She struggled to pick out and understand his words. Palan meant my or mine, basa was good or well. Darit was showing her his hands, so pollay likely referred to them. She filed the word in her mind and searched for anything that sounded like hastinan and found hastin—an animal pen.
My hands are well confined.
Darit had a sense of humor. He would need it—and patience—if they were to understand each other.
“You lose your friends in the sands?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, in the sera.”
“Sera?” she asked. It was a word she didn’t know.
Darit blew air out of his mouth in imitation of the wind raging outside the tent. Ah, wind. He was distinguishing that the storm had separated him from his companions, rather than the sand, which was interesting.
Sage was sure she would muddle conjugation, so she stuck to simple sentences. “Where travel you?”
The Casmuni considered the question for several seconds, then answered, “North.”
“Travel you in Demora?”
Darit’s expression hardened. “No, I stay in my own country.”
His point was obvious, and Sage couldn’t blame him for being angry. She wanted to ask more, but her time was running out. Sage gestured to Nicholas. “Give them the food.”
The prince moved forward and gave them each a dry biscuit. Darit chewed his slowly, screwing up his face, plainly not impressed with the taste. When both he and Malamin had finished, Sage and Nicholas gave them more water, this time from their canteens.
As they prepared to leave, Sage paused to face Darit. “Speak nothing,” she told him, putting her finger to her lips. Darit brought his eyebrows together and frowned, but she ducked out of the tent before he could speak.
39
THE WIND WAS finally dying down, thank the Spirit. Alex broke camp in the morning, wanting to get as far from where they’d found the Casmuni as possible. By sunset, the storm of sand had abated, leaving the land completely quiet other than the sounds of the marching Norsari. The silence was unnerving after going so long with the constant whistle of the wind. Alex walked near the front, close to the captives, hoping to catch their reaction if they saw or heard something. The scarred one kept looking around behind him at the column of men. Counting and assessing, no doubt. Alex would’ve done the same.
What he’d done nagged at him. Alex had fully expected to take prisoners when the Casmuni ventured back into Demora, and the Norsari would’ve been justified in doing so, but these men had been taken from their own land. It wasn’t right.
Alex needed answers, though, and not just for Colonel Traysden’s arrival. With so much of the army tied up in Tasmet, a force could march all the way to Tennegol virtually unchecked. If the Casmuni were working with the Kimisar, it could be the end of Demora.
How was he going to talk to these men?
Sage would be able to read the silent Casmuni like a book. Languages were one of her many strengths, too; if anyone could communicate with them, it was her. That meant bringing her into the circle of information, which until now had been him and Ash, and Alex welcomed her insight more than anyone else’s. He could also finally include his officers. It was no longer a secret he had to carry alone.
Now that he had these men, however, things were also bound to get more dangerous. When Alex sent his report to the king, he would try to convince Sage to be the courier. The royal family trusted her, and it was important enough that she wasn’t likely to refuse. Maybe he should send the prince as well. Uncle Raymond wanted the boy to grow up, but at some point the risk was too great.
They walked through the day and into the night until the moon rose. With its light, he felt safe enough to set up camp, and as the men had been walking for almost twenty hours straight, rest was imperative. Alex couldn’t be sure of his location, but he suspected he had only another thirty or forty miles to the river.
Almost there.
40
SUNRISE WASN’T FOR another hour, and Sage swayed with weariness, but she had to talk to the Casmuni while most of the Norsari were asleep or otherwise occupied. Nicholas himself was snoring inside their low tent.
She worried how she would get the man on guard away, but the Casmuni were alone in the tent, both asleep with their hands and feet bound. “Darit,” she whispered, nudging his shoulder gently.
Darit opened his eyes and blinked a few times. “Saizsch Fahler?”
“Yes,” she answered in Casmuni, pulling her scarf under her chin. “Water?”
He nodded, and she gave him a sip from her canteen. Darit sat up on his elbow. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“Here with you, or here in Casmun?”
Darit smiled ironically. “Both.”
Only desperation—or orders—could have driven Alex to be so reckless, but neither explanation reflected well on Demora. “I know not why in Casmun,” she said. “I wish help for you. But you must first speak answers.”
He studied her for a moment. “Where did you learn Casmuni speech?”
“I learn words from old treaties,” she answered. “Is it well?”
Darit’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You speak like a child.”
Sage grinned. “Understanding is most important.”
“Yes.” The humorous expression vanished. “What are your questions?”
Sage took a deep breath. “Why Casmuni come in Demora last year?”
“We did not.”
“We see proof,” she insisted. “Casmuni come and go ten months past.”
“Close to here?” She nodded, and he shook his head. “Impossible. The desert does not allow it.”
Just as the trade agreements had said. “How know I this is truth?” she pressed.
Darit’s lips twisted up in a half smile. “Try to cross the sand after the solstice, and you will see for yourself.”
The extra words in his answer overwhelmed her, and it took him repeating them twice for her to understand. Sage glanced around nervously. A guard could come in at any moment. “Then who come? Kimisar? Are you allies?”
A look of disgust crossed Darit’s face. “Zara will grow in the desert before Casmun allies with Kimisara.”
Zara had been something much traded in the documents. Sage’s best guess was that it was a type of grain. “Can you prove?” she asked. “If yes, I make my friends give you freedom.” It was a bold offer she wasn’t likely to be able to honor, but she made it anyway.
“I have friends who can take my freedom.” He leaned forward. “Many more friends than you have here.”
Darit was likely part of a patrol sent from a larger group, meaning that group was probably days away, so that was a bluff, at least for now, but Sage played along. “What do you when free?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Report to my king. He has interest in your country. That is why we visit the border.”
“To spy?” It was becoming easier to understand him, partly because he spoke so she could tell his carefully chosen words apart.
“To assess manners. Not so nice, I think.”
Sage’s mind raced. If the desert was impassible after the solstice, Darit didn’t have much time to get back. “Your friends wait for your return?” she asked.
Darit must have been thinking along the same lines. “In several days. After that I will not be able to meet or follow them.” He stopped suddenly, seeming to realize he’d admitted he did not expect a rescue.
“They abandon you if late?”
The Casmuni swallowed and nodded. “Yes. They must return. The springs are fading.”
“Until next year,” she said, not making it a question that his friends would come back for him.
Darit looked her in the eye. “Yes. Until next year.”