Race the Sands Read online

  “Of course n—”

  That actually was not a terrible idea.

  Because if he did find the late emperor’s vessel, then it was a decent way to get the former emperor back into the palace without raising suspicion. And if he didn’t . . . he could purchase a random kehok to justify why he’d spent his travels visiting markets.

  Of course, if I’m wrong and I don’t find the late emperor’s soul within a kehok, then I’ll be the proud owner of a smelly monster.

  On the other hand, I’ve come this far . . .

  “Of course, I can’t divulge that information right now. But I can say that the emperor-to-be loves the Becaran Races and has an interest in restarting the royal stable,” Yorbel said. “I’m on the lookout for the perfect racer.”

  Another lie. Or a possible future truth?

  “Now, tell me who purchased your new kehok, for if it’s as strong as you seem to be implying, I wish to purchase it from them.”

  The seller nodded. “Tamra Verlas, on behalf of Lady Evara.”

  Chapter 11

  Three days before the first race, Tamra packed extra clothes for Shalla and went with her to the augur temple. Carrying Shalla’s pack slung over one shoulder, she held her daughter’s hand. “It will only be a few days, until the race ends.”

  “I know, Mama. You worry too much.”

  “I worry extra so you don’t have to.” She squeezed Shalla’s hand as if she were joking, though she one hundred percent was not. When Shalla was little, Tamra used to bring her everywhere: to the auction, to racing lessons, to the races themselves. Even after the augurs, she’d been allowed to bring her when she had to leave overnight. But now that Shalla’s training had intensified, she couldn’t skip multiple days of lessons. She’d fall behind, and that wasn’t acceptable by those who made the rules.

  The augurs would take good care of her.

  That wasn’t a worry.

  The worry was they wouldn’t want to give her back.

  With all that pressure, her heart raced faster as they approached the temple. Every time she came here, it reminded her of all the things in life she couldn’t control. Her hand gripped Shalla’s tighter, and her palms began to sweat.

  Set into a rocky hillside, the augur temple of Peron was built to appear impressive and intimidating. And it succeeded wildly. Built of blue stone and edged in gold, it gleamed in the sun. Multiple cupolas with golden points looked as if they were about to etch words on the sky. Many gleaming white archways echoed the curves of the surrounding hills. Through the arches, you could see both the hills and the desert beyond, stretching into the distance. It made it seem as if the temple contained the world.

  At the gate, Shalla hugged and kissed her. Tamra held on for a few seconds longer than Shalla wanted, and Shalla squirmed out of her grasp with a laugh. “Silly Mama.”

  “Yes, I am.” Tamra tried to think of something silly to say, to make that wonderful laugh even louder, but in the shadow of the grand cupolas and arches, she could come up with nothing but serious thoughts.

  Finding strength, she said, “Don’t get too comfortable here. You’ll be back in your own bed as soon as the races end.”

  Shalla whispered conspiratorially, “I can’t get comfortable. Their pillows smell like duck.”

  Tamra smiled. She knew the augurs and their trainees had only the finest—goose-down pillows, silk bedding, pastries at every meal, and hot bathing pools—so Shalla was saying that only to make her feel better. But she liked that Shalla had said it. “Be good, be smart, and be strong.”

  “My teachers always say ‘be nice.’”

  “Sometimes being good, smart, and strong means being nice. But sometimes it doesn’t. You be who you are, and don’t let anyone change you in ways you don’t want to change.”

  “I like that. Did you just make it up?”

  “Probably not,” Tamra admitted. “I think I stole it from someone wise.”

  “You’re wise,” Shalla said.

  Tamra couldn’t help smiling. “As wise as an elephant?”

  “Wiser,” Shalla said solemnly. “You’d notice if a bird sat on you.”

  Laughing, Tamra hugged her again, and then released her. She gave Shalla her pack after making sure all the clasps were secure. In the cupolas, the bells began to ring, and Shalla hurried to join the other students on the opposite side of the gate.

