BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER THREE: THE SANDSTORM

The beetle-wasp scurried methodically along the ridge of the dune. Every so often he would stop and lift his pincers to test the air for dangers. The insect longed to go into the shadows of the dune, to rest in the cool shade. But intrinsically he knew of the terrors in the darkness: greater animals than him looking to consume lest they also be consumed by the elements. But for the beetle-wasp, the glare of the sun was just as deadly. It slowly dried all living things, leaving them desiccated, a mummified monument to the inevitability of death.

Balance was imperative. The beetle-wasp slowly crept down the west side of the dune, into the gloom. Suddenly it stopped, testing the air. Vibrations. Something big was coming. The tiny creature parted its shell and furiously beat its wings, expending the last of its reserves to crest the dune and land on the light side.

The sand cruiser burst into view, obliterating the western half of the dune, and roared out of sight. The poor beetle-wasp was caught in the ensuing collapse of sand and was enveloped in millions of granules.

But he was alive.

And where there was life, there was hope.

Wrath had taken Nourma. She had succumbed to rage upon waking in the pitch black hold of the cruiser. Hers was the righteous fury of someone betrayed. She had trusted her cousin, and yet Ali had struck her without provocation and kidnapped her. He would pay, Nourma thought savagely. Her mind conceived horrible thoughts of retribution, against Ali, and his kin, and his whole Umara tribe. Her thoughts slowly devolved into a dull, pulsing red. The anger made Nourma's temples throb with pain, but she embraced it, eagerly welcoming the visceral feeling.

Eventually, the rage subsided, leaving her cold and spent, lying prostrate on the wooden floor.

"Feeling better?" called a voice from the dark.

Nourma sprang up, her back against the wall, fumbling reflexively for her knife, but her captors had taken it. Comprehension dawned on her.

"Linus?" she croaked.

"In the flesh," the spirit replied. "Well, not exactly, but you know what I mean."

Nourma covered her face with her hands. "Ugh. My head."

"They left you a canteen a while ago. It should be down by your feet."

Nourma knelt and closed her fingers around the canteen. Shaking, she unscrewed the cap and upended the bottle into her mouth. The water was oily, but refreshing nonetheless.

"Ah," she gurgled when she had drank her fill. "Is there anything to eat?"

"Erm." Nourma heard Linus fidget. She began pawing at the floor. "There is, but…" Nourma's fingers closed around something hard and slightly sticky. She brought the object to her face and sniffed.

"Jerky!" she exclaimed.

"I wouldn't eat that!" warned Linus.

"Why?" Nourma dropped the strip. "Is it poison?"

"In a way," Linus answered. "Airbenders believe all life is sacred. That is why we are traditionally vegetarians. So, that meat is spiritually poison."

Nourma picked up the jerky and took a big bite. "Tastes fine to me," she said, chewing. Linus sighed.

"So," Nourma said, after finishing the jerky and taking a swig of water, "where are we?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. I followed you when they threw you in here. How is your face, by the way?"

Nourma touched her cheek where Ali had struck her. It was painful when pressed, but fine otherwise.

"It's nothing," she murmured. "I'll pay him back for that, and more."

Even though she couldn't see Linus' face, she could sense his disapproval of vengeance. She waited for his rebuke. But instead he said:

"Good. I'm glad you're alright. Or as glad as I can be in this infernal machine."

Nourma rose and felt her surroundings. She was enclosed in a wooden room a little wider than her shoulders and slightly taller than herself. If she stretched out both her arms she could touch her fingertips to the rough hewn walls on the opposite ends. To her right, behind solid metal bars, she could hear the steady whining of the cruiser's generator in the main hold. Judging from the smell, Nourma guessed that they were in a sand-shark cargo hold. Sand-sharks were an exotic delicacy for the wealthy denizens of Ba Sing Se and an economic boon for the working poor of the Si Wong desert. Nourma resolved that she would not share their fate; she would not be served on a platter as a hostage.

"Do you have any idea of where we're going?" Linus asked, interrupting Nourma's thoughts.

"I think so. We may be going to Ky Shek. It's where Ali, they guy who hit me, lives. I don't know why he kidnapped me though. We're cousins, we see each other all the time. He was always a little weird, but I never expected this from him."

"What…" began Linus, but Nourma interrupted him.

"I don't know what or why or where, but I'm not sticking around to find out. We're escaping." She started to rattle the iron bars, looking for weaknesses. She found that the gate padlocked, impossible to open.

