Djola retreated to the kitchen, to the smell of ripe mangos, cardamom, and kola nuts. He plucked a slice of warm nut bread from a basket. His Aido bag lay on the table stuffed with map scrolls, Kyrie’s mangos, and Samina’s pirate charms.

“Where is everybody? I must say good-bye.” Djola climbed to the loft and poked blankets and pillows then glanced into the rafters. A fly twitched free of a half-formed spiderweb. Samina raced out the back door to an empty yard. Half the sky had turned orange again.

“Their cloaks are gone.” Djola stepped beside her, touching his shoulder to hers.

“They snuck away. While your men readied the horses.”

Djola headed to the corral hidden in the trees. “Most of the horses are gone.”

“Quint saw something at the ruins by the village boneyard yesterday. Something for you. I heard him tell his sisters. That’s where they went. Zst!” Samina cursed. She never let the children out when storms threatened, even if they wore cloaks and mesh veils. “They’ll get lost. Or worse.”

“Nuar says this is just a bit of bluster.”

“Nobody doubts Chief Nuar’s storm-sense, still…” Sand demons danced in from the table land and joined forces at the canyon walls.

Djola hugged her. “We’ll find them.”

Djola and Samina scrambled through a tunnel too dark and treacherous for horses. Samina led the way with a smoky torch. They’d reach the village boneyard in under an hour. Djola refused to imagine the worst, Samina’s influence. Pirates saw opportunity in every direction. Horse tracks at the corral had been clear. Djola’s guard, twelve seasoned warriors, rode with the children toward the canyon maze—Quint’s idea. Their six-year-old son was always plotting mischief and keeping spirits high. The sky looked threatening, but sand demons collapsed in fickle winds. His guards were northlanders: Ishba, Sorit, Kahoe—tribes that aligned with Anawanama chiefs after the Empire invaded. They could handle storms or rogue pirates raiding for slaves.

Rano, the captain, was as fierce as a snow bear. He’d come through war and twenty years of peace with Djola. Rano doted on Tessa, Djola’s eldest daughter. When she was born, Rano pledged to die for Djola and his family. Drunken bravado perhaps, but almost true. Tessa probably talked Rano into this adventure. She had a diplomat’s tongue and a pirate woman’s charm. Bal, the middle child, must be guiding the troops—she knew the maze better than anyone.

Djola touched Samina’s back. “Don’t be upset. They’ve planned a surprise.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Samina picked up the pace.

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

She turned to him with skeptical eyebrows and downturned lips. “You know I hate surprises and secrets.”