The Outworlder Read Free Page A

said
nothing, but she felt somehow that he was asking her if she was all
right. She nodded, and he turned around again.
    Night had fallen. Sahara could see no stars
through the whirling sands, and the world was utterly dark. She
wondered how Jared even knew where they were going. She felt
utterly blind, and her helplessness made her rage inside.
    At last, Jared stopped. Sahara stumbled into
him and then stubbed her toe, not against a wall of sand, but
against bare rock. She snapped her teeth shut to stem the tide of
curses that welled up within her.
    “Careful,” Jared said, his voice husky from
the sand and the long walk. “This is stone now, not sand. We’re in
the foot-hills just west of the city.”
    “Thanks for telling me that now,” she
grouched.
    She curled her hurt toe and tried not to show
how much it pained her. Even if she couldn’t see in this darkness,
maybe he could.
    Jared seemed not to hear her. He was feeling
for something on the face of the rock.
    “What are you doing?” Sahara snapped. She
wanted to sit down, but he still had firm hold of her hand.
    “Stone by stone,” he murmured. “Patience, xenali . You must have patience.”
    “Sorry, I ran out of that a long time
ago.”
    She heard stone grind on stone and then cool,
slightly musty air gushed over her from an opening in the wall in
front of them.
    “Patience doesn’t run out,” Jared told her.
“It’s like a river. The only way the course runs dry is if you
choose to—”
    “Look. I’m tired, and I just want to rest.
Let me in already.”
    She thought she heard him sigh, but he
stepped inside the cave and drew her in after him.
    “Stand there,” he said, letting go of her
hand.
    She heard a noise of stone striking flint,
and a moment later light flooded the cave from a torch on the wall
beside the door.
    It wasn’t just bare stone, this little hole
in the foothills. Lush rugs were spread over the floor, in hues of
red and gold that reminded her of the rich wines that had made her
own city famous. Gorgeously carved wooden chests squatted against
the back wall, and huddled along the wall on her left were five or
six tall stone jars. Next to these lay baskets full of some kind of
flat bread and dried fruits. On her right she glimpsed a sort of
low couch, made from large embroidered cushions laid flat on the
floor and upright against the wall and scattered with smaller
pillows of all shapes and sizes.
    Sahara blinked and glanced at Jared, who was
calmly lighting the torch on the other side of the door.
    “My people keep this place as an oasis in the
desert,” he said, without looking at her. “If anyone has the need
to travel this way, they’ll find this place provisioned and
watered. It’s also useful as an outpost.”
    “An outpost for what?”
    “You needn’t trouble yourself about that
tonight.” He pulled the silver cloth from his face and took off his
glasses. “Come and rest. We’ll finish our journey to Albadir in the
morning.”
    He moved another stone, and the door slid
shut, blocking out the darkness and the howling sands.
    Sahara staggered forward, pulling off the
goggles and face cloth. She dropped them beside her as she
collapsed on one of the rugs. It was softer than she had expected
and smelled faintly of some kind of spice.
    “This won’t smell so nice after I’ve slept on
it,” she muttered.
    Jared laughed and she jumped, feeling a
warmth flood her face.
    “Don’t worry about that,” he told her. “These
rugs are woven to keep out sand and odor. It is a great art that
the women of our land have developed over hundreds of years. You
won’t ruin them.”
    “I didn’t know you’d heard me,” she murmured
as she crawled fully onto the rug and pulled a cushion under her
head. “How about these? Can I use these?”
    “Of course, xenali .”
    “Why do you keep calling me that?”
    Jared took off his jacket and tossed across
one of the chests in the back of the cave. The short sleeves of