After months of constant labor, Arikara began to recover. The dead were buried, the wounded healed or healing, shelters rebuilt after the earthquake. By now, regular caravans went back and forth, businesses were reopened. Soldan Xivir even remarked that his people were thinking about normal lives again.
Many of the survivors in Arikara considered their new awnings and tents to be homes, not just emergency shelters. The people were not in any particular hurry to rebuild brick-and-wood structures again, especially after a sharp aftershock struck the city three weeks earlier.
Khan Jikaris and his Nunghal adventurers grew restless in the crowded city, even though it would still be months before the seasonal winds shifted and their sand coracles could cross the Great Desert again. At the khan’s insistence, Arikara now boasted a small Nunghal church, where the nomads could commemorate the two sailing brothers who had discovered their land. The place of worship was a matter of pride for Jikaris, though he wasn’t overly religious; he simply wanted to show the sikaras that his people’s beliefs were important, too.
For his own part, Imir was also anxious to move. Since his retirement, he felt footloose and didn’t like to stay in the same place for long. He had intended to sail across the dunes to see the Nunghal lands and the southern sea again, but the bandit raid had crushed those hopes for this year. Imir considered riding up to Kiesh, the easternmost city of all the Uraban soldanates, just to see it. He did not doubt that his granddaughters would want to come with him.
Khan Jikaris, though, wanted to ride south to the edge of the desert, “if only to look at the dunes, and to make certain our coracles are being taken care of at Desert Harbor.”
Imir offered to join them. “I’d like to see how repairs on our Uraban coracles are coming along. At least ten should be ready to take flight.”
Adreala, Cithara, and Istala rode their own horses for the journey down to Desert Harbor. By now, the three girls had learned how to catch, saddle, and bridle their mounts, and their Nunghal companions showed them tricks each night in camp. Adreala was particularly proficient with knots and ropes.
Upon reaching the outpost at the edge of the desert, Imir was glad to see that the buildings had been rebuilt after the bandit raid. The coracle baskets were repaired, the colorful silken balloon sacks carefully folded and protected from the weather. The five Nunghal coracles had also been patched and readied for the voyage home.
Jikaris shaded his eyes and gazed at the blistering sand dunes. “I would not want to walk across that. Asaddan did it once. That is enough.”
“I want to see the Nunghal lands someday, Grandfather,” Adreala said. “I won’t let you forget your promise to take me there.”
“I had a good excuse each time our plans changed,” Imir said, and tousled the girl’s hair. “If you can avoid being kidnapped by bandits, and if another severe earthquake doesn’t strike, maybe we’ll go when the time is right.”
A sweaty, dust-encrusted rider came pounding into Desert Harbor, letting out a shrill whistle for attention. The people in the camp closed in to hear the urgent news that had brought him here at such a breakneck pace. “Soldan Xivir commanded me to find the former soldan-shah with all due haste!”
Imir came forward. “I am here. What is it?”
“Olabar harbor has been attacked by Aidenists from Gremurr! Many ships burned, hundreds killed. I’ve been riding for more than a week.”
Imir felt as if a lead weight had dropped into the pit of his stomach. “Was the enemy driven off? Is the city safe?”
“The enemy retreated and the fires are put out, sir, but there are worse tidings. Even as the flames were raging, Soldan-Shah Omra received word that a massive Tierran army has laid siege to the Ishalem wall, and their navy has blockaded the harbor.”
Khan Jikaris, who had understood most of the report, flushed red. “Then we must go and help in the fight. You are our friend, Imir. We have heard your terrible stories about these Aidenists. Do you have any weapons?”
Imir felt cold inside. He had been away from that conflict for a long time. “I wish I could be there to support my son, but here I am, on the farthest edge of Uraba. There is no way I can go there.”
Jikaris snorted. “We will use the sand coracles. Fifteen of them are ready to depart as soon as we pack them.”
The former soldan-shah sadly shook his head. “The coracles go where the breezes blow, and Ishalem is west and then north.”
The khan scratched a few strands of gray hair that stuck up from his tanned bald scalp. “Have you not discovered how to change course by raising or lowering the balloon?”
“What are you saying?”
“Air currents flow in different directions, depending on altitude. They are like rivers, crisscrossing in the sky. Change your height until you find a stream blowing in the direction you want to go.” Jikaris looked to his companions to make certain he was explaining it correctly, and they nodded. “How can you not have discovered this in all your voyages?”
The former soldan-shah was taken aback. “We…simply caught the strongest current, and it blew us south, or north, depending on the time of year.”
“We have to go,” Adreala said, and her sisters agreed. “Bring archers and arrows, and anything else you used when you fought the bandits.”
“If it is possible,” Imir said, still unsettled, “then we are off to Ishalem.” He raised his voice and shouted to the people of Desert Harbor.