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No matter how hard I tried to wake, I drifted in sleep, like I was floating in one of the Community’s swimming pools, unable to move though in no danger of drowning. There was a constant, pressing heat. I coughed, lungs rattling from dust and sand, but then everything returned to the same, drifting darkness.
A damp, warm cloth pressed against my head and hands. My neck and back felt extraordinarily stiff, but I opened my eyes. A wet rag covered my vision. I grabbed for it, and then grappled as the cloth fell from my hands.
“Omm! Omm!”
Odd—sounded like a child. I winced at the light. A small room with mud or clay walls surrounded me. Everything had an orangey-yellow tint. There were two other beds, each with a light sheet covering their occupants. Between the walls hung a heavy, red and gold tapestry woven with triangular patterns. I brushed my fingers against the rough wall beside my bed and craned my neck to see the source of the sound.
A little girl, maybe five years old, grinned excitedly, still shouting “Omm.” She had copper skin and dark hair, which had half-fallen from the pale green scarf covering her head. She instantly grabbed the rag from my fingers, dipped it in a bowl on a nearby table, and then pressed it back on my forehead with overwhelming enthusiasm. I didn’t have the strength to resist.
She spoke rapidly to me, but it wasn’t English. Wasn’t Russian, either.
“Uh—hello?” I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
A beastie crouched behind her. My eyes widened. “Watch out!” I nearly fell out of bed as I tried to push the girl aside.
The beastie’s eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth. The girl yipped, quickly speaking and waving her hands between us. I reached for my telepathy charm, thinking I might get some sense of what she wanted, but the charm wasn’t there.
Panic flushed through me. Where was the artifact? My vines... my team?
I gaped at the little girl, my eyes wide. I wished I knew what she was saying, especially since the beast rocked back on her haunches and stared at me. She had bright red hair tied into a braid, much like the mane of a horse. A shirt hugged her neck and waist, and she wore loose pants that were tight at the waist and ankles. Her eyes, feline, had a greenish-gold tint, and her hands and feet had leather strapped to them for what must have been protection against the hot sand.
I took a deep breath. What happened if I had a memory attack here? I didn’t have my flower charm...
A woman stepped inside the room and the beastie looked instantly toward her. “Do you speak English?” Her accent was thick, but I nodded. The woman touched the girl’s shoulder and sent her to another bed before sitting beside me. “I am Amina Ahmad. How do you feel?”
I tried to sit, and then decided lying down was the better option. “Alive.”
“A blessing, mashallah. You slept for six days.”
“What?” I tried to sit up again and failed. How could I have been sleeping for six days? “What about my team?”
“They are alive.” She motioned to the beds around me. “Ibrahim has done his best to heal you. He suspended your lives so you would heal in peace.”
That explained the drifting—and the amount of time I’d slept. Come to think of it, the drifting reminded me of the times Gwen suspended my life after a memory attack.
“But there’s only two beds here. There were four people with me.”
“The men are in a separate room. You are the first to wake. What is your name?”
“I’m Jenna—” My voice faltered. I wasn’t sure I should tell her my real name. I had no idea where we were, or if she was Camaraderie, or if she’d heard of us. But that didn’t really matter now. If she planned to turn me in, she could do so with or without my name. I was tired of dealing with secrets. “Jenna Nickleson,” I said. The beastie in the corner still stared at me. “Uh—why is there a beastie here?”
“The beast is Ayar. She herds the goats.”
I blinked. It was hard to imagine a beast herding goats, but maybe I wasn’t entirely awake.
“She also protects the children,” Amina added.
Ayar tilted her head, her eyes never leaving me. “You’re a beastmaster?” I reached out to sense my vines before remembering they were shriveled husks thanks to the sphinx’s attack.
“No. Jamel is the one who speaks with animals. It is no different with beasts.”
I bit my lip. “Are you Camaraderie?”
