XXXVIII. THE CRATES, DUST

  De-Asha pressed up against an impressive ridge of sharp limestone cliffs. It stood centuries over the sea of sand beyond. The city, with its rectangular towers and small, ovular windows, looked harsh, as if the towering fortress was not an oasis for weary travelers but another hazard to be navigated.

  Admrilia wiped the sweat clinging to her grow. Her eyes watering from the unbearable heat. Her party had been forced to abandon their rafts where the Kerxa had dried up leagues back, forcing them to traverse the eroded bed horseback. Admrilia sat atop Sunbeam, who was just as displeased to be out in the sweltering heat as she was, when a small party rode out to greet them on the plateau.

  An ox of a man led them, his helm tucked under his muscular arm. As he got closer, Admrilia distinguished his large, bulbous nose and eyepatch. The man dismounted and bowed from the waist. “I am Titus Crassus Clavo, Legate of De-Asha. Princess Admrilia, I welcome you and your party with the utmost hospitality and respect.”

  Admrilia looked down her nose at the Legate. “I am eager to see what your humble city has to offer the empire. Lead the way.”

  Clavo quickly mounted his horse and turned for the gate. They entered a wide plot of earth that was obviously a major marketplace. Up ahead, Clavo’s legionnaires spread out as Admrilia’s group entered the courtyard of a temple complex. Admrilia eyed the small awaiting crowd. The Legate dismounted, making quick introductions. “You’ve already met half of the House of Uro, your highness, but here is the rest. May I introduce to you my son, Titan Titus Clavo, my wife, Cythe-Uro, and her mother, Baset-Uro.”

  Admrilia felt a twinge of disgust as Nia’s sister hiked her young son onto her hip. Cythe-Uro only appeared to be a few years older than her. “A pleasure.” Admrilia said thinly.

  The legate finished the terse introductions and bade the group towards the temple. Admrilia turned away from the Uro’s tearful family reunion. She thought of her own sisters in Aegtrys, and the yearning to have Lilee and Hora, and Julia in her arms was profound. Rarely had she thought of them in the months she had been away, and yet in that moment she wanted them more than anything.

  The temple complex was grandiose- the main building surrounded by meticulously maintained rows of fig and pear trees. The shade was a welcome relief after the hours melting in the hot sunlight. The legate passed them off to a collection of priestesses, and they ushered their large group to the main shrine.

  In Aegtrys, all temples were dedicated to the Stormlord, where the lars, the family ancestors, could be found in the home. De-Asha’s temple was dedicated to the seating goddess Sachmis atop her royal throne overlooking a central firepit. Admrilia found her place as a trio of priestesses began the ceremony, asking for good fortune and health for De-Asha’s guests. As they prayed, Admrilia’s eyes were engrossed in the anthropromorphic forms that ran against the circular walls. The depictions were mesmerizingly clear. A man transforming into a bull. The outstretched arms of a hawk. A man with the head of a dog. All the aker petroglyphs faced west towards Sachmis.

  Admrilia shuffled towards the goddess. She had been crafted reverently from the rock. Her human torso rose to strong, muscular arms and pronounced shoulders. Her mane framed her half anthropomorphic face. The lioness. Admrilia glanced at the stone face of the Lady for a moment, before reading the ancient Kiyr inscription at her feet.

  The Lady wove the stars in her hair

  A mane of heavenly fire

  and from her womb she bore

  The mighty aker

  In the morning, Legate Clavo led them into the underground storerooms of the estate. Lanterns were handed out and Admrilia’s eyes adjusted to the vaulted space. It smelled of dank earth and soot. The space went on forever, rows upon rows of carefully arranged crates and hand dug nitches. Uncertainty hit her squarely in the chest at the sheer mass of it all.

  I am the Argenti. The Argenti does not fail. If the star is here, I will find it.

  The legate glanced down at her, his iris struggling to focus in the low light. “The weapons first.” Admrilia ordered.

  The legate nodded, lumbering forward. His large stature ran into the crates at his side. He led her to where a table had already been laid out with knives, bows, and swords. Admrilia held up a curved khoshep, much like the soldier Lero used. It glinted in the light of her weapon.

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  “Have you found it Argenti?” Advisor Khispen asked hopefully.

