“As soon as my last patrol returns from the west. They are already later than I expected, but then so was Darit.” Banneth looked at her pointedly. “I wonder if they, too, ran into Demorans and Kimisar.”
Either were likely to know Nicholas’s true identity. Armed Demorans could ruin the innocent image she was trying to build around her and Nicholas, but if the patrol brought Kimisar … Sage scraped a bit of dirt—or was it blood?—from the hilt of Alex’s dagger with a sick feeling. The man Darit captured had refused to speak. She wondered whether she’d be willing to silence a Kimisar who wanted to talk.
70
THE JOURNEY EAST was mostly silent, as far as Alex was concerned. The Casmuni spoke among one another but rarely addressed him. Miles of featureless desert and hours of silence gave Alex little to focus on outside his thoughts, which were mostly of her. He had to believe the Casmuni Sage followed would have avoided the sinking sand.
The number of tracks she’d met with was about ten, the same as this group. Alex hypothesized they were both patrols of some kind, which meant they would go to a central camp or village. Whether he was being taken to the same place depended on what kind of presence the Casmuni had in the desert. He couldn’t imagine anyone living in this harsh an environment permanently, but he’d thought the same about the tiny mountain hamlets high in the Demoran Catrix.
In the late afternoon of the second day, Alex’s group crested a large dune and looked down on a lake of clear water, shining like a diamond in the center of an eye-shaped sea of green. The Casmuni started down the hill with a spring in their step, and Alex couldn’t help catching their enthusiasm. The distance was greater than it looked, however, and night had fallen by the time they reached it. Armed sentries met them about a mile out, clasping arms and greeting as friends did. No one addressed him.
Half the oasis was occupied by a camp, which Alex immediately recognized as military and non-permanent in nature. Almost everyone they passed wanted to greet the men he’d traveled with, like they’d been waiting for them. Every time they paused, Alex looked around, both observing what he could and searching for signs of Sage or Nicholas. Most of the ten peeled off and disappeared in the sea of canvas, but Alex was directed toward a grand tent nestled in the middle. He’d meet the commander of the camp right away, apparently.
The ground inside was covered with rugs and warmly lit with lanterns, though the air was cool. A meal was being cleaned up from a low table, where four people had recently dined, judging from the pillow seats around it. The tent was large enough to house many, but there was only a lounge area with several cushions. A single partitioned section had a curtain that had been swept aside while a servant moved around within, preparing what looked like a bed. He saw no one outside the servants. For several minutes he and two of the men who’d found him waited.
Alex was nearly asleep on his feet, but he wouldn’t show weakness by asking if he could sit. Finally a tall man entered the tent, and everyone within stopped what they were doing and bowed. Like the Casmuni who had brought Alex, the man wore a single curved sword. If he was anything like the others, he also had several smaller weapons hidden in his clothes.
The man whom Alex had identified as the leader of the group bowed and then spoke rapidly for a few minutes. Making a report.
As he was ignored, Alex took the time to study the tall man before him. He’d known enough royalty in his life to know a prince when he saw one, even without the fine trappings of the tent. The jeweled sword and scabbard he wore were not merely decorative—their quality told Alex they were crafted for hard and frequent use. His clothes were finely made, but loose and somewhat damp. Water dripped from his uncovered black hair, as though he’d come from washing. Alex thought of the lake and hoped he’d get a chance to visit it, too.
When the report was over, the prince stepped in front of Alex to peer at him. Alex met his green eyes with a steady gaze. Fear was natural in his situation, but it was not to be shown. “One armed Kimisar in my land is curious,” the man said in Kimisar. “Two is a disturbing pattern.”
Alex knew his surprise showed on his face. He’d not expected to be able to communicate beyond gestures and the few phrases he’d learned. Sage’s notes in his jacket contained many translated Casmuni words, but he hadn’t dared take them out in the last two days.
Also, the Casmuni had assumed he was Kimisar, and he wasn’t the only one they’d found.
Alex’s mind raced. The Kimisar who’d attacked the Norsari camp wore Demoran clothing. If the Casmuni had captured another Kimisar, his complexion, dress, and weapons would’ve been similar to Alex’s own. The assumption he was also Kimisar was natural. Sage and Prince Nicholas, however, had been wearing very different clothes—she, that long tunic, and he, a squire’s uniform—and they were both fair skinned and lighter haired.
“Why did you come to Casmun?” the prince demanded.
No matter Alex’s nationality, the Casmuni considered him a threat. If he identified himself as Demoran now, it might make the Casmuni prince suspicious of Sage and Nicholas when they arrived. If they arrived. Alex was also afraid of being recognized as the Demoran soldier who’d entered Casmun and kidnapped two men.
Alex looked away. Saying the wrong thing could be fatal, and not just for him. It was better to be disassociated from Sage and Nicholas, at least for now. Sullen and silent, that’s what he’d be.
The prince exhaled heavily and spoke a few words in his own language. Alex half expected to be struck, but they only turned him around and escorted him out. He was taken to a tent not far from the large one, where another man lay on a rug to one side, his hands and ankles in chains.
The Casmuni now took Alex’s canteen and searched him for weapons again, still not finding the pages of Sage’s book tucked into the lining of his jacket. He didn’t know if they’d be confiscated, but he had no desire to find out. The ropes on his wrists were removed and replaced with shackles like the other man wore. They were a little looser on the chafed areas and also allowed him to separate his hands by several inches.
Once he was secure, Alex and the other man were left alone, which struck him as sloppy, but his chains were staked to the ground, and outside, the camp bustled with activity. He’d have a hard time escaping, even with the lock pick he had in the sole of one of his boots. And if he did get away, where would he go?
Alex shifted into a more comfortable position on the rug they’d given him and looked the other man over. His hair was black as Alex’s own and his complexion as tanned, though it was difficult to tell, as filthy as he was. Alex imagined he looked just as bad. The clothes the man wore were Demoran in style with military attributes. It wasn’t difficult to deduce this was the other Kimisar they’d picked up.
The man’s blue-gray eyes were clouded with fever. “Where did they find you?” he asked in Kimisar.
“In the sands. You?” Alex replied in the same language.
“Near the river. They came out of nowhere.” He suddenly looked hopeful. “Why were you in the desert? Did the captain send you after me?”
The man assumed Alex was part of the same unit, meaning the Kimisar either had large numbers or hadn’t worked together much. “No,” he said. “I was tracking the prince. I lost him, though.”
The man stared at the roof of the tent as it waved with the desert wind. “I should’ve stayed in that mountain village,” he said with a sigh. “I had food, I had work. I might have had a girl someday.”
I heard a bunch of Kimisar came through Jovan last year … They raided some and disappeared. “Is that where you were?” Alex asked. “In the mountains?”