Ruha could not stop thinking about the extra waterskins. Perhaps the mouths weren't tied properly, she worried. Perhaps one has developed a friction hole. Despite her anxiety, the witch resisted the temptation to stop the small caravan and inspect the skins. She had already done so twice that day and knew her fears to be unwarranted. Her preoccupation was caused more by her thirst than by valid concerns.

Though five days had passed since parting from the Mahwa and Raz'hadi, it had only been four days since she and her companions had descended into the Shoal of Thirst. The great basin stretched for miles in all directions, as flat as a pan and as endless as the sky. Gleaming salts covered the entire valley, making it seem as though the trio was riding across a cloud. Ruha's eyes ached from the constant sting of salt, and her throat was clogged with mordant-tasting grit.

Ruha tried not to think about the two days of travel remaining before she and her companions reached the Sister of Rains. She also tried to forget that as soon as they arrived, they would have to turn around and spend another three days in the northern tip of the Shoal of Thirst in order to reach Elah'zad in time to help the tribes gathered there.

Instead Ruha focused her thoughts a few hours ahead. At'ar hung only three spans above the horizon, an orange disc without heat or brilliance. Dusk was slowly approaching, and after it fell, the trio would ride for perhaps two more hours. When the camels began to snort and groan with exhaustion, the trio would stop and wash the salt from their parched throats with warm milk. No one would drink any water, for they were saving it for their mounts. During the crossing, the camel's milk would serve as both food and water.

Lander suddenly stopped and turned around, inspecting the salt-crusted ground behind him with one bloodshot, red-rimmed eye. Although the day was still hot, he wore his jellaba over his shoulders. The heavy cloak trapped a layer of clammy air next to the body, keeping the wearer from dehydrating so quickly. Unlike Ruha and Kadumi, though, Lander did not wear his jellaba wrapped tightly around himself. It hung loose and open at the throat, allowing precious body moisture to escape.

Ruha dutifully stopped the haggard string of camels. Although there had been no sign of Zhentarim pursuers for two days, the Harper continued to search the horizon at irregular intervals.

"There! Look!" Lander said, pointing. His lips were so dry and chapped that they cracked and bled when he spoke.

The witch obediently turned her mount around and stared to the east. She saw nothing but the darkening horizon. "What?"

"Something's following us," he insisted.

Kadumi joined the pair, stopping on the other side of Lander. The youth's eyes were bloodshot, but rimmed with far less red than the Harper's. "Where?" the boy asked.

Lander adjusted the direction in which his finger was pointing. "Right there. It's just a shadow."

Kadumi peered at the horizon for a minute, then glanced at Ruha and shook his head.

The young widow took a few moments to search the horizon herself. "There's nothing there, Lander," she said at last.

He nodded. "It's gone now, but we'll have to be careful."

The widow shook her head sadly. Lander had been saying the same thing all day, apparently fearing the Zhentarim were still following. Ruha and Kadumi did not discount the possibility entirely, but they both thought it more likely that the invaders had turned back two days ago. The Shoal of Thirst was so scorching that most Bedine could not survive a journey across it, so it seemed impossible that the water-loving Zhentarim could endure such a punishing journey.

To Ruha it appeared more likely that Lander was suffering from a delirium. The combination of heat and thirst were making him imagine things. The widow forced her camel to kneel, then removed a waterskin from one of the milk-camels. She opened the skin's mouth and walked to Lander's side.

"Drink," she said. "You're seeing phantoms."

"I'm not seeing things. Somebody is following us," the Harper insisted. Nevertheless he accepted the waterskin, then looked from Ruha to Kadumi. "Are you and Ruha drinking?"

The youth shook his head. "We're not thirsty," he said. Despite what he told Lander, he could not take his eyes off the waterskin. "There is plenty of water, though. Drink."

"If we have plenty of water, there's no harm in you and Ruha drinking with me," Lander countered, holding the waterskin toward the boy.

"We'll have milk tonight," Kadumi said. "Bedine prefer camel's milk to water."

The Harper snorted. "Nobody prefers camel's milk to water." He turned to Ruha and leaned down to offer her the water. A spoonful of the contents spilled out of the mouth and trickled down the side.

"Be careful! "Ruha said.

The Harper smiled. "I think Kadumi is not telling the truth." He tied the waterskin's mouth, then held it toward Ruha.

"You must drink," she said, not accepting the skin. "You're growing delirious."

The Harper shook his head, then licked the blood from his chapped lips. "I may be thirsty," he said, "but I'm not imagining things." When she did not take the water, Lander said, "This skin is heavy. I'm about to drop it."

"You are a stubborn fool," Ruha said, accepting the waterskin. Nodding at the open throat of Lander's cloak, she added, "Are you trying to kill yourself? Close your jellaba."

The widow returned the waterskin to the back of the haggard milk-camel, then mounted her beast again. The trio turned their camels into the setting sun and resumed their trek. This time, they rode three abreast, Lander between Ruha and Kadumi, where they could keep a watchful eye on him.

As they rode, the Harper periodically twisted around in his saddle and stared at their backtrail. Ruha did likewise, just in case Lander was not imagining things and they really were being followed. She did not see any Zhentarim, but the widow did notice that the milk-camels were beginning to stumble, a sure sign that they were dehydrated. This came as no surprise to her. Under good summer conditions, a camel could go for two weeks without drinking.

Crossing the Shoal of Thirst could hardly be considered good conditions, and the trio was pressing their beasts hard. The white glare of the endless flat made At'ar's heat even more unbearable. To make matters worse, the salt prevented plants from growing in the basin, and when camels could not eat, they had to drink.

Finally Kadumi could stand the twisting and squirming no longer. As Lander pivoted to stare at the backtrail for perhaps the twentieth time, the youth asked, "Have you seen anything yet?"

The Harper shook his head. "Not since we stopped."

Kadumi sighed in relief. "At least your delirium is not constant."

"I'm not delirious," the Harper responded patiently.

"And how would you know?" Ruha asked. "An incoherent man cannot tell a mirage from an oasis until he tries to drink from it."

"This is no mirage."

Kadumi groaned and shook his head, then the riders continued in silence. Ruha was glad that the youth had insisted upon coming along. After being rescued by her and the Harper during the Battle of the Chasm, the boy had matured a great deal, and he was proving a real asset on this journey. He was an excellent desert traveler, but more than that, his competence and steadfast attitude were a comfort to Ruha whenever Lander's delirium began to worry her.

At'ar fell to within a span of the horizon, and her disc vanished into the yellow, cloudless sky. Air currents began to eddy around the riders, whipping their faces with invisible salt grains borne on warm, withering winds. Ruha's eyes started watering, and she envied Lander the patch that protected his bad eye.