Her eyes darkened. “No. We do our best to stay out of Camaraderie business—as I suspect you do, as well.” I flinched. In general, I tried to stay out of the way of their weapons, but I wasn’t exactly trying to stay out of their business. Not when I was trying to stop the beast transformations.
“What makes you think that?” I asked hesitantly.
“A woman with dead vines around her arms,” Amina explained solemnly, “two women with guns, a man with life powers, and a man with two swords—one broken” —Broken? When did Lance break his sword?— “does not seem typical of the Camaraderie. Especially in a car without the rising sun cog. And none of you carried Camaraderie IDs.” She readjusted the scarf covering her hair, much tidier than the little girl’s. The girl ran between the two beds, calling something to her mother, and then scratched Ayar behind the ear. Ayar purred—a throaty, rumbling noise. “We suspected you might be rebels, which is why we didn’t take you to a hospital. There are informants for both sides in the city. You would have been imprisoned as soon as they learned of your presence. But the question remains, which resistance are you with?”
I twisted the edge of my sheet through my fingers. “Is there a wrong answer?”
Amina closed her hands in her lap. “Neither Jamel nor I will have dishonesty in our house. Tell us what you will, but far too often, secrets are eventually discovered.”
My heart thumped loudly in my ears. I knew what she meant. I’d spent the past few months uncovering secrets the Camaraderie didn’t want found. “We’re with the Coalition of Freedom.”
A smile tugged at Amina’s lips and she paused thoughtfully. “Ibrahim said to give you an hour, and then you should be fully recovered from his life suspension.” She left the room, leaving Ayar and the little girl behind.
Ayar crept to the bed and sniffed my hand. “Hi,” I whispered, inching away from the beast. She blinked once, and then spent the next hour in a staring contest with me while the little girl asked me questions in a language I didn’t understand.
Some time later, Amina called to Ayar, ending our staring contest. Then she spoke in what I guessed was some form of Arabic, given our general location, and the little girl, Neda, giddily rushed out the doorway. The beastie followed. I wasn’t sure if I was unnerved because Ayar was a beast or because of how human Ayar almost looked, but it was nice not to be stared at as if I was some sort of threat.
Amina offered me a bowl half-full of broth. “Fish soup.”
My stomach rumbled. I took the bowl and spoon, then tentatively took a sip. Delicious—except that my stomach churned and my throat constricted. If what she said was true, I hadn’t eaten in almost a week.
“Drink it slowly. We were able to give you water, and Ibrahim’s gift staves off many of the symptoms, but your body will be unsatisfied with food for several days.”
“He’s done this before?” I took another sip. Yum... but my stomach disagreed.
Amina nodded. “Yes, when one of us is sick or injured.”
There was a crash and scuffling in the adjoining room, followed by hurried shouting in Arabic. Amina jumped to her feet and thrust aside the tapestry.
“Where is my daughter?” a voice asked, frantic. “Is she all right?”
Dad! I struggled out of bed, my head spinning the moment my feet touched the ground. The other voice, male, spoke hurriedly in a heavy accent as I staggered across the room to see my dad. Dad used his hands to prop himself up on the bed, his eyes intent on a younger man with copper skin. The young man, my age, had short black hair and the beginnings of a beard. Like Dad, he wore a long-sleeved shirt and pants made from lightweight fabric.
“I’m here, Dad.”
Dad’s eyes widened, and then his whole body relaxed. “Thank the Community. Sorry for...” He gestured at the air, fishing for words.
“For trying to remove my spirit?” the young man asked, sheepish. “You looked like you came out of battle when we found you. It’s understandable that you had a hostile reaction.”
Dad drew back, raising an eyebrow before fully sitting on the bed. “Remove your spirit? I was only trying to suspend your life. Knock you out.”
Amina sighed. “Same thing. Ibrahim—” She spoke again in Arabic, and Ibrahim hurried past the woven tapestry dividing the rooms. She turned back to Dad. “What is your name?”