  Tamra saw several of them look back at her. She knew they were destined for this, that their past lives had molded them to be self-sacrificing, noble, and above all, good. But she couldn’t help imagining she saw longing in their eyes. They varied in age, from eight to eighteen, and all wore the matching tunics that marked them as augur students. All of them, boys and girls, had either braided hair, like Shalla, or shorn heads, and their faces were scrubbed clean of any hint of dirt or grime. She wondered how many of them were wards of the temple and how many missed their families. And she wondered how many didn’t want to be augurs and how many wished they weren’t stuck within these walls. Before Raia, she would have said the answer was none. These children were honored above all others, and rightly so. It was foolish to waste time imagining injustice when all the sadness and regret were in her own head. Unless it wasn’t foolish. Unless some of them wished their lives were different.

  Lingering by the gate, she watched Shalla talking and laughing with a few of the girls and boys as they filed into the temple. Each of them grew silent and serious as they crossed the threshold, though. As Shalla crossed, she shot a glance back, and Tamra saw her hand twitch in a tiny wave.

  Tamra waved back, and then Shalla was gone through the arch.

  It hurt just as much as it did the very first time she’d watched her walk into that temple.

  Squaring her shoulders, she marched away from the students’ gate and toward the visitors’ entrance to the temple. She gave her name to the guard and waited with the other temple visitors. Nearly all the others were here for readings from the augurs, and they displayed a variety of nerves: from laughing like shrill birds, to wringing their hands, to shifting from foot to foot, to standing motionless as they stared at the temple. The petitioners ranged from young to old, poor to rich, alone to in hyena-like packs.

  She ignored them all.

  At last, the guard called her name, and she was escorted inside.

  Lit by torches, the visitors’ entrance to the temple was covered in murals that depicted every bird, fish, and animal in Becar. The colors shone more brilliant than in real life—the feathers of the birds were brighter than on any real bird, the flash of the animals’ eyes shinier than any real animal’s eyes. Even the black seemed blacker, and the white seemed whiter. By the time she reached the receiving room, Tamra’s eyes were watering from all the flickering colors. It was a relief to step into the cool gray of Augur Clari’s office.

  Augur Clari, one of the many teachers at the temple, was a strikingly beautiful woman with black-and-white-streaked hair that seemed more due to choice than age, as if she’d instructed her hair on how to age elegantly. Her skin was smooth, as if the sun had never dared burn it, and her eyes were perpetually calm.

  Tamra hated her, of course.

  Not because of her beauty, but because she was the one who had identified Shalla’s talent. And because she never failed to act as if she alone knew what was best for Shalla, without any consideration of what Shalla—and certainly not what Tamra—wanted.

  The worst part was that most people would say Augur Clari was right.

  Even Tamra, if she were forced to admit it.

  “Ah, Mother of Shalla.” Augur Clari graced her with a smile.

  Tamra also hated that Augur Clari never used her name, even though she knew it, though she supposed she’d been called much worse things. As titles went, it was one she wanted. Bowing slightly, Tamra replied, “Augur Clari, thank you for seeing me.”

  “I see all of you,” Augur Clari said serenely. “And I see you are concerned. Surely, it’s not with regard
to Shalla. We are very pleased with her progress. She performed excellently on her exams and is proving to be a credit to the temple. And to you, of course.”

  Tamra tried not to grit her teeth at the thought of the temple taking credit for Shalla’s brilliance. All the credit belonged to Shalla alone. She was the one who worked hard. She tried her best every day. Any victory was hers. But Tamra knew she was being irrational. The augur was only trying to be nice.

  Augurs were very skilled at “nice.”

  “I come with two requests,” Tamra said, forcing her voice to sound even and polite. “The first is for Shalla to reside in the temple for the next two days. I have been training a new rider and racer and will need to be away from home for their first race.”

