Page 40

of dust stop them from getting to their target. And if they had magic at their disposal, who knew what they were capable of.

Maybe there were assassins on the strider, watching us as we spoke. I suddenly felt a lot safer with the iylvahn at my side.

“Humor me,” Raithe said, and thankfully did not point out the obvious flaws in my logic as we made our way through the halls

and back to the guest quarters.

Thankfully, there were no more attacks on me that night, nor on the next two nights.

My nightmares were of the standard variety, the kind from which I would wake, sweaty and frightened, as images of Vahn, the Circle, Jeran’s corpse, and the Deathless King faded from my thoughts.

I did not wake up somewhere else, about to throw myself overboard or into the turning gears and pistons of the strider.

Though on that first morning, I did find Raithe keeping watch at my door when I stepped into the hall.

Apparently, he wasn’t about to let me nearly sleepwalk to my death a second time.

Three days after my terrifying encounter with the nightmares of the Deathless King, Halek strode into the tavern, an excited

grin stretched across his face.

“We’re almost there,” he said when he reached our table. “You can see Damassi on the horizon now.”

I rose, and together we hurried to the upper deck, where a small crowd had already gathered. Peering over the railing, I squinted

against the suns and watched as a dark blot grew larger and larger against the horizon.

Kovass had been a very flat city. It was built atop the desert sands, and except for the king’s palace on the hill, most of

the districts were on the same level. Damassi, I saw, had been built at the feet and into the sides of the mountains that

bordered the coast. Square stone buildings perched atop ledges and precipices, and one enormous structure sat on a flattened

rise in the very center. Roads snaked up through the different layers of the city, and a bustling network of docks sat at

the edge of the Dust Sea, with dozens of skiffs and a handful of striders waiting in the harbor.

Behind the city, the jagged peaks of the Stoneshard Mountains rose into the air, looming over everything.

“Ah, Damassi,” Halek said, sounding wistful.

“City of temptation and gateway to the Barren Steppes, though most people never get that far.” He gave me a sideways look and a grin.

“You were with the Thieves Guild. You know all those illegal goods you could get for a price in Kovass? Well, they’re not illegal in Damassi.

And the things that are illegal?” He shook his head with a short breath.

“They’ll knock you on your ass for a week. If they don’t kill you, that is.”

“I would advise against sampling Damassi’s selection of indulgences,” Kysa warned, joining us at the railing. The other passengers,

I noticed, either pretended not to notice the armor-clad rider walking across the deck or stared at her with blatant interest

and awe. Some of their leering smiles turned my stomach and made me want to pull my hood up even farther. Kysa, for her part,

ignored them completely.

“I was able to get a message to my clan,” she told us in a low voice, turning her back on the cluster of passengers milling

about the deck. “They have agreed to meet with us at our seasonal stopping grounds, a place called Carapace Basin. The journey

isn’t far, but it can be harsh for those unfamiliar with the steppes. I suggest getting a mount in the city before we embark.”

The strider continued making its ponderous way through the sands, never hurrying or changing pace, and the city of Damassi

grew steadily closer. Sometime before we reached the docks, Raithe joined us, appearing without any warning that he was coming.

When I glanced up and found him standing beside me, his gaze on the approaching city, that tiny prickle simmered in the pit

of my stomach.

“When the strider docks, we won’t have a lot of time before Demon Hour,” he told the rest of us. I gazed at the sky and saw that he was right. Solasti stood directly overhead; soon her sister would begin the climb to join her. “We’ll need to find shelter as soon as we get into the city.”

“Not to worry,” Halek said. “I know a lovely little tavern right on the edge of the docks. It’ll probably be a bit crowded

during Demon Hour, but the food is good and they serve the best redseed ale in the kingdom.”

Kysa took a step back. “I need to speak to Captain Arham to finish my service here,” she said. “And I’ll need to prepare Rhyne

for the journey.” She looked to the iylvahn. “I assume you will be taking the northern pass when you leave Damassi? It’s the

closest way into the steppes from the city.”

Raithe nodded. “There’s a sand dragon stable right outside the gate,” he replied. “My plan was to acquire mounts before we

head into the pass.”

I perked up. Sand dragons were not the literal dragons of legend, with great sweeping wings and devastating, fiery breath.

