Chapter Thirty Three - Tracks in the Sand

Sand and dust; this was Sapphire’s world. An empty world of his own, which he now traversed with calm, murderous intent. Death had been demanded, death he would deliver.

At Sapphire’s flanks two rows of silent men; long hair, packed with heavy bags and drinking canteens, armed with bows, short throwing spears or long knives. They did not complain and did not seem to have any issues with the searing heat of the sun. Whilst their clothes and bodies deteriorated they kept their eyes on the horizon.

Their silence dragged on Sapphire’s nerves. Footsteps in the desert made his tongue eager to talk and his ears thirsty for words. But these were no fellow traders, no long-wayed travelers. These were Semiramis’ serviles; Imprinted men sent out to extinguish lives.

Medif occasionally made his unease known by muffled growls. The camel’s large eyes distrustfully moved from one servile to the next. Intelligent as the old camel was, he had figured something was wrong with the silent men.

‘Calm my friend.’ Sapphire said soothingly. ‘They won't hurt you. Them and us are hunting entirely different prey.’

Medif continued through the soft sand, but Sapphire started to wonder if the serviles would turn on his camel once their food would run out. He imagined it would not be difficult for them to draw their knives and silently cut up the camel.

‘Medif the camel is not to be harmed.’ Sapphire proclaimed gravely, patting his camel’s wooly side. ‘-There, now they know. They follow commands very well. Better than you I must add.’

The serviles had quickly picked up the scent of prey, a certain shine in their eyes as they grunted for the merchant to come and see. They circled around vague and shifted rocks, almost imperceptible for untrained eyes. Seeing the empty flat rockland around him, Sapphire reckoned it were the old fire worshippers. The tracks led east, into the open desert where the prints were swallowed by the shifting sands.

Sapphire knew those seemingly empty and endless seas of heat and grit, and knew there were few places to go if one wanted to cross. Rich or poor, prey or predator, we all drink from the same well, he thought with a smile.

***

It was midday; white-hot disk of the sun nearing its height. The sand was light coloured and reflecte the unabating sun. The dominator, ruler eternal of these wastes, shining its rays on scant prey it sought to wrung out and force to their knees. The heat was reaching a level that even strained the veteran merchant. He took a waterskin from his saddle and squeezed out a small trickle.

Then he reached into his pockets and took out a pair of spectacles; red-tinted glass held together by brass wiring. He had found it in one of the robes Semiramis had gifted him - stolen from dead caravaneers. The vulture.

He placed the spectacles over his eyes and the land around him was coloured red. A deep red that turned dark at the edges, calming his silver eyes.

***

The serviles continued their slog through the sand, equipment rattling on their backs, dry mouths closed. For three days they had traveled, and Sapphire hadn't been able to extract anything more from them than simple yes and no’s. It seemed all they wanted was to bring the heads of the old monks back to their mistress.

So instead of conversing, Sapphire watched the slowly changing surroundings. Exchanging flat stony fields for increasingly unruly waves of sand. His mouth was desiring drink but he held off the urge. Water needed to be conserved, and it would be a while until he could refill his canteens.

Sapphire knew many hidden watering places in this region, if not all, and in his mind he saw a map leading across the desert. In his turbanned head danced probabilities and calculations, and tiny figures crossing the dunes of sand.

Those old fugitives must know something of the land, otherwise they would already be dry-vulture picked-bones in their bleached monk-robes slowly being swallowed by the sands - and these dogs would have found them.

A hunt - a hunt, it resounded in his mind, the merchant picking up on the instinctive predation of his serviles. This was his domain, the great desert where he knew the hidden roads north, south, west and east. These were the sands where he had made his home on the camel’s back, a living map, a ferryman for the less-knowledgeable. He glanced at the serviles. Hardy as they were, he doubted they had any idea where they were. They wouldn't be able to read the stars, had no knowledge of the hidden water-stashes and forgotten wells that were buried in the grit.

***

Across the flat desert, initially no more than a hazy simmering, a lone rock formation appeared, like an islet rising from a yellow sea. It had two large outcroppings that pricked up into the scorching blue sky.

‘You see that on the horizon?’ Sapphire asked his companions.