  “Of course!” This time Augur Clari’s smile seemed more genuine. “Shalla is always welcome to stay with us. Her teachers will be well-pleased to have the extra study time. I am delighted that you see the wisdom of not interrupting her studies.”

  “Would you let me interrupt her studies?” Tamra asked, before she could stop herself.

  “No, we would not allow it. But I am pleased to not have to convince you of that.”

  Tamra winced. She’d had plenty of arguments in this very room over the years about how many days and how late Shalla would remain in the temple. They rarely went Tamra’s way. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever won an argument with an augur.

  “You mentioned a second request?” Augur Clari prompted.

  “I would like to ask to defer the next tuition payment until after this season’s races are complete. As I said, I have a new rider and racer and—”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

  “Why not?” She didn’t ask often, not even when they were so tight on money that she’d skipped meals, and she wasn’t asking to skip payment. “You don’t need the money.” The augurs of Becar were said to be wealthier than the emperor himself. “The temple—”

  “The temple has rules. If we violate them for one, we must violate them for all.”

  Tamra felt her hands curl into fists and forced herself to relax them. She had to stay calm and speak steadily—raging at the augurs never worked. “I am not asking to miss a payment, merely to wait a few weeks—”

  Augur Clari held up a hand. “Mother of Shalla, you must allow me to express my concern.”

  It took enormous self-restraint for Tamra to resist saying: Must I?

  “Ever since your”—she hesitated, as if unsure how to put it delicately—“tragic change of fortunes at last year’s races, you have had difficulty meeting your payments. We note that you changed your living situation and are concerned that Shalla is not living in conditions that are optimal for her focus. To put it bluntly, she worries about you, worries whether you’ll continue to have a roof over your head, and worries whether you will have enough food on your table, and that constant anxiety is both a drain on her and a distraction from her studies. Augurs-in-training cannot afford to be distracted. They are too vital to the stability of Becar. Shalla in particular shows wonderful potential. We would hate to see that potential limited by—”

  “Bullshit.”

  Augur Clari blinked. “Pardon me? That kind of language is—”

  “Accurate. You’ve wanted to take Shalla away from me since the day you met her. You’d take all the children away if you could. You’re just looking for an excuse.”

  Augur Clari’s expression grew icy. Tamra wasn’t even sure how she did it, since her face didn’t appear to move, but suddenly her eyes seemed colder. “I do not need an ‘excuse’ to be concerned about the welfare of my students. It is nonsensical to allow a talented student such as Shalla to suffer nightly when she could be living in luxury.”

  It was plain that Augur Clari believed every word she was saying. She believed she was acting in Shalla’s best interest, as well as on behalf of all Becar. “My daughter doesn’t suffer—”

  “At the temple, children are given all they need. Far more than their birth parents can give them. We provide the best of everything. Food. Housing. Education. Intellectual stimulation and well-curated companionship. Your daughter would grow up with her peers, surrounded by the best of everything. She will want for nothing.”

  “Except for love.”

  “If you loved her, you’d see this is the best thing for her. Your insistence on keeping her is selfish. You aren’t thinking of her or her future—”

  “I think only of her!”

  “Then please, Mother of Shalla, do the right thing. Give Shalla to the temple. Give her her future. Give her a chance at greatness!”

  “She is a child! And she belongs with her mother!” Tamra realized she was shouting, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d heard this speech before, though never this directly. It made her feel as if her veins were choked with fear and her throat was thick with anger. It made her feel as if she were a kehok, raging against an iron net.

  Augur Clari, though she had raised her voice, remained the picture of serenity. Hands folded on her desk, she regarded Tamra as if she were a misbehaving dog. She radiated disapproval, but no other actual emotion. “Your next payment will be due upon your return in two days. If you fail to meet this highly reasonable extended deadline, then steps will be taken to transfer responsibility for Shalla’s welfare to the augur temple, for her own good. I am certain that when you reflect on this, you will see the wisdom—”

  “You’ll have your payment,” Tamra snapped. “And I will have my daughter back.”

