I con­sciously stand more than a stone’s throw away as the natives assem­ble their morn­ing prayer cir­cle.

Kiddu rests against my shoul­der, dressed now in her hand-me-down full blue robe. It’s a good thing she has so much hair or the rock would have done a lot more dam­age.

“Sav­ages,” she says. “Stu­pid back­wards sav­ages. Hon­estly, these peo­ple got what they deserved in Libri.”

Even from a dis­tance I can see a few of the native men glar­ing at us. So too with one of the women—probably one of the wit­nesses to our sup­posed crime. I won­der if they’re neglect­ing their prayer.

“Remem­ber what you said when we were in prison?” I say.

“What did I say?”

“You said—it’s not their fault that they act like sav­ages.”

“What­ever.”

The prayer cir­cle begins to break up and I flinch as some peo­ple walk towards me. But it’s just Jaruna and Ayan com­ing to join us on the day’s march, away from the rest of them.

“You know that’s why Jaruna and Ayan hang back with us on the march,” says Kiddu. “Because they can’t stand the natives either. By the way—truce? For real this time.”

I take her hand and shake it firm.

“Agreed. We need to be more care­ful.”

 

Jaruna just fin­ishes tying his tur­ban on as he reaches us.

“Your secret is out.”

“What was I sup­posed to do?” I say. “They were going to kill us.”

“Chief Dron­aja said he will speak to the men as we march,” Ayan says. “I will speak to the women. Please under­stand, this was not meant to hap­pen.”

“It sure sounds like they meant it to hap­pen—”

“Kiddu!” I say. “Remem­ber—Har­rappa.”

“I mean,” she says, “what I meant to say is, I respect the ways of the Aka­jaz Tribe and I will try to avoid being stoned to death in the future.”

Azkazraj Tribe,” says Jaruna.

 

We march through a yel­low fog of jagged lance­like par­ti­cles. The natives ahead are blurry shades in the haze as they coa­lesce into the noon prayer cir­cle. I can barely hear their chant­ing over the wind.

The sun, the God of which is the recip­i­ent of their prayers, is a dim blotch of white above the dust. Dead-looking. An after­im­age.

I pull my hood up around my face and tie the elas­tic cords tight. My stom­ach growls. Nobody offered us any break­fast and this is eas­ily the most gru­el­ing march yet.

 

The dust turns from yel­low to dark orange and then black as the sun sets. Dimly I see the lines and motions of the cyclone winds slash­ing the air in alter­nat­ing light and dark bands.

Jaruna uses his wind astras to whip up the sand into a bul­wark of small but steep dunes that shield us from the wind. The tra­jec­to­ries of the green-white arrows glow like fat worms in the dark dust cloud.

The natives set up camp behind the dunes. Kripa and Hat­van assem­ble our tent word­lessly. We duck inside, des­per­ate for a respite from the sand­storm winds.

I am so exhausted that I pass out as soon as I hit the ground.