contact him, which was unlikely. Kitarak probably wouldn’t lower his shield for a week, just to make sure Jedra and Kayan truly solved their differences before they called him back.
Jedra went into the kitchen just long enough to take a drink and pick up another bag of nuts. Kayan’s bulging eyes followed him as he went past her, but she said nothing. That was all right. He didn’t know what to say to her, either.
* * *
Kayan slept in the library again, Jedra got up periodically to check on her, but her breathing remained steady and she didn’t convulse the way he’d seen some starving people do. She’d evidently gotten food soon enough to prevent permanent damage. He left her to heal in her sleep.
When the morning sun finally began to filter through the skylights, Jedra wondered if they had been covered with sand. The light was deep red, almost like candlelight. But when he checked the skylights he saw that they were clean, and then he realized he was seeing normal sunlight. His eyes had adjusted to the brilliant sun inside the crystal, and now Athas’s coppery red cinder seemed dull by comparison. He hoped he would grow used to it again, or he would be spending the rest of his life in dim twilight.
Hot, dim twilight. Even inside the stone house the temperature rose with the sun, but when Jedra went outside to relieve himself the intense heat felt like a physical force beating down on him. He had never realized just how oppressive it was until he’d sampled another world.
But that one was just the construction of a crazy person’s mind. Such a thing probably couldn’t exist… or could it? Legend told of a time when Athas’s sun was brighter, and Kayan had said that the Sea of Silt was once an ocean. Who could say?
Jedra always went around to the back of the house to urinate, giving the tree that grew there a little more water, but today when he rounded the side of the rock pile he stopped short when he saw what had happened: The storm had toppled the tree. Its trunk had splintered about three feet off the ground, and the top had fallen with enough force to break two of its three big limbs. The remaining one rose into the sky like a tree itself, but its leaves had all been ripped loose, leaving only the skeletal branches.
Jedra walked up to it and snapped off a twig. Brittle. The fierce desert heat had already baked it dry. Jedra stood there and idly broke the twig into pieces while he contemplated the bare corpse of Kitarak’s shade tree. This was how everything on Athas ended—everything that escaped being eaten, anyway—bare and dry under the hot sun. Like the sun-bleached piles of bones that he and Kayan had seen in the deep desert, marking the lairs of underground cacti. Only the cacti themselves escaped the relentless rays of the dark sun.
That wouldn’t stop them from dying, though, Jedra realized. Sand cacti had an even more prolonged death awaiting them, for after they trapped and fed on a desert creature, they had no way to get rid of the pile of bones. Nothing else would venture near, and the cactus would eventually starve to death, probably after sending forth seeds—most of which would in turn be eaten by scavengers before they could germinate.
Jedra sighed. It was all part of a bigger whole, he supposed, but that didn’t make it any less depressing.
The sorcerer-kings cheated death with their magic, but if any of the legends were to be believed they usually died all the more horribly for it when their time finally came. And if Yoncalla was a fair representative of the ancients’ method of achieving immortality, then that was hardly better. Immortality for Yoncalla seemed to be little more than the chance to go stir-crazy amid his own creations.
It might still beat the alternative. Jedra turned away from the tree and looked out across the sandy, rock-strewn ground to the steep canyon walls. Down here in the bottom of the gorge it was easy to forget that the rest of the world existed, but Jedra knew it carried on as usual. Someday he would have to venture back out into it, and even his psionic training couldn’t guarantee him a better life than what he’d had living on the streets of Urik. The only certainty out there was the knowledge that the moment he let