  She then stalked out of the temple. Halfway across the city, her rage melted into tears. By the time she reached her training grounds, her tears had hardened back into rage.

  They will never steal my daughter. Ever.

  Back at the stable, Tamra and the other trainers loaded their kehoks into the racing transport carts. The black lion growled when he saw others being loaded into cages like his, and Raia laughed at him. “Don’t worry,” she said fondly. “They aren’t going into our desert.”

  Tamra rolled her eyes. “Don’t befriend the monster.”

  “Too late,” Raia chirped. She scampered around the cart, securing all the latches, making sure the rhino-croc was hooked up properly. By now, she knew it all better than Tamra did, so Tamra was happy to let her do the work. Standing back, Tamra studied her—three weeks hadn’t made Raia stronger on the outside, but maybe she shone a bit brighter on the inside. She can do this, Tamra thought, and was surprised at her lack of surprise at that thought.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Tamra saw Osir come up beside her. “You’re really bringing that pair to the qualifiers? You know what happened last time they ran on a track. You were lucky to get her back! How has anything changed in the past few days?”

  Out in the desert, she and Raia had sketched a track in the sand, an oval, and practiced running it—rather than across the dunes—nonstop for the past few days. They hadn’t had any fresh disasters. Of course, everything could be different on an official racetrack with other riders and racers all around her and with spectators cheering from the stands. Tamra knew that firsthand. But she wasn’t going to say all that.

  “What changed is he came back—she brought him back. And he’s the fastest and strongest I’ve ever trained.” In his cage, the black lion paced to the limits of his chains. He growled at the lizard with elephant legs being loaded into the next cart. “He can win races.”

  Osir snorted. “Sure he can. If he can run in an oval, not merely a straight line.”

  “Why don’t you worry about your own racers.”

  “Because if I don’t worry about your kehok, it seems no one will,” he said with pointed finality.

  He drifted away before Tamra could reply, which was fine since she didn’t plan on saying anything pleasant. She oversaw the packing of supplies: saddles, nets, chains, enough food for the racer and enough for the kehok pulling the carts, as well as tents, bedding, and cookware. They’d camp by the racetrack, beyond the city
of Peron.

  For the hundredth time, she wished she could have brought Shalla.

  After Raia strapped the water supply to a shelf on the side of the cart, Tamra announced, “We’re ready.”

  “Do you really think so?” Raia asked.

  Tamra knew she wasn’t asking about the supplies. “It doesn’t matter what I think.” From here on, it mattered only what Raia thought—at least until she finished the race. Then Tamra could critique her performance all she wanted. Unless, of course, Raia lost, and Lady Evara followed through on her threat to withdraw her support. Regardless, for now, it was all about how Raia felt.

  Raia was studying the black lion kehok, who was still pacing inside his cage, his tail swatting the bars. Occasionally, he snapped his jaws in the direction of one of the other racers. “What if he wants to run off the track again?”

  “Do you want to run off again?”

  She shook her head definitively. “Did that already.”

  “Then that’s all that matters. Your need has to overwhelm his need. That’s how you control him.” Tamra felt as though she’d said that a thousand times. She hoped it had sunk in.

  “I thought you said it’s best if his need is my need?”

  “That’s how you ended up running toward the horizon.”

  Raia looked deep in thought for a moment, then said, “I think I’ll travel with him. Explain one more time what we’re doing and why.”

  “You can’t reason with kehoks,” Tamra cautioned. She knew they’d won his cooperation by dangling the word “freedom” in front of him, but he understood it only as a bare concept. He wasn’t capable of understanding the multiple-race schedule of the Becaran Races. “They’re smart, but not that smart. They’re fueled by rage and loathing for themselves and the universe. Don’t make the mistake of thinking he understands you, much less likes you.” As unusual as this kehok was, it was dangerous to start believing he was anything but a monster. That’s how people get hurt.