The Outworlder (4 page)

The sun was well overhead when he caught
sight of the high towers and walls of the city of Albadir
glimmering in the distance.

“What are those green things?” Sahara croaked
from behind him.

“Trees,” Jared answered.

He smiled back at her, but her face hardened
and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Oh,” she mumbled.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

Jared measured her for a moment but didn’t
press her. As he turned back toward the city, the smile returned to
his face.

Just a couple of hours more
, he
thought.
Then she’ll have all the help she needs. I don’t know
what happened to her, but whatever it was…
He shut off his
thoughts. Going down that road wouldn’t help her right now, and
there would be time enough for answers.

He kept the pace as swift as he thought she
could bear, and he had to keep checking himself to be sure he
wasn’t moving too quickly. After an hour’s march, he turned to
check on her.

She was lying in the sand about a hundred
paces away.

Jared sprinted back to her side, heart
hammering in the sudden rush of fear that he’d misjudged her
condition. He crouched down in the sand beside her and laid a hand
on her back. Sweat soaked her shirt and matted her hair against her
face.

She was alive.

Relief shuddered through him, and he patted
her back gently. She stiffened under his hand.

“Not far now,” he coaxed, as if talking to a
frightened child. “It’s not far. We’ll be there within the
hour.”

“Why don’t you just leave me here to
die?”

The question cut through Jared like a
knife-stroke. It was the first genuine thing she had said to him
since he’d found her. For that single moment, the veil of her
defensive, aggressive attitude fluttered aside, like a sheer silken
curtain stirred by a gentle breeze. In that one instant, he felt
that he saw her—really saw her—for the first time.

“I can’t do that.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why?”

“Because I can’t. I won’t.” He glanced over
his shoulder at the city walls. “Sahara, please. You have to
try.”

Another tear. “Why?”

He stared down into her eyes. “Don’t you want
to live?”

She made no answer, but two more tears
coursed down her dirty face.

“Well, I want you to live,” he insisted.

“Why?” she whispered, but the raw need in her
eyes spoke to him louder than her faint voice.

He hesitated for just the barest fraction of
a second. “Because you mean something, Sahara.”

“I mean nothing.” She spat the words at him
as if they burned her mouth. “I’m an escaped convict. A criminal.
My life was over before you ever even met me. I should have died
out there yesterday. I’m done.”

“You’re wrong,” he insisted. “Where there is
breath and pulse, there is life…and as long as there’s life,
there’s hope. For whatever reason, you’re still alive, Sahara. And
I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you that way.”

Without waiting for her to speak again, he
lifted her in his arms and carried her.

By the time he reached the gates of the city,
she was unconscious.

Sahara’s eyes fluttered open. She was lying
on a cushioned platform in a cool and spacious room. A gentle
breeze fluttered the garnet-hued silken curtains that dressed the
colonnade of arched windows along the western wall of the room, and
the warm red light of the setting sun spilled on the floor and
splashed over the walls. An enormous fireplace gaped in the wall on
the far side of the room, adorned with rich wood columns and a
heavy but gorgeously carved mantle. A wooden door, arched like the
windows, stood at the fireplace end of the eastern wall.

She sat up and put a hand to her forehead.
Her cut had been bandaged, as had her left arm and her ankle. She
had been dressed in clean clothes too. Instead of the grey
prisoner’s shirt and pants, she now wore a sleeveless shirt of fine
white linen and black cropped pants that were soft to the touch but
remarkably cool.

For a moment she considered getting up, then
with a contented sigh she lay down again. The platform was
enormous, easily half again as long and wide as she was tall. It
was delicious to stretch and still feel that she had endless room.
There were flowers beside her on a beautifully worked wooden table,
and they gave the air a sweet, but not overpowering, fragrance. The
walls, of a sand-colored stone, were completely bare, but it was a
calming, not sterile, emptiness. Sahara breathed deeply and closed
her eyes.

The sound of the door opening startled her
awake again and she sat up quickly.

