Sandstorm (41 page)

"Thank you."

"How did you so clearly predict what he would do? I have faced men more times than I can count, and watched twice as many fights, and I cannot predict what they will do with even a portion of your skill. You acted as though you knew the fight in advance, which is not possible."

Rook shrugged. "You are trained to fight. I am trained to predict how you will fight. The smallest movement can give away a strategy."

"These men fight with no strategy in mind," Noor said, moving closer, putting them at a friendly distance. "How do you know what they will do, when even they do not?"

He could feel Noor's curiosity, the distrust of the other men. The lack of trust was familiar; soldiers disliked being so easily read. Still, it was his one skill, and he was proud of it. "One cannot predict battles if he cannot first predict men." He motioned to the fighters. "To predict men, you must be able to predict every element of them...I think you would say 'predict mind, body, soul'. The hardest things to predict are what a man will do in the heat of anger or the heat of passion. If these can be predicted, the rest is simple."

Noor's eyes lit with respect, a faint smile curving his far too tempting mouth. "Impressive. Yet you claim you cannot fight, even knowing all you do about combat?"

"I am a strategist, not a combatant," Rook replied. "Every waking moment of my time has been devoted to anticipating and devising, to planning and plotting. There was no time left for anything else."

"I see," Noor said.

Rook could see some of that respect die. It shouldn't hurt. He did not know Noor well enough for his opinion to matter, and it was simply a fact of life in the Desert that those men who could not fight were looked down upon.

He ignored the hurt as best he could. Likely he was just lonely, and that was acerbating everything. He was good at what he did, that was what mattered. All the same, he had lost all interest in the conversation. He sketched the small group of men a bow. "If you will pardon me, her Highness requested my presence and I have delayed here long enough."

"Oh?" Noor asked. "How strange. I was on my way to see her as well. We can go together, then." Bidding farewell to the men, he fell into step alongside Rook as they left the practice yard.

They walked in silence. Rook wished miserably he could devise a strategy for attracting Noor's interest. But this unexpected encounter had already gone poorly, and he had started with a severe handicap. He bit his lip in thought, but as always his so-called brilliant mind failed him when it came to his own dilemmas.

"So how does one learn to anticipate a man lost in the heat of passion?" Noor asked suddenly, something that sounded suspiciously like amusement threading his voice.

Rook frowned in confusion. "By observation, of co-oh. No." He shook his head, embarrassed.

"I did not mean it that way, only when a man is intent upon something about which he cares deeply."

Noor chuckled softly, but said nothing more as they approached the suite of rooms which belonged to the Princess of the Great Desert.

"There you are," Cordelia said. She did not get up as they entered, merely motioned for them to join her in the sitting area, a thick, plush rug with various piles of pillows and cushions, low tables holding wine at each pile. "Rook, I was beginning to think you had been coerced into another game of taaki. General Noor, good evening to you."

"Princess," Noor said, bowing low before taking his place on the floor.

Rook rolled his eyes and took his own, immediately reaching for the dark gold wine set out.

"What did you need, Lia?"

Cordelia laughed gently as Noor looked torn between offense that Rook would speak to her so casually, and amusement at the quirks of heathens. "You mentioned that you needed to go into Tavamara for your project."

"Yes," Rook said slowly. "I need to visit the different shops, determine which would be most fit for establishing long-term business. I should not be gone more than two or three weeks."

"Perfect," Cordelia said with a smile. "Sahayl and I were talking it over. General Noor has been assigned the task of checking up on the banished individuals who assaulted Shihab.

He has never been outside the Sands, however, and expressed interest in having a guide go with him. You would be ideal, Rook - you know Tavamara, the Desert, and everything in between."

Rook blinked.

Three weeks in Tavamara with Noor? He would not be so busy he would lack free time, and Noor's duties would not take long to execute...perhaps he might devise a strategy for a dalliance after all. He ruthlessly cut off the part of his mind that wanted more than a dalliance.

There was no chance of anything more, not the way he was.

Three weeks. Surely even he could do something with that. Was he a brilliant strategist or not?

