Sandstorm (6 page)

"I don't know how they found us, but we'll figure it out. We'll have to change our patters now.

Head for encampments three and five, spread word of the pattern change. Tell them to shift from Drought to Rainfall. Select two other men to inform two and four. I want word spread and patterns changed by sundown tomorrow."

"Yes, honored father." Bowing his head, touching two fingers to forehead, mouth and chest, Sahayl raised his left hand, fingers flicking quickly through motions that brought forward three men. Pulling aside as the rest of the tired men rode past, nodding to them in reassurance, thanks, Sahayl then turned to the men he'd pulled away. "Noor, Kahlil," he said to two of his most trusted soldiers. "Our Sheik bids you journey to encampments two and four, inform them we will be switching our patterns. Tell them the Sheik commands we change our pattern from Drought to Rainfall."

Noor let out a hiss. "We are to move that often?" he exclaimed. "The women and children cannot maintain such a pace."

"I know," Sahayl said quietly. "I am merely telling you my father's orders." He took a deep breath. "Tell two and four to continue moving according to Drought. We will tell three and five to move to Rainfall at double frequency. That will keep them close enough to two and four to offer additional protection. Keep everyone alert." He hesitated, sharing a quick glance with Wafai, who nodded. "Tell everyone to pay close attention if they're attacked again. Cat had no reason to attack us. Nor should they have been able to find us. Several weeks ago Wafai and I encountered men pretending to be Falcon. I suspect the Cat that attacked six were imposters."

"These Cat had the paw markings," the man named Kahlil said, his voice rough, as if dry and sore. "On their cheeks and hands just like Cats do."

"The bodies are all destroyed?"

"Yes, Amir."

Sahayl nodded. "A pity. My guess is that a longer look would have revealed a flaw, perhaps in the ink or the details. We will never know."

"Why did you never mention this before, Amir?" Noor asked. If he had dared pose such a question to the Sheik, he would have been left bruised and bleeding.

Wafai answered. "We thought it an isolated incident. The men impersonating Falcon were obviously not native to the Desert. We killed them easily. When we brought the matter to the Sheik, he dismissed them as foreigners. Until now, we had no reason to suspect otherwise.

Even now, I am not certain." He cursed softly and looked at Sahayl. "I wish we had been present when the attack occurred. We might've…"

"Been able to prevent my father from ordering the slaughter of an entire encampment?"

Sahayl finished bitterly. "It doesn't matter now. The dunes shift constantly, we can only shift with them. Go to two and four, Wafai and I will travel to three and five. Carry my orders, but inform those who need to know of my father's."

Noor and Kahlil bowed their heads in a bow. "As you command, Sandstorm Amir. Mind, body, soul."

"In all find strength," Sahayl said, gesturing. "Go with the wind. Lady guard you."

"Lady guard you, Sandstorm Amir," Noor said softly. Without another he and Kahlil wheeled their horses around and took off across the sands, only the confidence of their movements offering assurance that they weren't racing off blindly into the Desert.

Sahayl sighed. "Saa, I had been looking forward to sleeping tonight."

"Obviously you got knocked on the head then," Wafai said.

"Not that hard," Sahayl replied with a grimace, gingerly touching his bruising cheek, his split lip.

Wafai made a face. "What did you say this time?"

"Does it matter?" Sahayl asked wearily. "All that I do angers him. Saa, I think he resents that I was ever born." He tried to keep his tone flippant, but knew that some of the pain slipped out. "Come," he said before Wafai could speak. "Three is some hours from here, and five further than that. Saa, it makes a man wish he would lose a battle simply to get a break."

Wafai did not look amused. "If you lose a battle, my Sandstorm Amir, then all of Ghost loses."

"I know," Sahayl said quietly, feeling every ache and pain in his body. He forced gloomy thoughts aside, tired of them. "If we hurry, we can perhaps sneak in a few hours rest. Hmm?

What do you say?"

"I say that sounds a fine plan, my Sandstorm Amir." Wafai smiled at him. "Let us go."

The cry of a falcon broke the quiet of the desert, immediately followed by the sound of a battle cry. Sahayl spurred Bloodmoon, who reared up and spun around, her cry blending with the hiss of steel against leather as he and Wafai drew their swords.

"Falcon!" Wafai exclaimed. "What are they doing here?"

