Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands 1)

“So what don’t I know about Dassama?” The memory of the scorched sand hung between us uneasily, ending any attempt at a joke he might’ve tried to make. We’d both seen a whole city gone up in flames. And he’d barely said a handful of words to me since then. Like he was avoiding me.

“Amani—” He reached for me, his hand dropping away just in time to hide a gesture that didn’t seem to belong to a brother in view of the caravan. I glanced behind me. They were still being searched at the gate. Colorful scarves unraveled in one of the guards’ arms, making Isra scold him as she snatched them back off the ground.

“You don’t have to carry on through the desert from here if you don’t want to.” My full attention came back to Jin. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. He was watching me close, gauging my reaction.

“How do you reckon?” I asked warily.

“There’s a train. It runs from an outpost a few hours’ walk outside Fahali. It goes straight to Izman. You could be drinking arak in the shade of the palace walls in fewer days than I have fingers, if you wanted.”

A train. Like the one he’d pulled me off all those weeks ago on the other side of the desert. A straight shot to the capital, after sixteen years of aiming for it, and he was offering it to me. And I’d never see Jin again. That was what he was really offering me: a way out of this. To turn my back on Dassama and what he knew and walk away to the life I’d always wanted. Or always figured I did.

“And if that’s not what I want?” I had traitor eyes and there was no way he could mistake my meaning.

He took a deep breath. I couldn’t tell whether it was relief or resignation. When he inhaled I could see the Xichian sun over his heart rise just above the horizon of his shirt collar. “I told you in Sazi that the Sultan was building weapons for the Gallan. But it wasn’t just guns.”

“What do you mean?” The factory outside of Dustwalk had made nothing but guns my whole life. Jin’s jaw worked, like he was testing the words. I’d watched him cross paths with death and dodge it with a wry tilt of the hat a half dozen times now. This was something different. This was something more than just him in trouble.

“There were rumors of another weapon,” he said finally. “Something they were making far down in the south. A bomb that could level whole cities like the hand of God itself. Whole countries even.”

Whole countries like his. He’d told me other things about the Gallan: That they were building an empire at the borders of countries around them as their magic faded. A weapon like the one that had destroyed Dassama would let them swallow other countries whole.

“We thought it might just be something being spread to scare folks,” Jin went on. “But in the end better safe than dead.” He let out a long exhale, but my own breathing was feeling shallow. “So I was sent down to the end of civilization to see what I could find. And lo and behold there’s a monster of a weapons factory. I figured even if there was no great leveler of civilizations, this was something. Something that might be able to cripple the Gallan for a little while, stem their supply of guns to their armies overseas. When I blew it up I thought any great weapon that could slaughter cities would go up with it. Judging by the burnt Oasis, Naguib got it out first. If the Sultan’s made a weapon like this for the Gallan, they won’t need a single bullet to bring the whole world to its knees.”

I thought I understood fear. I’d grown up in Dustwalk. But that was a restless fear, the kind that made me want to run. This was the kind that crawled up from the bottom of your gut and told you there was no running. The kind that made you go still from it.

“And Dassama was—”

“A testing ground,” he filled in grimly. “Commander Naguib must’ve taken the weapon up to Izman to hand it over. But they would’ve needed a testing site. Some place where the Gallan would be able to see it for themselves.” And the Sultan had given them one of his own cities, with his own people, so they could test a bomb that would cripple the rest of the world. “Dassama was a large Gallan base, but rumor had it they were losing control of the city to the rebellion.” I remembered the night we’d met in Deadshot. A new dawn, a new desert. The rebellion. The Sultan was allied with the Gallan. Holding his power depended on them. I’d never figured that the Rebel Prince might mean getting rid of the Gallan as well as the Sultan. I supposed the Gallan had.

“And you think the weapon is here?” I said. “In Fahali?”

“This is the only city within spitting distance of Dassama,” Jin said. “Rumor has it the Gallan have doubled their numbers here in past months, searching for the Rebel Prince.” He smiled, like at a private joke.

It’d be petty to yell at him about this. About not telling me. About turning around and walking away from the caravan without a word. “You’re going to get us both killed if you go off looking for it on your own, you know. And if I was going to die on account of you, I’d rather have done it weeks ago before I had to do all this walking.” So maybe I was a little petty.

“Amani, you are not a part of this if I—” Jin stopped abruptly. My eyes followed his behind me. I saw a flash of blue uniforms. It was all I needed to see.