Two men entered the room, one carrying a tray
with an assortment of foods that looked as enticing as they
smelled. He, like Sahara, was dressed in black and white, but he
wore a broad red sash around his waist that hung almost to his
knees. His bare feet made hardly a noise as he approached her bed,
and as he bent to set the tray on the table next to her she saw
that he wore a skull-cap that matched his sash. He bowed low to
her, and then left the room.

“I was hoping you’d be awake,” the other man
said, leaning against the fireplace with his arms folded across his
chest. When the breeze stirred the curtains, the fading sunlight
fell on his face.

“Jared!”

“The same.” He smiled at her and came to sit
at the end of her bed. “You’ve slept a long time.”

She put a hand to her head. “Have I? I don’t
remember….”

“I carried you into the city three days ago,
almost to the hour. The lady of the Great House is a skilled
healer, and I left you in her capable hands.”

“And that’s where I am now? In the…Great
House?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“It’s the heart of Albadir. All of the noble
families of the city have apartments here, and we gather in common
for meals and council in the hall two floors below us.” Jared
smiled at her. “I was hoping you’d be well enough to join us for
breakfast in the morning.”

“I…I don’t know about that.” Sahara rubbed
her palms, suddenly clammy with sweat, against the legs of her
pants.

“But why not? You wouldn’t believe how much
talk there’s been about you since we arrived, and I know everyone
is anxious to meet you.”

“Exactly.”

Sahara fixed her gaze on the tray of food on
the table beside her, conscious that Jared was studying her
intently. She felt heat beginning to rise to her cheeks, and she
desperately wished he would take himself somewhere else.

“I don’t understand,” he said finally.

“No, I’m sure you don’t.”

Jared watched her for a moment longer, then
sighed and stood. “Well, you have your meal there for tonight, and
we’ll just let tomorrow take care of itself. I must go. They’re
waiting for me downstairs.” Sahara glanced up at him and he smiled.
“I’m glad you’re mending well,” he said. “I’ll come again
tomorrow.”

He nodded to her, then turned on his heel and
left. Sahara stared after him, then let her breath out in a rush.
Something about the room was different. There was only a little
less light coming in through the windows, but she felt cold and
there was a strange fluttering in her stomach. She took the tray
off the table and set it on the bed in front of her.

Nothing looked appetizing now. She forced
herself to eat the bread and drink the wine, but her mouth was so
dry that she could hardly manage to swallow.

The light in the west had almost entirely
faded when a sharp rap on the door broke the quiet. A moment later,
the servant slipped into the room. He said nothing to Sahara, but
squatted down in front of the fireplace and set about lighting a
fire. Once he had the wood blazing, he took a burning twig and lit
the two candelabra that sat on the mantle. A set of pillar candles
nestled together beside the flowers on her table, and he lit these
as well.

“You are not hungry?” he asked, noticing that
she had barely touched her food.

“I…I don’t know. I thought I was, but….”

The servant smiled at her. “My lord Alareth
invited you to take breakfast in the hall, didn’t he?”

“My lord Ala…oh, you mean Jared? Yes. He
did.”

Sahara fiddled with her fork and stabbed at
the piece of roast fowl on her plate. The servant watched her in
silence for a moment.

“Do not be troubled, lady,” he told her
gently.

Sahara said nothing. The servant bowed and
left her, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, she set the fork
aside and pulled the meat off the bones of the fowl with her
fingers. It was so tender that it practically melted in her mouth,
and it was flavored with spices and the essence of a fruit she
didn’t know.

“Well,” she said to herself, licking her
fingers, “that wasn’t so bad after all.”

She uncrossed her legs and swung them over
the edge of the bed, letting her feet dangle for a moment before
she stood. The floor was not stone, as she had originally thought,
but a smooth, highly polished wood of the same rich color as the
table and the mantle. She found she could put weight on her foot
again and she padded across the floor to look out the window.
Pulling the curtains aside, she realized that the windows weren’t
really windows at all, but rather an arched colonnade that opened
onto a balcony. She hesitated within the archway, not feeling
courage enough to step out onto the ledge.

