whence it came. She marveled. “I’ve never seen a fire blower before.”
The Warrior beside her nodded. “They are quite amazing. You simply switch the lever and the air reverses swallowing the sand back up.”
“But where does it all go?”
“Into tunnels. Every city in Predaria has fire blowers. Caleb made sure of it.”
Now Willow turned her face away from the tedious work and stared at Jonas with questioning eyes.
He nodded again. “Your father had tunnels built all over Predaria to drain the water and send it to the Desert Countries. But as you already know, the water was contaminated, and more people died of the fever than of thirst. Caleb spent many years with them, and finally, when they learned to trust him, they agreed to trade their sand for water. Fresh water.”
“But how…?” Willow asked. “Where could he possibly get enough—”
Jonas cut her off with a slight smile. “We have little water, but we have more than what they have. Caleb designed and built the fire blowers and channeled them into the tunnels. What you see here is less than half their entire length. It is the desert people’s sand we use to stop our fires, and every full turning of the moon Caleb delivers water to them in return.”
“But where does he get the water?”
Jonas laughed. “Perhaps you will see. Perhaps not. There is much you don’t know about our… about him.”
Fastening her dark eyes on the man they spoke of, Willow drew in a quiet breath and bit her lower lip. “I am beginning to see that,” she said, knowing now why the people of Predaria would follow Caleb, why Jonas protected him with his life.
“Oh, Princess,” Jonas’ eyes danced when he looked up at her. “That is music to my ears.”
Chapter 11
By the time Caleb finally joined Willow again after cleaning up the sand and delivering the fire blowers back to Theshwar, the indigo sky was streaked with orange and gold as night began to settle on Predaria. Despite the black soot streaking his face and clothes, and the sooty cloth tied around his forehead, Willow fought for breath at the sight of him when he walked toward the small campsite his men had set up on the plains just outside the city. Who was this man? Was he a ruthless savage, or Predaria’s guardian angel? He was a warrior, that much was clear to her, trained to kill mercilessly with his sword, yet the mere sight of another’s diseased body brought tears to his eyes. He spoke few words, using all his energy, it seemed, to save this land and the people in it. And why did he choose to carry the burden of protecting the land in the first place? That duty should fall upon the king, not one of the king’s subjects. Who was Caleb? Willow wondered again, pulling her knees to her chest, watching him with unblinking eyes.
She was sitting on the ground next to Pethar, who was plucking the seeds from an apple core she had carelessly tossed aside. She sighed when Caleb bent his lean body to the leather pouch of water resting a few feet away from her on the ground. She watched him lift the pouch to his lips and then tilt his head toward the night sky to quench his thirst. He certainly looked like an angel she decided, almost smiling.
His arms, bare thanks to his sleeveless léine, were streaked with soot and sand and sweat, and glistened with the corded muscle of a man who toiled hard and long.
“We must make camp on the plains again,” he announced when he finished his drink and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He looked around at his men, most of whom were already saddling back up and packing the cart again. His gaze settled on Willow. He handed her the water and watched her drink. “If we stay in Theshwar for the night it will slow us up and the food we traded for today will spoil before we get to Shondravar. We will take your horse home but you cannot ride, for the beast is exhausted.”
Jonas and the others nodded in agreement, but Willow looked over her shoulder at the road east.
This life was too difficult. Beautiful warrior or no, she was too afraid of what was next. She hoped Caleb healed Predaria, but she didn’t see how it was possible. She didn’t want to be here while it burned. She proved no match for