‘Yes.’ the answer came simultaneously from thirty two ragged throats.

Despite the heat, their singularly minded voices made the fine hairs on Sapphire’s arms rise.

‘You are looking at the pillars of Salt, also called the waystone to Iram.’ The merchant explained. ‘Its a well-known point for men of my profession, and the first step on the staircase of our journey. The rock sides are made of salt, a necessary resource in these parts, but more importantly the pillars will provide some shade for the coming hours. We will halt there until sunset and we will continue through the night.’

He was replied with silence, no sound in the open desert save the shuffling footsteps of the serviles and the slow tred of his camel. Sapphire shook his head.

‘Guess its just you and me, Medif.’ He sighed, his tongue demanding conversation. ‘Say, old friend, are you pursuing any ladies? Maybe we’ll meet a nice camel-wife for you? None of those quick escapades anymore, you lover of women. None of those long-necked harlots, a proper wife I tell you.’

Medif’s elongated ears flapped, noticing he was being addressed by his master.

‘Youre not convinced h-m-m-m?’ Sapphire continued. ‘-You bandit of the sands, you are getting older also. No-no, do not deny it. You must think of your future, my four-footed friend. A good wife is what you need…’

Medif produced a balking sound from its throat, a growl-like noise.

Sapphire nodded. ‘You are right Medif. I also need a good wife...’ His mind wandered, soaring high over the burning void around him. ‘Semiramis.’ His dreamy voice sighed.

The creaking of leather and cloth as the serviles turned their heads at the merchant. Their glassy eyes were expectant and their indented blades hovered over the sand.

‘Continue moving.’ Sapphire ordered, fine thoughts turned bitter by their presence. His companions smelled of penetrant sweat and unwashed bodies. Their Long hair clumped together in thick locks over their backs. He wished he was back between the cushions.

They reached the shade of the rockside and halted under the gaze of the pillars. It was a wind-smoothed wall of grey granite, with two stony towers reaching to the heavens. The lone pillars were surrounded by a nothingness that stretched out as far as they eye could see.

Sapphire dismounted, sliding of Medifs saddle and landing dexterously on the sand. He placed his hand against the salt-rock.

‘Listen all. My advice is to lick the stone. You will regain lost salt.’ Medif joined him, momentarily brushing his droopy lips over the salt. ‘But not too much.’ Sapphire continued. ‘You'll need to balance with your water. From here there are two ways, and both lead east. With some luck the condemned succumb to the heat and dehydration, but for some reason I dont think it will be that easy. They seem to know the same paths as I do. Not a problem of course, because I still know where they are going. Now rest, servants of the Great one. We continue the hunt at night. Expect to see your prey soon.’

They rested and consumed meagre rationed meals. The serviles sat down in a long row with their backs against the salt-rock. They said nothing and stared out into the bright unshaded desert that started again a few paces away.

Sapphire took position before them, both hands on his hips. He inspected his ragged followers and shook his head. It was like leading a pack of corpses, and he didn’t like it one bit.

‘You bastards are so silent I dont even know who is tired and who is not. Are you able to continue?’

‘Yes.’ They all said in unison, but the merchant remained unconvinced. ‘Are your throats not thirsty? Are your feet not hurting?’

There was no answer.

‘Too difficult for you?’ Sapphire asked. ‘Am I a puppeteer then? Should I do the voices for you as well as deciding where you walk and sit?’ He didn't bother waiting for a reply. ‘All rise!’

Immediately the entire troop of black haired warriors went up, battered hands clutching spears and daggers. Sapphire chuckled. ‘I’ll keep it simple then.’ He pointed his ringed fingers at the line of warriors swarthy warriors. ‘Gentlemen, look back to where we came from.’ The servile heads turned back to the sands, empty eyes going back and forth over the horizon; scanning for prey.

‘I dropped my empty canteen. If you look closely you can still see it lying on the sand. That little black dot in the distance. The one that brings it back gains a double ration of water. Retrieve it.’

The bound warriors darted off, their ragged feet kicking up dust as they ran out of the shadow. They didn't slow for a moment. Once one managed to claw the empty waterskin from the ground the others followed him back to Sapphire.

