Karim reached the top of a dune and was about to make his way down the other side when his legs gave out from beneathhim. He cried out, toppling forward, and rolled end over end to the bottom, where he landed flat on his back.
He almost didn’t get up. It would have been so easy to lie there. To give up and sleep. His body certainly wanted him to. Sure, he might get eaten by lions, but was that so bad? He was about to doze off when Djet’s voice seemed to call to him again.
Look, Karim-sen!
“Leave me alone, boy,” Karim muttered, spitting out a mouthful of sand. “Can’t you see I’m trying to die?”
What do you see?
Even in death, Djet wouldn’t let him be. Karim grunted as he struggled to his feet, a mad kind of laughter bubbling up in his throat. He looked around.
“I see nothing!” he cried into the vast emptiness. “Do you hear me? Nothing behind me, nothing ahead, just a useless expanse of…”
That’s when he saw it, as clear as day on the shifting horizon. A small stone structure, half-ruined, with several broken columns like jagged teeth.
“It can’t be,” he whispered, and stumbled toward the edifice with renewed vigor. As he got closer, he almost expected the structure to vanish—another trick of the light—but it didn’t. And before too long, he found himself standing right in front of it.
Though crumbling, the structure had once been grand, with gray limestone blocks that were beautifully cut and stacked with precision. The exterior walls were engraved with wondrous images: lotus flowers, rearing lions, great animal-headed figures, and the strange Khetaran writing.
Best of all, though, was the well.
It was perhaps only a few handsbreadth in diameter, but Karim had the feeling there was water to be found at the bottom.
He put his hand on the wall, still not quite believing that itwas real. The abandoned building was the perfect shelter for the night. He could rest, fill his waterskin from the well, then continue his journey in the morning before it got too hot.
He was so overcome with relief that he didn’t notice the footprints in the sand. The pile of burnt animal bones. The smell of smoke in the air.
So, he was really quite surprised when he heard a soft canine growl and something sharp poked him in the back.
“Make one wrong move,” a gruff voice said, “and I’ll run you through.”
Karim sighed and put his hands up in surrender. “Would you believe you’re the second person to make me that offer today?”
“Turn around. Slowly.”
Karim did. Standing before him was a black dog with a long snout and pointed ears, and a grizzled old man who may as well have been built from the same stone as the building behind him. He had a square, chiseled face, wide nose, and a thick coat of wiry white hair covering his entire body. Karim might have mistaken him for one of his fellow tribesmen, except for the Khetaran lilt in his voice. Khetarans were known for keeping their bodies smooth and hairless, but it appeared as if this man had long given up the practice.
“I’m not armed, hey?” Karim said. “Just a traveler seeking refuge.”
“Don’t get many travelers up this way. Criminals mostly,” the man growled. He studied Karim with suspicion, his eyes stuck in a permanent squint.
The dog sniffed at the bloodstains on Karim’s clothes.
“I realize how bad this looks,” Karim said, pulling his hand away when the dog began licking it.
“Do you now?” The man snapped his fingers at his canine companion. “Behkai, heel.” The dog whined but returned to his side.
“I do. I promise, I mean you no—”
The pack slipped from his shoulder, and the large scarab-shaped amulet he’d pried from the king’s coffin slipped out. It landed on its side, rolling in a slow circle before coming to rest between them.
Karim swallowed. “I can explain.”
The man didn’t reply. He stared at the blue stone on the ground, like it was a piece of sky that had fallen to earth.
“You see,” Karim went on, “I was walking along, and wouldn’t you know it, that stone was just lying there…”
The man bent to pick up the amulet, his spear all but forgotten. He ran his fingers over the engravings, his brow furrowed in confusion.
