The Outworlder Page 3

  She drank down the rest of the water, watching him over the rim of the cup. When she finished, she said, “No.”

  “You should eat something anyway,” he told her. “You walked a long way yesterday with nothing to eat.” He took a piece of flatbread from one of the baskets and placed a handful of dried fruits, some nuts, and a long strip of dried meat on it. “It’s not much, but it will sustain you until we get to where we’re going.”

  She took the food mutely. Jared heaped up a trencher of his own and sat across from her, watching her examine what he’d offered her. She gingerly put one of the dried fruits in her mouth, but when her teeth closed on it her expression changed.

  Jared grinned to himself. He remembered the first time he’d tasted them himself. He’d expected them to be sour, the way they were shriveled up. But they were spicy-sweet and still juicy.

  The taste of the dried fruit seemed to waken her ravenous hunger, and she greedily shoved an entire handful into her mouth. She barely finished chewing them before she started gnawing on the dried meat.

  Jared grinned. “So you were hungry after all.”

  Sahara glanced up at him, her cheeks bulging with meat and bread, and there was a smoldering in the depths of her eyes. Jared shook his head and swallowed his laughter with a draught of water.

  They were ready to leave the cave within the half-hour. By the time they stepped out into the desert, the sun had just risen above the horizon and the sands glowed like molten gold.

  Jared set an easy pace, following the rim of the foothills into the rising sun, but they hadn’t gone far before Sahara began to lag behind. He glanced back once to see her limping, but as soon as she saw him watching her, she straightened up and glowered at him. He shrugged and kept the pace for a few more minutes, until he heard her stop. He turned around and saw her sitting on the sand.

  “We haven’t gone far enough for a rest yet,” he said, jogging easily back to her side. “We’ve got to get to the next ring of foothills first.”

  She glared up at him, her face smeared with tears and sand. “I can’t,” she said, her chest heaving. “I can’t walk.”

  Jared crouched and took her ankle gently in his hands. It was badly swollen and the outer tendons were black and blue.

  “You did this yesterday?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Jared took her arm gently and tore the sleeve from her shirt, using the strip of cloth to bind her ankle. “It’s all right, you know,” he said, with a gentle smile. “You can’t help it that you’re hurt.”

  She scowled at him. “Is it done?” she asked, jerking her head toward her bandaged foot.

  “It’s done. Let’s go.” He helped her up and they set off again.

  He had to imagine that it was a torturous journey for Sahara. He knew the herbs he’d given her to reduce her fever would soon wear off, and that field dressing wouldn’t do much to ease the pain in her ankle. As the heat of the desert sand began to shimmer with heat, he was sure that the flimsy sandals he’d given her wouldn’t do much to protect her feet.

  And yet, she never said a word.

  He glanced back at her once or twice, but every time, her frown only deepened, and he figured that she’d tell him if things got bad enough. He hoped she’d tell him.

  The sun was well overhead when he caught sight of the high towers and walls of the city of Albadir glimmering in the distance.

  “What are those green things?” Sahara croaked from behind him.

  “Trees,” Jared answered.

  He smiled back at her, but her face hardened and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Jared measured her for a moment but didn’t press her. As he turned back toward the city, the smile returned to his face.

  Just a couple of hours more, he thought. Then she’ll have all the help she needs. I don’t know what happened to her, but whatever it was… He shut off his thoughts. Going down that road wouldn’t help her right now, and there would be time enough for answers.

  He kept the pace as swift as he thought she could bear, and he had to keep checking himself to be sure he wasn’t moving too quickly. After an hour’s march, he turned to check on her.

  She was lying in the sand about a hundred paces away.

  Jared sprinted back to her side, heart hammering in the sudden rush of fear that he’d misjudged her condition. He crouched down in the sand beside her and laid a hand on her back. Sweat soaked her shirt and matted her hair against her face.

  She was alive.

  Relief shuddered through him, and he patted her back gently. She stiffened under his hand.

  “Not far now,” he coaxed, as if talking to a frightened child. “It’s not far. We’ll be there within the hour.”

  “Why don’t you just leave me here to die?”

  The question cut through Jared like a knife-stroke. It was the first genuine thing she had said to him since he’d found her. For that single moment, the veil of her defensive, aggressive attitude fluttered aside, like a sheer silken curtain stirred by a gentle breeze. In that one instant, he felt that he saw her—really saw her—for the first time.

  “I can’t do that.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t. I won’t.” He glanced over his shoulder at the city walls. “Sahara, please. You have to try.”

  Another tear. “Why?”

  He stared down into her eyes. “Don’t you want to live?”

  She made no answer, but two more tears coursed down her dirty face.

  “Well, I want you to live,” he insisted.

  “Why?” she whispered, but the raw need in her eyes spoke to him louder than her faint voice.

  He hesitated for just the barest fraction of a second. “Because you mean something, Sahara.”

  “I mean nothing.” She spat the words at him as if they burned her mouth. “I’m an escaped convict. A criminal. My life was over before you ever even met me. I should have died out there yesterday. I’m done.”

