Race the Sands - Sarah Beth Durst Page 0,121

been from riding so much lately or from sleeping terribly. This time, she wasn’t going to be sent back.

Outside, Trainer Verlas had a mug of mint tea in her hand. She thrust it into Raia’s hands. “You talk in your sleep.”

At least that meant she’d slept more than she’d thought she had. “I’m sorry. Did I say anything embarrassing?”

“Only every deep, dark secret you’ve ever had.” Trainer Verlas flashed her a rare smile. “You called for your lion a few times. But nothing coherent. He’s fine, by the way.”

At least that was a relief, on both counts.

“You’re slated to run in the third major race of today. Get yourself some breakfast, and try not to let the crowds freak you out. Or the word ‘major.’ It’s just a race. No more or less important than any other.”

Which was to say, Raia translated, vitally important.

“Thanks for the tea.” She checked on her kehok again. He’d quit pacing and was sitting motionless, watching dawn spread across the bustling camp. It was beginning to fill as riders and racers poured in from up and down the Aur River, converging for the main races.

She ducked into the washroom, sponged herself down, and dressed before seeking out the communal breakfast, served by the race organizers. She was halfway to a pyramid of pastries when she heard a familiar voice:

“You made the majors!”

Raia turned to see Jalimo jogging up to her. He was followed by Algana. Catching up, Algana panted, “We saw the standings and were so happy for you. Shocked too. Because, well, you kind of forgot to turn when we ran together.”

“Good to see you,” Raia said. “Where’s Silar?” For a moment, she flashed to an image of the dead boy’s face, Fetran. Not Silar.

“Why? Did I stick my foot in my mouth again?” Algana said. “I did, didn’t I. Silar is usually the one to point that out.”

Jalimo pointed at the fruit table, where Silar was peeling a mango. She waved when she saw Raia looking at her. Raia waved back. “How were your qualifiers?”

“Pretty excellent,” Jalimo said. “At least for them. Silar is racing against you. Algana’s in the fifth major race today. And I’m in the minors.”

“There’s no shame in the minors.” Algana patted his shoulder.

Drifting over to join them, Silar bit into her mango and wiped a bit of juice from her cheek. “Think of the benefits, Jalimo: there’s more time to relax when everyone knows you’ve already lost.” She winked at Raia as Jalimo sputtered.

“I’m racing you?” Raia asked Silar. She liked it better when her competitors were nameless strangers. Fetran, she thought again. She wished she didn’t know his name. What if that happened to Silar or Algana or Jalimo? Or me?

Algana jumped in. “She’d appreciate it if you ran straight off the track again.”

Silar elbowed her. “No, I wish you all the best in our race. May you soar swift as an eagle across the finish line.”

Raia looked at her for a moment. Silar held her pious expression.

And then they both burst out laughing. Jalimo and Algana joined in. “You just . . . hopped over the wall . . .” Jalimo said, laughing. He mimed the action of the lion.

Raia finished, “And kept running. Straight into the desert.”

Catching her breath, Silar said, “Seriously, I do want you to do well.”

“Me too,” Raia said. And she meant it. “So long as you come in second, and I’m first.” She smiled, because she meant that too.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and Raia twisted to see Gette smiling at all of them. “First or second, what does it matter? Raia here will win on a technicality anyway. It’s her style.” He laughed, but none of them joined in. “I’m Rider Gette. A pleasure to meet more of my fellow competitors.”

“Whoa,” Jalimo said.

“He’s Jalimo,” Algana said quickly. “I’m Algana. And she’s Silar. You know Raia?”

“Old race buddies,” Gette said. To Raia, he said, “You’ll be happy to hear you won’t be facing me in any of the initial races. Fate has spared you. Our schedules don’t coincide. But I’ll be rooting for you. So I can beat you and your lion again in a later race.” He patted her shoulder and then drifted off. A flock of other riders clumped around him, asking for his advice, his opinion, or just his attention.

Raia and her friends stared after him.

“Changed my mind,” Silar said. “You have to win our race. So you can kick his ass later.”

“Riders up!”

The race official’s voice

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