Below her lay a wide courtyard, lit by dozens
of flaming torches and refreshed by a sweetly-gurgling fountain
bubbling in its center. The space was carpeted with lush green
grass and crisscrossed by stone pathways. Looking to her right, she
noticed some people—two men and a lady—lingering in the twilight,
standing underneath one of the torches and talking in low
voices.

Sahara recognized Jared as one of the men,
and she wondered who his companions might be. The lady was
beautiful in a quiet but extraordinary way, dressed in a sleeveless
gown of faintest green. She was slender and almost as tall as the
man who stood beside her, and the masses of golden hair twisted on
top of her head made her seem even taller. A thin band of gold
circled her forehead and a ring with a deep red stone graced her
left hand.

Sahara swallowed hard. She reached up to
touch her own hair and realized for the first time that it had been
cut quite short—hacked short, almost. It felt rugged and coarse in
her fingers, and she let her hand fall to her side.

The lady was smiling up at Jared now, her
whole face glowing with joy and laughter. Sahara gripped the wall
and the edge of the curtain as an almost overpowering urge to slap
the woman’s laughing face surged up inside her. Then the woman’s
hand slipped through the other man’s arm, and he leaned in to kiss
her.

“Oh!” Sahara gasped, so sharply that she
startled herself.

She watched as Jared shook the man’s hand,
bowed to the lady, and crossed the courtyard, disappearing in the
shadows of the far colonnade. Sahara stumbled backward into the
oasis of light and let the curtain fall into place, shutting out
the growing darkness.

She climbed back onto her bed, curling up so
that she faced away from the windows. Memories and dreams tumbled
together in her mind, and she fought to get control of her
emotions.

“
I have to go. Our people need me.” Her
father held her shoulders firmly in his strong hands.

“
We need you, too! Why must you
go?”

“
We fight the Dragon-Lords today. It may
be that this night we will finally be free!”

“
Must we always fight to be free,
Papa?”

“
Yes, we must. We must always fight.” He
rested a hand on her head, and then he turned to her mother.
“Remember me,” he told her, “and I will be always with you.” He
bent and kissed her….

“Aren’t you hungry at all, my dear?”

Sahara started and rolled over. The lovely
lady stood there next to her, her eyes smiling.

“Who are you?” Sahara asked.

“My name is Aliya. I’m the lady of this
house, and my husband Arnauld is its lord.”

“I ate what I wanted.”

“Seems hardly anything,” Aliya said. “You’ve
been ill…you need to regain your strength.”

“Like I said. I ate what I wanted.”

Aliya measured her for a moment and then
nodded. “Very well. You’re comfortable?”

“Yes.”

Aliya reached out and removed the bandage
from Sahara’s forehead. “This is almost healed,” she said. “You can
sleep without the bandage tonight.”

Sahara touched her forehead. She felt a scab
there, but the wound no longer hurt her.

Aliya next removed the bandage from her arm.
“This too is almost healed. And your ankle? Have you been up at
all?”

Sahara nodded. “It feels fine,” she said.

“Good.” Aliya took the bandage off Sahara’s
ankle and rolled all three into a tight bundle. “I will send the
servant in to collect the tray. If you wish, you may join us for
breakfast. I believe Jared will come for you in the morning, so you
needn’t worry about knowing the way.”

“I’d really rather not—”

“Not another word.” Aliya smiled gently.
“Once this first meeting is over, you’ll feel much better about
things. You’ll see. There’s no point in cloistering yourself away
up here now that your wounds have healed.”

Sahara said nothing, but she felt a frown
gathering on her lips and between her eyebrows. Rather than argue,
she rolled away from Aliya and pretended to close her eyes.

“Good night,” Aliya said softly.

Sahara didn’t respond. Aliya’s dress
whispered along the floor as she retreated across the room, and the
door clicked gently as she closed it behind her.