"May I suggest some meditation?" Linus offered. "A calm mind can lead to…"

Nourma cut him off again. "This is no time for meditation! Can't you see? We're in trouble!"

"Well, you're in trouble." Linus muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "You're probably right. It would be impossible to meditate with all this noise. What is that racket?"

Nourma paused and thought. The generator! She felt around on the floor again. Sure enough, there was a large accumulation of sand in the corners. She turned to Linus.

"Linus, I need your help."

"Oh, now you've decided to listen to me?"

"Is there a way to make a small cyclone of air? I need something to pick up the sand and bring it to that machine."

"That's simple enough," Linus responded. "You can just use an air swipe and blast the sand into the side."

"No, no, no." Nourma shook her head. "The sand needs to go somewhere small. It's a small opening, about the size of your fist."

Linus was silent for a moment. "There is a technique," he offered, "but it's quite advanced. It will take a while to learn."

"If you're as good a teacher as you think you are, this should be easy."

Linus thought to himself, you are the first Airbender Avatar, a wise, distinguished master with thousands of years of experience. How did you end up trapped with an impertinent girl in a smelly, noisy, dark hole?

He sighed and grinned. "Let's begin."

Dashtu walked up the gangway along the sand cruiser. He checked the blower, which provided a steady stream of wind to power the cruiser. The machine was running smoothly, its gentle whirring disturbed only by the occasional lowing of the dromedary tethered near the stern. It was the middle of the night and all the crew were asleep, save for the rudderman steering the ship steadily towards Ky Shek. They were traveling along the crest of a continuous dune, and the ride was smooth. It would have been peaceful if it were not for the steadily increasing wind blowing loose sand onto the deck. Dashtu looked up towards the bow. Ali was standing there, looking forward, as he had been ever since the cruiser had started. Dashtu walked up and stood beside his brother. There was a long silence.

"I suppose you're wondering why I did that." Ali said finally. Dashtu did not respond.

"Look, this is bigger than her. Bigger than us. This is for the Tribe!" Ali blurted.

Dashtu said softly, "I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to," Ali responded, "but you're seventeen. You need to learn how the world works!"

Dashtu smirked. Ali was only two years older than him. "And you know how it works." he stated mockingly.

Ali whipped around and bared his teeth. "Don't lecture me! I am the future of this family! I am the future of the Umara! You would be nothing if it weren't for me!"

Dashtu shrank back; he had pushed Ali too far. Dashtu knew the truth: Ali, being only the third eldest of Fatima's children, would not be the future of the family or of the tribe. But it would do no good to remind him of that. He had seen Ali's rages, what he had done to that poor camel-ox. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Ali threw a heavy arm around Dashtu's shoulders. "I forgive you, brother. Here, let me explain." He moved his other arm in a great sweep, highlighting the moon-lit desert passing under the cruiser.

"The Umara tribe has been blessed, Dashtu, with an extraordinary opportunity. Ky Shek is the jewel of the desert. It has electricity, plumbing, roads, and cars. We are a great people. Yet constantly, we have to treat other tribes as if they were our equals. The Hami, the Xiang, the Pudu; these dirty, backwater tribes, are they our equals?" Dashtu shook his head slowly.

"We'd be doing them a favor to share our bounty with them. Our technology, our culture; wouldn't it be a better place if everyone could live like we do?"

"I suppose," Dashtu said, "but what does cousin Nourma have to do with it?"

"Nourma will used, for the greater good. She'll be fine: we'll keep her safe, away from her family. But the Hami tribe will have no choice but to attack us to get their daughter back. And then," he smiled, "we'll push back, take over their tribe, and share the benefits. No one gets hurt." Ali turned and looked at Dashtu. "This is the right way; the only way."

"But Mother…" Dashtu began.

"Mother will have no choice but to see things my way, once this is all done." Ali turned back towards the bow, heedless of the blowing sand. "She'll even thank me afterwards. You'll see, Dashtu, this will all work out perfectly."

The blower stopped. The cruiser ground to a halt. Ali and Dashtu looked towards the stern of the ship. The rudderman called out, "the generator's stopped working, sir. I'll go below and check it out."

Ali grimaced and ground his teeth. He grabbed a nearby electric lantern and stomped towards the entrance of the dark hold. Dashtu followed a few paces behind.