"We'll figure it out later!" Sahayl said, then charged, meeting the attack of the man racing straight toward him, steel clashing against steel as they fought. Grunting at the force of the blow, Sahayl wheeled his horse around and braced for the next, this time dodging aside at the last moment and then lashing out, using the hilt of his sword to knock the man out, sending him tumbling from his horse.

Nearby Wafai held the other man to the ground, their horses nearby. "What would you have me do with him, Amir?" His voice was hard, cold, nothing at all like his usual jovial tone and manner.

Sahayl dismounted and went to examine the man he'd knocked unconscious. "Scouts?"

"Comrades," the conscious man spat. "We received word the Cat were under attack. It figures we would find the Ghost responsible."

Wafai hissed. "How many more Falcon are about?"

"Enough to take care of filthy Ghost!" The man howled, then suddenly kicked out, sending Wafai stumbling back, then drew a dagger and lunged.

Sahayl moved, catching the man about the waist as Wafai dodged, sending them both the ground, then scrambled back and punched the man hard in the stomach. He climbed to his feet and rounded on Wafai. "What was that! How did you let him slip under your guard! Do you have sand in your head?"

"Peace, brother of my soul," Wafai said, looking thoroughly disgusted with himself. "I underestimated him. It's no wonder he held his own against you so well, all those weeks ago."

"What are you talking about?" Sahayl said, then whirled around to take another look at the man he'd just knocked out. Just above his face covering was a line of white skin, the end of what was probably a long scar. Sahayl hissed in surprise and dropped to one knee, tugging down the mouth cover to reveal a familiar, beautiful face. "Lady grant me peace. I had not thought to come across this one again. Though I suppose I should not be surprised."

"He's a nasty one," Wafai said sourly, "Much like that precious bird that is no doubt signaling for help somehow, if I know Falcon and their tricks. Light, slender, but quick and strong. If you had not been here, I would be hosting a banquet for vultures."

Sahayl grinned. "And I would be short a very fine horse, as they would have taken it."

"You wound me, brother of my soul." Wafai made a face. "We need to move, before more arrive than we can easily handle. I was not aware Cat had allied with Falcon. That spells trouble for us."

"Not with Cobra so close," Sahayl said. "Nor is Scorpion too far away, and they have no love for either Cat or Falcon, even if they do not call us friend."

Wafai only grunted and swung up onto his horse. "Why are you still playing in the sand? Let's go."

Sahayl didn't move, but continued to stare at the unconscious man, thinking it a pity he could not see the blue, blue eyes. He shook off the idle thought and ran a finger along the scar on the man's cheek, then reached up to touch the one on his own. "A pity," he said.

"What's a pity?" Wafai asked irritably, watching Sahayl as he finally mounted Bloodmoon.

"I'm not sure," Sahayl said with a pensive frown. "I just…" He shrugged. "I don't know."

Turning his horse, he spurred her into a gallop and the two men raced off across the sand, hiding themselves in the Desert before more Falcon arrived.

They reached camp three well after dark, when the air was cold enough their breath clouded in the air.

"Who goes?" A guard demanded.

"Amir Sahayl and Protector Wafai," Wafai answered.

"Sandstorm Amir," the guard greeted, relaxing, genuine pleasure in his voice. "Lady finds you well, this evening?"

"The Lady has permitted me to survive the day," Sahayl said. "I cannot ask more than that.

How does the wind blow?"

"A quiet breeze," the guard said. "Eerily quiet, after all that we have heard of the attack on six." His voice lost what happiness had been in it.

Sahayl dismounted and crossed over to the man, resting a hand on his shoulder. "The Lady will take care of them. Ghost will avenge them."

"Yes, Amir," the soldier said quietly. Then he laughed, a weak but genuine sound. "Speaking of Ladies, Sandstorm Amir, your lady wife has come to visit. Apparently she heard you would not be journeying to assure her you were safe, and came to see for herself."

"What!" Sahayl exclaimed. "Rafiqa is here? What is that woman doing in a war camp? I will kill her myself!" Storming off, Wafai on his heels, Sahayl blazed through the camp, headed for the tent set up on the chance that the Sheik or Amir might visit. "Rafiqa!" he snapped as he flew into the tent. "You had better not be here." He glared at the woman watching him tolerantly from the left side of the tent, where she sat a table set with a late - very late -

dinner.