  Admrilia ground her jaw and set the fine blade aside. “No.” She said, “I was just admiring the craftsmanship.” She overlooked the rest of the table. “Where were these weapons recovered?”

  “I’m not certain, your majesty.”

  “You did not think that perhaps it would have been critical to know where these weapons derived?”

  Clavo scowled, looking very much as if he wished to hit her. “These scorerooms span decades back.” He crossed his muscular arms. “I only learned of the Conqueror’s directive this year.”

  “So these could have come from the market for all we know.”

  “No. Everything is from the desert.” Clavo defended.

  “The store rooms are categorized by type, princess.” Nia-Uro spoke up from where she stood by her brother. “The chariots are together, the grave goods are together, the swords are together. It is easier this way for the House to store and find what is in the collection.”

  “But there is no ledger kept?” Admrilia fought her mounting irritation. The lack of reply from the legate was confirmation enough. Admrilia peered once more at the table. None of the blades sang to her like the wyrdstone. Nothing spoke to the salt and sea of her veins. If it is here, I will find it. Admrilia reminded herself. I will find it.

  She looked up from the table. “Are these others?”

  Clavo grunted. “Only a full storeroom's worth.”

  “Show me.”

  The legate kicked the side of the table. “Put these with the others.” He ordered. “Bring over the next crate for the princess.” The next crate was deposited, and their party sorted through the contents. The morning passed as Admrilia overlooked crate upon crate of knives, khosheps, spearheads, swords, bows, axes, and maces. The Argenti does not fail playing like a mantra in her mind as the morning continued.

  By the sixth hour Admrilia spoke. “Legate.” She clipped, the title freezing Titus Crassus Clavo in place. “You have not recovered what the emperor has asked of you.”

  The legate’s pale blue iris jumped around in its socket. “Your majesty, with all due respect, the store rooms are quite extensive—”

  “The star is not here. These crates, dust.” Admrilia gestured around the underground mountain of funerary goods. “This is valueless to me. I cease to justify my time being spent on it any longer.”

  “Please princess.” Advisor Crassus said curtly. “We’ve only just begun our search.’ Admrilia’s piercing eyes bore into him.

  “You are not a descendant of the Stormlord, you do not know what you are looking for. May you both pray to the Stormlord that we recover the star at the necropolis.” Admrilia let the threat hang in the air as she marched back into the sunlight.

  “Argenti.” Alexandros whispered as she marched through the lavish gardens of the estate. “Do you perhaps think you are acting too hastily?”

  “You dare criticize me?”

  “We just both want to see you succeed, Admrilia.” Flavius held up his palm to make her stop marching. “There’s a ton of goods in there. Certainly something could have been the star.”

  Admrilia signed frustrated. “Neither of you understand. The wyrdstone, it calls to you; it sings to the salt and sea of your veins. A siren’s song, a light through the roughest of seas. It’s ever present, in here—” She tapped her chest.

  “To you.” Flavius said.

  “What?”

  “To you, Adrmilia. But not to me, not to Alex. Perhaps you’ve been approaching this from the wrong angle. This star isn’t even connected to the Stormlord.”

  “No, it’s connected to Sachmis.” Admrilia conceded.

  “Right, so it’s not going to call out to you.” Alexandros said gently.

  “What are you implying? That I’ve thrown us on this doomed, doomed-” Admrilia searched for the words. “Quest? To stroke my own ego?”

  “I’m saying it might be for someone else.” Flavius said.

  “I don’t need to find the star, I need to be led to it.”

  “Exactly. Now we just need to know who to follow.” Flavius said.

  The three of them turned as Nia-Uro exited the storerooms. She was arguing with the legate, gesturing back down the steps of the stairway.

  “It’s her.”

  “Nia-Uro?” Alexandros sounded doubtful. “How do you know?”

  “She’s different from the rest of them.”

  “She’s far prettier.” Flavius said.

  It’s not just that. Admrilia thought. It wasn’t that Nia-Uro’s irises became disks of molden gold when she was angry, or the lithe gracefulness of her movements. It was that Nia-Uro contained raw power even herself wasn’t privy to. “I just do. The tomb raider of De-Asha will lead us right to the star.”