After a few moments, a wave of pressure moves through the tunnel from behind them. Gil hears a sound like light rain.
They continue plodding through the sand ahead of them, ducking under the wooden beams. Gil feels as if he’s being swept through this tunnel by some unseen force.
Suddenly, Jaruna turns around to face him. His eyes are narrowed, pupils glowing with reflected light. Gil flinches as the mystic steps up to his face.
Jaruna
Akkadian. You may have aided me in battle. But do not think for a second that you may freely insult me. You or your whore of a sister.
Gil stops flinching. He clenches his fists.
Gil
It’s not an insult, it’s a fact. You just killed a dozen people without even hesitating. You’re a killer. And don’t you dare talk about—
Jaruna
They were soldiers! And how many innocents have your people killed, sinner? A thousand? Ten thousand? Tell me, Akkadian, and then we may talk about who is the real killer!
Kiddu
I’m not Gil’s sister. And maybe the soldiers wouldn’t have to kill so many natives if you people didn’t act like such savages.
Gil winces. For a second he thinks Jaruna is going to turn around and shoot Kiddu in the face. Instead, the mystic just sighs. He turns to his sister, and speaks in an almost plaintive voice.
She ignores him. Another wave of pressure pulses through the claustrophobic tunnel—behind them, the old native must have brought down a second set of support beams.
Ayan
Kiddu. If you continue to speak in this way, my brother may well decide not to take you with us.
Kiddu
And where are you taking us? You never answered! What are you people planning to do with us?
Jaruna
I would like to know the answer to that as well, Ayan.
Gil can’t tell for sure, because of the veil—but Ayan’s eyes crinkle in a way that suggests a smile.
Ayan
Gil and Kiddu, my plan is to take you with us, across the desert and over the mountains—to the holy city of Harrappa.
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