"I would be more than happy to assist," Rook said, looking first at Cordelia, then at Noor.

Unfortunately, Noor's expression gave none of his thoughts away, and he held perfectly still so that Rook could not even judge his movements with much accuracy. Such absolute stillness...most often it was a negative reaction. Occasionally it was merely one of confusion.

Very infrequently it could be containing more positive emotions, but in such cases people tended to relax a bit.

Perhaps the next three weeks would not be as pleasant as he was hoping.

"General Noor?" Cordelia asked. "Does this suit you?"

"Of course, Highness," Noor said respectfully, bowing low, head not quite touching the floor.

"I am honored you would trouble yourself in this matter. Lord Rook, I thank you for being willing to assist me. I hope I do not impede your own affairs."

Rook shook his head. "Not at all. My mission is a trifle, I assure you."

Cordelia clapped her hands briskly. "Wonderful. Then I shall cease to trouble you this night.

When will you depart?"

"I am ready to leave as soon as Lord Rook is," Noor replied. "His Highness has bid me leave whenever I so choose."

Rook shrugged. "I can pack tonight, and unless there are duties preventing General Noor from leaving on the morrow, I see no reason we cannot leave then."

"Tomorrow is fine," Noor replied.

"Then I shall leave you both to your rest, and wish you best of fortune in your travels."

Making their formal farewells, the two men left.

"I apologize if I am putting you out," Noor said outside, cinnamon eyes meeting Rook's.

"When I mentioned that I would prefer to travel with someone familiar with Tavamara, I did not expect them to trouble you."

Rook waved the words away. "It's a pleasure, I assure you. It will be nice to have something worthwhile to do, and Tavamara is a fine country. That my former homeland prefers war to peace, I will never understand. I will see you in the morning, General."

Nodding, Noor murmured a good night and turned to stride down a different hallway than the one they'd taken here.

Sighing, Rook made his way slowly back to his room. He could not say for certain whether things were going well or not. Noor was proving difficult to read.

But it had taken him only three months to sink Solna's greatest warship. Surely he could garner Noor's brief attentions in the span of three weeks.

*~*~*

"You look as though you would very much like to be back home," Rook said with a faint smile.

"Yes," Noor replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable. They had arrived early in the morning, met with King Shahjahan, and only recently finished a tour of the palace. Tomorrow Noor would meet with the exiles...until then, King Shahjahan had said they were welcome to attend the banquets as they desired, had free access to all the palace, and should do as they pleased. "Too loud, too busy...simply too much. Even at its busiest, the Desert is never like this." He shook his head and fell silent.

It was odd, to see such a stoic man so discomfited - but Shihab had said Sahayl and Bahadur were equally disconcerted upon arrival. Not surprising, really. Noor had said it - the Desert was never like Tavamara.

Rook finished his wine and smiled again. "Would you like to explore the city? It is chaos down there, with the market open, but fascinating. Perhaps being in the thick of it will adjust you to it, faster." He laughed. "I promise it is no worse than a battlefield."

"Of that I would not be so certain," Noor muttered, but nodded. "As you say, then." The briefest of smiles flickered across his face. "My royal guide."

Rolling his eyes at the jest, Rook stood and shrugged into his outer robe, smoothing down the dark green fabric before wrapping a deep brown sash around his waist to cinch the robe in place.

His hair was a lost cause in this climate; normally his hair was not particularly curly, but in this thick heat it went positively everywhere and seemed to sprout new curls every hour. It made him look ridiculous, but there was nothing for it save shaving it off and he could not quite bring himself to do that.

"Come, then. Easier to walk than ride, trust me."

Noor walked alongside him, showing all the confidence he possessed as General...but Rook could see he struggled to maintain it as they reached the chaos of the great market.

"If you will pardon the familiarity," he said, looping his arm through Noor's. "It will keep us from getting separated."

"As you like," Noor replied. "By the Lady, what is this mess? A camp in such disarray would be disciplined severely."

Rook laughed. "Tavamara is the second most powerful country in the world, and nearly all its power comes from its hold over trade. Here, in this market, is the heart of that trade. If you cannot find what you seek here, then it doesn't exist."

