The Desert Spear

rolling thundersticks every night for a year.”
    “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Vika asked.
    “Because no one else need know,” Leesha said. “I won’t have the Cutters or the town council determining how this should be used. It’s Gatherers’ business, and you’ll dole it out sparingly while I’m gone, and only when it will preserve lives. And I’ll have your words that you’ll keep the same silence or I’ll dose your tea so you don’t remember being here at all.”
    The two women looked at her as if trying to determine whether she was serious, but Leesha was, and knew they could see it in her eyes.
    “I swear,” Vika said. Darsy hesitated a moment longer, but finally nodded.
    “Swear by the sun,” she said. “But even this won’t last, you don’t come back.”
    Leesha nodded, turning to a table piled high with books. “These are the secrets of fire.”

    Jardir smiled broadly as Leesha and her escort arrived. It was a smaller group than he had anticipated for such a powerful woman: just her parents, Rojer, giant Gared, and the female
Sharum,
Wonda.
    “That one will set the
dama
in a frenzy,” Abban said, indicating Wonda. “They will demand she give up her weapons and cover herself. You should ask that she stay behind.”
    Jardir shook his head. “I promised Leesha that she could choose her chaperone, and I will not go back on my word. Our people must begin to accept the ways of the Hollow tribe. Perhaps showing them a woman who fights
alagai’sharak
is a good way to begin.”
    “If she acquits herself well before them,” Abban said.
    “I’ve seen the woman fight,” Jardir said. “With proper training, she could become as formidable as any
Sharum.
”
    “Tread carefully, Ahmann,” Abban said. “Force change on our people too quickly, and many of them will reject it.”
    Jardir nodded, knowing well the truth of Abban’s words.
    “I want you to keep close to Leesha on the trip back to Everam’s Bounty,” he said. “Use the pretext of teaching her our language, as she has requested. It would be unseemly for me to attend her too closely, but her greenland chaperones should accept you.”
    “Better than the
dal’Sharum,
I’m sure,” Abban muttered.
    Jardir nodded. “I want to know everything about her. The food she likes to eat, the scents that give her pleasure, everything.”
    “Of course,” Abban said. “I will see to it.”

    While the
dal’Sharum
broke camp, Abban limped over to the covered wagon Leesha and her parents rode in. The woman drove the horses herself, Abban noted in surprise. No servants to attend her, nor keep her hands from work. His respect for her grew.
    “May I ride with you, mistress?” he asked, bowing. “My master has asked that I instruct you in our language, as you requested.”
    Leesha smiled. “Of course, Abban. Rojer can take a horse.” Rojer, seated next to her in the driver’s seat of the cart, groaned and made a face.
    Abban bowed deeply, holding tight to his crutch. As the
dama’ting
had feared, his leg had never truly healed, and even now it could buckle at inopportune times.
    “If you prefer, son of Jessum, you may ride my camel,” he said, gesturing to where the beast was tethered. Rojer looked at the animal dubiously until he saw the canopied and pillowed seat, spacious and richly appointed. A glitter came to his eyes.
    “She is a gentle beast who will follow the other animals without direction,” Abban noted.
    “Well, if it will be a favor to you…” Rojer said.
    “Of course,” Abban agreed. Rojer grabbed his fiddle and somersaulted off the cart, running over to the camel. Abban had lied, of course, the beast was ill tempered at best, but no sooner had it spit at him than Rojer lifted his instrument, calming it as easily as he might an
alagai.
Leesha might have greater value to Ahmann, but Rojer, too, was an asset to cultivate.
    “May I ask you a question, Abban?” Leesha asked, breaking him from his reverie.
    Abban nodded. “Of course, mistress.”
    “Have you used that crutch since birth?” she asked.
    Abban was more than a little surprised at her boldness. Among his people, his infirmity was either mocked or ignored. No one cared enough about a
khaffit
to ask such things.
    “I wasn’t born this way, no,” Abban said. “I was injured during
Hannu Pash.
”
    “Hannu Pash?”
Leesha asked.
    Abban smiled. “As good a place as any to begin your lessons,” he said, climbing into the cart and taking a