Free The Phoenix Endangered by James Mallory

tribe. She had tucked the contents of Ciniran’s hunting bag away in a basket in a far corner of the tent, and Ciniran, seeing that, had not spoken of what she had found.
    Shaiara was certain that Ciniran would be only the first to discover objects belonging to those who had lived here before—not the last—and she wished time to consider carefully before laying her thoughts before the people. It was only truth that the world was filled with magic, and—as the Nalzindar now knew to their sorrow—the ancient Dark magic of long ago had merely slept, and not been sent from the world completely. While it was true that the spirits of men did not linger in the world after their bodies had been laid beneath the sand, Shaiara did not know if the same could be said for the Endarkened and those who had served them in the long-ago time, and there was no Wildmage now dwelling among the Nalzindar who could—perhaps—answer such a question.

    I T WAS FORTUNATE that the hunting had been good and the Nalzindar were careful and provident. The lamps and lanterns possessed by a people who worked and hunted by the sun and the moon were few, retained upon the journey across the Barahileth more for the heat they might give than for the light, for the depths of a desert night were cold, and it would be foolhardy indeed to arrive at their destination unable to make fire, or light, or warm themselves. As it was, they had arrived at Abi’Abadshar with the wells and reservoirs nearly dry, for oil was food for people as well as lanterns, and until they had discovered the rich treasures that lay beneath the surface of the sands, there had been no fuel to bring life to their lamps and lanterns once more. It was fortunate that they had kept them, for the torches they could craft burned quickly, and the place Ciniran had discovered lay so deep beneath the ground that Shaiara did not think that the light from the sky above could have reached it by any means at all, even if all the stone ceilings that lay between it and the free air were broken. It was a great wonder indeed that the air itself was so sweet, here in a place where the absence of the lantern’s small flame would mean suffocating blackness, yet it was so.
    The Nalzindar were a people who used whatever came to their hand to make the path they must walk between Sand and Star as smooth as it could be rendered, and so it had not been long before they turned all the unfamiliar bounty of Abi’Abadshar to their advantage. The strange pale stone-fruits that grew in abundance in the damp darkness of the tunnels were not safe to eat: the goats shunned them, and the ikulas-puppy who had eaten some had died a lingering and painful death, her illness beyond the skill of any of the tribe’s healers to ease. But the stone-fruit was not entirely useless. Some of the larger growths gave off a faint pale light, and Merab had learned how to use them to make a paste that—mixed with fat and white ash—couldbe used to mark one’s way in the passages whether one had light or not, for the marks made with this paste would shine against the rock even in complete darkness, and the white ash made them highly visible even in the dimmest light. Each Nalzindar who ventured into the Descents made his or her own personal mark upon the walls with the paste upon each journey, in much the same way as such a one might scratch hunt-sign into the hard-baked desert clay, for should one who explored fail to return in time for the evening meal, those who went in search must be able to trace the steps of the missing one. Upon returning, each hunter wiped away the marks he or she had made upon going, and after a few days, the faint gleaming smears left behind by their fingers vanished from the rock entirely.
    Shaiara and Ciniran’s descent was accomplished by means of sets of broad terraces—if Shaiara did not have great experience of these curious things by now, they would surely have tripped her, for the ones leading from