Nourma let out a silent cheer. It had taken a while to learn the technique, but under Linus' tutelage she quickly mastered the air sphere. Then, little by little, she transported the piles of sand up and through the bars towards the nearby generator. She was familiar with the mechanism (a standard Future Industries P-115, identical to the one in her village), and Nourma knew the intake manifold would be on the right side, about halfway up. In tiny increments, the sand went down the manifold and into the engine. Each of Nourma's successful deposits was rewarded by a slight worsening of the grinding gears. At last the motor gave a plaintive wail and spun to a halt.

It was at this point that Nourma realized she didn't know what to do next. "Linus!" she hissed, "what now?"

"Now we wait," Linus said calmly, "for the opportunity to present itself."

Nourma was inclined to heap scorn on that suggestion, but seeing as she had no alternative, she sat down and waited.

The hatch door was flung open from above. Dim moonlight streamed in, the first light Nourma had seen in hours. She lay down on the floor and feigned sleep, watching through half-closed eyes.

A man came down the steps and approached the generator, fiddling with the buttons. He was followed by Ali, who was holding a lantern and, Nourma noticed with apprehension, a sheathed scimitar on his belt. Ali came to Nourma's cell and shined the light in. Nourma kept still. Ali snorted and turned back towards the generator. Other men, roused from their slumber, began crowding into the hold, opening panels, diagnosing the broken hardware.

"Sand in the manifold, sir," one of them announced, "I rekon it'll take about two hours to clean out."

Ali cursed and started to pace from one corner of the dark hold to another. Nourma observed the crowded cleaning of the generator and recognized a face. Dashtu. She groaned inwardly. Nourma could fathom Ali's betrayal, but Dashtu was always kind to Nourma, if a little shy. It hurt her to see him involved in this nefarious business.

Nourma heard Ali mutter something and then declare: "This is taking too long. I will ride ahead with the girl to Ky Shek; the rest of you stay here. Prepare my camel-ox." Nourma's heart leapt: this was her chance to escape! But her spirits fell when, before one of Ali's men had unlocked her door, Ali called out, "Watch out, she's faking being asleep."

The ruse over, Nourma opened her eyes fully and sat up, glaring at Ali. Ali glared back. A group of men clustered around the door. The key was inserted. "Don't worry Nourma," Dashtu said in a conciliatory voice, "we're not going to harm you." No, Nourma thought, but I am going to harm you. She drew a deep breath. The key turned.

Drawing her hands up her sides and shooting them out in front of her, Nourma sent out a blast of air that sent the door swinging open and scattering the men behind it. The lanterns fell to the ground, casting the hold into darkness again, punctuated by tiny illuminated surfaces of yellow light. Planting her left fist on the ground, she spun from a sitting position to a crouched stance, sending a slice of air through the bars. She ran and used the right side of the door frame to pivot and slide through the narrow gap between the generator and the bars, stumbling over prostrate bodies. Nourma could feel a draught of warm air blowing in from her left, signaling the exit to the deck.. She heard moaning and scrambling behind her. She turned and sent a wall of air behind her, blowing her pursuers back. Nourma raced up the creaking steps and emerged onto the deck. She was immediately engulfed in a maelstrom of blowing sand.

Ali was shocked to see his cousin suddenly perform Airbending attacks, and he quickly dove behind the generator to escape the blasts. While hiding, his surprise turned to hateful rage. When he heard Nourma escape up the stairs, he touched the scimitar at his side and raced after her, ignoring the cries of the people he stepped on. Upon reaching the upper deck, he felt the sandy winds abrase his cheek, and he winced from the pain. Ali regretted his decision to wear his courtly purple silk robes, instead of the thick brown robes better suited for the desert. Putting a hand up to his eyes, he peered into the dull light of the coming dawn and saw a shadow in the swirling sands. Nourma.

Ali unclipped his scimitar from his belt and swung the sword, still sheathed, at Nourma's turned back. Midswing, Ali saw Nourma jerk, as if startled, and duck. The scimitar whistled over Nourma's head. She rolled to the right and thrust her arms out while crouching. Ali could see the air attack as it pushed the sands out of its path. He dodged the oncoming rails of wind and swiped at Nourma's legs. Nourma put her hands by her feet and thrust herself into the air, barely avoiding the sheath. Ali brought the scimitar down with a vicious chop, but before the blow could land, he felt the rush of wind blow him across the deck.

