Archive of Our Own

It was a hot day, even for Baris in the dry season, and the sun beat mercilessly down on the train of sand sledges that trailed behind the caravan leader. The dromedaries harnessed to the sleds built to glide over the rough sand were well-trained and accustomed to the burning glare, so they lowed only occasionally as the trading caravan made its slow way towards the city of Adelphine, still more than two days journey across the open sands of the Great Desert.

Most of the children rode inside the dull yellow canvas tents that covered the sledges, where they were shielded from the worst of the elements. The adults, dressed alike in loose clothes that were dyed or worn to match the muted colors of the landscape, walked alongside the beasts, sharing the toil and lightening the load. It was a long, monotonous way to travel, so Kalyca passed the morning the best way she knew how.

She made her voice match the lilting feel of the song, and it was a low, haunting contrast to the stark landscape.

“Where did you hear that one?” asked one of the men walking beside her. His brown eyes glittered through the small gap in his light brown turban, the only possible indication that he was smiling under the thick layers of cloth that protected him from the sun.

“At Oenid, there was a street singer who sang it. I changed the tune because he was flat,” Kalyca replied. She winced as the words escaped her mouth.

The man, who was one of her six uncles, laughed and patted her shoulder. “Best not tell him so, if you ever meet again.”

The small cluster of men and women grouped around the three dromedaries pulling one of the longer sledges chuckled kindly, but Kalyca’s face turned an angry red underneath her own cream-colored turban. No one meant to be cruel; they all thought it was just a good joke, she reminded herself. Still, Uncle Adon’s words stung on her rawest nerve.

“I don’t think we will see him again,” interposed Snow, stepping lightly over a dead cactus half-buried in the sand. “Don’t singers travel most of the time? I’d love to see some of the places they tell about. Imagine what a mountain covered in trees looks like!”

Kalyca tilted her head to send her sister a grateful look for changing the subject. Through her lackluster yellow headwrap, which was so thick and fluffy that her eyes barely showed, Snow nodded gently, acknowledging the thanks.

“Or a plain covered in your namesake,” one of their cousins exclaimed, linking her arm with Snow in a friendly way. “Bet it’s a lot more fun to play in than sand.”

The children riding on the sledge behind them voiced sluggish agreement — it was too hot to be enthusiastic, even about cold things. Snow laughed, a silvery rippling sound, and the rest of the adults joined in the infectious humor, even Kalyca. Old Grandfather Meno, the caravan leader for the last fifty-two years, had given the foreign nickname to his great-grandniece because her skin was nearly as white and pure as the fabled frozen rain. She didn’t mind, and it had stuck. Hardly anyone called her by her real name anymore.

“Ah, but there’s wolves and sharks to pass before you get there, says the song,” another cousin teased, encouraging one of the flagging camels with a swish of the leather tassel attached to his goading stick. The animal grumbled a complaint but picked up the pace a little.

“What’s a shark?” asked one of the little boys, poking his head out into the sunglare for a moment. His sandy-colored hair and brown eyes were extremely common traits among the trading clan, so it took Kalyca a moment to see that he was her second cousin’s grandson, Nico. Everyone in the caravan was related to everyone else somehow, and though they were often a noisy, quarrelsome, old-fashioned clan, they were, by and large, a happy one.

Uncle Adon turned to walk backward so he could face Nico. His voice took on a dramatic tone. “A giant beast from the ocean. It has teeth the size of my head, and jaws big enough to swallow a camel whole. It roams the sea like a dark shadow in search of its very favorite food.”

Nico, with big eyes, asked tremulously, “What’s that?”

“Children who don’t lie down for their hypmera,” Uncle Adon finished, his eyes grinning again. He used the word for the period of sleep after the noon meal, when the sun was hottest and travel was out of the question. Nico was notorious for using the quiet hours to play games and pranks, and he flushed as he ducked back into the tented sledge.

The group chuckled again, except for Snow, who never laughed at anyone being scolded. Uncle Adon turned back the right way, grinning good-naturedly under his wraps. Kalyca glanced down at the slivers of shadows the camels cast as they walked on. “It’s past time for the halt; Grandfather should check the sun more often.”

The words were out before she could stop them, and her hands clenched under the cover of her long billowy sleeves. Her disrespectful observation was made worse when no one remarked on it. They were used to her inescapably blunt tongue and were more apt to make jokes than to scold her, considering how useful her magic was. But she hated the price that it exacted from her.

Every word from her mouth was nothing but pure truth, and often she said even more than she intended. The only thing she had discovered she could get away with were songs and poetry, which was one reason she spent most of her day with a tune on her lips.

“Maybe when we get there, they’ll have some more of those fruits from Sole,” said Tabytha, the cousin walking arm-in-arm with Snow. Longing colored her voice.

