Page 11 of The Eyes of Tamburah
The door slid open and a stout man wearing a long white tunic and black pants entered. He carried a tray.
“I see the patient is awake,” the man said.
“This is my physician,” the prince said to her. “He’ll see to your recovery.” He stood. “Timin, let me know when she’s healthy.”
“Yes, sire.”
She stifled a gasp. Not once had she shown the proper respect. The Water Prince kept his expression neutral, but amusement shone in his eyes. “Then I’ll leave her in your care.” He strode to the door.
Springing to her feet, she opened her mouth to protest—she needed to start her search for The Eyes, but black and white dots swarmed her vision. Her legs turned to jelly. She sank back onto the cushion.
Timin set his tray down and tsked over her. “You need food, water, and sleep. And your cut will need to be stitched and bandaged.” He handed her the glass of water that she’d left on the floor. “First, finish this, and then we’ll proceed.”
The physician treated her wound with a numbing paste. When he stitched the gash, Shyla focused on the hum of the water nearby instead of the tug and pull of the needle. After he finished, he applied a bandage, then handed her a bowl of snake-meat stew with a pepper broth. Timin waited until she emptied the bowl before ordering her to sleep. He jabbed a finger at the cushion underneath her.
“But isn’t this the Water Prince’s room?” she asked.
He chuckled. “It is but one of many. The entire ninety-seventh level is his domain.” When he saw her surprise, he added, “Granted, this level isn’t as wide as the upper levels. Zirdai is funnel-shaped.”
Still, it had to be at least a couple kilometers. Timin stood with his arms crossed until Shyla lay down.
He turned the lanterns low and said, “I’ll check on you at angle zero.”
She couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know when the sun starts its jump?” There wasn’t a sand clock in the room.
“We have moisture clocks. Why do you think it’s nice and dry down here?”
Pushing up to an elbow, she said, “I wondered about that.”
“The deep levels that have access to water are always damp. We import a special silica that absorbs the moisture in the air. The substance changes colors as it reaches saturation and it takes a full sun jump to reach that point. We mark the passage of time by the color change. The best part of this clock is it transforms the moisture into usable water. Now get some sleep.” He strode to the door. “There are guards just outside should you need anything.”
An interesting way to tell her she couldn’t run away, but that wasn’t Timin’s fault. She touched the bandage. “Thank you.”
Timin made a short bow and left.
She counted to ten and then scrambled to her feet. If she failed to find The Eyes, she might share Banqui’s fate. So she finally gave in to the temptation that had been humming in her ears since she woke, and thrust her hands into the water fountain.
Cold! Not as cold as the air topside during darkness, but her skin tingled and her bones ached with it. Cupping the water, she drank. Pure, fresh, and satisfying. No wonder people waged war to control the source. However, she’d just be happy to find The Eyes, free Banqui, return to her normal life, and never be this deep again. Except she doubted it would work out that way. The facts didn’t look good.
CHAPTER
3
Comfortable, warm, and with only a slight headache, Shyla should have been sound asleep on the luxurious cushion. Yet the constant splash of the water and her swirling worries kept her awake. How could she possibly find The Eyes when Banqui had failed? Small and priceless, they could be anywhere in Zirdai or halfway to Catronia by now.
Regardless, she had to track them down or Banqui would die. Instead of focusing on her lack of qualifications, she made a mental list of tasks. She’d check with her clients—oh scorching sand demons! She’d missed her meeting with the historian. Even though she had a good excuse, the client had probably complained about it to her colleagues. Shyla’s already shaky reputation would crumble and the only people willing to hire her would be the treasure hunters. A group she’d only worked for to pay the bills. She had hoped eventually she wouldn’t need their business.
At least she could ask them about The Eyes. Banqui said he didn’t have any luck with the black-market merchants, but the treasure hunters might know something. Perhaps the thief was holding on to them until the ruckus over their disappearance died down. Except it wouldn’t. Not until they were found—an impossible task.
She pulled the fur over her head, quieting the music of the water but not her pessimistic thoughts. In order to settle them, she drew in deep breaths and focused on the meditation techniques of the Yarin. Envisioning fingers of sand blowing over the dunes, listening to the soft hiss of the grains as they kissed the surface, she calmed. A billowing curtain of fabric accompanied the light clear notes of the monks’ chimes as the twilight breeze entered the monastery through unshuttered windows. She drank in the wind, savoring the scents of the desert as the air cooled. Soon after, sleep claimed her.
* * *
A muffled, but clearly angry voice woke her. Shyla kept still and listened.
“…possible…idiots…find her.”
The fur was yanked away in one harsh motion. She blinked in the sudden light. The Water Prince stood with the fur clutched in his hands. All the lanterns in the room blazed.