The sandstorm continued, unabated. Ali rose and groped for his sword. The growing light now gave a thick yellow hue to the wall of sand, but Nourma was nowhere to be seen. Then Ali heard the panicked bellowing of his camel-ox at the stern of the cruiser. He ran towards the sound. There, behind the steering port, he could espy a bent shape mounting the beast. Ali cried out in rage. Nourma gave the camel-ox a slap on the rump, and the frightened animal began to run, its hooves scrambling on the accumulated sand. Ali gave a desperate lunge at the escapee and felt his sheathed point connect with something solid. Nourma screamed in pain, and Ali smirked. He followed them down to the main deck and saw his camel-ox jump over the side. Ali ran to the edge. The drop was only a short distance, as a result of the sand drift. He heard the dull thumping of the hooves as ox and rider disappeared into the gloomy winds. Ali stood peering into the storm for a long while, hands clenched on the guard rail. To follow her into the storm was to share her same deadly fate. Ali turned away. "Stupid girl," he muttered.

The generator was cleaned and fixed in three hours. Ali brooded in a corner at the delay, while Dashtu brooded in another corner and tried to hide his tears from his brother. Nourma's previous visits to Ky Shek had been too infrequent for Dashtu and Nourma to become friends, but she was family, however distant. Dashtu remembered the first time he saw Nourma. They were both five years old, and it was her first trip outside her village. Everyone cooed at her shocking silver hair, but Dashtu was entranced by her eyes. They seemed to contain shards of green glass, swirling with infinite permutations, occasionally seeming to catch the glow of some hidden light. But now Nourma was lost, and Dashtu would have to explain himself to his mother. He shuddered.

The sandstorm stopped soon after arriving in Ky Shek, its furious black cloud retreating slowly to the south. Residents of the city began shoveling the drifts of sand, clearing paths under the rising sun. Wealthier residents hired teenage Earthbenders, who simply pushed the accumulations away with a few motions.

Ali strode into Fatima's council room and gave a short bow. Dashtu followed a few paces behind.

"I'm sorry, mother, but we failed," Ali began. Fatima raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Ali continued. "We found Nourma, wandering the dunes, but she refused to come with us. We had to restrain her and take her against her will, for her own protection. But while we were traveling through the sandstorm, she escaped somehow, and ran into the storm. We couldn't find her. She must have perished." At this, Fatima's eyes grew wide, and Dashtu could see her sorrow. But Ali pressed on. "There's something else."

Dashtu cast his gaze downward. They had rehearsed this part during the journey, and Ali had assured him that this was the only way to turn the tragedy into opportunity. Dashtu heard Ali say, "Nourma, when we restrained her, grew quite upset, and started to say some shocking things."

Fatima looked at Ali quizzically. "What sort of things?"

"She said that we would pay for our crimes. That she had a new power, and would use it to destroy the other tribes and rule the desert."

"And you believed her?"

Ali made a pained face. "At first, no. She couldn't even Earthbend; she was an embarrassment to her tribe. But during her escape, she attacked us…" Ali paused for effect, "...with Airbending!"

Fatima's eyes grew wide again, this time with surprise. She cast her gaze at Dashtu. "Is this correct, Dashtu? Nourma used Airbending?"

Dashtu met her gaze. "Yes, mother. Nourma attacked me and Ali with air. I felt the blasts myself." It was not a lie, technically, but Fatima continued to look at him, brow furrowed.

Ali, wanting to distract Fatima, blurted out: "It's clear that the Hami tribe is looking to take over the Umara tribe using this unnatural power." He stepped forward, voice pleading. "We must put a stop to them, before they destroy everything. For their own good." Fatima shifted her gaze from Dashtu to Ali. At first, Dashtu could see blazing anger in her eyes, but it was soon replaced with her normal steely glare.

"Yes," she said, "the time has come for this sad tale to come to an end. I cannot allow this threat to continue unchecked. I must put a stop to it, for good."

She instructed Ali and Dashtu to prepare five sand cruisers and forty soldiers to move on the Hami village. "I will go with you and see this done personally." She stood up. "For the Umara."

"For the Umara."

The wind was lessening, and Nourma was able to see a little farther through the howling sands. Her further sight did not give her hope, however. She had barely survived the desert in calm conditions; in a sandstorm there was no hope. The camel-ox she was riding seemed to know this: its steps were labored and plodding. Her legs were pressed up the malnourished creature's jutting ribs, and served only to compound Nourma's sorrow. Nourma's own ribs still stung from Ali's blow, and she drew pain with every breath. She suddenly felt light-headed: besides the strip of jerky in the cruiser, she had not eaten in two days. "Linus," she croaked, "help."

