The Unmaking (The Last Days of Tian Di, #2)(61)
When she watched her father and Rea together, holding hands, she was glad for him. But she was excluded from their happiness, such as it was. Excluded by her mother because, much as Rea would have liked to be close to her daughter, she did not know or understand her. Excluded by her father because their relationship as it had been before was changed forever. It was this that grieved her most. He had been the strong one, he had made the decisions, protected her and cared for her, once. When the Mancers came for Eliza they had reached a point, too soon and all at once, where she was beyond his protection. Now, at the age of fourteen, she had power, she made her own decisions, and had proved she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Rea, once among the greatest of the Shang Sorceresses, was the one who needed taking care of. And so Eliza’s father took care of Rea and nobody took care of Eliza anymore. She knew it was absurd to want her father to treat her like a child or anything less than what she was, but the change had happened so suddenly and so traumatically. The life she had known had been over in a flash when the five Emmisariae of the Mancers descended on Holburg. Eliza knew that life was change and nothing ever remained the same, but still, the years in Holburg with her father, in the cottage near the sea with its garden and beehives, remained a sort of golden period in her memory, a perfect world before the storm struck.
As dusk fell they crossed the flat sandy plains, aiming for a bright hump on the horizon. There began the dunes, vast mountains of sand shaped by wind. They flew over great ridges that swept in creamy curves down into deep valleys, all of it gold in the setting sun. As the sky darkened and the moon rose, these same magisterial dunes shone ghostly white. The desert appeared endless and unchanging, although its valleys and cliffs and ridges were being constantly remade by the wind. There were no landmarks to speak of but Eliza knew exactly where her father’s tribe would be wintering. She had learned on her first journey to the Great Sand Sea that she possessed what all the Sorma possessed – an unwavering sense of the desert. This desert had claimed vast armies in the past, protecting the southern countries for centuries from the powerful northern invaders. No explorer had ever crossed it successfully without a Sorma guide. But Eliza could not be lost here. She knew the desert and it recognized her as one of its own. It would not lead her astray.
For all that, she would never love the desert. The only place that had ever felt like home to her was Holburg, with its dense green woods, sandy beaches and trees heavy with fruit, all cradled tenderly by the bright blue sea. She was restless in the desert and ill at ease with the Sorma. Though they were welcoming, she felt like an outsider. Their ways were not familiar to her, would always be exotic and only half-understood. She longed for water and colour.
It was night and the desert sky was bright with stars when the young Shang Sorceress, the wizard of Lil, and the four surviving dragons of the Emmisariae reached the Sorma camp. The camp was on the fringes of an oasis, an island of green in the desert, rich in dates and olives and freshwater springs. Here they would spend several weeks stocking up on food and water before moving on, following their sense of the desert to another oasis that would feed them and provide water.
Almost all of the tribe had retreated to their tents for the night but a few fires still smouldered. The vast dunes loomed all about the oasis, a startling oval of life and birdsong. But whereas the sea as Eliza knew it was full of life, the Great Sand Sea surrounding this island was sterile and deadly. The four dragons set down at the edge of the camp, where an old woman was waiting. Her grey hair was wound up on top of her head and she wore billowing, colourful fabrics which swept around her in a style that looked effortless but was, in fact, very complicated. Her forehead was marked with the blue teardrop that indicated she was an Elder. Her name was Lai, and she was Eliza’s paternal grandmother.
“Greetings, Grandmother,” said Eliza, bending to kiss her hand and then kissing her on both cheeks. Uri Mon Lil slid off the dragon’s neck and stumbled up behind Eliza.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Someplace safe,” said Eliza a bit curtly, for she was getting tired of explaining things.
“I dreamed you were coming,” said Lai, smiling and revealing a row of perfect white teeth. “But in my dream, it was you alone. I did not know you would come with another being and so many dragons. Something is wrong, yes?”
“Yes,” said Eliza. “Is my father sleeping?”
“He is. Shall I wake him?”
“No, it can wait until morning.”
“You will need refreshment. Come, and your friend, too.”
Eliza and Uri Mon Lil followed Lai to a broad tent outside of which an old man was sleeping.
“Your Grandfather always means to count the stars,” commented Lai, stepping over him. “But he falls asleep every night before he reaches a hundred. I will bring him in later.”
Inside, she poured them each some strong tea and proffered a bowl of dates. They ate and drank gratefully. Uri Mon Lil, who could not understand what they were saying, furtively consulted his book. He was most distressed to discover that he had an unhappily married daughter, was stricken by a terrible Curse, and had gotten himself involved in something very complicated and dangerous with a surly young Sorceress, with whom his relationship was alarmingly described as “uncertain.”
“Is it true that the Sorma can heal any being, even those on the brink of death?” asked Eliza.