  “You’re wrong,” he insisted. “Where there is breath and pulse, there is life…and as long as there’s life, there’s hope. For whatever reason, you’re still alive, Sahara. And I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you that way.”

  Without waiting for her to speak again, he lifted her in his arms and carried her.

  By the time he reached the gates of the city, she was unconscious.

  Chapter 3

  Sahara’s eyes fluttered open. She was lying on a cushioned platform in a cool and spacious room. A gentle breeze fluttered the garnet-hued silken curtains that dressed the colonnade of arched windows along the western wall of the room, and the warm red light of the setting sun spilled on the floor and splashed over the walls. An enormous fireplace gaped in the wall on the far side of the room, adorned with rich wood columns and a heavy but gorgeously carved mantle. A wooden door, arched like the windows, stood at the fireplace end of the eastern wall.

  She sat up and put a hand to her forehead. Her cut had been bandaged, as had her left arm and her ankle. She had been dressed in clean clothes too. Instead of the grey prisoner’s shirt and pants, she now wore a sleeveless shirt of fine white linen and black cropped pants that were soft to the touch but remarkably cool.

  For a moment she considered getting up, then with a contented sigh she lay down again. The platform was enormous, easily half again as long and wide as she was tall. It was delicious to stretch and still feel that she had endless room. There were flowers beside her on a beautifully worked wooden table, and they gave the air a sweet, but not overpowering, fragrance. The walls, of a sand-colored stone, were completely bare, but it was a calming, not sterile, emptiness. Sahara breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

  The sound of the door opening startled her awake again and she sat up quickly.

  Two men entered the room, one carrying a tray with
an assortment of foods that looked as enticing as they smelled. He, like Sahara, was dressed in black and white, but he wore a broad red sash around his waist that hung almost to his knees. His bare feet made hardly a noise as he approached her bed, and as he bent to set the tray on the table next to her she saw that he wore a skull-cap that matched his sash. He bowed low to her, and then left the room.

  “I was hoping you’d be awake,” the other man said, leaning against the fireplace with his arms folded across his chest. When the breeze stirred the curtains, the fading sunlight fell on his face.

  “Jared!”

  “The same.” He smiled at her and came to sit at the end of her bed. “You’ve slept a long time.”

  She put a hand to her head. “Have I? I don’t remember….”

  “I carried you into the city three days ago, almost to the hour. The lady of the Great House is a skilled healer, and I left you in her capable hands.”

  “And that’s where I am now? In the…Great House?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is that, exactly?”

  “It’s the heart of Albadir. All of the noble families of the city have apartments here, and we gather in common for meals and council in the hall two floors below us.” Jared smiled at her. “I was hoping you’d be well enough to join us for breakfast in the morning.”

  “I…I don’t know about that.” Sahara rubbed her palms, suddenly clammy with sweat, against the legs of her pants.

  “But why not? You wouldn’t believe how much talk there’s been about you since we arrived, and I know everyone is anxious to meet you.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sahara fixed her gaze on the tray of food on the table beside her, conscious that Jared was studying her intently. She felt heat beginning to rise to her cheeks, and she desperately wished he would take himself somewhere else.

  “I don’t understand,” he said finally.

  “No, I’m sure you don’t.”

  Jared watched her for a moment longer, then sighed and stood. “Well, you have your meal there for tonight, and we’ll just let tomorrow take care of itself. I must go. They’re waiting for me downstairs.” Sahara glanced up at him and he smiled. “I’m glad you’re mending well,” he said. “I’ll come again tomorrow.”

  He nodded to her, then turned on his heel and left. Sahara stared after him, then let her breath out in a rush. Something about the room was different. There was only a little less light coming in through the windows, but she felt cold and there was a strange fluttering in her stomach. She took the tray off the table and set it on the bed in front of her.

  Nothing looked appetizing now. She forced herself to eat the bread and drink the wine, but her mouth was so dry that she could hardly manage to swallow.

  The light in the west had almost entirely faded when a sharp rap on the door broke the quiet. A moment later, the servant slipped into the room. He said nothing to Sahara, but squatted down in front of the fireplace and set about lighting a fire. Once he had the wood blazing, he took a burning twig and lit the two candelabra that sat on the mantle. A set of pillar candles nestled together beside the flowers on her table, and he lit these as well.

  “You are not hungry?” he asked, noticing that she had barely touched her food.

  “I…I don’t know. I thought I was, but….”

  The servant smiled at her. “My lord Alareth invited you to take breakfast in the hall, didn’t he?”

  “My lord Ala…oh, you mean Jared? Yes. He did.”

  Sahara fiddled with her fork and stabbed at the piece of roast fowl on her plate. The servant watched her in silence for a moment.

  “Do not be troubled, lady,” he told her gently.

  Sahara said nothing. The servant bowed and left her, closing the door softly behind him.

  As soon as he was gone, she set the fork aside and pulled the meat off the bones of the fowl with her fingers. It was so tender that it practically melted in her mouth, and it was flavored with spices and the essence of a fruit she didn’t know.

  “Well,” she said to herself, licking her fingers, “that wasn’t so bad after all.”