“Oh, do you think so? I could live on apples,” Snow sighed wistfully.

“How many did you eat last time, Tabytha?” another distant cousin teased, purposefully jostling the two young women as he plodded along.

“Not enough,” Tabytha declared dreamily, and Snow hummed agreement. The only fruit native to Baris were melons, and while refreshing, they all tasted the same after a while. Fruit from the northern kingdoms was a relatively new import to Baris’ seaports, and a very welcome change from their regular fare of dried meat, hard cheese, and journey bread.

Kalyca felt the words she had eight on her tongue and bit the offending organ hard to prevent it coming out. She tasted blood, but the pain was worth it. She stayed silent.

As if informed of her sister’s distress by some invisible bird whispering in her ear, Snow glanced over at Kalyca. She shrugged and pretended to smile, which seemed to satisfy her older sister for the moment.

From the front of the line, a low musical horn call gave the two-note signal for “halt”. All nine sand sledges, drawn by twenty-three camels, slid to a stop in a nearly perfect straight line. Tabytha, Snow, Uncle Adon, and the others all began untying the camels so they could rest, but Kalyca walked to the back of the caravan to face their trail through the dunes. She blinked twice and bent to touch the yellow-gray sand.

Although it was shimmering with reflected heat, she felt only a comfortable warmth beneath her fingers, which met and mingled with the constant warmth and solidity of her own inner magic. She straightened and focused on her task, letting the deep crimson tendrils of magic uncoil from her hands and stretch out to touch the sand on their own. It was a reassuring feeling to be in control and see the tiny grains rearranging themselves by the thousands of thousands just because she willed them to.

Under her direction, the sand shifted and erased all signs of their passing. She walked slowly. As the only magic user in the entire clan, this was her task every time they halted in the Great Desert. There were roving bands of cutthroat thieves who could spot travelers outlined against the sky from miles away on the flat open sands and surrounded them when they stopped to eat.

But since Kalyca had begun using her magic to create camouflage for them nearly eleven years ago, Grandfather Meno’s caravan had only been attacked twice. Walking all around the line of sledges took her almost twelve times counting to one hundred; even faster than the last time they had stopped, and she had not even begun to drain her abilities. She smiled under her headwraps, pleased that she was getting better at control; the new biannual trips across the desert gave her twice as much practice.

Within the dune shelters, the tented sledges cast hardly any shadows under the midday sun, but as the camels were unhitched from their traces they crowded into the shade as best they could. Only when all of the beasts were untied, watered, and given their long nosebags full of hard wheat would all the adults slip inside the tented sledges to eat their own midday meal, so there were still a few men outside holding the wide shallow bowls that served as watering troughs as Kalyca trotted back to her family sledge.

Camels were messy drinkers and “solemn as a fat old king”, as the saying went, so watching them slurp up mouthfuls of water was always a little funny. Kalyca chuckled to herself as she ducked under the heavy canvas flap protecting the rear opening on the sledge.

Inside were her Uncle Adon, his wife Cally, their two young boys, Uncle Paulos and his three oldest children — Tabytha, Briza, and Petros — along with her own mother Leta, and Snow. Eleven to a tent was not so bad; there was enough space for them all to sit on the woven mats as the women passed out bowls of hard bread which had been softened in fresh camel milk. A pinch of dried chiles or cinnamon and salt gave the dish some flavor, and this time there was a small lump of sweet roasted garlic in every bowl, too.

Kalyca’s mouth watered as she hastily unwound her turban, freeing her shoulder-length braid of copper-red hair, and grabbed the bowl her mother offered. She ate the savory fare with as much gusto as her male relatives. Tabytha and Briza preferred to follow Snow’s example and used their fingers to delicately fish pieces of bread out of the bowl before drinking their milk.

Uncle Paulos, who generally helped oversee the clan’s weapon training, slurped down the last of his milk and wiped his mouth on his dusty sleeve. “I need to speak to Grandfather about moving through the night. There’s something on the wind I don’t like this time.”

“You and your winds,” Uncle Adon rejoined, waving his brother’s worries away. “You said that when we crossed the last time, and the time before, and the time before.”

“You do a good job protecting us, Paulos,” Aunt Cally interposed soothingly. “But walking through the night is so hard on the camels.”

Paulos crossed his arms in a superior way. “What about the hawks, then?”

“Haven’t Akilla and Helos returned?” Tabytha asked between bites.

Leta shook her head. “No one’s seen them since sunrise yesterday.”