He paused, probably trying to decide if it was safe to tell them. “I’ve already told them who we are,” I said. They hadn’t shown any sign of hostility when I told them my name. I saw no point in urging him to withhold information.
“Ron Nickleson.” He worked himself into a standing position, cringing as he stretched before limping to me and wrapping me in a giant hug. “Are you all right?” he asked, chin on my head. “I was worried about you. It felt so strange—like I was floating.”
“That was Ibrahim’s doing,” Amina explained. “He lifts the spirit from the body so Allah may heal you faster. Lifted as it was, you feel no pain, and rest easier.”
“Allah?” Dad asked.
“God. You may speak with Ibrahim about his technique later. I am sure he would be happy to share. Might work better than...” She gestured her hand as Dad had, and then smiled. “...than whatever it was you were trying to do.” She left us alone and I snuggled against Dad, glad for the familiar face.
“Where are we?” Dad glanced around the warm room. “Who are they?”
“No idea, though the person who talked with us is Amina. They also have a little girl named Neda and a beast named Ayar.”
“A beast?”
I explained what I could until Amina brought fish soup for Dad. While he ate, Amina told us we were thirty kilometers south of the Bahariya Oasis, which was quite a bit further out from Cairo. Her husband, Jamel, was a goat herder, and he’d been near Cairo during the sandstorm. He had waited it out and then investigated the wreckage—us. His secondary power was portals, so he returned us to his son, Ibrahim, to care for.
Once we had a chance to eat and get Lily on her feet, Amina led us outside. The Ahmed family lived within two small, mud-based houses on the edge of a tiny oasis. An old, beat-up truck with a trailer for hauling livestock was parked between the houses. Their eldest daughter, Yesenia, knelt on the other side of a small lake. According to Amina, Yesenia had the ability to draw water from the sand, thus keeping the oasis flowing without the need for expensive irrigation equipment. Several trees, mostly dates and olives, surrounded the edge of the water. Water buffalo waded in the shallow lake and, atop a sand dune, Ibrahim and Jamel herded the goats toward a wood pen. There was also a small garden, where Neda, the little girl, tended to onions and other vegetables. Ayar sat on her haunches behind the child, nudging Neda’s elbow with her head and getting scratched behind the ear. Meanwhile, Amina led us behind the two small houses where Jamel had portaled our flying car after towing it here.
The car was a wreck. The back door was ripped off its hinges, three hubcaps were missing, and the black paint had been scoured away by radiation and sand. The hood was crumpled. Beneath it, the frame was warped. The wires were fused together in a lumpy, metal and rubber mess. Several pieces of equipment—not quite sure which—were leaking.
“We’re going to need a new car.” Lily peered under the hood and coughed, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Toxic, too. What was in those fuel cells?”
Dad peered over the hood and grimaced. “No idea.”
I wrestled my way inside the car. The extra radio was nestled inside the glove compartment, which dangled off a disjointed metal frame. The radio’s metal casing had buckled, and one of the knobs was now permanently welded in place.
I shuddered. How in the Community did we survive that?
I tossed the broken radio to Lily, who whistled. “Unless we’ve got another one of these, I don’t think we’re going to be contacting the airship anytime soon.”
“No kidding.” She flipped it over and tapped the back panel where the screws should’ve been. “We can have Inese look at it, but I’m not sure we’ll even be able to pry this thing apart.”
“You may be able to pick up a new radio at Bahariya,” Amina said. “I am sure Jamel would lend you the money for it.”
Lily shook her head. “Won’t do any good if the encoder thingymabobber is damaged. From the looks of it, this thing’s done for.”
Dad took the radio from Lily. “Let’s see what Inese says when she wakes. If Liana were here, she’d have this fixed before sundown.”
