SandRider Read Free

fold to its flat little brain and it now felt an itch on the end of its stumpy snout where the egg tooth was beginning to break through its skin. It would not be long now.
    Outside, the desert air held its breath and Spit Fyre watched, still as stone.
K AZNIM N A- D RAA
    Inside the star tent the stillness was broken by the gentle rise and fall of a large mound of furs, beneath which Karamander Draa, the Apothecary, was sleeping. The only other occupant, the Apothecary’s elder daughter, Kaznim Na-Draa, lay wide-awake. Her gaze wandered around the peaceful space she knew as home. A single candle burned in a dish of scented water set in the middle of the rug-strewn floor. Its soft light showed books piled along the sides of the tent, a scattering of cushions around a low table on which a bowl of dates and a jug were set ready for breakfast. The jewel-like glass of blue and greenpotion bottles in neatly stacked boxes near the door glinted in the light of the steady flame and looked just like the jelly sweets from the Red City that Kaznim loved so much. She watched her mother’s soft breathing for a while but avoided looking at the empty cot set at the foot of her mother’s bed. Whenever she thought about her half-sister, Bubba, Kaznim felt as though she had swallowed a small cactus. It hurt .
    After some minutes gathering her courage, Kaznim sat up, and, with several covert glances at her mother to check that she was still sleeping, she dressed quietly.
    As a sliver of orange sun tipped above the distant horizon, Spit Fyre saw a movement in the wall of the star-strewn tent. He saw a small, dark-haired girl in a long red coat wriggling out from underneath the canvas and hopping awkwardly as she pulled on a pair of leather sandals. She set off toward the Egg tent, stopped outside and stood with her head tilted in thought. She slipped off her sandals and then, to the dragon’s surprise, she simply faded away. Spit Fyre blinked, wondering if he had just woken from a dream. But the sandals outside the tent told him otherwise.
    In her hand Kaznim clutched the UnSeen Charm that the sorcerer who had brought the Egg and stolen her littlesister had given her. It was beautifully wrapped inside a pale blue origami bird so that the opal pebble Charm formed the fat little belly of the bird. Kaznim loved the bird almost more than the Charm , even though she knew the sorcerer had made the bird himself with his own long, thin fingers and sharp, pointed nails. Kaznim knew it was a bribe to get her to spy on her mother. There was no way she would ever do that, but even so, she had accepted it because she had loved the little blue bird so much. Kaznim remembered how the sorcerer had presented it to her with the words: “For you, my dear. You can hide from anyone with this—except from me .” She had taken the bird and stuffed it deep into her pocket where her mother would never find it.
    Kaznim was looking for her tortoise. The Egg Boy had stolen it—she knew he had. She did not hold out much hope of finding the tortoise in the Egg tent, but she had to check. Kaznim stood UnSeen in the dim hush of the tent and listened to the Egg Boy’s snuffles and the slow breathing of the Apprentice. She had never been inside the Egg tent before. Subhan-Subhan had sneeringly said that girls were bad luck inside a hatching tent and besides, her terrified mother had forbidden her from going in.
    Now that she was inside, Kaznim did not see what all the fuss was about. The tent was hot and stuffy in order to keep the Egg warm through the cold desert night. All she could see of the Egg was a bump covered in a black fur with the Egg Boy curled around it like a fat white maggot. Her mother’s apprentice, Mysor—whose thankless task was to wake the Egg Boy every three hours and bring him anything he wanted whenever he wanted it—was hidden beneath a pile of thick blankets beside the door. Kaznim tiptoed past him and looked