The River Wall Read Online Free PDF Page B

more scarce, then disappeared entirely before nightfall. We paused for a meal, but all of us agreed to push on to the Refreshment House at Iribos before stopping.
    The moon’s light, diffused through the cloud cover that seemed to be a permanent feature of Gandalara, cast the desert in a silvery glow. Though Keeshah’s fur and muscle and motion made him real to me, the other sha’um seemed to be merely shadows, and the only sounds were their powerful breathing and the amazingly soft thudding of their feet.
    There was little sand here, only dry ground and stubborn bushes. Salty sand was a feature of what I had come to think of as the “inner deserts”—the Kapiral, south and east of Raithskar, the Darshi, of which we were now skirting the southern border, and the Strofaan, largest and most severe of the three.
    It was after midnight when the sha’um halted, panting, before the barrier of heavy fabric that marked the entrance to Iribos. I called the formula softly, so as not to waken the whole compound: “Two are here who request shelter and water.”
    There was a moment’s delay and the sound of a yawn. Tarani and I exchanged smiles. We waited on foot, with the cubs between us and the adult sha’um at either side.
    After a moment, the barrier dropped from between the man-high walls of salt blocks, and two boys appeared in the opening. The smaller one held one end of the rope which, when tied, pulled up one high corner of the fabric. The other boy was bigger, and stood a few feet behind the center of the gateway, his back stiff with pride. He was already speaking as the barrier fell.
    “I speak for Charol, Respected Elder of Iribos,” the boy said with stiff pride. “No quarrel s—shall …”
    He gaped at the six of us for an awkward moment, then recovered and spoke to the wide-eyed boy beside him. “Bring a skin of water to the gate,” he said. The little boy stared at him. “Hurry,” the bigger boy whispered. The younger one dropped the end of the rope and ran away from the circle of light cast by the lamp, toward the single door on the left that marked the entrance to the living quarters of Charol’s family.
    The boy straightened his shoulders, and restarted the formula greeting. “No quarrel shall enter here,” he said. “Put aside your weapons, and be welcome to any service we may provide.” He took a step toward us, his sandaled feet nearly treading on the slack barrier. Through the ritual, he had spoken with a kind of nervous dignity that betrayed his youth. Now his formality slipped in favor of sincerity.
    “I regret we cannot invite your sha’um into the compound,” he said, with a small bow toward each of us. “The
vleks
—their noise would rouse the other visitors.”
    The lamp held by the boy cast little light inside the compound, but the inner walls were set with lamps. Against the far wall of the open space we faced was a huge, lumpy shadow—twenty-five or thirty vleks, sleeping all clumped together and seeming to lean,
en masse
, on the compound wall. It was pure luck that they had not already scented the sha’um. The slightest shift in the direction of air movement—there were few places in Gandalara where it could be called a breeze—would set them to bawling and stamping.
    “I regret we have brought them close enough to create that danger,” I said. “It was thoughtless.”
    The little boy came back, staggering under the burden of a huge water pouch. It was made of tanned hide from the haunch of a
glith
, the deer-sized meat animal. Sewn and sealed at the large end and along the side, the neck was tied with a hide thong. I pulled out my sword and dagger and handed them to the bigger boy, then lifted the heavy skin from the little boys shoulders.
    “I will give the sha’um only a little water now, and send them away until morning,” I said. “Please make the lady Tarani comfortable.”
    The older boy bowed deeply. “The High Lord honors us,” he said, and accepted the