There was silence for a long time. "I'm sorry," Linus answered slowly, "I don't know what to do here. You just have to go on, and hope." He chuckled. "Those were some moves back there! You should have seen the looks on their faces." Linus paused. "You would have made an excellent Airbender."

Nourma recognized Linus' choice of words and began to sob, unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears. Linus stammered, "I mean...it's not like that...you see…"

The camel-ox's front left hoof sank into a hidden hollow, and Nourma tumbled listlessly into the sand. She lay there, unmoving, feeling the grains on her fingers, and the blowing wind rippling her robe. The hollow was expanding, and the sand was flowing into the rapidly growing sinkhole.

"It's okay, Linus," Nourma murmured, "I'm ready. I'm an Airbender now."

"No!" Linus cried out, "don't give up! You're not an Airbender yet! You still have to learn, um, the Flying Lemur-Monkey and, ah, the Spiral Cyclone. You can't…" his voice broke. "You can't leave me."

Nourma gave him a weak smile. She was waist deep in the sand. The camel-ox was floundering, trying to get free from the sinkhole. Nourma gathered her strength and punched both of her fists into the sinkhole, blasting the hapless creature towards the edge of the falling sand. The camel-ox found its footing, and clambered out of danger. It trotted a few steps, and turned to look back with docile eyes. Nourma slipped under the sand.

She fell a short distance and landed on a soft dune, sand pouring on her hood. Nourma looked around in surprise. The lantern sitting on a nearby rock cast warm light throughout the grotto. Nourma stood up and walked out from under the falling grains, brushing the sand from her robe. She recognized the place as her secret hideout, where she used to come and escape from the desert sun and responsibilities. There was the polished onyx stone she found, years ago. There was the bleached shark skull, with serrated teeth as big as her fist. There was, inexplicably, a satchel and a two canteens. And next to them, peacefully sleeping on a woven mat, there was Mehdi.

There was no hope, now. Aisha knew that, in her heart, but she was going through the motions, keeping herself busy, as if pointless action could keep at bay the precarious wall of grief that threatened to come crashing down.

Pasha's search party had returned after a fruitless day of desperate searching. He had stayed just long enough to refuel and restock the sand cruiser, and was now scouring the harsh desert sands.

Aisha had radioed the other tribes, and they were searching as well. Aisha's sister, Fatima, had dedicated all of her considerable resources to the search. Fatima had promised to keep Aisha updated, but Aisha had not heard from her sister for several hours.

Worst of all, Nourma's friend Mehdi had run off, presumably in search of Nourma. Now there were two missing children, and another grieving family. Aisha had gone to comfort Mehdi's mother and father, so that together they could cling to the small scraps of hope. But that was before the sandstorm.

Sandstorms were a regular occurrence in the Si Wong desert. If a person had the protection of sturdy walls and a little water to moisten their parched throat, then the storm was a mild annoyance. But to the unlucky traveller caught in the open, a sandstorm was a death sentence. They became lost, wandering in circles, and the blowing sand hastened the onset of dehydration. Before the storm, there was the possibility of rescue. After the storm, there was only retrieval.

Aisha heard the sand cruisers enter the village square, and together with Mehdi's parents, she went out into the midday sun. The cruisers were from the Umara tribe, and hope leaped in Aisha's throat. But when she saw Fatima come slowly down the ramp, and beheld her weary face, the last hope left her and she fell to the ground, weeping. Her sister knelt and embraced her, slowly rocking in a futile attempt to console. Behind her, Mehdi's parents wept and held each other. Aisha was dimly aware of Fatima's guards slowly gathering around her.

Fatima lifted Aisha to her feet. "You remember my sons," she said softly. Ali and Dashtu stood nearby, awkwardly, looking at the ground.

"Of course," Aisha managed to say through the tears. She hugged the two boys, each taller than her. "Ali and Dashtu. I'm so sorry." She stepped back and looked at them. Dashtu was fighting back tears, and Ali's face was a mask of pity and condolence. Ali opened his mouth to speak. Fatima spoke first.

"Ali killed your daughter."

Everyone froze. Aisha was too shocked to speak. Ali's face changed from confusion, to fear, to anger. He lunged at Fatima. The guards on either side of him restrained the attack and forced Ali to his knees. One of them unsheathed his scimitar. Dashtu took a step forward, but was stopped by an icy glare from his mother.