These were a species of squat, short-necked lizards with mottled scales and large horns sweeping back from their heads. They

were popular mounts for desert travel, as they stored fat in their tails and could go for months without food or water. They

were also infamously ill-tempered, and stories of sand dragons suddenly and unexpectedly taking a bite out of their handlers

were not uncommon.

“I know those stables,” Kysa said, though from the slight wrinkling of her nose, it was obvious she thought the desert lizards

an inferior mount to the rock beetle. “I will meet you there tomorrow, before suns rise. If we leave at dawn, we should have

enough time to reach the first shelter before Demon Hour.”

The strider finally came to a grinding, moaning halt at the end of a long wooden pier, and Halek, Raithe, and I joined the crowd of tired, relieved passengers disembarking into the city.

The tavern Halek directed us to—the Sand Dragon Den—was noisy and crowded, filled with patrons who were also looking to avoid

Demon Hour. Claiming a table in a corner, I sat with my back to the wall and watched the many strange and different people

milling around the tavern. Kovass had its share of different races and cultures, but sitting as it did in the center of a

sandy wasteland, it was fairly isolated and human-centric. Here on the coast, a stone’s throw from the Barren Steppes, Damassi

attracted people of all shapes and sizes. I saw several d’wevryn sailors playing Triple Fang with a pair of troblin, the sharp-toothed,

green-skinned people who lived in caves and tunnels underground. A lone insect rider, his hair dyed a shocking crimson, nursed

a drink in the corner, and across the room, I caught a glimmer of eye shine from a malkah, a race of warriors with feline

qualities, the most prevalent being their glowing eyes and retractable claws.

Halek nudged my shoulder with a grin. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” he asked around a mug of redseed ale.

I shrugged. “It’s certainly different.”

“We’ll spend the night in the city,” Raithe said, watching as an argument broke out between the d’wevryn sailors and the troblin.

Thankfully, it didn’t escalate into a full-blown fight but ended when one of the troblin snatched his dice off the table and stomped away, muttering under his breath.

Raithe casually took his fingers off his sword hilt and continued to scan the room and its patrons like a sand hawk.

“I have a contact here who can shelter us for a few hours. Tomorrow we’ll meet Kysa at the northern gate and figure out how we’re all going to make the journey into the pass.

I left a mount at the dragon stables near the gate when I first came through Damassi, but I didn’t think I’d be returning with companions. ”

“If you’re worried about what I’m going to do, don’t.” Halek waved a hand airily. “I’m sure I have something a reputable stable

master would be willing to trade for. My bigger concern is, shouldn’t we be talking to someone instead of hiding out in the

docks?”

“Talking to someone about what?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Halek said, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Maybe about Kovass falling and the Deathless King taking

over? There could be an unstoppable army sailing across the Dust Sea as we speak. That seems like something the other kingdoms

should know about.”

“Captain Arham will let the trade council know about the attack on Kovass,” Raithe replied, also in a low voice. “If he chooses

to mention the return of the Deathless King, that is his prerogative. My mission is to get the Fateless to Irrikah. It is

not my place to warn the other kingdoms—that decision is the queen’s.

“The Deathless King is powerful,” Raithe continued as Halek frowned, seeming on the verge of arguing.

“But even he cannot mobilize an army in a single day. Especially after he just decimated a city and replaced it with his own. I suspect that is why the ma’jhet have been using magic against Sparrow, not the king himself.

He expended a massive amount of power that day, and is perhaps

trying to forge and rebuild Kovass to his liking. I think we have time before he starts casting his gaze on the other kingdoms.

Not much time, but a little.”

Halek sighed. “I don’t like it, but I guess there’s not much we can do. It’s not like I can march up to city hall and demand

to see the council. From what I’ve heard, if they agree to see you inside a month, you’re lucky.” He glanced out the door,

where, judging by the intense sunlight gleaming off the pale stone walls, it was very close to peak Demon Hour. The air within

the dimly lit stone tavern wasn’t unbearably stifling, but it wasn’t cool, either. One of the barmaids was drawing wooden

shutters over the windows to prevent light from trickling into the room. It was strangely comforting. Even across the Dust

Sea, on the other side of the kingdom, Demon Hour was the same.