Page 8 of Storms of His Wrath

"I assumed they found something better suited. Something that wouldn't burn their soft skin or break their slender fingers."

"What exactly did they work on while they were here?"

"Hard to say. Bit of everything. They moved between stations."

Prillu turned back to the master forger, who had been watching their exchange with poorly concealed unease. "One of those women worked directly with a batch of stones I inspected and bought on behalf of the Sy Dynasty. Where can we find them?"

Sweat beaded on the man's brow. "They came looking for work. Said they were from the eastern quarter. Shared lodgings near the water cistern."

"Names?" Oppo asked.

"Rikka and Sshenna. Said they were sisters."

Akoro turned to Oppo and Prillu, signaling their departure with a curt nod. “I want to see these lodgings.”

The eastern quarter proved to be one of the poorer sections—narrow streets lined with modest dwellings packed tightly together. Even here, signs of sacred observance were evident: small shrines in doorways, the soft murmur of prayers from within homes.

But their inquiries proved fruitless. No one recalled tenants matching the descriptions. No one remembered seeing two young women working at the metal factory.

As they expanded their search through the narrow streets, questioning merchants, food vendors, and anyone who might have observed the comings and goings of strangers, Akoro’s frustration mounted. Either the entire district was conspiring to hide information—unlikely, given the petty disputes and rivalries that usually existed in such communities—or the women had truly left no impression.

Finally as the afternoon shadows lengthened, they found a single thread—an old man who sat daily at the eastern gate, watching the traffic with idle curiosity.

“Two pretty women, you say?” he mused, his rheumy eyes narrowing in concentration. “About two months past? Yes, yes. I recall something strange.” He gestured toward the vast expanse of sand beyond the district walls. “They came from there. Nonnirae, no caravan. Just walking, out of the Sands."

"Walking?" Oppo echoed, disbelief in his voice. "Without mounts or supplies?"

The old man nodded. "Thought it odd myself. No one survives the Sands on foot. Not unless they know something the rest of us don't." He cackled at his own wit, but the old man's words settled over them like dust from the desert wind. Akoro, Oppo, and Prillu shared a long look.

As they mounted theirnniraeto leave Ntorkkan, the afternoon sun cast harsh shadows that turned the dunes into a stark landscape of brilliant gold and deep shade. Akoro's mind churned with implications, each possibility darker than the last.

"Women appearing out of the Sands," Prillu murmured. "No one remembers them. They insert themselves into a factory where magical artifacts are produced long enough to ensure I purchase some, then vanish."

"After potentially tampering with the stone that transported Naya," Oppo added. "This feels orchestrated."

Akoro nodded grimly. "The question is, by whom? And to what purpose?" He stared out at the endless expanse of Sands. "Otenyo is capable of malice, but this level of subtlety doesn't match his usual methods." His fingers tightened on the reins, the leather creaking beneath his grip. “We need to search the Sands in the direction they came from. Something is happening here beyond just Naya’s disappearance. I can feel it.”

He stared into the distance where the golden dunes gave way to something far more ominous—a shifting, restless expanse that seemed to writhe under the blazing sun.

Oppo followed his gaze, understanding dawning. "The Isshiran Sands," he said quietly. "That's where they came from."

The shifting sands stretched across the horizon like a living thing, dunes that never held the same shape from one day to the next. Even from this distance, Akoro could see the subtle wrongness—the way the sand moved without wind, the shimmer that spoke of more than heat distortion. It was a place where caravans vanished without a trace, where even the most experienced desert travelers lost their way and were never seen again.

Prillu's face dropped. "My king, we need to prepare if we are to enter the Isshiran Sands. It's a death trap. Even our most skilled navigators refuse to enter here."

"I know, Prillu." Akoro's voice cut through her protests. His jaw tightened, remembering the journey back from the Lox Empire. Their route had bordered the Isshiran Sands and thennin-eellithihad stalked Naya the whole journey, nearly claiming both of their lives. "That's why we need to search for them. If Naya is in there, she's in imminent danger. Every moment we delay could be her last." He turned to Prillu. "Something about those women—the way they appeared, worked, vanished—requires knowledge, patience, and planning that goes beyond petty district politics."

Prillu straightened in her saddle. "What are your orders, my king?"

"Ride to Nrommo and the troops. Tell them to meet us at the eastern edge of the Isshiran Sands with full provisions for extended desert travel." His hands tightened on the reins. "We need navigation tools, rope, extra water, medical supplies, protective sheets for thennirae. Everything required to survive those sands and bring back survivors."

The diplomat nodded, already turning her mount toward the direction they'd come. But she paused, looking back withworry etched into her features. "My king... even with proper equipment, the success rate for expeditions into the Isshiran Sands?—"

"It’s irrelevant." The finality in his voice brooked no argument. "We cast as wide a net as possible. If she's in there, we will find her."

As Prillu spurred her mount toward the horizon, Oppo shifted beside him. "Otenyo's dog has been following us since we came through the gate."

Akoro grunted, catching sight of Captain Brakor maintaining careful distance. "Let him follow. Once we leave this district, Otenyo has no authority. If his captain interferes with royal business, he will die."

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