I leaned my elbows on my knees and sighed. Our disappearance wasn’t going to settle well with Mom. Quin was right; we’d found a fight. I reached for my necklace, then grimaced when I remembered I still didn’t have it back yet. Amina had no intention of letting me have the artifact back until we left. Apparently she had gotten a taste of how it worked when putting it aside, and rumors of enchanted artifacts were considerably more common here than in the Community. As much as I wanted it back, I didn’t blame her for keeping our weapons away from us. We were strangers and, in the territories, being a stranger came with measured wariness. Though, if I could use the artifact to contact someone and get us out of here...
I shook my head. Who was I supposed to contact in the middle of the desert?
There was a shout in the distance and Amina raised her hand toward the dune. Behind it, the sun lit the sky with deep, orange fire. “Come.” She led us back inside, taking Neda with her. Jamel and Ibrahim were already there, thanks to Jamel’s portals. Yesenia followed. “Excuse us,” Amina said kindly. “We must pray. You may join us if you wish, or you may go about your business.”
To my surprise, Jamel sang. Ayar sat against the wall behind us, attentive to Jamel, her head tilted with interest. I listened for a moment and then turned to Lily. “What are they doing?”
She raised a finger to her lips. I frowned, listening to the slow song and speech. Dad rubbed the back of his neck, and I stood still as I could, not sure what to do. I’d never seen... or heard... anything quite like it, though the sound itself was beautiful. Once they finished, Lily leaned over. “They were praying,” she explained. “It’s a religious thing.”
“Like the fourthwallers?”
Her cheeks flushed bright red. “Not exactly. Um... ask Quin if you really want to know more.” She motioned me to follow the others to the room where Inese slept, and Jamel introduced himself.
“I trust you are feeling better?” Jamel asked Dad.
Dad nodded. “Considerably, thank you. What were you doing? I’ve never seen anyone—pray—before.”
Jamel smiled, revealing numerous small scars across his face. “Do you have a faith?”
“A faith?”
Jamel started to speak, but Lily interrupted him. “They came from the Community. You’ll be lucky if they even know what a god is.”
“What about you?” Jamel asked, smiling.
Lily scratched her ear and ducked her head sheepishly, hiding her embarrassment. “Well—uh, not exactly. I mean—My grandma was Catholic and my grandfather was Buddhist, but neither of my parents really got into the whole spiritual thing.”
“Perhaps your stay shall be informative.” Jamel turned back to me and Dad. “If you’ll excuse me, I will check on your teammates. We can talk afterwards.”
I turned to Lily after he left. “So what is a god?”
She rubbed her neck, staring at the ceiling as if searching for the best way to explain. “A god is a deity—often a creator. Some religions have just one, like Islam and Christianity, while others are polytheistic.”
“Polytheistic?”
“Multiple gods.”
“Seems a bit odd to make such a big deal about someone who creates things,” I pointed out. “Builders create things. Artists create things. Cooks create things...”
Lily grimaced. “It’s more than just creation. Gods are usually in charge of everything. They usually determine what’s right and wrong, for better or worse.”
“A leader?” Dad suggested.
“Sort of. But not every leader is a god. And they’re usually worshipped.”
“Worship?” I asked. “What’s worship?” I paused for a moment, thinking. “I think the shopkeeper at that game shop said fourthwallers worship a pair of gamemasters. Is that the same idea?”
Lily threw her hands up in defeat. “You know what—ask Quin. Or Jim—Jim’s pre-Community. He might be able to explain it better.”
I frowned. He had mentioned something about faith the last time we talked. And Jack had mentioned something about deities when we were in Guatemala and Tim was translating the ruins where we found the time stone.
According to Lily, deities were creators and leaders, and something more. Perhaps that information would help us in our search. If Spectator was a fourthwaller, as we suspected, maybe Jack’s mission would give us some clue as to what the spirit was trying to prevent, and why he kept showing up when the time stones were involved. The sphinx and Spectator had definitely dealt with each other before, and the guardian had been willing to play a game of riddles to determine our fates. It had also mentioned something about a Catonian in relation to humans.
Obviously they were connected, I just wasn’t sure how.
