the wages of the teamsters for…”
“How bad are these storms?” said Kylon before Nerina could embark upon one of her mathematical tangents.
“Depends on the wind,” said Morgant. “The good ones are over in a few hours. A bad one can last for weeks. The wind drives the dust with enough force to blind a man, to pack his nostrils and mouth and asphyxiate him, or simply to strip the skin from his flesh. Some of the tribes of the Trabazon wait for dust storms, and then tie criminals naked to wooden stakes in the desert. Once the storm settles, the criminals are either choked, buried alive, or stripped to the bone.” He offered a cheery smile. “Depends on the angle of the wind.”
Azaces grunted and pointed with a thick finger, but Kylon had already seen it.
To the south, the sky was growing visibly darker. Had they been upon the water, Kylon would have assumed they were sailing into a storm. But the dark clouds were far too low to be thunderheads. Kylon realized he was looking at massive quantities of dust blown up by the wind.
Ahead one of the horsemen shouted, and both the Black Wolves and the Company of Shopur came to a halt.
“Looks like Nasser has seen it,” said Caina. “We’d better decide what to do next.”
She tugged her reins and steered her horse forward. Kylon shrugged and followed her, and Morgant fell in alongside him, Nerina and Azaces following. Nasser had reined up, and was conferring with Shopur, Dio, Laertes, and Kazravid.
“What in the hell is that?” said Dio.
“A dust storm, Captain Dio,” said Nasser. “Quite dangerous to the unprepared.”
Dio grunted. “Never had those troubles in the eastern Empire.”
“No,” said Caina, and the mercenary captain looked at her. “Though if you had stayed in the eastern Empire, you’d have been drafted into the Umbarian army by now.”
“I’ll take my chances with the dust storm,” said Dio.
“It’s a bad one,” said Shopur.
“Agreed,” said Nasser.
A burst of frustration went through Caina’s emotional sense. “And Cimak and his caravan are right into the middle of it.”
“It would seem so,” said Nasser. “Immortals on foot, burdened with heavy wagons and the emir’s palanquin chair…no, they would not have been able to move fast enough to avoid the storm. The khalmir of the Immortals would have been clever enough to take cover, though, and they would have brought provisions to ensure they could shelter against a dust storm.”
“Then we wait out the dust storm and attack,” said Caina.
“That could take days,” said Nasser. “I suspect…”
“Unfortunately,” said Morgant, “it’s not an option.”
“Why not?” said Caina. “I think you of all people would be eager to reach our goal in haste.”
“I have spent too long trying to reach that goal to get myself killed in a burst of childish impatience,” said Morgant. He stuck one finger into his mouth and then lifted it up, feeling the direction of the wind. “Also, the wind is coming out of the southeast. The storm is moving northwest. If we stay here and wait…”
“We shall be right in the path of the storm,” said Dio. “Damnation.”
“Then we circle around the storm,” said Caina. “West or east?”
Nasser shook his head. “Not west. That would take us deeper into the Trabazon steppes and closer to the Kaltari Highlands.”
Kazravid snorted. “I thought you had friends among the Kaltari barbarians.”
“I do,” said Nasser, “but there are more raiding parties than those of the Kaltari upon the steppes. Better instead, I think, to head east into the Desert of Candles.”
Caina’s expression did not change, but a jolt of emotion went through her at the words, a peculiar mixture of dread and curiosity. Kylon wondered what significance the Desert had for her. Callatas had burned Iramis there. Perhaps she saw the Desert as a warning of what would happen to Istarinmul if Callatas was not defeated.
Shopur made a displeased noise. “I do not approve. The Desert is both cursed and haunted.”
“Is it?” said Morgant. “That must make it crowded. Do the curses and the haunts fight each other for supremacy.”
Shopur pointed at Morgant. “Your smart tongue will earn you a beating someday, old man.”
“Probably,” said Morgant.
“The Desert has that reputation,” said Nasser, “but I can assure you that it is not cursed. As for a haunting…it is only haunted by the memory of Grand Master Callatas’s many victims, nothing more. Consequently it has an evil reputation, and we can cross it without encountering any foes.”
“Callatas has men in the desert,” said Caina. “Searching the