Fatima spoke low and fast into her sister's ear. "He came to me saying he found Nourma wandering the desert. He says she escaped and ran off. But I could see the lie in his eyes. He had some part to play in her death, whether through action or inaction." One of the guards gave the sword to Fatima, who presented it to Aisha. "By the law of the desert, his life is yours. Do with it what you will."

Aisha wrapped her fingers around the hilt. She knew her sister, and knew that she never lied, ever. She walked slowly towards the kneeling Ali, dreading every step. "Tell me, nephew," she hissed through gritted teeth, "does your mother speak true?"

In desperation and terror Ali blurted out, "No, no, she lies! I swear it!" He continued babbling. But Aisha had seen his face. Ali wore the guilt of Nourma's death, and it showed in his eyes. Deep inside Aisha, she knew that she could not harm Ali, who she had held as a baby, and watched grow from a toddler to a man. But then those same maternalistic thoughts gave rise to memories of Nourma: her first words, her first steps, her irrepressible joy. It was unfair, Aisha thought, that her precious daughter, her only child, should be taken forever from the world. Her knuckles whitened on the scimitar, and the red wrath took her. She raised the sword up high. Ali glared back with defiant rage.

"No!" a voice cried out.

The familiar voice penetrated through the irrational hatred, and found the dying ember of hope deep within Aisha. She looked up. She could see two figures, blurry through the tears, but Nourma's platinum hair shone through.

Aisha choked out a sob. The scimitar tumbled out of her hands and landed heavily in front of the prostate Ali. There was a joyous cry behind Aisha, as Mehdi's parents recognized their son. Together, with halting steps, the three of them ran towards their children and embraced them. And at the joyful confluence of love lost and love returned, they wept as one.

Worried recriminations followed, and Mehdi and Nourma told their stories in the shade of the courtyard on plush silk pillows. How Nourma had run off, how she had survived the night, how Ali had struck her, bound her, and kidnapped her. She had escaped into the storm with the camel-ox, and had come across her hidden grotto, where Mehdi had assumed she would be. They reunited, and, their energy bolstered with Mehdi's food and water, rode the camel-ox back to the village. Nourma did not tell anyone about her visions of Linus, besides, she had not seen him since she slipped under the sand. When the story was finished, Aisha hugged her daughter tightly. Fatima sat back and looked at Nourma closely, knowing that the fate of her sons, currently being guarded outside, still had to be decided.

"Well," she said after a pause, "it seems to me that Ali is still guilty, and perhaps Dashtu as well. I denounce Ali, and cast him out of the Umara tribe. Dashtu I will deal with personally, but Ali's fate is yours, Nourma."

Aisha looked back at her sister and clicked her tongue angrily. "Shame," she said, "don't put that responsibility on my little girl!"

Nourma detached herself from her mother. "It's alright, mama." She stood up. "I don't want to kill Ali. I don't want anyone to hurt him. Or Dashtu either. I won't have anyone die for me. It's not the right way." She looked at Fatima. "Would sending him away work?"

Fatima sighed. "Perhaps. Maybe banishment is for the best. I wish you could have chosen a firmer way, but that is your decision." Aisha squeezed Nourma's hand.

"It is," Nourma replied, and she felt as if Linus would approve. For the first time in hours, she smiled. Then they all started at the sound of a wheezing, ailing sand cruiser coasting to a stop outside. They heard Pasha's voice outside: "Any news? What did I miss?"

After another joyful reunification, and a celebratory dinner, Fatima and the Umara departed from the village. Dashtu and Ali were bound below decks. Midway between the Hami village and Ky Shek, the convoy of cruisers stopped. Ali was unbound and given two days supply of food and water. He mounted his camel-ox. Fatima held the reins.

"You are hereby banished from the Si Wong desert. You may not seek refuge with any tribe, and no refuge will be given. The Serpent's Pass is a two day ride west. Go now."

Looking towards the horizon, Ali struggled to keep his voice calm. "So much for family, eh, mother?"

Fatima replied levelly: "You yourself turned your back on your family. But more importantly, you turned your back on your tribe, and your honor."

Ali turned to Fatima and furiously hissed, "I have more honor than you can possibly understand!" He whipped the reins out of his mother's hands and started forward. "But you're too blind to see that," he muttered.

Dashtu watched impassively from the cruiser as his brother rode to the horizon, a dark silhouette against a setting sun.