Page 31 of The Eyes of Tamburah
He wouldn’t budge. “And you’re going to remain here and do research?”
“No. I’m going to the Monks of Parzival to ask them about that ancient symbol Banqui mentioned.”
Rendor didn’t deny knowing about it. Even though she and Banqui had lowered their voices, stone walls and floors tended to reflect and amplify sounds—all part of the charm of living underground.
Alarmed, he asked, “When are you going?”
“As soon as you leave. It should be cool enough by now.”
“You need an escort. Wait for me, I’ll be back in fifteen angles.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve traveled to the monastery on my own plenty of times. I know what dangers to avoid.” The monks had taught her how to survive in the desert. Well, everything but living through the killing heat—nothing worked in that case.
“This time there may be others who want to stop you.”
“Like who?”
“It is hardly a secret that you are searching for The Eyes. If the thief is still in Zirdai, he or she would wish to prevent you from discovering his or her identity.”
His argument had some merit. Plus the person who stole The Eyes had been on the surface, which meant he or she was comfortable topside—many citizens avoided going into the desert, preferring to remain within sight of the city’s entrances.
“The monks won’t let you pass the public areas and I might be there all darkness and you’ll need provisions, dillo boots, and a sun—”
He held out his hand, stopping her. “Got it. I’ll be back.” With two massive strides, he reached the door.
“If you’re not here in twenty angles, I’m leaving without you,” she called, already regretting allowing him to accompany her. The monks wouldn’t be happy. They didn’t like the Water Prince or the Heliacal Priestess or anyone really. Unless you were a fellow monk, then they treated you as family. Until you weren’t.
Shyla shook her head as if the motion could dislodge the memories. But which ones would she discard? The ones of being loved and cared for, or the ones of being shunned? She decided the loving recollections should go. After all, the people of Zirdai had all but shunned her. This way, her entire life experiences would match and there would be no longing or loneliness.
Enough wallowing. It’d been her decision to leave and she had to live with the consequences. While waiting for Rendor, she packed her supplies and spread her sun cloak out, smoothing the slightly hairy white fabric. No trace of blood stained the garment and the tear had been expertly repaired. Gauging the time by the temperature, she shouldered her pack and donned the cloak. She’d give Rendor another angle or two before going topside.
Just her luck, the big man arrived soon after. His sun cloak reached his knees. Because of his bulk, he resembled an oversized velbloud. A chuckle escaped before she clamped her mouth shut. He frowned, but it seemed more of an automatic response. The spots of gold in his eyes sparked in amusement.
“Let’s go,” she said.
He followed her to the exit. It was angle one-forty and still too hot for the sand cleaners, which she was glad of, but then again…
“Did you tell anyone where we’re going?” she asked Rendor.
“I sent a message to the Water Prince.”
Not a surprise. She wondered if any of the guards sold information to the Heliacal Priestess’s deacons. Not that her trip to the monastery was a big secret, but she’d rather the woman didn’t know.
Once they exited, they paused for a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the brightness and the unending reddish-orange desert. The hot air dried her nose and throat with her first inhalation. The scorching sun’s rays pressed on her head. Shyla pulled her hood up. When the light no longer caused her pain, she set out. The searing sand crunched under foot, warming her feet to an uncomfortable level even through the dillo leather soles.
She set a brisk pace on the compacted sand. Once they left the path, the soft sand would slow their steps and they had to travel at least six kilometers from the city. The monks enjoyed their isolation and safeguarded the monastery’s location. Only the determined few found them. This was also the case for the other Kora-haian monasteries. A monastery was located within ten kilometers of each city’s main entrance.
They passed a couple velbloud flocks. The animals descended in the cooling air, reeling in their tethers as they drew closer to the sands. Shyla slowed to watch for a moment.
The velbloud was an oval-shaped fuzzy white creature. About a meter high and wide, it was two meters long with four short legs that ended in sharp claws. Males and females looked the same—only a caretaker could tell the difference. The velbloud was one of only three creatures that could survive on the surface of Koraha. During the killing heat, it floated high into the air, its long tether keeping it connected to the sand. Its white pelt reflected the deadly sunlight, keeping it cooler. During darkness, the hot air it collected in its internal air bladders to float kept it warm. The inhabitants of Koraha revered the velbloud. Each animal was lovingly cared for until it died. Once dead, every part of the creature was used to aid in the people’s survival.
Concentrating on the task at hand, Shyla scanned the sand along the path, looking for an almost too-perfect smoothness among the dips and swells of the desert—evidence of the monks’ passage. They wore a special wide-soled shoe that didn’t leave recognizable tracks.
She spotted the sheen of the monks’ passing to the left of their trail and stepped off the path. Rendor followed without comment. Sinking into the sand up to their mid-calves, they left clear imprints behind as they trudged. Although she doubted those marks would last long. Either the light wind or the monks would sweep them away.
Sweat soaked the neck of her tunic and collected underneath her breasts. It trickled down her back as they crested a dune. Stopping to catch her breath, she glared at the row of dunes lying along their route. How was it that a small grain of sand could fly on the wind, yet when it gathered with all its friends, the blasted stuff weighed a ton? No doubt it also filled her boots and stained her socks as well.
“Don’t tell me you’re lost,” Rendor said. His face glistened with sweat.
