As the caravan approached, the deacons stopped the magical command. To Zimraan’s eyes, it would look like a wall of Arch Deacons had suddenly appeared. They wore green tunics and pants, black dillo leather boots, and green turbans. Their faces were covered with veils.

Zimraan cried out in alarm. He raised a hand and the wagoners halted the gamelus. His guards rushed to the front, ready to protect the merchandise. But the deacons remained in place. After a few tense moments, one Arch Deacon strode to Zimraan as the caravan master dismounted.

Shyla strained to listen to their conversation.

“We’re here to purchase all the platinum you carry. Also there are agitators in Zirdai who plan to do the same thing. We would like your help in trapping them,” the man said.

“I’m sorry, but I already sold all my platinum,” Zimraan said.

“Who did you sell the platinum to?” the Arch Deacon shouted, drawing his knife.

Zimraan backed away, his hands up. “The monks.”

This answer caused the Arch Deacon to pause. His grip on his weapon relaxed. “The Monks of Parzival?”

“No, the Monks of Arinna.”

Shyla smiled. That had been her idea.

“I’ve never heard of them.”

Zimraan lowered his arms. “They’re new. They’re building a monastery outside the city of Marib.”

“We still need your caravan in order to surprise and capture the insurgents,” the Arch Deacon said. When Zimraan hesitated, he added, “You’ll be compensated and everything will be returned to you.”

The caravan master had no real choice. His eight guards were no match for sixteen Arch Deacons. Shyla watched as the Arch Deacons and six deacons exchanged clothing with the wagoners. And then the ones in hiding appeared. Eight of them swapped with the caravan’s guards, while two donned the tunics of the men from the last wagon.

The priestess had sent the exact number of people to cover all the caravan’s personnel except Zimraan of course. There would be no gaps to warn Shyla or her people that a swap had taken place. Smart. Too bad for the priestess, Shyla already thought of doing that exact same thing.

The people now dressed as deacons moved away from the caravan—her cue to start. Shyla aimed her magic at the sand below the disguised deacons’ feet, moving it away. Ximen and Gurice helped her. Cries rang out as they sank and struggled and failed to find firm ground. The priestess’s wielders were unable to aid their colleagues. Jayden only had time to teach them how to influence people. A handy skill until the ground dissolved underneath them. She couldn’t suppress a snicker.