Secrets of the Sands Chapter 1

Chapter One

Hee-ay, hee-ay

: the cry of the water-seller in the broad and the narrowplaces;

shass-shass-shass

, the warning signal to clear a road for noble blood, be it one or many together.

Iiii, iii-sass, iii-sass

, the wailing of a mer-chant who protested his certain ruin—with overtones of castration—should he lower the price any further. To Idisio's sensitive ears, thecacophony wove a melodic pattern that steered him, unerringly, to the best possible target.At the height of his madness, the previous king had issued a decreeforbidding residents of Bright Bay to speak anything but the commonnorthern tongue. Two months later he had died of less-than-naturalcauses. Whether that absurd law had been the final wring on a mad asp- jacau's tail would never be known; rumor said the new ruler, now sixmonths on the throne, still worked day and night to untangle the messleft behind by his predecessor.Idisio listened for more than words, in whatever language, as heworked his way through the cobbled, paved, and sand-gravel streets ofBright Bay. The most important sounds of the city had nothing to do withspeech. The clink of a full purse at the side of a foolishly confident mer-chant meant meals for the next few nights. The solid crunch of guard boots nearby meant

seek cover

: although the worst had quickly been culledunder the new regime, changes in permitted behavior were slow to filterto the street level. But hisses and whistles were more important than anyof those. They served as coded warnings from the other thieves scatteredthroughout the city.

16Leona Wisoker

A strident whistle from a rooftop lookout could save Idisio's life: whileno true organization of thieves existed in Bright Bay, no one thief couldever hope to keep track of all the powerful people who moved throughthis sprawling city. The open warning, given by those who knew to thosewho didn't, was a traditional obligation that only the most foolish new-comers to the trade ignored.Idisio had grown up on these streets and survived the madness thathad temporarily given Bright Bay the nickname “Blood Bay.” Those thief-calls had saved his life many times, and he'd passed on as many warn-ings; but many thieves, along with nobles, commoners, and priests, hadfallen during the last weeks of Mad Ninnic's reign. While the worst of themadness had passed, the streets would never be safe for Idisio unless hefound a more respectable—and legal—trade.He considered that as likely as an asp-jacau meowing.As he slid between fat and thin, clean and unwashed, his breathclogged with the hot smell of a crowded southern city on a summer day.A light touch on a thick wallet bound at a man's side prompted a cer-tainty:

gold

. Not the half-rounds he normally counted himself lucky toget, but uncut disks of gold: more than one, many more. Idisio alwaysknew, just from a touch, if the purse held anything worth taking; otherthieves, seeing him withdraw from a mark empty-handed, had learned tosteer clear themselves.Idisio decided that any man foolish enough to carry gold in an outsidepurse deserved to lose it all. He reached, fingertip-knives busy, and hadthree of the four strings cut before another breath had passed.Too late, he heard the warning:

tee-tee-tee-awrk! tee-tee-tee-awrk!

Theloud, insistent call resembled that of a common sea-bird, but that particu-lar bird never strayed this far from the docks proper. One of the roof look-outs was sending an urgent, if belated, “stay-clear”; and with theintuition that had kept him alive so far, Idisio knew he was the one beingwarned.He started to slide away into the crowd, but found his wrist gripped inthe mark's hand, a larger and harder one than his own. He followed theline of the arm up. Dark, hawk-hard eyes glared at him from a narrowface containing a sharply hewn nose, bronze skin, and thin lips—reasonenough for the tardy warning.Old blood was in that face; desert blood, noble blood—definitelysomeone to stay well and truly away from. Idisio had never before beenso stupid as to grab a purse without checking the appearance of the markfor danger signs first; but it only took one mistake, and this had been it.“My lord,” Idisio said, caught without escape. He reached for anexcuse, an apology, anything that would loosen that deadly dangerousgrip and give him just a moment to run like he'd never run in his life.The grip tightened, grinding the bones of Idisio's wrist together; thevery real prospect of death right here and now ran cold down his back.

Secrets of the Sands17

The slender finger-blades fell from his hand, landing on the paving stoneswith a distant

clink

.Something about the noble's touch sparked his erratic intuition:

Hewon't kill me

. The surety faded, though, when he looked up into the man'sdark stare.“Who sent you after me?” the noble demanded.Idisio ran through a rapid list of names in his head, searching for onethat might get the grip on his wrist released in a moment of fear. In theface of that desert-hot glare, he could only say, “Nobody, my lord.” Hewouldn't put his worst enemy in the path of that stare. And he didn't

have

any names that might rattle this man.“Liar,” the noble said, pulling Idisio a step closer, thin lips stretching back. “

Who?

”“What's going on here?”For the first time in his life, Idisio blessed the arrival of the white-robed guards. There were four in this patrol, all carrying the thick stavesof their office. At their side, an asp-jacau, tall and narrow, raised its thinsnout and sniffed at the air, head tilted to allow one pale blue eye to studyhim.Idisio let out a gasping breath of relief. Asp-jacaus only went out withKing's Guards. Even a southern noble had to respect

them

. But the manholding Idisio either didn't know that or didn't care.“Just a pick-thief,” he said briefly.“We'll handle it.” A guard's hand landed on Idisio's shoulder from behind, closing into a hard grip that pinched a tender spot; Idisio hissedand flinched. The fingers dug in deeper, and Idisio squirmed, praying hewasn't dealing with an unculled “Ninnic's Guard”.The noble didn't loosen his hold, either. “I claim justice-right.”“But—”“I'm summoned to the king. Argue my right with the king. Argue thetime with the tide that goes by. Let us pass!”Idisio felt his bladder weaken, and clamped down just in time. He'dnever had that extreme of a reaction before, but this mistake could costhis life.Claiming justice-right marked the man as a full desert lord.

They

didn't consider themselves subject to

any

kingdom laws. Many of themoffered no term of courtesy beyond “lord” to the king himself.And he had heard that desert lords, when angry, took their price in blood . . . slowly. Idisio might be better off with a potentially sadisticguard after all.But his odd intuition insisted:

He won't kill me. This is a good thing hap- pening.

Idisio wondered if he were losing his mind.The guards gave way. The desert lord yanked Idisio forward. He trot-ted at the man's side, wrist bones no longer in danger of breaking but still