Dry fingers bound in old stained linen handed over the canteen to the merchant’s empty hand. ‘Better than a dog.’ He tossed the empty canteen to the ground and exchanged it for a full one. ‘Open your mouth.’ The servile complied, tongue swollen and blackened teeth showing. Sapphire gave him a few sips of water. ‘Its good to know who is the fastest.’ He turned to the others. ‘Your friend here is the fastest of you all! He will be known as ‘Runner.’ Alright, at ease men, continue the rest. Stay in the shadows.’

The serviles returned to the salt-wall and sat down.

‘Close your eyes.’ Sapphire ordered, their empty stares making him uncomfortable, and they complied. ‘You have my permission to sleep.’ He added, before sitting down himself. The merchant stretched out his tired legs and leaned back. Soon he himself dozed off in the heat. There wasn't a single sigh of wind, and everything seemed too heavy. The sand, the stones, everything stuck in a thick molasses of warmth.

Sapphire awoke again when the sun had reduced to a low hanging red orb. Long shadows already seeped out of the coming night over the desert. The intense head had dissipated, gradually making way to freezing cold.

‘Time to go.’ He said, suppressing a yawn.

As the serviles rose again, one of them did not rise with the others. A single hunter remained motionless on the ground, chapped lips slightly opened. Dried eyes stared at the darkening sky.

‘Should’ve told me you was thirsty.’ The merchant muttered. Death; This he was acquainted with. Seen it time and time again. No matter what propelled a man, this world had limitations; and especially in these arid places it was not afraid to demand respect from those who dared into the waterless barrens.

The remaining serviles gathered around their fallen kinman, as if silently mourning. Then Sapphire heard a bark of one of the larger ones, and the corpse was stripped of possessions. Once they had gathered the sparse water, the weaponry and other trinkets they continued to the flesh. His eyes were pulled out by grimy fingers and pushed into eager mouths. The tongue and ears were taken. They cut slabs of meat from the body until its legs and arms showed to the bone. They threw themselves on the corpse like ravenous beasts until it was picked carrion.

From behind, Sapphire heard Medif bellow, the old camel roaring and retreating away from the rapid feast. The merchant grabbed hold of the camel’s strong neck, giving hushed commands to his four legged companion. Sapphire’s gentle voice calmed the camel slightly, the beast snorting uneasily but remaining with his master.

Sapphire turned back to his pack, yelling hoarsely to end the butchering.

Thirty one ashen faced men lined up and fixed their intense gaze at the merchant. Their mouths and hands were red, pieces of raw flesh still stuck in their greasy beards.

Sapphire’s mouth was pressed close. He had murdered, poisoned, stolen, trafficked, smuggled, threatened, and even raped across the world. But eating one’s kin? He spat; his disgust more important than his instinctive need to save water.

‘Listen - Well...’ He managed to hiss at the cannibals. He took off his glasses, carefully pocketing them in his long robe and stepped close so he could smell their stink.

‘Are you listening?!’ He yelled in their stoic faces, silver eyes wide with anger. The serviles had frightened him, and he didn't like to be frightened. His shrill voice sounded far over the empty sands of dusk.

‘Yes.’ The many voices replied.

‘Good!’ Sapphire exclaimed. ‘Because you will never do such a thing again!’

He spotted one of the warriors still chewing. ‘Spit that out!’ He cast his gaze away, hand sliding over the stubble on his chin. The stars were appearing one by one in a dark blue sky. Calm now, Sarpa.

The merchant scraped his throat and adjusted his turban. With his chin raised he addressed his pack.

‘Semiramis herself has given me authority over you sorry lot. On your knees, everyone.’

They soundlessly kneeled on the ground and his enraged mood was slightly elevated.

‘There’ll be some rules.’ He said, deciding on a slow pace across the line of kneeling warriors.

‘First rule. No cannibalism; I’ve seen plenty of that already and I dont do trade in those parts anymore, despite the lucrative opportunities on those splendid coasts. The presence of man-eaters, even if their hunger is not targeted at me, makes me feel like prey as well. So you will not eat the flesh of man, not of your kin, and not of your enemies. Not unless I tell you to, and as of now there is no need for such desperate measures. We have plenty of rations to complete our journey…’ He pouted his lips, thinking off what more to instruct these serviles now he had their attention.

