Spin the Dawn(56)

Edan set the jar on the ground. The spider blended perfectly with the pale yellow sand.

“A golden wheel spider,” he said. “Aptly named for the way it spreads its legs and cartwheels across the sand. It’s fast.”

He casually slid the jar under his arm. “You’ll need to spin its silk,” he said. “I’ll show you where its burrow is. If you see any of its brothers and sisters, don’t touch them. The bite is lethal.”

I followed him, bringing my scissors. The burrow wasn’t far from our camp, surrounded by red-brown rocks that jutted like teeth out of the sand. A shiny silver web arched from one rock to another. Carefully, I knelt and wound the scissor blades, coiling the precious web without breaking a single strand.

Once there was no more silk to twirl onto the scissors, I stepped back for Edan to release the spider in the jar. But he was studying it.

“Are you going to let it go?”

“Just a minute,” he said, passing me a small glass vial. “Open it, please.”

Using a slender wooden spoon, he deftly swabbed the spider’s fangs, collecting a viscous sample from its mouth.

I crouched beside him as he deposited the sample in my vial. “Is collecting poisons part of your work for the emperor?”

“It’s not poison,” Edan said quite seriously, “and I’m collecting it for myself.” He crouched with the spider still in its jar. “Stand back.”

Gently, he lifted the jar’s lid, then tilted it onto the sand. The golden spider cartwheeled out of sight, kicking up sand with its eight legs.

In Edan’s hand were three neatly tied spools of the Niwa silk I’d just spun. I was so entranced by the silk I barely wondered how it’d gotten from my scissor blades into his hands. The silk was iridescent, nearly silver in the sunlight, and the thickest thread I’d ever seen.

He lit a match and set the spools on fire.

“Don’t!” I cried.

Edan blocked me with his arm. “What makes their silk so special is that fire cannot consume it,” he reminded me. “It can’t be frozen, either, for that matter.”

With a triumphant grin, he blew out the fire and held out the spider silk to me. “Behold, Master Tailor, the first step to conquering your quest and taming the sun and moon.”

Mesmerized by the glistening silken threads, and the possibility that my task wasn’t so impossible after all, I hugged him without thinking. “Thank you!”

Edan quickly peeled my arms off. Pink tinged his cheeks, and he wore a frown.

“Sorry,” I said, backing away.

“I’m not one of your brothers,” he reminded me tersely, “and I’m not your friend.” He sounded like he was trying to scold me but couldn’t quite muster enough edge in his tone. “I’m here to make sure you don’t get killed.”

I swallowed. “It won’t happen again.”

We rode in silence for the rest of the day, but I didn’t mind. In spite of the brutal sun, I was in good spirits. Finally, I could do something other than sketching while riding Milk—I could knit!

Eagerly, I took out a needle and cast on the first row of stitches. Knitting gloves was tricky, for if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up with holes between the fingers. So I took my time, starting with a rib pattern for the cuffs, then crossing stitches at the finger splits to reduce holes. I was so absorbed in my work I didn’t even notice the lone tree ahead until Edan’s camel stopped in front of it.

Anywhere else, a tree might not have been so exciting, but in the middle of the Halakmarat, the sight of one was enough to make me fall off my camel.

The tree was gnarled and spiky, with empty branches that reached like claws into the vast, cloudless sky. Surrounding it were parched, sickly shrubs and rocks that bulged from the ground like bones of the earth.

To my endless disappointment, I found not a drop of water by its roots.

Edan tied our camels to the tree. “Set up your tent,” he said, brushing his forehead. “Tomorrow will be a long day. We’ll head east to the heart of the desert. That’s where we’ll capture the sun.”

Obediently, I staked my walking stick into the ground and unfolded my tent over it. But when Edan wasn’t looking, I stole a glance at him.

His cheeks were red, and sweat glistened on his brow. No, it couldn’t be—he’d said he couldn’t feel heat…unless it was extreme. He’d been fine this afternoon during the brunt of the day. Now the sun was setting, the air finally cooling down…yet he didn’t look at all like his tireless self.

What was happening to Edan?





CHAPTER TWENTY


A hawk’s cry tore into my dreams. I bolted up, my head brushing the flap of my tent. It was difficult to hear anything over the howling of the wind, but then the hawk cried again. Louder. It didn’t sound far.

“Edan!” I called, kicking off my blanket.

No answer.

I poked my head out of the tent. The moon shone bright against the black, starless sky. There was no sign of my traveling companion, but the hawk had plunged into one of Edan’s saddlebags. Now it flew away with a bright red pouch in its beak.

I started chasing after it, but the camels caught my attention. They pulled against their ropes, hooves kicking up sand. They were trying to flee, but from what?