MIT walked into the sandstorm with half a map in his fist. The wind tore at his trench coat, but he kept his boots pointed south. Somewhere past these dunes lay the oasis city no wanderer had ever come back from. He meant to reach it and claim it for his clan. His clan needed water. Water meant they lived. The torn map showed only the first stretch of the crossing. The rest had rotted away years ago. MIT knew where the path started, and that was enough for now. He pulled his scarf tighter over his mouth and pushed forward. Sand scoured his cheeks. His katana banged against his back with each step. He counted his strides to keep his mind steady. His canteen had run dry two hours ago. His tongue felt like leather. The wind dropped for a moment. Ahead, two rocks stood close together. Between them, a rusted sword pointed at the sky. Bones lay scattered at the base. A skull grinned up from the sand. Some wanderer had died here, sitting against the stone. MIT knelt beside the bones. He touched the sword hilt but left it in the rocks. Then he saw the canteen. It hung on a strap looped around the skeleton's shoulder. He worked it free and shook it. Something sloshed inside. He unscrewed the cap. Water. Warm and stale, but water. He drank three swallows and made himself stop. A dead man's water could carry him another day. "You should check the bottom before you trust that." The voice came from behind the rocks. MIT drew his knife and spun. A woman stepped into view. Metal plated her left arm and both legs. One eye glowed red in the storm-light. She raised her human hand, palm open. "Easy," she said. "I've been tracking that canteen for a day. You beat me to it." MIT kept the knife up. "Who are you?" "Ratchet." She nodded at the bones. "He drank the last clean water in twenty miles. The rest is poison from the worm nests. That canteen's the only safe drop out here." Her red eye fixed on the flask in his hand. "And you're holding it." MIT looked at the water, then at her metal legs. She could outwalk him. She could take it. But she hadn't. "You want half," he said. Ratchet grinned. "I want to know where you're headed with a torn map and a katana. Nobody crosses these dunes for fun." MIT lowered the knife an inch. He held out the canteen. She drank one swallow and handed it back. "The oasis city," he said. Her grin faded. "Then you'll die like him." She jerked her chin at the skull. "Unless you take someone who's seen the far dunes." She tapped her metal temple. "I've got the other half of that map up here." The storm howled. MIT held the canteen between them and made his choice.

By dawn the storm had died. MIT and Ratchet stood on a high dune and looked south at nothing but sand. His half of the map ended at his boots. The rest of the way lived only in Ratchet's head, and he had no way to know if her memory was real. If she was bluffing, one wrong turn would leave them both dead in the open. "Point," MIT said. He held out his torn map. "Show me where mine ends and yours begins. If the lines match, I'll trust the rest." Ratchet's red eye flickered. She reached for the map, then stopped. "I don't draw. I walk. You'll see it works when we're there." "Then I don't walk." MIT rolled the map and pushed it back in his coat. "I won't die on a promise." Before she could answer, the sand between them heaved. A worm burst upward, long and segmented, its mouth wide with dripping teeth. It spat. Acid hissed past MIT's ear and ate a black hole in the dune. He rolled and drew his katana. Ratchet moved without a plan they'd shared. She sprinted left, drawing the worm's head with her metal legs. "The old citadel," she shouted. "Turret corners, a tower, water in the middle. Run for it and I'll meet you!" She cut hard around a rise and vanished behind it. MIT hacked at the worm's neck, then ran the way she'd pointed. He topped the rise and stopped cold. Below stood a citadel of stone and mud, four turreted corners, a tall center tower, a small pool of clear water at its heart. Exactly as she'd said. She had never seen this side of the dune from where they'd stood. The worm dove and surfaced again near the walls. MIT reached the pool and Ratchet dropped beside him, panting. "Believe me now?" she said. He did. No one describes a place they've never held in their head. "I believe you," he said. "Now help me kill this thing." They fought it back to the tower. The worm coiled, then froze. A green light cut through its side. A short, broad figure stepped from the tower door, red beard to his chest, a glowing sword in one fist. He drove the blade deep and the worm collapsed. The stranger wiped the blade and looked them over. "Two travelers with half a map each, I'd wager." He tapped a rolled scroll at his belt. "I'm Boulderhauf. I came through a door that shouldn't exist. And I carry the true second half of your map." MIT looked at Ratchet. Her memory had proven real. But it wasn't the whole road after all. The paper in the dwarf's belt claimed to be the piece she'd sworn lived only in her head.