Jin grabbed my hand as I moved to run, pulling me sideways instead, into a narrow side alley. The cool of the shade folded over me, and we both flattened ourselves in the shadows as the Gallan soldiers descended on the Camel’s Knees. o;So what don’t I know about Dassama?” The memory of the scorched sand hung between us uneasily, ending any attempt at a joke he might’ve tried to make. We’d both seen a whole city gone up in flames. And he’d barely said a handful of words to me since then. Like he was avoiding me.

“Amani—” He reached for me, his hand dropping away just in time to hide a gesture that didn’t seem to belong to a brother in view of the caravan. I glanced behind me. They were still being searched at the gate. Colorful scarves unraveled in one of the guards’ arms, making Isra scold him as she snatched them back off the ground.

“You don’t have to carry on through the desert from here if you don’t want to.” My full attention came back to Jin. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. He was watching me close, gauging my reaction.

“How do you reckon?” I asked warily.

“There’s a train. It runs from an outpost a few hours’ walk outside Fahali. It goes straight to Izman. You could be drinking arak in the shade of the palace walls in fewer days than I have fingers, if you wanted.”

A train. Like the one he’d pulled me off all those weeks ago on the other side of the desert. A straight shot to the capital, after sixteen years of aiming for it, and he was offering it to me. And I’d never see Jin again. That was what he was really offering me: a way out of this. To turn my back on Dassama and what he knew and walk away to the life I’d always wanted. Or always figured I did.

“And if that’s not what I want?” I had traitor eyes and there was no way he could mistake my meaning.

He took a deep breath. I couldn’t tell whether it was relief or resignation. When he inhaled I could see the Xichian sun over his heart rise just above the horizon of his shirt collar. “I told you in Sazi that the Sultan was building weapons for the Gallan. But it wasn’t just guns.”

“What do you mean?” The factory outside of Dustwalk had made nothing but guns my whole life. Jin’s jaw worked, like he was testing the words. I’d watched him cross paths with death and dodge it with a wry tilt of the hat a half dozen times now. This was something different. This was something more than just him in trouble.

“There were rumors of another weapon,” he said finally. “Something they were making far down in the south. A bomb that could level whole cities like the hand of God itself. Whole countries even.”

Whole countries like his. He’d told me other things about the Gallan: That they were building an empire at the borders of countries around them as their magic faded. A weapon like the one that had destroyed Dassama would let them swallow other countries whole.

“We thought it might just be something being spread to scare folks,” Jin went on. “But in the end better safe than dead.” He let out a long exhale, but my own breathing was feeling shallow. “So I was sent down to the end of civilization to see what I could find. And lo and behold there’s a monster of a weapons factory. I figured even if there was no great leveler of civilizations, this was something. Something that might be able to cripple the Gallan for a little while, stem their supply of guns to their armies overseas. When I blew it up I thought any great weapon that could slaughter cities would go up with it. Judging by the burnt Oasis, Naguib got it out first. If the Sultan’s made a weapon like this for the Gallan, they won’t need a single bullet to bring the whole world to its knees.”

I thought I understood fear. I’d grown up in Dustwalk. But that was a restless fear, the kind that made me want to run. This was the kind that crawled up from the bottom of your gut and told you there was no running. The kind that made you go still from it.

“And Dassama was—”

“A testing ground,” he filled in grimly. “Commander Naguib must’ve taken the weapon up to Izman to hand it over. But they would’ve needed a testing site. Some place where the Gallan would be able to see it for themselves.” And the Sultan had given them one of his own cities, with his own people, so they could test a bomb that would cripple the rest of the world. “Dassama was a large Gallan base, but rumor had it they were losing control of the city to the rebellion.” I remembered the night we’d met in Deadshot. A new dawn, a new desert. The rebellion. The Sultan was allied with the Gallan. Holding his power depended on them. I’d never figured that the Rebel Prince might mean getting rid of the Gallan as well as the Sultan. I supposed the Gallan had.

“And you think the weapon is here?” I said. “In Fahali?”

“This is the only city within spitting distance of Dassama,” Jin said. “Rumor has it the Gallan have doubled their numbers here in past months, searching for the Rebel Prince.” He smiled, like at a private joke.

It’d be petty to yell at him about this. About not telling me. About turning around and walking away from the caravan without a word. “You’re going to get us both killed if you go off looking for it on your own, you know. And if I was going to die on account of you, I’d rather have done it weeks ago before I had to do all this walking.” So maybe I was a little petty.

“Amani, you are not a part of this if I—” Jin stopped abruptly. My eyes followed his behind me. I saw a flash of blue uniforms. It was all I needed to see.

Jin grabbed my hand as I moved to run, pulling me sideways instead, into a narrow side alley. The cool of the shade folded over me, and we both flattened ourselves in the shadows as the Gallan soldiers descended on the Camel’s Knees.