"Very well, honored husband, I am not here. Your sand-addled brain must be imagining things."

Sahayl muttered underneath his breath and motioned for Wafai to close the tent, ensuring the three of them would not be disturbed.

Rafiqa poured them each a cup of Desert wine, which was dark, spicy, and strong. She was the very picture of what a woman of the Desert should be, especially as the Amira. Her hair was brown, so dark it looked black, pulled up high on her head and then tumbling down her back in thick, soft curls, with a few smaller strands brushing softly against her cheeks. Her lashes were long, thick, framing pale brown eyes. Her lips were pale, full, curved in a fond smile. Gold and jewels glimmered in her ears, at her throat, in the bands on her upper and lower arms. She wore a gown of pale green, the fabric winding around her throat before flowing down to mold to her body, spilling into a close skirt.

Setting the skin of wine aside, she leaned up and over to give Sahayl a soft, chaste kiss. "I am glad you're all right."

Sahayl grinned against her mouth. "You're just relieved you're cover is still alive, brat princess."

Rafiqa gouged him lightly with her gold-painted nails. "Do not speak so, honored husband. I would be sick at heart to hear of your death."

"I know, Rafi," Sahayl said, settling back and taking a deep swallow of his wine, motioning for her to pour more. "I was just trying to tease."

"Hmph," Rafiqa said, not mollified in the slightest. She poured him more wine and then settled back to lean against Wafai, who wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close for a kiss. "So why have you come here and not to see me?" she asked when he finally let her go.

Sahayl sipped his wine more slowly, snatching up bits of food and eating between sentences. "To pass orders to change the patterns. Which I would have already done, except a certain wife cannot learn that her place is in the camp designated to her, in my tent, and obeying my orders."

Rafiqa rolled her eyes. "Did I not warn you, honorable husband, that you should have taken my sister as wife?"

"You imagine I had any say in the matter," Sahayl said, swallowing a bit of meat, licking a pale yellow sauce from his fingers. "If it had been left up to me, oh former daughter of the Cobra, I would gladly have left you to the fool who seems to be quite happily caught in your spell."

"Quite," Wafai said, pressing a kiss to the pulse at Rafiqa's wrist.

Sahayl smiled at them. "One day, my brother and sister, things will be as they should be."

Rafiqa smiled fondly at him, and leaned across the table to give him another chaste kiss.

"Thank you, as always, my Sandstorm Amir."

Sahayl waved the word aside and resumed eating, rapidly decimating a tray of pastries stuffed with soft cheese. "I will come up with suitable repayment, never fear, my dear, dear Amira." He yawned. "I need a bath and to not wake up for several days." He sighed. "Saa, it seems I will not even get the bath."

"Surely you do not mean to charge off again without properly resting?" Rafiqa said with a frown. She glared at them both. "What is it with you men that you must try to kill yourselves with work? Is it not enough you try to kill each other every single day? You will finish eating, then you will bathe, and then you will sleep. When you wake up, you will eat again and then perhaps I will permit you to go about your duties. No one is going anywhere until I say so, is that understood? I did not come here simply to see you immediately run off again." She folded her arms across her chest and waited in stony silence.

"Lady save me from her daughters," Sahayl muttered. "I cannot wait until you are out of my tent, Rafiqa. We must spread word of the change in pattern as quickly as possible. That means we have not time to relax."

Rafiqa sniffed, unimpressed. "Your horses, at the very least, will need time to recover from the abuse you inflict upon them. Wafai will go inform the camp of the pattern change, I will order a bath and then you will relax for the remainder of the night. Is that understood?"

"Yes, beloved wife," Sahayl said.

"Good," Rafiqa said, rising to her feet. "Wafai, I will have them draw a bath in your tent as well."

"Thank you, Rafi." Wafai stood and stole a quick kiss before bowing to Sahayl and striding from the tent.

Rafiqa eyed Sahayl. "You reek. Honestly, has the sand killed your sense of smell, honored husband?"

Sahayl laughed and continued to eat while a bath was prepared, listening with half an ear while his wife ordered the men about.

"Come, husband. Out of those clothes and let us get you clean and not smelling like a battlefield." She moved to help him, nose wrinkling as she tossed his filthy robes aside. "It's a wonder you could eat covered in all this filth. I do wish you could learn the proper order of things."