Rebel of the Sands
“So what’s your excuse?” I lashed out, but Jin didn’t even flinch.
“I can keep going if you want.”
“Jin.” Ahmed’s warning sounded far off.
“The sand and the sun don’t drain you the way they do us mere mortals. You belong to them.” I remembered one of our last nights in the desert. You’re unnatural, he’d said to me. “You pick up languages like that.” He snapped his fingers, and I realized he’d spoken the last two words in Xichian. All the nights in the desert when he’d fed me stories of far-off places and scraps of their language. Testing me.
“Stop it.” I could barely speak the words. What was it Shazad had said about the Demdji? That they—we—were useful. Was that why Jin had saved me in the first place? Dragged me across the desert, not as an ally, not because we needed each other to stay alive, but because he knew his brother could use me?
I stepped closer, the circle around him parting for me nervously. Until I was close enough that I could’ve kissed him again. That kiss was a trick, too. Mine. I was a creature of deceit, but I wasn’t the liar here. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Go on, then.” His mouth twitched up. “Prove me wrong; tell me a lie. Tell me your name is Oman, straight out this time. Tell me you’re a boy named Alidad. Tell me you are not a Demdji.”
“Why should I?” I could feel my tongue fighting against the words he dared me to say.
“Because you can’t.” Victory was marked all over him as he watched me struggle.
My hand lashed out. His face cracked sideways and my palm stung. And before anyone could say anything more to me, I ran.
• • •
“SO ARE YOU planning on stealing all our guns, or do you think maybe you only need one per hand?” I whirled around. Ahmed was watching me from the mouth of the small cave in the canyon wall. I could just make him out.
I’d decided to leave. I’d decided that before my hand had even stopped stinging from hitting Jin. But I wasn’t going unarmed. I wedged the fourth pistol between the sheema I’d tied around my middle like a sash, since I didn’t have a belt, and my hip bone. “Maybe your armory ought to be better guarded if you don’t want folks helping themselves.”
“Not a consideration we’ve really needed to have before you,” Ahmed said.
“Well, you ought to think of that next time your brother brings ignorant strays home.” I pushed by him and started walking. Ahmed followed me.
“Am I a prisoner?” I turned to face him when we’d walked a few steps.
“No.” Ahmed clasped his hands behind his back. “Though Jin did say we’d better send someone after you so that when you collapsed from sheer stubborn exhaustion, we could bring you back before you died.”
“He has so much faith in me.” I didn’t try to keep the bitterness from my voice as I fiddled with the pistol at my waist.
“He does,” Ahmed said. “He thought you’d have made it much farther than this by now, for one thing.”
I flicked the hammer of the pistol restlessly. He wasn’t wrong. I was exhausted. And wounded. And hungry. And miles from anywhere else I could go. Even farther from anywhere I wanted to be. But before Jin woke up, before the word Demdji spun out of Hala’s mouth and landed on me, I’d wanted to stay.
“Why?” My voice cracked a little, and I cleared my throat.
“Well,” Ahmed said, “from what I understand, you walked a long way here. Jin figured you’d at least make it past the point of no return . . .”
I caught myself before I laughed. I could almost pretend he was just another boy from the Last County, except with a better accent. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“You’d have to ask Jin for his own reasons for not telling you. But if you want honesty from me . . .” Ahmed sighed. He looked older than eighteen. “The Demdji are an asset, Amani. Don’t get me wrong; every man and woman in this rebellion is. But Imin is the best spy I have. And Hala has saved more people than maybe even Shazad has. My sister is the reason I didn’t die at the end of the Sultim trials. The twins can take animal form and can cover distances in a matter of days that would take a normal man weeks. In a war, you take what best serves your cause.”
I wished it were Jin trying to convince me. He’d be so much easier to argue with. But Ahmed’s logic couldn’t be bickered against so easily. And that just left me as the problem.
“I can’t . . .” I faltered on the words. “I can’t do what your other Demdji can. I reckon I would’ve noticed by now if my face changed or I could make illusions walk through the air. I thought I might stay and . . . do what Shazad does.” Though now I said it out loud, it seemed stupid, too. Shazad might be wholly human, but I’d seen her kill a Skinwalker without breaking a sweat. Without a gun, I was just a girl. Not a Demdji. “I didn’t figure I’d stay to make bugs crawl out of people’s skin or turn myself into another person.”
“If you choose to go, you can,” Ahmed said. “It’s dangerous in Miraji for a Demdji, but you seem to have handled yourself just fine so far.” I thought of the girl the Gallan general had shot through the head in Fahali. She had been like me. I remembered Jin warning me to be careful. Warning me against Izman. “But if you decide to stay, there are a half dozen other Demdji who could help you figure out what your power is, whatever it is that you can do that can help this rebellion. If you still want to.”