The trick worked like magic! Soon, Juel’s warriors were laughing again, happy with all the souvenirs, treats, and books they got from the market. But Juel himself couldn’t even crack a smile; in the gloomy light of his true mission, the whole world seemed dreary to the young Faizul. He left the others to their fun and went away to look for a caravan that would agree to take them along. Beyond Torgor, joining a caravan is the only sure way to reach another city alive; you don’t walk the dune sea alone unless you are a Wanderer.
To Juel’s teammates' credit, they didn’t forget about their duty amidst the fun and bought a set of proper desert clothes for every team member – thick, layered, woollen cloak, jacket, and trousers – to keep both daily heat and nightly cold at bay. Bala went through several dlars asking people everything about the desert and its “aren”, which meant much more than just “sand” in the local tongue. “Aren is sand, glass, and monolith,” Kuldaganians said, “but only Wanderers still remember how to tame the third – monolith – aspect.” That was an interesting but not very useful piece of information. The useful one was about maskaks. Bala told Irin everything about those creatures and stressed the importance of spotting and killing them in time so they wouldn’t tell their bandit masters about the approaching caravan. Irin took Bala’s warning very seriously and promised to be on alert. He even visited a local smithy and bought himself an extra hundred of arrows for the journey. Jet-black, with striped feathers and barbed arrowheads, they looked deadly.
That night, filled with shopping, asking around, looking around, and enjoying the exotic city, turned out to be so exhausting that the boys fell asleep in their rented room just where their exhaustion had caught up with each of them: at the table, on the floor, among the backpacks… Orion was snoring by the door where he had collapsed after stumbling over the doorstep. He had overestimated his stamina a bit while tasting local alcohol.
That was how Juel found his team after a rowdy night. For a while, the mighty Faizul just stood there, at a loss what to do, then looked at the lukewarm sky, sighed, and curled up in the nearest bed like a big, heavy cat. He knew he could trust his inner “clock” to wake him up in time. And he needed a nap after a sleepless night too.
Bala, the most responsible one of the lot, woke up even earlier than Juel and made a hurry-up breakfast for the team and a simple sobering potion for Orion.
Refreshed but still sleepy, the Lifekeepers paid for the room and headed to the gates to catch up with their caravan.
The merchant the caravan belonged to, an elderly woman, frowned as she saw the young warriors. That they were young, she knew (Juel had told her that), what she didn’t expect, though, was a gaggle of kids. She gave Juel a grim, reproachful look. He replied with ardent praise and swore that each of his teammates would be worth at least three bandits in a battle and that having a master archer in the caravan might even save them a battle altogether. That was the longest speech Juel’s teammates had ever heard from him. Their leader could be eloquent when he wanted! Finally, the old merchant nodded in approval. Lifekeepers did have a good reputation, even young ones, after all.
