Another few weeks in the desert with these women, and he would be dead—hauled off to some unknown fate in some unknown place. If they meant to pawn him off on this man and his caravan, there was some hope of getting out of the desert. Their technology was obviously more advanced, and though the stir of men in dhotis and baldrics acting as muscle there at the rear of the caravan was a little stoic, they did not seem abused or starving. There were worse places to end up.

“I have a talent with languages. Give me a few weeks and I can become conversant in Yazdani,” Rhys said.

The man raised his brows, so thick and dark that they gave Rhys the impression that he had two caterpillars sitting above his eyes. “Is that what you think I need?”

“That’s certainly a large part of it.”

A smile touched the man’s face. He leaned back into his seat and made a circling gesture with his finger. “What else do you think I need?”

Rhys gazed at the men again.

“An army, I’d guess,” Rhys said.

“A cheat, surely. Have these old hags told you of me?”

“I confess, I do not know who you are.”

“I think you do. I have been searching for you, ever since Payam’s caravan was ransacked by these hags’ sisters.”

“You’re Hanife?”

The man pressed his hand to his heart. “I am. Hanife of the Yazdani. The ocean people. That’s what they call us, though where we come from, the ocean is only liquid three months a year.” He jabbed a finger at Rhys’s captors. “They are always looking for ways to call us soft, but in our language ocean people has a rather agreeable sound. I suppose you will learn that soon enough.”

Hanife motioned one of the women forward. Rhys expected to see a transaction completed in bugs or blood, but instead the man reached into the back of his vehicle and pulled out what appeared to be a rune or relic made of obsidian. It was smooth and flat on one side, and on the other bore lines of text in a language Rhys did not recognize.

The woman took it reverently, as if embracing a lost child.

“Come now, this desert will surely kill you in another few hours,” Hanife said. “Get in the back. Efsham, give him some water, will you?”

The driver handed Rhys some kind of seed pod. Rhys shook it. Something watery sloshed inside.

“I’m indebted to you,” Rhys said.

“Nonsense. Payam is indebted to me. His caravan should have been better protected.”

“The caravan was… overrun?”