Ricko Daggerheart's Arc

Chapter 7 of 18

By midday the broken country ran dry. Ricko's lizard slowed, its tongue flicking at empty air. T'Zaro's wound had opened again during the ride, and blood soaked fresh through the strap that held him upright. Torin's mount stumbled twice. They had water for one more day, maybe less. Ricko scanned the ravines and saw only rock and heat. If T'Zaro's fever climbed higher, he would not last the season they needed to wait. Ricko rode ahead alone to search. He found a striped nomad crouched at a spring, filling a skin. The zebra wore a sun-colored wrap sewn with gold thread, and blue paint marked his hands. He did not startle when Ricko's mount clattered down the rocks. He only looked up and read the blood on Ricko's sleeve. "Your friend is worse than you," the nomad said. It was not a question. "Bring him. My camp is close." Ricko's paw dropped to his knife. A stranger who guessed too much could sell them to the sultan. "Why help us?" "The sultan hunts you. That is reason enough." The zebra capped his skin and rose. "I am Kazan. Follow the smoke." Ricko weighed it. T'Zaro was fading. He had no better choice. He rode back and brought the others. Kazan's camp sat in a hollow ringed by palms and cactus, the first green Ricko had seen in days. Low tents circled a fire. Kazan had T'Zaro laid on a mat before Ricko finished tying the mounts. The nomad cut the panther's vest away and pressed both painted hands to the wound. He murmured words Ricko did not know. A pale light gathered under his palms and sank into T'Zaro's ribs. The panther's shaking eased. His breath went slow and even. "He will keep the leg and the life," Kazan said. "By morning he will curse and eat. That is how you know a man is mending." T'Zaro's green eyes cracked open. He found Ricko's face. "You dragged me to a witch," he rasped, and almost smiled. "He fixed you," Ricko said. "Curse him after." Torin brought water skins from the mounts and filled them at the spring, his ears loose for the first time in days. Kazan handed Ricko a cup of something bitter and warm. Ricko drank it and felt the ache in his cut arm dull. That night they rested. No torches climbed the ridges. The fire burned low and no one watched it with a hand on a blade. Ricko sat beside T'Zaro's mat and listened to the panther breathe. Kazan settled across the fire. "You wait for the full moon," he said. "To try the palace wall." Ricko went still. "How do you know that?" "The whole desert knows the moon," Kazan said. "But few know the tunnels under the sultan's floor. I do." He fed a stick to the flames. "Rest first. Then we talk."