Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 436
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The landscape was all curves. Gentle undulating dunes
of a wonderfully pale tan color stretched off into a hazy
horizon. The sky was full of rounded, white balls of cloud.
The sun was bright, but it wasn’t hot, which somewhat dashed
Jordan’s preconceptions about what deserts were like. The
rolling hills, though, the color, and the taste of grit in his mouth
were all the way he’d imagined.
They had been travelling for several days now. To his
own surprise, Jordan felt pretty good. For once he wasn’t
under the control of somebody else. He could plan the day’s
travel, set their pace, and admire the scenery as he wished. His
thoughts seemed to be getting clearer with each morning that
he woke to find himself master of his own fate.
Tamsin’s shoulders were slumped like the dunes. The
farther they went into the desert, the more despondent she
became. She had not spoken about what she expected to find
here, but Jordan had his suspicions. None of those thoughts
were good.
He walked his horse up next to hers. The horses were a
bit nervous in this vast emptiness, but Jordan had Ka constantly
scouting for water holes, and so far they had been lucky. At
one hole the water had been a red color, and Ka said it was
poisonous. Jordan had commanded the water to purify itself,
and it had.
Miracles like that should have puffed him up with pride,