‘Second rule. When you are low in strength, high in thirst, you feel a leg malfunctioning, your movements slowing… you are obliged to inform me. If you have no idea what I’m talking about you will not survive, and I will continue with the smarter ones. The grand mistress has plenty more of your kind, I will not mourn your loss.’ He nodded contently, some guidelines would improve the performance of these... things.

‘Third rule. If I speak to you I will always be answered. You will reply - yes master -, and if you want to tell me something, always address me with master.’

‘Yes master.’ They grunted and wheezed.

‘Very well. Very well.’ Sapphire calmed. ‘Who was it that barked just before you ate your friend? I heard a bark, or a growl, or whatever you things do to communicate.’

One servile stepped forward, face crossed by scars. The whites of his dark eyes were yellowed.

The upper lip of the man had been cut open once and had healed in a disfigured snarl, leaving a gap that showed sharp glistening teeth.

Sapphire inspected the man, felt his strong arms, inspected the rest of his teeth; which were in semi-good condition. He checked the calloused hands and the weaponry the barker carried.

‘A fighter eh?’ Sapphire asked, peering up. The servile was at least a head taller than him, with thick cluttered locks of long hair. Grey strands showed through the black.

‘You gave a signal of sorts, thus it seems you are the instinctive alpha of the pack. The strongest so to say, or perhaps the one with the most brain left. Do you have a name?’

The dusty desert warrior frowned. ‘Name…’

‘You dont remember anything? Nothing of your past life? I suppose Semiramis wiped everything.’

‘Yes master.’

Sapphire smiled. ‘I call you…’ The merchant mulled. ‘A man’s name or a dog’s name? What’ll it be?’

‘Yes Master.’ The grey-maned servile replied.

Sapphire sighed. ‘I'm going to call you Bucket, and you’re an empty one. Now tell me your name.‘

‘I am Bucket, master.’ The servile replied and something stirred in his yellow eyes.

‘Allright, everyone weapons ready, baggage on your backs. We continue our hunt. Follow your master!’ Sapphire pulled himself back in Medif’s comfortable saddle and returned to the sand.

Starlight guided the party across the dunes, bright constellations showing the direction and positioning of the earth. Travel by night, rest during the day; sleeping in the throughs of dunes so high they reached to the heavens and mercifully blocked the light. They hunkered together behind small boulders and fragmented rocks, or when nothing was in sight, continued in the burning sun. One well was reached, but it was shown to be only filled with sand, and Sapphire made a mental note of the location. His skin, despite their protective robes and wrappings, had started to deteriorate, and white scabs of dead skin had started to peel from his bronzed arms and face.

Six more serviles he lost, five due to dehydration, one drowned in the sand of a collapsing dune.

Twenty five continued in his footsteps. They didn’t complain, but the merchant had started to feel pity for them. They were struggling, breathing heavily, their water rations low. More would fall quickly now, Sapphire predicted. Like flies, one by one, a trail of waterless wrinkled corpses.

That night the merchant halted the travels. With a cold wind snapping around the dusty party Sapphire sat huddled in the embrace of his camel, Medif half curving around his master to provide shelter. Covered in thick blankets Sapphire watched the stars. They had mis-aligned today, a few degrees too far to the east for his liking. He thought of his ragged followers. They were his protection, and the tools for the completion of his sacred task. They were the ones that would commit the murder of the monks. He needed to save at least a few of them.

He studied the stars again, taking out a few measuring tools. Degrees and angles, and calculations that he only slowly processed and completed. There was a stash, a small stash, of water, buried a day's journey further east. It would deviate from the usual paths in the desert, but he decided the refreshment of his men required priority.

‘Up!’ He yelled hoarsely. He took a small sip of water to filter the dust from his throat. ‘We continue!’

Medif bowed forward in the sand, and Sapphire clambered onto the saddle. With a surge the camel rose and the merchant was carried further. A line of moon-lit serviles followed silently behind.