Noor did not look impressed or particularly convinced. "I would be impressed to find anything of the children of the Lady here."

"You might be surprised," Rook said, and guided them through the throng, shoving through, pushing away, laughing in sheer delight and amusement. "Watch your step there," he snapped as someone stumbled backward into him, giving the man a rough shove.

He checked for his coin, relieved it was still there. A pickpocket would have difficulty getting to it, but one could never be certain. "Here we are," he said at last.

"By the Lady..." Noor said, shaking his head. "Madness, and familiar sights right in the middle of it." Arrayed across three stalls were the curving swords favored by the Sands, various carvings and trinkets that could have only been made by various Tribes. "I wonder where the wine might be found..."

Laughing again, Rook dragged him onward. They broke away from the worst of the crowd several minutes later. "Many of the cafes are this way. A street over that way begin the specialty shops. I'll be going there tomorrow, while you are attending to the exiles."

"Ah," Noor said. "I hope all goes well for you."

Rook smiled faintly. Anyone else would have voiced their curiosity, but curiosity was one thing which was fervently tamped down in the Desert. "My favorite café is this way, it-"

"Rook! By the Great Dragon, is that you? Rook!"

Mercy of the Goddess...Rook whipped around, arm falling from where he realized he still held Noor's. His eyes widened as he realized his ears had not deceived him. "Callen?"

"Rook, it is you! The Great Dragon does occasionally favor me."The man who finally reached him was lean and lanky, handsome in a rough way, with nut-brown hair and eyes, skin tanned and roughened by a seaman's life, but his clothes as fine and stylish as ever.

He promptly greeted Rook as only a native Rittu could, grasping his shoulders and kissing each cheek - then kissed him soundly on the mouth, with all the audacity that had made Callen so notorious.

Rook let him, holding lightly to Callen's waist as he returned the kiss, not realizing until that moment how very much he'd missed being kissed - missed having someone who wanted to kiss him.

"Bold as ever, I see," he said as Callen finally let him go.

Callen's attention, however, was on the man now standing just behind Rook. "Oh, I'm sorry. I completely missed you were with someone. Do tell him I'm sorry. My, my. Never tell me - is that one of the savages I've been hearing so much about lately? If you need help taming him, let me know."

"You're an idiot," Rook said fondly. He turned to Noor. "This is an old friend of mine; we've sailed on many a ship together. He helped me learn how to sail."

Noor nodded, brow furrowed slightly. "He is...I do not believe I have heard his language before, but admittedly I have heard very few heathen languages."

Rook smiled. "Not many know his native language, even in a trade city like this. He's from the far west, a country called Rittu. I apologize for speaking in a language you cannot understand."

"It's no matter," Noor said. "Shall I leave you to your reunion?"

"No," Rook said firmly. "It will only be a moment. Callen is very much like the wind. I swear sometimes he truly is the wind, or born of it."

He turned back to Callen. "What are you doing in Tavamara?"

"In port for a week. Are you certain I didn't upset him? He looks displeased with me. I didn't mean to. I miss a friendly face, and yours was ever a pleasant one. At that, I hope I did not upset you."

"You know you did not upset me. It was nice to be kissed. He is only a friend." Though Rook knew he kept his displeasure over that fact from his voice and face, Callen picked up on it anyway. He frowned, seeing the look in his old friend's face. "Don't you dare. What are you doing now?"

Callen grinned. "Shopping. I have a new friend in need of thawing."

"Seduction, I might have known. You're an idiot."

"Always will be,"Callen replied cheerfully. He rifled through the bag he held, and came out with a thin square box. "I've been buying things, and actually bought this because it made me think of you and snicker. How strange that I would run into you."

Rook groaned. "Callen! I don't know what that is, but put it away."

Ignoring him, Callen suddenly thrust the box at Noor, who caught it awkwardly, frowning deeply. Then he kissed Rook again, hard and brief, before bolting away. "See you around, chess piece! Make sure he puts that to its proper use, eh?"