was once more watching the swaying boughs of cedar where Marix and Jadira had gone. He returned the string to Nabul and stood up. "I believe a walk in the woods might do me good," he said thoughtfully. The thief cozened him to try his hand again, but Tamakh started off for the trees.

"The priest is right," Marix said as they walked hand in hand. "This is a tranquil place."

"I have always loved it."

"Oh? Have you been here before?"

"No, I meant I've loved it since we arrived." The sun flashed down behind the highest peaks of the Shammat. Violet shadows sprang up to claim the glens and hollows.

"I could stay here forever," said Marix, taking in the view.

"Truly? Would you?" asked Jadira.

"You know we cannot. Scarcely eighteen days remain before the conclave in Tantuffa, and we must get the prince's seal to him by then."

"Would it be so terrible if you gave up this mission?"

He dropped her hand. "I don't understand you. I made a pledge, on the honor of my family, to fulfill Sir Kannal's dying request. Why would you ask me to fail in my duty?"

She touched his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingers. "There are reasons, beautiful one, reasons I will tell you if you truly want to know." He caught her stroking hand and pressed it to his lips.

"I will listen."

Jadira embraced him. She lifted her head, and began to whisper in Marix's ear.

"Stop!"

They broke apart like guilty children. Tamakh was standing beneath the trees, a burning branch in his hand. Nabul peeked curiously over his shoulder.

"Tamakh?" Marix said. "What's wrong?"

"Beware, my boy, for all is not as it seems!" warned the priest.

"Go away, holy man. This does not concern you!" Jadira said angrily.

"Speak plainly," said Marix. "What do you warn me of?"

He stabbed a blunt finger at Jadira. "Her."

"You go too far, Tamakh."

"Look at her, Marix. When has our Jadira behaved in so immodest a fashion? Hair down, robe open, and walking like some veiled city wanton?"

Marix's face contorted with confusion. The romantic haze cleared and he stepped away from Jadira. "You
have
been behaving differently since we last talked."

"Do you doubt me now that I show that I love you? Forget what the spiteful priest says! He thinks only of his (rude god of fire. If I am different, it is because your love lias transformed me," said Jadira.

"Pretty words! Who do they come from? Our Jadira would never beg a man for anything, not even love," lamakh snapped.

"Then who is she?" asked Nabul.

"Jadira possessed, I'd wager. By whom or by what I can't say. But there is a way to find out." The priest started forward. Jadira retreated, putting Marix between her and the advancing Tamakh.

"Marix, don't let him hurt me!" she cried.

Marix turned and gripped her by the arms. "Tamakh would never hurt you," he said. An agony of indecision was in his voice. "Why are you afraid? Could what he says be true?"

"No, never!"

"Then stand your ground and face him."

Tamakh held up the dungeon key. "As fire consumes the impermanent things of this world, so may the will of Agma consume the spell on this woman." He touched the knobbed end to Jadira's forehead. "Let it be done.
Copus deram fessk!"

Tamakh expected Jadira to revert to her normal self, perhaps fainting if the shock were too great. She did neither. Her dark eyes swirled and faded to green slits. Her nut-brown skin turned to jade, and her black hair became a sheaf of glistening watercress. The cloaked aura of ethereal power burst forth, and the men cringed before its impact.

"By the Thirty!" gasped Nabul. He spun to flee, tripped on a tree root, and sprawled in the dirt.

"My ancestors," Marix gasped. "What have I consorted with?"

The creature picked up the key from where Tamakh had dropped it. Tamakh tried to hold his ground, but the green apparition forced him back with its powerful presence.

"you have dispelled the semblance of the woman Jadira," she said. (For all her alienness, the creature was still female.) "Are you happy, priest?"

"Who are you?" asked Tamakh carefully. The merest contact with the creature's eyes was painful to him.

"I am the guardian spirit of the spring. \ou may call mejii." Tamakh's face showed recognition. "\ou know me, holy man?" Jii asked.

"I know what you are." He looked at Marix. "Spirits were bound to the mortal world in the days when the gods warred over this land. For siding with the rebellious forces of Dutu, the guardians must spend eternity fixed to one place. They cannot leave, on pain of instant dissolution."

Marix found his tongue. "Where is Jadira?" he demanded. "What have you done with her?"

Jii's sharp features softened when she looked at Marix. "Do you love her, beautiful one? I sensed it from far away. I came to your Jadira, and drew her to my pool. There she remains, adrift in timeless sleep."

Out came the scimitar with a scrape of steel. Tamakh stayed Marix's arm. "Don't be a fool!" he said. "She could kill you with a nod."

"Put up your blade, beautiful one. While I may have used the form of another, I do truly love you."