  She uncrossed her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, letting her feet dangle for a moment before she stood. The floor was not stone, as she had originally thought, but a smooth, highly polished wood of the same rich color as the table and the mantle. She found she could put weight on her foot again and she padded across the floor to look out the window. Pulling the curtains aside, she realized that the windows weren’t really windows at all, but rather an arched colonnade that opened onto a balcony. She hesitated within the archway, not feeling courage enough to step out onto the ledge.

  Below her lay a wide courtyard, lit by dozens of flaming torches and refreshed by a sweetly-gurgling fountain bubbling in its center. The space was carpeted with lush green grass and crisscrossed by stone pathways. Looking to her right, she noticed some people—two men and a lady—lingering in the twilight, standing underneath one of the torches and talking in low voices.

  Sahara recognized Jared as one of the men, and she wondered who his companions might be. The lady was beautiful in a quiet but extraordinary way, dressed in a sleeveless gown of faintest green. She was slender and almost as tall as the man who stood beside her, and the masses of golden hair twisted on top of her head made her seem even taller. A thin band of gold circled her forehead and a ring with a deep red stone graced her left hand.

  Sahara swallowed hard. She reached up to touch her own hair and realized for the first time that it had been cut quite short—hacked short, almost. It felt rugged and coarse in her fingers, and she let her hand fall to her side.

  The lady was smiling up at Jared now, her whole face glowing with joy and laughter. Sahara gripped the wall and the edge of the curtain as an almost overpowering urge to slap the woman’s laughing face surged up inside her. Then the woman’s hand slipped through the other man’s arm, and he leaned in to kiss her.

  “Oh!” Sahara gasped, so sharply that she startled herself.

  She watched as Jared shook the man’s hand, bowed to the lady, and crossed the courtyard, disappearing in the shadows of the far colonnade. Sahara stumbled backward into the oasis of light and let the curtain fall into place, shutting out the growing darkness.

  She climbed back onto her bed, curling up so that she faced away from the windows. Memories and dreams tumbled together in her mind, and she fought to get control of her emotions.

  “I have to go. Our people need me.” Her father held her shoulders firmly in his strong hands.

  “We need you, too! Why must you go?”

  “We fight the Dragon-Lords today. It may be that this night we will finally be free!”

  “Must we always fight to be free, Papa?”

  “Yes, we must. We must always fight.” He rested a hand on her head, and then he turned to her mother. “Remember me,” he told her, “and I will be always with you.” He bent and kissed her….

  “Aren’t you hungry at all, my dear?”

  Sahara started and rolled over. The lovely lady stood there next to her, her eyes smiling.

  “Who are you?” Sahara asked.

  “My name is Aliya. I’m the lady of this house, and my husband Arnauld is its lord.”

  “I ate what I wanted.”

  “Seems hardly anything,” Aliya said. “You’ve been ill…you need to regain your strength.”

  “Like I said. I ate what I wanted.”

  Aliya measured her for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. You’re comfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  Aliya reached out and removed the bandage from Sahara’s forehead. “This is almost healed,” she said. “You can sleep without the bandage tonight.”

  Sahara touched her forehead. She felt a scab there, but the wound no longer hurt her.

  Aliya next removed the bandage from her arm. “This too is almost healed. And your ankle? Have you been up at all?”

  Sahara nodded. “It fe
els fine,” she said.

  “Good.” Aliya took the bandage off Sahara’s ankle and rolled all three into a tight bundle. “I will send the servant in to collect the tray. If you wish, you may join us for breakfast. I believe Jared will come for you in the morning, so you needn’t worry about knowing the way.”

  “I’d really rather not—”

  “Not another word.” Aliya smiled gently. “Once this first meeting is over, you’ll feel much better about things. You’ll see. There’s no point in cloistering yourself away up here now that your wounds have healed.”

  Sahara said nothing, but she felt a frown gathering on her lips and between her eyebrows. Rather than argue, she rolled away from Aliya and pretended to close her eyes.

  “Good night,” Aliya said softly.

  Sahara didn’t respond. Aliya’s dress whispered along the floor as she retreated across the room, and the door clicked gently as she closed it behind her.

  Sahara swallowed hard. She was finally alone, and that’s all she wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  Chapter 4

  From his balcony across the courtyard, Jared watched the light fade from Sahara’s room. He was sharpening his boot-knife, the rhythmic sanding motion bringing him thoughtful calm.

  “Jared?” someone called from inside his chamber. “Jared, are you here?”

  Jared turned and brushed his way through the curtains. His quarters were similar to Sahara’s in size and shape, but not as sparse. A sword rack hung above the mantle on the north wall, stocked with an impressive selection of blades both traditional and exotic. Between the bed platform sprawled against the south wall and the fireplace stood a long table with two chairs, littered with parchments and a stack of leather-bound books.

  A young man stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. When he saw Jared step through the curtains, he entered the room and closed the door with a soft click.

  “I was hoping you’d come back.”

  “What do you want, Kirin?” asked Jared, slipping the knife into its holder with a sigh.

  “I just wanted to ask you something, that’s all.”