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  Discipline

  Copyright 2010 Erik Larson

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  Chapter 1: Exile

  They call this exile, but it’s an execution.

  The thought lingered as Lexi peered sun-wise toward the bloated, purple blotch of light behind the clouds. Her home for all sixteen cycles of her life had vanished from sight, the huge, cylindrical top of the clan-hold lost in the clouds of biting sand and dust. On the horizon, she saw a stripe of muddy red between sun and surface. She knew what that color meant; her executioner would come to her in the form of a sandstorm.

  Maybe I’ll be buried so deep they won’t be able to salvage my clothes. The thought gave her a measure of grim satisfaction.

  She blinked back the dust penetrating her veil as the merciless wind buffeted her, rippling her white travel robes. The sound of flapping fabric shuttered her ears to everything else, encompassing her in a noisy silence. Tired of the wind’s assault, she turned and surveyed the way ahead.

  Go directly shadow-wise. The old woman had pressed in so close to whisper the message Lexi had felt the dry lips brushing her ear.

  She put one sandaled foot in front of another as she followed the dim outline of her shadow. Why should I listen to some old bat I don’t even know?

  The sun never moved from its place in the sky, so traveling shadow-wise was only a matter of facing the hazy blob of grey she cast on the sand ahead. A simple task suited her mood, and she found herself following the advice. Wind pushed her as she walked; a conspiring partner to the crone’s words.

  In the clan-hold, the timemaster’s bell sounded every turn to give time meaning and purpose. Here, in the endless expanse of dirt and sand, only the coming and going of storms marked the passage of present into past. Lexi found herself craving the ringing echo of the bell almost as much as her dry throat craved water.

  Every so often, she’d glance back sun-wise, but the ubiquitous sand told her nothing of how far she’d traveled. Only the growing muddy red wall of the storm marked any change in the world. She peered back once again, and this time something had changed. A shape moved among the shallow dunes. She squinted under her veil, trying to protect her eyes as a triangular shape slowly resolved. The sail of a sand-skiff, it has to be!

  As the craft glided over the shallow dunes, she could see the narrow hull on outrigger skis and a single person inside. For a moment she worried that the pilot would be her father, sailing the desert to make sure his bastard daughter had died. No, why would he bother?

  She watched the sail drop, and the skiff slowed to a stop only a dozen feet away. The pilot, covered in white robes like Lexi’s, extracted himself from the rearmost of the two seats. He made his way over to her, his stride confident and purposeful.

  With the wind sucking away words, the man had to yell. “Come with me.” He turned his back and returned to the skiff, not waiting for a reply.

  Lexi surveyed the empty expanse and the growing wall of the storm, and then she hurried after the man. She examined the two narrow seats arranged in tandem with the mast between them—it didn’t look comfortable. Behind the seats, rested a covered bundle well secured with rope, the shape revealing nothing. Though she scarcely believed the tall man could fit, he folded himself into the rear of the two seats and nodded to the front one. After giving him a last glance, she climbed in and gripped the sides.

  From behind her, she heard the grunts of his effort and the big sail rose. The skiff skidded on its skis as the heavy cloth snagged a breath of wind. He angled the sail and they shot forward. When she watched it approaching, the skiff seemed to glide across the sand. Now she knew the smoothness to be a lie as the vibrations and shudders made her clench her hands until they turned white and tingly.

  Ahead, the dunes rushed at her as fast as the wind. She closed her eyes tight, but nothing could shut out the tossing and bumping of her body. Over the wind and the hiss of ski over sand, she heard creaks and groans. It’ll come apart, and we’ll be swallowed whole by the storm. Her heart beat like festival drums, but she savored the terror. Fear meant she had hope for something other than death.

  After the timeless span, she heard another grunt from the stranger and the jarring movements eased. Lexi opened her eyes to see a ragged line of tall rock formations like a set of broken teeth. The world had darkened. She could see scrub-trees among the rocks, their dark leaves pulled into the branches as happened before sandstorms or when the bad spirits came.

  The man jumped out of his seat and offered a hand to Lexi. She took it, feeling the callused skin as he hauled her out. He pointed to one of the rough spires. “There is a cave there; take as much as you can from the skiff while I secure it.” The wind had died down to a breeze ahead of the storm, making his words easy to hear.

  She turned to gather supplies and saw the wall of dust and sand consuming the sky like the maw of a giant beast. Lexi shook off the sight and hurried to the tied-down bundle. She tugged at the knots while behind her she heard a clank of metal as the man set about his task. Her cunning fingers worked the rope free and a gust of wind stole the covering, sending it tumbling through the air. Underneath, laid two worn baskets with rough rope handles. She saw that one carried full water-skins while the other held bags of what she guessed must be food.

  Water first. The roar of the storm gathered, but Lexi ignored it. She had a chore, and if her father’s lash had taught her anything, it was discipline. The narrow cave opening meant she had to squeeze to get her load through to the small cavern beyond. By the time she returned for the second basket, the man had taken off the mast.

  “Stay in the cave!” He yelled over the growing roar.

  The world had fallen into the shadow of the storm and everything turned dim. She wriggled into the cave and watched the darkness. Long moments slipped by as the roar grew and she wondered how loud it could become, if the sound could shake apart the cave and leave her entombed in stone. She worried about the strange man, who had come like an angel out of a story to save her. What if something happened and he needed help? Her heart pounded out a fast beat as she waited, filling her body with an energy that made her want to dart outside.

  “He said to stay, Lexi,” she said to herself. She had to have discipline.

  When the world had nearly turned black, the tall figure appeared in the opening, and he forced himself inside. He collapsed against the opposite wall, breathing hard. Even after he removed his veil, Lexi couldn’t see his features, only a face in shadows and the glint of his dark eyes.

  “Water.” He held out a hand.

  Without thinking, she retrieved a water-skin for him. She found comfort in being commanded and obeying.

  He took a drink and leaned back, his eyes disappearing into the darkness of the cave. “You need water too.”

  Lexi took a water-skin and dribbled a stream into her mouth, feeling her parched throat soak in the moisture. She lowered it, and fell into silence. The man said nothing as the storm raged like a desert demon.

  She opened her eyes and lurched up to a sitting position, realizing she had fallen asleep. The view outside remained a maelstrom of chaos and darkness. On the other side of the cavern, she saw the man’s eyes.

  “You should eat,” he said.

  Her stomach growled in agreement, and Lexi pulled a chunk of redroot from one of the bags. She took a bite and chewed the bitter plant flesh. Questions raced through her mind, but she knew not to talk unless spoken to.

  The man seemed to read her thoughts. “Is there something y
ou want to know?”

  She swallowed. “What do you want?”

  “Why do you suppose I want something?”

  Lexi didn’t want to offend with too many questions, so she picked the most pragmatic. “What happens now?”

  “When the storm clears, I’ll reassemble the skiff and show you how to guide it. There is a place you can go that may have water enough for one person. It is poor hunting ground; I cannot say you will survive.”

  He fell silent again, and Lexi shifted uncomfortably. “I have nothing to offer you in gratitude, but if you want me to…” she gulped, unsure of how to say it, nobody ever told her how. “…be with you like a wife. I’ve been told men find me attractive.”

  “You owe me nothing.”

  She relaxed, but felt a tinge of disappointment. Would she ever have a chance to experience more than the tantalizing hints from her two married sisters?

  They lapsed into silence for a long while, maybe she dosed off again, maybe not—her world of the cavern and the raging storm remained unchanged. Only thirst and hunger marked the passage of time. Frustration crept into her veins and muscles, the howling wind calling to her with the sweet promise of freedom from her stone cage. She fidgeted, twisted, and stretched