Free Secrets of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 3) by Daniel Arenson

go into the sunlight next turn?"
    He nodded. "We've been
awake for a long time. We can do that."
    They lay a blanket upon the
sand, sat down, and ate a meal of cold mushrooms, sausages, and
salted fish. The waves whispered before them, blue and gold, casting
foam onto the sand. Countless seashells gleamed. When Cam lay on his
back to sleep, Linee cuddled at his side and tossed an arm and leg
over him. He wanted to shift away—how could he sleep with her
holding him?—but when he looked at her, he sighed.
    Her eyes were closed, her cheek
soft and pale in the light. Her hair cascaded, golden like the sand.
Her breathing deepened. When awake, Linee was the most annoying
creature Cam had ever met—singing discordantly, tugging his arm when
bored, and, worst of all, crying far too often. When she slept,
however, she seemed a different sort of woman—a vulnerable, hurt
woman, a widow grieving, a lost soul. And so he placed a hand on her
thigh, letting her nestle closer to him. He closed his eyes. They
slept in each other's arms.

    * * * * *

    When they woke and stepped into
the sunlight, they beheld a desert of golden dunes, rustling palm
trees, and a river thick with white sails.
    "Timandra," Linee
whispered, gazing in wonder. "The land of daylight."
    Cam nodded. "Specifically,
the kingdom of Eseer, a southern realm in Timandra—and probably the
most inhospitable one. It's mostly sand and rock." He smiled
wryly. "You won't see many butterflies and strawberries here."
    "Oh yes I will." She
pointed. "See that green stain in the northwest? That's an
oasis. They have butterflies and strawberries in oases. I read it in
a book."
    Cam hitched up his belt. "It's
also quite a long walk." He took out his map, unrolled the
parchment, and showed it to Linee. "That green patch must be
Kahtef, an oasis city in south Eseer on the Kae river. According to
Koyee's book, somewhere around here, we need to find the 'Ziggurat of
Ferisi.' The missing clock hand will be there."
    "A ziga-what-now?"
Linee blinked.
    "A ziggurat."
    She frowned. "What's that
then? Some kind of rodent?"
    "Not a rodent! Why would
the clock hand be in a rodent? You know . . . a ziggurat!" Cam
gestured with his hand. "That sort of . . . zigs."
    "You don't know either, do
you?"
    He sighed. "No, but the
people of Eseer will know, and we'll ask them. Now come, enough
stalling. Let's keep walking."
    They hefted the packs across
their shoulders and walked on through the sand.
    The night had been cold, the
dusk cool. Here in full sunlight, heat bathed them and sweat soaked
them. It had been hard to keep track of seasons in the night, but as
far as Cam knew, it was winter. And yet here on the southern coast,
the sun beat down, as hot as any summer back in Arden. As they walked
and his sweat trickled, Cam almost missed the night already, and he
removed his heavy clock and stuffed it into his pack.
    After an hour or two of walking
along the coast, they reached a delta. The Kae River—the artery of
the Eseerian desert—split here into a dozen rivulets that flowed
into the sea. Rushes, palm trees, and mangroves grew between the
streams, lush and green and fluttering with birds. Dozens of vessels
sailed here: humble reed dinghies, long boats with many oars, and
great ships with wide canvas sails. Scorpions were painted onto hulls
and banners—the sigil of Eseer.
    When they reached the first
rivulet, they found a pebbly path that ran along the water. They left
the sea behind, walking north through the delta. Storks, seagulls,
and cranes flew above, and grasshoppers hopped among the rushes. As
ships sailed by, Cam watched their sailors. The Eseerians were a
tall, slender people, their skin bronzed by the sun. Some of
them—perhaps wealthy merchants—wore rich white robes with golden
hems, and canopies rose upon their ships' decks. Others seemed to be
humble fishermen, rowing reed boats, clad in nothing but loincloths,
their faces browned and wrinkled.
    When one fisherman saw them