Kalyca frowned a little. The clan’s two hawks were trained as desert scouts and would always return at sunset for food and to enjoy the comfort of sleeping indoors. If they had not come back last night or this morning, it did not bode well. “We should set extra guards tonight, since we’re all scared.” She resisted the urge to clamp her hand over her mouth; she hadn’t meant to add the last part.

Paulos nodded. “Extra guards, and more. Kalyca, you ought to be out there with us. The desert as our ally will keep the caravan safe.”

“Then she should sleep the rest of the day,” Aunt Cally decided. “I’ll take her shift driving the camels.”

Kaylca would have protested that she could handle both, but that would have been stupid. Running herself ragged just to prove that she was useful and trustworthy enough to help guide the caravan next trip would only lead to all the elders calling her a child who did not know her limits.

In fairness, she was not sure what her limits really were, at least when it came to magic. Her price was always there, always keeping her from the slightest bit of dishonesty, and often even the privacy of her own thoughts. But her magic was always there too, and she had never yet run out or been exhausted by it. Some days, she wondered what she could really do if she let her power run wild. And was it just sand, or all stone she could command? Sand called to her, sang to her senses in a way that rock didn’t, but perhaps that was because she was not properly listening for it.

“Kalyca? Did you hear me?”

“Oh. No, Mother. I’m sorry.” She ducked her head and drank the last of her camel’s milk.

“I asked if you could find the hawks, if they’ve touched down,” Leta repeated in a softly reproving tone, scolding her for daydreaming.

“I… maybe? I would need to be away from the caravan. I can’t find Snow when she hides in the sledge.” They had made a game of that the last two trips; the cousins and Snow hiding and Kalyca trying to find them by the feel of their feet with her eyes shut. It had worked better away from all the stomping and dragging and shifting of the caravan.

“Go now, then, while the hypmera is here, and you can sleep in the sledge when we move again,” Leta ordered. Uncle Paulos stirred as if to protest, but his sister silenced him with a look. “Be careful.”

“I’m usually careful; I don’t make many mistakes anymore.” Ugh, her wretched tongue! She climbed out of the sledge as quickly as she could and back into the baking heat before she said anything else disrespectful. She walked a few steps, feeling the sand under her shoes happily, and was about to take off at a jog when she heard a voice from the sledge behind her.

“I’m worried about that girl. She’s not happy here; you can see it in her eyes when she speaks. What if she decides to just stay in Adelphine one day?”

Kalyca bit her sleeve hard to keep from retorting to Aunt Cally that of course she was happy here and she would never want to live in the smelly city with their thieves and latrines and no open sand. It was wrong, but she strained to overhear.

“Good for her if she did,” Paulos retorted. “She might find a magic teacher and come back stronger.”

“I worry that she will try to find her real family,” Leta sighed.

Kalyca bit harder and mumbled into her sleeve. She had always known she was adopted — Leta had never married, and neither Snow nor Kalyca looked anything like her. They never really discussed it, but the younger sister liked to imagine she had been found in the middle of the sand, just playing happily with her magic as a toddler.

Probably, though, if they were worried about Adelphine, she came from that city. Well, it was fun to visit, but she would never want to live there. It was so stifled and smelly and closed in. She loved the freedom of the dunes better than the idea of a family who had either not wanted her or died.

And she loved Leta and Snow too. Honestly, it stung that Leta didn’t realize that. They were family, if not by blood then by choice, and Kalyca was not about to abandon either of them.

She sucked in a breath between her teeth and willed her footprints over the sand to be noiseless so they would not know she had heard. She needed to get away, out into the desert and away from people so she could speak the words choking her, demanding release, and pay her price.

A little trickle of red magic was all it took to muffle her steps, and she trudged away from the hidden caravan as fast as she could. She had not chosen any particular direction on purpose, but Kalyca soon realized she was heading east to avoid the sun being in her eyes.

“I’m not unhappy with you,” she said as soon as she was sure her family could not hear. “I’m unhappy with me.”

The soft warm magic that always seemed to center in her fingertips and toes was her only answer.

“I love our family. I love the travel. I even like my magic. I just hate my price.” The bitter words spilled from her without pause now that she was leaving the caravan behind and no one but the wind and the sand could be hurt by her sharp tongue. “I would pay gold to go one day without insulting someone I love. Or to be quiet entirely. Or to be like Snow. I’m jealous of her, even though I love her. I wish everyone liked me like they like her. She’s just good without even thinking about it and they all see it. But if it wasn’t for my magic being useful, Grandfather would have me left at an orphanage.”

She paused, thinking and listening to the wind whipping the sands into slithering shapes down the dunes. “There has to be away around a price. There must be.” Kalyca flopped down on the sand and closed her eyes. Her magic effortlessly flowed out into the sand, stretching out across the desert to find the lost hawks. Whatever her feelings about her magic, it was dead useful.