9. Gifts for the Cho­sen Ones
As soon as I emerge from the sharuq I col­lapse, cough­ing and pant­ing. I have to scrape the sand out of my eyes before I can get a clear image of what lies before us.

 

It’s a field.

Thick blades of grass rise up from the sand, green-gray in the sun­set light. There are taller shapes, too—branching cac­tus pil­lars sil­hou­et­ted in the dark.

It’s such a bizarre scene, espe­cially com­ing after the sharuq, that I worry it’s not real. That I’m sink­ing deeper into some kind of dream illu­sion.

“I have sand … EVERYWHERE,” says Kiddu. She col­lapses next to me, furi­ously shak­ing out all her clothes.

Jaruna lays on the ground too. He emp­ties the entire con­tents of his water bot­tle into his mouth, splash­ing about half of it on his face.

Ahead of us most of the Azkazraj are sit­ting or lay­ing down at the edge of the field.

I man­age to push myself up to get a bet­ter view. With relief, I con­firm the grass is just nor­mal reedy grass—not the hor­rid Under­world polyps.

The field slopes gen­tly down­wards like the inte­rior of a bowl. In the bowl’s cen­ter are a nuber of dark struc­tures, shorter but thicker than cacti. Build­ings.

And all around the perime­ter of the bowl is the vast spin­ning wall of the sharuq. We’ve entered an oasis in the eye of the sand­storm.

 

The air in this place is dead calm. This cre­ates a weird dis­so­nance with the still-deafening noise from the sharuq. After days of march­ing against bit­ing winds I keep on flinch­ing and brac­ing myself, expect­ing to be blown away any minute. The howl­ing noise pre­vents my body from relax­ing.

The noise also masks the rustling of grass as a ret­inue of red-robed men push through the field towards our gath­er­ing.

 

“Out­siders!” says a plump man. His ret­inue all carry long wooden staffs—probably not for walk­ing, as each one is tipped with a mess of blood cac­tus spines.

“Those clothes…” says the fat man upon see­ing the col­lapsed Azkazraj. “Can it be? Is this … the Lost Tribe?”

Jaruna finally notices these peo­ple, pulls him­self to his feet, makes a show of unstring­ing his bow. The fat man’s eyes widen into big saucers when he spots the mys­tic. He wad­dles over and bows deeply and care­fully on knees that strain to sup­port his bulk.

“Cho­sen one!” he says. For­give me! I did not see you! I am Bayaja, son of Salub. I am the chief here. Yis! Behold! The Bitrib Tribe wel­comes you to our oasis! All praise to Asham for bless­ing us with your pres­ence!”

Jaruna takes his sis­ter by the hand and together they bow to Bayaja some­what stiffly, as if act­ing from a half-remembered for­mal­ism.

Bayaja grins ear to ear, ignor­ing the teem­ing throng of disheveled refugees sur­round­ing him. He sweeps a wel­com­ing ges­ture with his giant arms. As he turns he catches a glimpse of me and Kiddu—

“Cho­sen one! Draw your bow, quickly! You have demons in your midst!”

 

He stag­gers back, a twitch­ing chubby fin­ger extend­ing towards us. Instantly his ret­inue spin around and bran­dish their long staffs.

“Stand down,” Jaruna says, still breath­less. “The Akka­di­ans are with me. They are my guests.”

Bayaja’s guards slowly tilt up their staffs. The chief looks at me, frowns, squints. I smile back as best as I can.

Then, so sud­denly it almost makes me jump, Bayaja claps his hands together and grins. “BAH HA HA! If the cho­sen one says they are to be trusted, who am I to say oth­er­wise? Baga! Naruba! Get our guests some water! All of them! ALL OF THEM! And tell the women to begin cook­ing! We shall have a FEAST TONIGHT!”